by Linnea May
His eyes narrow while he reaches for my hand at his belt, gently closing his fingers around my wrist. My heart drops when he moves my hand away, thinking he's ending this before it even began.
But his words tell a different story.
"Fine," he says. "We'll make you feel good. But we'll do it my way, understand?"
My chest heaves with keyed-up anticipation, another rush of warmth traveling across my cheeks while he does what I couldn't do fast enough. He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants with two quick moves, letting his pants drop to the floor.
He leaves one hand down at his crotch while grabbing my neck with the other, pulling me close, his face so close to mine that the tips of our noses touch.
"I'll try not to hurt you," he hisses. "But let me tell you: gentle is not my usual modus operandi. I take what I want, and my grip is always firm when I do."
I latch onto his sinister gaze, torn between instant arousal and a pinch of worry.
"I trust you," I utter, giving voice to a thought that mainly serves to reassure myself.
He licks his lower lip, regarding me through narrow eyes. Instead of a verbal reply, he leans forward for another kiss, claiming me just as he did before but with even more urgency.
This time, I don't moan in pain but passionate lust as he takes me with ferocious desire. I don't even realize that he's slowly pushing me down on my knees until I'm almost there, forced to hold on to his hips so I don't lose my balance as my knees meet the wooden floor beneath.
"Take him out," he commands.
Chapter 15
Libby
I do as I'm told, stroking his hard length through the fabric of his boxers and tracing along the outline before setting it free with one hand. He is big, a lot bigger than I imagined. My fingertips barely meet when I reach around his hardness, gently stroking while he gets rid of his shirt.
As I want to lift my eyes up to admire his muscular torso, he grabs the back of my head to push me forward, forcing his steely length between my lips. He doesn't stop pushing until the tip of his imposing member pushes against the back of my throat, causing me to choke and struggle for air.
Just when I begin to fear that I'm about to faint, he lets me go. Saliva is dropping down the side of my mouth onto my knees as I gasp for air. His grip on my hair loosens, giving me room to move on my own. He moans with pleasure, shoving his hips forward slightly while I suck on him with relish. I love his taste and the sweetness there is to it.
He only gives me a few moments before he takes control again, plunging his length inside my mouth. He fucks my throat relentlessly, using me for his pleasure while my right hand travels down to my lap.
He notices with a loud and approving groan, continuing to piston forward as I try my best to pleasure with just my lips while my tongue glides along the underside of his shaft, evoking little spasms of pleasure as I touch upon particularly sensitive spots.
I'm surprised when he lets go of my head and leaves me waiting on my knees, taking a step back so I can finally see the shadows dancing across the valleys of his strong muscles, outlined by the moonlight that finds its way through the gaps between the closed curtains.
Stroking his rock-hard length with one hand, he offers the other to help me get up on my feet. I take it, struggling to balance on my way up.
But I'm not standing on my feet for long.
He guides me toward the bed, gently pushing me to take a few steps backward until the back of my knees meet the edge of the bed, bending on instinct as I sit down on the soft mattress.
He leans forward and pushes me down on my back, climbing on top of me. Pinning me down with the weight of his body, he’s careful to spare my left side and my shoulder in particular.
His lips are on mine within seconds, claiming me with voracious force. I start writhing beneath him but can hardly move because he keeps me in place with his entire body. He is so big and strong—it's incredibly sexy.
I can feel the effect I have on him pressing against my inner thigh. My right arm rises to embrace him, but he quickly grabs my wrist and pushes it down on the mattress above my head. I am completely at his mercy. He pins my arm down with one hand while his other traces along the side of my body, exploring every curve and every edge.
I quiver when he reaches the hem of the hoodie and starts to push it up. His motion is so intrusive yet so welcome. His hand wanders farther up, soon reaching my hip. I moan even though his hand is still nowhere near my center. His touch is electric, so strong yet so sensual.
Soon, his skillful fingers find their way to my exposed core. It comes as a natural instinct for me to protest, and I find myself closing my legs, which is a futile effort because he has me in a tight lock.
"No!" he protests, pushing me back in place.
He leans over me, his face so close to mine that our noses almost touch.
"I have to get a taste of you," he hisses. "You know that, right?"
I stare up at him with wide eyes, feeling the heat as my cheeks blush in embarrassment. He looks at me with expectation.
I nod in silence as if I was giving him official permission to continue. He groans, sounding deeply satisfied as he moves lower.
I close my eyes, confused and embarrassed about my arousal. I am sure he can tell, and if not, he will be able to tell as soon as he puts his hands where I think he is headed.
"Fucking beautiful," he comments, stroking along the inner side of my thighs, pushing my legs apart.
I moan and squirm when he leans forward, now following the same path as his hands with his tongue until he reaches my center. When he pauses, I know he is looking up at me, observing my reactions, but I don't dare look at him, keeping my eyes closed.
A deeply contented groan accompanies his motions as he moves closer to my center, running along the outer edge of my labia before he closes in on my entrance.
I shriek with pleasure and arch my back when his tongue finds my clit. He draws little circles around it at first, then sucks on it, starting with gentle pressure until his motions become more greedy.
"Oh my God..." I exclaim, breathing desperately and spreading my legs even farther, inviting him in. I hear a little chuckle, but he doesn't stop for even a moment. He is so into it, so attentive and hungry for me. It feels as if he feeds on my pleasure, only wanting to please me even more with every minute that passes.
I can feel my climax approaching. Too soon.
Our kiss has left me in such an elevated state that it's impossible to hold back.
"I am going to come!" It was supposed to be a warning for him to stop, but instead, I hear an approving groan.
"Then come," he urges. "I want you to!"
I heave a deep sigh when he intensifies his efforts. It feels too good, too intense. My pleasure increases with every twist of his skillful tongue, driving me insane as waves of bliss travel through my core.
He sends me over the edge by adding a finger, pushing it inside me while he presses down on my mound with the other hand.
The sensation is too much. A blinding thrill takes hold of me when my orgasm unfolds. I squirm and arch, pushed in place by his strong hands while his tongue continues to prolong my overwhelming release.
I welcome the ecstasy he's granting me, relishing a feeling that has become so foreign to me over the past few days. Nothing but bliss and beauty, an elevation that makes it feel like I'm floating but without being tied to a stranger's chest with the city far below me.
I feel safe and preserved, fooled into thinking that I'm healed and in full possession of my strength. My body hasn't felt this light in ages. Almost a week has passed since a bullet tore through my left shoulder and another left a burning kiss on my hip. I've been crippled ever since, alternating between pain and a hazed mind from the drugs running through my veins.
This vertigo is different. It's better. So, so much better.
He has no idea what a precious gift he just gave me.
Lightness. Healing. A shimmering ray o
f hope.
His hands leave my core, and he straightens up.
"Look at me."
I dizzily lift my head as much as I can. He is standing in front of me, stroking his length while I revel in the view of his sculpted chest. Scars adorn his tanned skin, remnants of the violent and dangerous life he's led up until now.
I flinch in surprise when he moves forward, hovering over me while pulling the big sweater over my head with quick but cautious motions to expose my naked chest. The left side of my body is still covered in bandages and my arm secured in a splint. It's not the sexiest sight and realizing that makes me squint in shameful agony.
Keane, however, hums with approval as his lusty eyes travel along my naked body.
"I'm going to fuck you now," he promises while placing his hard length between my thighs. "And I won't stop until you come again."
A gasp escapes me when he grabs me by the hips, pulling me closer to him.
He teases my entrance with the tip of his member, watching my reaction. His hands are still on my hips, his thumbs now caressing the soft skin on my pelvis while I squirm beneath him.
I want him inside me, and when he finally shoves forward, spreading me with his impressive girth, I let out a thankful moan.
He starts slowly, but only the first few thrusts are gentle. His motions soon turn more aggressive, and I find myself shoved back and forth with brute force as he takes me like he promised, wild and relentlessly.
I bend my knees, trying to support myself, but his movements are so strong and so overwhelming that I don't stand a chance. He feels divine inside me, and I love seeing his strong arm muscles flex while he fills me.
I've had my fair share of men, or boys rather. But it was never like this. With Keane, it feels like we're two dancers, working in unison for years. It's our first time together, but it doesn't come with the usual clumsiness and awkward distance. With him, everything makes sense.
The terror, the fear, the pain we've shared. He shot me, he robbed me, and now, he's keeping me safe, giving me a promise that no one has ever given me before.
The promise that everything will be good in the end.
Because he's right there with me, providing the guiding hand I've missed all my life.
I close my eyes as I take him in, my channel tightening around his hardened length as he continues to ram inside me.
We are perfectly in sync, following a rhythm that I've found hard to achieve with other men. With him, everything clicks into place at once without any pressure. He shifts me a little, lifting my hip and forcing me to arch my back even more. This change in position causes a new stimulation, slowly but surely building to my next release.
He notices and casts me a triumphant smile. Shortly after, I can feel his finger on my clit again, teasing my most sensitive spot in order to make me come.
I groan with pleasure, giving in to him with all I have.
"Tell me when you're about to come," he hisses. His voice is dark and has a daunting tone to it, mixed with his out-of-breath excitement.
He puts more pressure on my nub, hitting just the right spot. I arch my back, heaving from the mattress when a sudden sting of bliss takes over my entire being. This climax hits just like his way of fucking—relentless, brute and overpowering.
"I'm c—" I breathe in between bewildering waves of pleasure. My voice is drowned, as is my mind.
I don't worry. I don't think. I don't fear.
But I feel alive as I never have before. I feel strong and powerful, in control, when really, I am not.
It's all him. But even this godlike man of steel is powerless against the forces of pleasure.
A deep groan followed by a few extra deep and slow thrusts reveals his own release. He closes his eyes and throws his head back while his own climax takes over, and our joint moans fill the room.
Chapter 16
Keane
"Where have you been all this time?"
The words come out before I can stop myself, and once I've said them out loud, there's no way back.
The question has been there all this time. Ever since I first touched her, first tasted her. She's so much more than I ever expected her to be.
Sex can be a lot of things—an outlet for stress, a game of power, an achievement.
But it has never been this to me.
Salvation.
Fucking Libby felt right, more than right. For the first time, I felt I was doing something I was supposed to do.
Something good. Something right.
No good will ever outweigh all the evil I've done. But this, right now, feels as close as I can ever get.
Seeing the blissful smile on Libby's face during and after her climax was everything I could ever ask for. She appeared overjoyed, tipsy, drunk on happiness, and so fucking grateful.
And I gave her that. I made her smile like that, and it cast a bright light on the prune that is my darkened heart.
I wish I could do it again and again.
Libby shifts next to me, and even in the dark, I know that her eyes are on me, most likely accompanied by a questioning look.
There's a flash of relief when she comes up with a pragmatic response, revealing that she missed the rhetorical aspect of my question.
"In Northern California," she says. "I'm studying at Humboldt State University... or I was."
She hesitates, taking a deep breath before she adds, "I finished my undergraduate this spring and was supposed to start my graduate program this fall, but..."
"But what?" I probe when she adds another heavy pause.
"Well, maybe I realized that college was just a way for me to stay as far away from my family as possible? Maybe I realized that studying isn't really my thing? I just applied because I can and because it will be paid for, no matter what. And because it gave me a reason to stay away."
I nod even though she can't see it in the dark.
Northern California. Of all places. What a weird coincidence to find out she's been hiding kind of close to the area I've chosen as my refuge. The West Coast but farther up north. I have an estate waiting for me close to Portland, Oregon. A secure house with high fences far away from the Covey.
That was the plan. Hide out here for a few days while things settle after a last successful mission, then fly out from Montreal, using my new passport. Everything was ready and set in stone.
Then she happened.
And now I learn she's spent a large portion of her young life in the same area to live a life far away from where she should call home.
Oh, the fucking irony.
"Why did you come back?" I ask.
A deep sigh leaves her lips before she whispers, "I don't know. I felt it was time. It's been so long since I was back here, almost seven years, actually. It was just supposed to be a short visit. An opportunity to kill the ghosts from the past."
"Seven years? You never returned after they sent you away as a pregnant teenager?"
"No," she replies matter-of-factly. "I've been in Northern California ever since. My uncle has a place up there in the redwood forest. His secret escape, he calls it. I stayed there, being watched after by a woman who was paid to be my guardian. I lost my child up there, I finished high school, and then I went to college in the neighboring town."
Her story makes my chest tighten, anger fueling me as I think about how unfair all this was. Her own family abandoned her, sending her away all by herself and not even offering comfort after she had to go through the traumatic experience of losing her child in the womb.
"What about the father?" I want to know. "The boy who got you pregnant?"
She lets out a dark laugh, shaking her head next to me.
"Oh, I don't think he ever found out about it," she says. "It was just a fling; one of many I had at the time. I was irresponsible, and I never told him because I knew we wouldn't be the child's parents, no matter what."
She sighs, shifting next to me, her naked skin caressing mine and sending another spark of lust d
own my spine. It's just a moment, a simple brush of skin against skin, but it brings back the images from just a few minutes ago when she exploded beneath me. Her eyes rolling back into her head as she came on my cock, looking so utterly divine and at peace as she climaxed.
And that smile at the end. That happy smile.
I want to see it again. Soon.
"I told you, I wasn't a good girl," she says, cutting off my lust-filled train of thought. "I was an attention seeker, and since my family didn't deliver, I turned to boys. Lots and lots of boys."
"That doesn't make you a bad person," I add for consideration.
"It did in my family's eyes," she says. "But at least it made them aware I existed."
"They are the last people to judge."
I bite my tongue, but it's too late. The words slipped out, and once again, there's no way of taking them back.
Libby turns to me, and I'm certain she's carrying that same questioning look on her pretty face that I've seen so many times by now.
"What makes you say that?" she asks.
Oh, fuck it. I'm tired of this. Libby has been living a lie all her life, and she has suffered enough as a result.
All because of them.
"Your family isn't exactly as picture-perfect as they make you believe, Libby," I say, approaching the matter carefully. "We wouldn't be after them if that was the case."
Libby doesn't say a word in response, but I can feel her body stiffen as if she was preparing for something to hit her. A painful truth, raining down on her like a spate of hitting blows.
"I know," she whispers eventually, much to my surprise. "Or well, I didn't know, but I kind of suspected something. There were so many deaths, so many rumors whispered at funerals, so many secrets."
She stops, swallowing hard before she asks, "Was that all you? Did you guys kill them? Any of them? My grandparents? My aunt who died a few years back? My... parents?"
I turn around to her, supporting myself on my elbow while carefully placing my other hand on her heaving chest. She's trembling, afraid to hear answers that may hurt even more than not knowing at all.
