by E. S. Carter
“Oh, I want more from you than that,” he says before removing his finger and wedging himself between my legs.
Then, I feel that wetness on my hole. It teases in maddening circles before he goes back to my cut and runs the pad of his finger through more of the blood that still flows freely.
This time, when he moves back to my entrance, he doesn’t tease. He plunges that blood-soaked finger straight into my tight hole, past the initial resistance, painting my insides with my own blood.
I almost come from the depravity of it. Who knew James Cooper’s darkness could be an equal match for mine.
I moan when the pad of his long finger finds my prostate, and he hisses in triumph.
“That’s right, give it to me.”
He does it again, and again, pumping one thick finger into my tight hole and pegging my gland each time.
“Just wait until I coat my cock and find this sweet little spot,” he rasps into my ear. “But first, let me taste what’s mine.”
Then his mouth is on me, his hands spreading apart my cheeks so he can fuck and slurp at my hole with his tongue.
“God, I can taste all of you. Your blood.” Lick. “Your tight musky hole.” Plunge. He hands snakes around my hip, his fingertips swiping at the continuous flow of cum sliding from my slit. I hear him suck them into his mouth and he moans,
“Your cum.”
Another finger joins the one in my arse, and the pumping turns into stretching. His face bending forward on occasion to lick and nibble my ring, like he’s incapable of stopping himself as he reams me open for him.
More spit directly into my opened hole and I feel him shift. His fingers come back to my thigh looking for more wetness from the cut on my leg, but the blood has all but dried, so he once more milks my cock, using my moisture to lube up his.
Thrust.
Then he’s in me and I roar and thrash, my monster trying to shake him off, demanding I tear out his throat. I buck, but he remains lodged deep.
“Fuck, it feels good when you struggle. Your arse squeezes me so fucking tight, Luke. I practically see stars.”
Both his hands find my hips as he manoeuvres me despite my continued thrashing. All my efforts serve to do is suck his cock in deeper where it continuously hits that fucking spot which has me panting despite the raging burn of him splitting me wide.
“Hold on, Luke. I’m going to fuck you raw, and you’re going to love it.”
And he does.
His thrusts are brutal and unforgiving. His grip on my hips is bruising, as is the way his cock punches its way into me. He switches his hold from my hips to my cheeks as his thrusts slow from furious pounding to long, slow slides that set every nerve in my body on edge. His thumbs find where we join and I shiver as he traces the sensitive skin stretched tight around his girth.
“I look so good inside you, Luke. I wish you could see. Maybe next time we can do something about that.”
Then all gentleness is gone again as he fucks into me chasing his release.
I feel more warm wetness hit my crack and slip down to where he ploughs into me, seconds before his teeth clamp down on my shoulder, his weight forcing my arms to bend further back and adding to my pain.
Then his hand is around my cock, pumping and twisting, his thumbnail finding my slit to scrape into it and collect more of my juice.
It’s the final push I need to fall.
My monster roars in rage at my failure to hold back, but I ignore him and plummet into the sparks behind my eyelids that speckle across the vast darkness.
Ropes of cum spurt endless from my cock as I pulse and throb in a never-ending orgasm that has me almost blacking out.
And through it all, his pace doesn’t falter.
He fucks me until my name is the last thing on his lips as he fills my stretched and sore channel with his cum.
Then he collapses on my back, his cock still pulsing in my arse, his weight almost suffocating, but I’m too far gone to care.
I lie there and take it all. Just like he told me I would.
It feels like we lay there in my blood, sweat, and cum for hours, but is likely a few minutes. His bare chest sticks to my back, my arms begging for release from their bindings. When he eventually pulls out and stands, I am mute, but not out of choice. I’m wrung out. Used. Spent.
I can hear him dressing, and I still don’t move.
I can hear him walking towards the stairs, and I still don’t move.
His cum drips from my hole and trickles down to my balls, the cool air drying it quickly.
And I still don’t move.
“I’ll be back to collect my belt,” he says as his foot hits the first stair, and I find the energy to turn my head to look at him.
His face sobers.
His decision to leave cleaving worry lines through his brow.
“Go to her,” I tell him. Offering him this. Because he’s just given me so much more. He’s said he’s coming back, and that’s enough for me for now, even if it’s nowhere near enough for my monster. “Go to her and promise to keep her safe. That’s all children want. To be happy, loved and safe.”
He stills, searching for the words.
“You can meet her one day in the future if you wish. Alice, I mean.”
I’d like that. The realisation is a surprise.
“No,” I say instead. “My world is one of monsters. It is no place for a little girl.”
He nods his head, jaw tight before asking, “And what of her father?”
I smile then. It’s the smile of a hunter.
“Her father is both man and monster. His world is mine. If he doesn’t come back, I will hunt him, and I will find him.”
His smile matches mine. “He looks forward to the chase.”
Then he’s gone.
And I’m alone.
But not for long.
Because the hunter and the predator have come to an agreement.
Darkness can survive in the absence of light—it just needs faith. For the light will always return. After all, you can’t have one without the other.
Epilogue
Somewhere in Europe.
She sips her coffee, the man at the adjacent table casting her furtive glances.
It’s the dress.
It screams for everyone to look, to crave, to desire.
Red, like blood. Like the apple offered to Snow White. Like the colour of a stop sign. A warning. A seductive invitation.
She smiles.
It’s coy. It belies the truth behind it.
He returns it. Only his is honest, open and filled with everything hers is not.
The man screams wealth, with his expensive watch, and hand-tailored suit.
He’s the perfect mark.
She could eat him alive.
“Can I get you a refill?” he asks, as he stands and approaches her. “Or maybe we could head to that little wine bar over there. Grab a bite to eat?”
He’s sweet.
“I don’t go anywhere with strangers,” she answers demurely in contradiction to her new curves that are lovingly caressed by her dress.
He holds out his hand, “Travis, Travis Court. And you are?”
Gotcha.
She slips her hand into his, her thumb caressing the pulse point at his wrist.
“Lily. You can call me Lily.
Playlist
All Apologies – Nirvana
Black – Pearl Jam
Blue Orchid – The White Stripes
No One Knows – Queens of the Stone Age
Hysteria – Muse
Dead In The Water – Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds
Acknowledgments
I can’t believe this is the final book in The Red Order series.
Thank you to everyone who came along for the ride!
These books were so fun to write. It felt cathartic to have carte blanche. There were no rules to follow, no worries about whether I was taking the story in the right direction, no
fear about killing everyone who got in the way—because in this world, there are no wrong directions. Anarchy rules!
I hope you enjoyed reading my slice of darkness.
I hope my characters kept you on your toes and my twists left you shocked, if only for a second.
I’m not done with these kinds of stories, though. Keep your eyes peeled for more darkness soon * wink wink *
Thank you, as always to my tribe, Eli’s Elite. You guys rock my socks. I really do love you long time!
Big sws for all my betas—Sharon, Catherine, Alexandra, Diane, Karen and Nicola. I know I’m not the easiest to work with, but I’m the funnest, right? – I love you ladies.
And, last but not least, my final thank you goes to my family. I do what I do because of you. I do it for you. And I do it because you help me be more than just a mother and a wife and a carer. You tell me to follow my dreams. So, I’m following them, but I hope you all know that you’re always coming along for the ride. I love you lots like jelly tots and penny slots and dot-to-dots and vodka shots and… yeah, you get the gist. I love you lots.
About the Author
Eli Carter lives in Cardiff, South Wales. The home of castles, dragons and folklore.
Her family joke that she was born with a book in her hand, and the urge to write stories soon followed.
At eleven, she won her school's literary prize. At ages fourteen to sixteen—her poetry phase after falling in love with Dylan Thomas and e.e. cummings—she had a few poems published, but life, love and family overtook her dreams, and she was in her thirties before she began the scary journey of self-publishing.
Her debut and internationally best-selling series, 'Love by Numbers', are a set of interconnected standalone romances, all with varying themes of love. From second-chance to romantic comedy and M/M romance. These stories do not need to be read in order, in fact, she is often guilty of advising readers to start at the last book and work their way back through.
Contemporary romance is not the only genre she writes, her second series, 'The Red Order', is as dark and twisted as you can get, but there is beauty there too if you can open your eyes and look.
With many more stories bursting to be set free, she hopes you stay along for the ride.
She loves to connect with readers, so please feel free to friend/follow her on Facebook, IG and Twitter or join her reader's group, E's Elite <3
Goodreads: https://goo.gl/2b0fDE
Website: www.escarter.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/escarterauthor
IG: @escarterauthor
Twitter: @escarterauthor
Newsletter: goo.gl/GjzZvc
Books by E.S. Carter
The ‘Love by Numbers’ series:
Nineteen
Twenty One
Three
Thirteen
One
Eight
Two (Coming soon)
The ‘Red Order’ series:
Feyness
Parasight
Faithless
Standalones:
The Bachelors (Pride & Prejudice inspired)
The Definition of Fflur
There Was This Boy (Coming soon)
The Proof Is The Way It Hurts
