by Hera August
Judas nods. “As soon as it can be arranged you'll be free of this… of me." The blue in his eyes ice over. His mouth pinches down as he looks away and stares out into the endless night. “End of the week. Tops."
"Good.” His head whips back to her. She falters a step, but finds her balance to remember her stance when she looks at the floor. She refuses to make eye contact even though his body and hard glare is demanding her attention. “You know, for everyone involved. Good. You can… and I can… It’s better this way."
Belle tries to walk around him, giving her body more distance than is necessary, so he won’t grab her, but somehow, his hand reaches out and pulls her back, his fingers enclosing around her upper arm as he jerks her to his side.
Bringing his head down within inches of hers, his stare somehow is both chagrined and hurt. “Stop it."
“Stop what?” She peers up at Judas, playing innocent. Tears fill her vision.
“Belle, don't,” he warns in a plea that washes over her, almost makes her break her resolve. “Don't do this. I don’t want it to end like this."
“I'm just doing what's right. For both of us, Judas. We were stupid to think that we could do this and be okay. So I'm following your lead and cutting this short."
“My lead?” He pulls her closer with a rough movement that almost makes her fumble over her feet. “I don't want this." His rasp is drenched in angry misery.
“But you don't want me, right? All of me, that is,” she dares, a tear pooling under her eye. “Just what you think is fitting. Well I can't do this, Judas. I can't do that. This is hard enough as it is. I can't deny you. I'm not a robot, okay? I'm not you!” Her mouth clamps shut but she’s already too late. Her words have done their damage.
Judas lets go of her, but doesn’t move away like she thinks he will. Instead, he comes closer. So close, his breathing, hot and trembling, pierce the flesh of her ear as he whispers darkly and lowly, “You think I don't want you. You think that every time I don't see, smell, or touch you…” His eyes close, his breathing grows shakier. “…that I don't want to have you right there… That you've fucked me up so bad inside I can’t do anything—anything!” he roars, “without feeling you."
They’re both shaking now, both glued in place, aroused and hungry, and neither willing to move to stop or start anything. Judas’ head draws back, his woody musk scent invading her as he breaks only far enough to really look at her.
His hand rises and she yearns for the contact, feeling gravity pull her to him—but she fights it, flinches away and manages to avoid the slow travel of his hand that aches for just a graze of skin.
“No."
“No?” He comes closer, disregarding her.
“No, Judas. I want all of you. We shared something together the other night and by saying you don’t deserve it—taints what we did! You’re making it out like it was something bad, something to be ashamed of. How do you think that makes me feel?” Her knees threaten to fold under his blazing eyes, but she draws in a fortifying breath and pushes on, “And how can you expect me to use you and be okay with that? I’m not like the other women in your life. Don’t you get that?"
“I'm trying to protect—"
“Stop saying that! You're scared, Judas. Afraid to get close to someone.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “Maybe you’re right,” she says, her voice soft. “Maybe this isn't supposed to happen at all.” Her body feels tight; she needs space. Bracing herself, Belle finally walks past him.
This time, he lets her walk away.
“It shouldn't be this hard," she murmurs shakily.
Just before she enters the hallway, she pauses, looks back to him. With more strength than she’s ever had, she says, “Judas. All the bad you’ve done, the dangerous life you live... What you need to understand is, none of that takes away from the fact that I need you.”
Belle doesn’t wait for a response. Doesn’t want to hear his rejection. His excuses. Leaving, she slowly and carefully makes her way to her bedroom, takes off her pants, and collapses onto the bed.
Tears burn under her closed eyelids. She wants to sleep, stop thinking, cause the demons to relent a little before everything starts all over again. But her mind won’t let her. Every time she starts to slip into some sort of semi-sleep, Judas, his face, his deep blue eyes specifically, stare back at her in her mind—cold and remorseless, hurt and stung. He’s always acted like he doesn’t care about anything. But she was wrong.
So wrong.
She had been wrong about Judas from the very beginning. Especially about who he is. Judas isn’t just some twisted murderer; some cold, hard, living, breathing statue, that eats and drinks death. He has a heart. She’s seen it. Seen his warmth, the way he cares for her, risks his life for her, again and again. He’s shown her more tenderness than she ever thought was humanly possible. Judas is so much, so many things, just trying to figure out what he means to her, overwhelms her.
Because… I...
Belle's eyes open, her breath stalls as realization takes over—
A muffled noise comes from the door, making her body shudder. It finally dawns on her in that single moment. She is in love with him. Madly. Deeply. In love with Judas Bane.
Her captor.
Her hero.
Her everything.
“Belle."
Leaping up, the covers fall from her, loose strands of hair blocking her vision. She can barely make out the dark figure that steps through the doorway and closes the door behind in one agonizingly, slow move.
“I can’t stay away.”
“Judas,” she replies, out of breath.
The lock clicks.
His eyes, neon blue, lock on her as he walks to the foot of the bed and opens his mouth to speak, but the room remains empty, except for the pulsing throb of awareness that kicks up between them.
And when Judas finally does talk, he sounds like a man who fights a great battle, who is weary with defeat, and who wants more than anything to surrender to the need that plunders him. “I can't fight this anymore,” he whispers between them, soft and deep, as though famished by the sight of her. He licks his lips. "I don't want to.” His face, along with his stare, darken, like the blackest of midnights. “Unless you turn me way. Do you want to turn me away, Belle?"
HE CAN HEAR HIS OWN HEARTBEAT THUMP as the knock on the door breaks Luis from his frame of mind. He has to be focused. Stay on track. Or he’s going to slip up.
And Vladimir Kulich never shows any mercy. Never.
“Come in,” Vladimir says. “The door's unlocked."
Roman and Luis enter, shoulder to shoulder. You can cut the tension in the air with a knife.
Something feels… odd.
“Luis, sit,” Vladimir orders. He waves a hand to the empty couch at his left before standing and fixing the unseen crinkles of his tailor-made shirt and pants. “Roman, good work.” Vladimir’s grin make the hairs on Luis’ arms stand up.
Luis sits on the edge of the seat, his stare darts between the two men at both sides. Sweat breaks out on the top of his forehead. He can feel it slide down his back and over the slope of his palms. In the past thirty seconds, he’s been pinching the inside of his knee not to crack. Something’s definitely wrong. Something bad.
“So, uh… Boss,” Roman says, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “you want me to stay or go?"
Vladimir smiles like the Devil himself has taken possession of him. Roman smiles back, a twinkle in his eyes, like he’s feeding on something good and tasty. Shaking his head, Vladimir snickers like Roman has just told a racy joke. Vladimir pulls something from the back of his pants.
Neither Luis or Roman see the gun before it’s too late.
The cold metal device aims and points at the bulky man opposite Luis.
Luis watches the look of crippling fear bunch Roman’s features together as their boss grins, “No. I want you to go. But thanks for asking,” and then he pulls the trigger.
Roman’s head goes bac
k as the bullet hits him right between the eyes, his body jerks as it follows lead, like a wave in slow motion, falling in a loud thud on the cold shiny floor.
Vladimir’s black eyes zero-in on the dead man. Luis places a hand on his mouth and muffles, “Holy fuck..."
Turning, Vladimir scratches the side of his jaw with the nose of his gun, licking his lips as he takes in Luis's reaction, his own marinating with an oddly menacing look of pleasure the longer he watches Luis squirm and twitch in fear.
Vladimir saunters toward the couch, bends forward when he reaches Luis cowering under him. Luis’ eyes bulge and glue to the man whose brains are leaking out on the floor, not five-feet away.
Vladimir, patting Luis's shoulder a couple of times, finally grips a painful hold on his neck like a claw. It makes Luis flinch as another cry tears from his mouth.
“Now. I think it’s time we discuss what really happened with the Dela Cruzes. I’ve a feeling this time, you're gonna be a lot more talkative.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
JUDAS HASN’T MOVED.
Belle hasn’t breathed either.
The click of the lock plays, again and again, in her ear, like a residual echo that traps her bones and muscles in place. How can one sound defy her will, take over her control, and make her dizzy with the possibilities of what will come next?
“Belle... want me to leave?"
“What I want…”
The message sparks inside her tummy. She darts him a look with one eye, the other shelters under the veil of hair that has loosened and released itself from his surprised presence.
Caged, ready to break, to plunder—all of him lays before her. He looks like he’s on the brink of some madness. His face, the crystallized emotion that unfurls before her, tugs at her with the force of an unnaturally strong pull. Something neither of them can see, neither can explain.
She crawls forward, pushing the comforter off her in slow, measuring steps. It makes his black stare ignite. Taunting the thin hold that keeps him at bay, Belle feels the surge of power fall over her.
On her knees, she moves to the end of the bed, hesitant, but also short on breath and high on feeling. Her tiny transparent undershirt rides high on her breasts and she pulls it down, already feeling stripped when his eyes slit in primal fury at the milky exposure of skin, and more enraged by her instinct to hide any part of her from him.
They are eye level now. The blast of awareness has her knees buckling, but she won’t move. She doesn’t think he'll allow her one step, one inch from his closeness after letting herself so near. She licks her lips in slow motion like her mouth has been pricked with Novocain from the sting of his glare. It is all she can sense. Him. Numb and tingly.
“Judas… I thought—"
“You’re it for me, Belle.” There’s a thickness in his voice that she’s never heard before. Tears, emotion, fear, longing—all rolls into one big bubble that’s about ready to explode from inside her. He glides closer, one small inch, and they’re nose-to-nose. His breathing is uneven, harsh. “My everything."
His head bends closer, then drifts back to really give her an intense look, trying to cut off the current that flows between them. “You, Belle. Only you."
His declaration—she feels it right in her bones.
Her hand comes up, but he stops it, pinning her wrist in the air with his fingers around it. Gone are the small drops of lightness from his stare, like peeks of sunlight through clouds. They evaporate, vanquish by the penetrating severity of his need.
“Don't play with me, Belle.” His voice teeters over the edge, from soft and low, to a ripping snarl, suddenly turning on a dime, but it only pushes the excitement quivering under her flimsy undershirt. He jerks her closer, her chest bumps his, followed by their lips hitting then parting from the sizzling buzz. “I can’t stop with you.”
Her nipples strain hard against her shirt. “Judas...” She feels her flesh rise above her, the sensation paints over her. She rushes out before she thinks she’ll break, waiting only for his eyes to land on hers. “I want all of you," she says on a whispery gasp.
Their breathing mingles, both hitching as their silence and nearness turns them on. They close in on one another. Their mouths meet, but neither of them move in for a kiss as they continue watching each other, engrossed in the heat. Waiting, wanting, holding back until they think they'll crack from the pressure building.
Judas bites down, his jaw flexes and shows off the sharpness of his features as he pants. His mouth opens in a silent call as his eyes violate every inch of flesh on her mouth.
His eyes blaze, and he makes a low pained noise as he hisses, “Belle—”
Next thing, her hands fist in his hair, his in hers, their faces collide, and their lips gulp down one another, the air splitting as they meet and greedily take and give from one another. Their heads twist and turn, from side to side, fiercely, almost savage like. They both seem ready to break the other in two. Her arms loop around his neck, only to deepen the closeness, delve into his mouth, and get so wrapped up in him, everything else slips away, never to be found again.
Gripping her lower back, Judas’ hand claws her closer, making her undershirt shirt rise and bunch in his fist. He presses her against him and makes her mouth widen as her legs part. His tongue is on hers in one instant, mating her, coaxing her to catch up to his possessed rhythm. And he takes and he takes, the tip of his tongue riding on a hot deep wave that hints right before the body of his tongue gyrates against hers. Continuing with the kiss, he slips two fingers inside her panties, rubbing and rolling her sensitive nubbin, pillaging every inch of the soft pink flesh.
Pulling back from the kiss, he watches her, stroking her clit, softly, deathly slow, baiting her with his movements that break her in tormenting inches, traveling down her slippery sex and spreading everywhere at once. His other hand finds her hips, leading her forward as his breathing trembles against her open lovingly abused mouth.
“Move.” He sounds so desperate, dangling at the breaking point of some abyss only she can save him from.
She’s nearing on the crazy with this man.
Drowning into the fire of him, Belle doesn’t think she can stand one more second. She has to have Judas inside her. Has to feel his thick pulsing cock thrust deep inside her again or she will go insane—die even.
Her head hits the pillow and he shifts her undershirt up, his fingers never ceasing to rub her sex, leaning his full weight into her, against her hard aching nipples.
“Christ, babe, you’re so wet for me.” He licks around one of her tips, teasing her wildly as he gently slips two fingers into her tunnel, forward and back. Stop and pause. Stop and pause. He doesn’t relent, keeping his full body on her. “God, you make me so fucking hard… I want you so bad.”
“Oh God...” She moans, wrapping her legs high around him, her heels at the base of his naked back. Her body flows instantly with his, not missing a step as their pelvises swerve up and down. The unhurried tempo picks up, escalates. She feels so hot under him, the lips of her sex ready to erupt.
Her head falls back, ready for her world to explode—but Judas grunts, “Wait.”
He pulls his fingers out, hears her moan of protest, and kisses her lips sensually slow, breaking just the little that’s necessary to hook his finger around her white cotton panties. He leans back, enough for her to wiggle the small fabric down.
His attention is back on her even before he’s thrown the garment across the room. He kisses her lips again, this time keeping his eyes open. His stare flames a silent message, tells her a story of what he demands, what she is going to feel. Her eyes stay open, feeling the stark nakedness of the moment and how it connects them.
The darkness of the room encloses around the bed, absorbing all the color. The pigment of his eyes is gone, just black unashamed thundering desire spreading through him, his feelings for her penetrating in his stare. Without fully letting go, he uses one hand to reach for a foil packet in his pocket be
fore sliding his jeans down, then his tight black boxer briefs.
Belle doesn’t have time to be nervous or to feel even a glimpse of self-consciousness. He’s kissing her again, without inhibition, with a hunger that rattles her nerves into a crazed frenzy, making them stomp across the ends of each muscle, each bone, solidifying her in place. Her head sinks into the pillow as he devours her, emptying his starved attention for her on her mouth, wanting more the longer his mouth coerces and tames hers.
With his other hand, he guides the wet tip of his engorged member near her entrance, circling the sensitive area with small advances, letting her know that he’s there. Ready. Her heels dig into his upper thigh as she whimpers against him, “Judas…” and her lips tangle into his.
He pauses, rubs his upper lip over hers. The sterling color of blue descends for a second in his stare, illuminating his look, his movements, as he hovers over her.
“I'll go slow,” he promises, huskily, as he places protection on. He sounds about ready to shatter.
“No.” She shakes her head, tears in her eyes. The agonizing note in her voice seems to harden his erection like a steel pipe. “Don't, please.” A tear falls from the corner of her eye, and he immediately wipes it away, the tightness in her chest crushing her.
His lips whisper a groan against hers, like a primitive nudge deepening his need to hear her beg. He pumps his cock against her, drawing the tip over and around her, goading for a reaction. “You want me to go slow?” he says, against her pining lips. “Belle?"
“Judas, please…” She’s pulling at the back of his head. She doesn’t care if he’s in pain, all she understands is the relentless selfish crash of sensations that drive and stall over her. “I want you. I want to give you everything you want from me."
The ripping quality of her plea seems to snap Judas’ intent to stretch this out, and all she sees is his face, and all she feels is the scorching thickness of him as he plunges into her in one, long, swift movement.
