Beautifully Mine

by Tara Lee

  “Look, Callie, there is something you should know.”

  The way Brantley dodges my eyes makes the hairs on my arms stand to attention. He leads me through the house, not once looking at me. Why is he avoiding eye contact?

  We stop out the front of a room, one I haven’t been in, but before Brantley opens the door,

  someone shouts.

  “I don’t give a fuck. Take me to her now.”

  My hands fly to my mouth, and before I think about it, I slam the door open, Bishop scrambles to sit up. He’s shirtless with a bandage covering his side.

  He’s never looked more handsome, dangerously so as he pulls himself from the bed.

  I gasp as his eyes come to mine. Dropping to my knees on the hard floor, I crumble. Arms grab hold of me, forcing me to a hard chest.

  I sob and grip Bishop’s forearms.

  “Out,” he barks.

  “It-it...” I swallow. My mouth goes dry.

  Bishop lifts me like I weigh nothing and, carrying me to the bed, he lays me down.

  Gently, he lies over me, caging my body in with his.

  I keep staring, not believing what I’m seeing right now.

  “H-how?” I gasp.

  “Shh.” His fingers brush through my hair slowly, over my cheek and down my neck, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Bishop.” My voice cracks with the intensity of his stare.

  “I just want to look at you, piccolina.”

  His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I let out a soft moan.

  “Always so ready for me, brat.” His lips descend onto mine and he’s stealing my breath like he needs it to breathe.

  A throaty moan escapes him. His tongue tangles with mine, and my heart is thundering as the moment between us becomes urgent.

  Bishop moves so his body covers half of mine. He has zero self-control as he rips my pajama shorts between his fingers.

  Unable to keep still, he drives two fingers inside me, and my hips buck, meeting his.

  Bishop growls and sucks every inch of my neck, rubbing his cock against me.

  He stops, holding himself above me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He stares down at me, unease written over his face.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You could never,” I plead with him.

  “No, you need time, brat. As much as I want to sink deep inside you, you need to rest.”

  My heart aches all over again. This man.

  “I’m okay,” I promise him.

  His fingers brush against my cheek.

  “I know, piccolina, you are so fucking strong. But I need you to rest. To take time.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, Bishop doesn’t want to touch me after…

  I turn away from him. Vomit works its way to the back of my throat, and I suddenly feel dirty.

  Bishop eases off me, letting me get up. My legs feel heavy, and my heart feels like it’s breaking into a million tiny pieces.

  He doesn’t want to touch me.

  He can’t stand the thought of touching me.

  I leave Bishop and run back to my room, straight into the shower. I know he’s not far behind me as I turn the hot water up to full heat.

  My body hits the scalding water, and I scrub and scrub until my skin is red and raw.

  He lets me be, giving me time, but he doesn’t leave the bathroom, nor does he leave my room once I finally pull myself from the confines of the glass walls.

  He wraps me in his arms; the weight of him still doesn’t feel real.

  “I’m not going anywhere, piccolina, sleep.”

  He kisses my temple. His lips linger, and tears fill my eyes as I let sleep take me.

  “I thought I lost you,” I whisper into the room. The heaviness of my eyes drains the last of my energy, and the last thing I feel before I finally drift into a heavy sleep is Bishop’s smile against my cheek.

  One week later.

  “I’m aching to be inside you, piccolina. I fucking need it,” he hisses.

  “Then take me.” I whimper.

  Bishop doesn’t hesitate. He frees himself and slams into me, pulling my leg over his waist. We both groan at the connection.

  “Fuck.” Bishop nips at my bottom lip, bringing a moan from me.

  God, I love when he does that.

  I grasp his forearms, and Bishop flexes, arching my back off the bed. He hisses again sinking deeper.

  Bishop thickens inside me. My hips thrust involuntarily, chasing the release. Bishop grips my ass in his hand and bites down on my neck; his other holds my hip as he thrusts in and out.

  His hand moves from my hip to my throat, squeezing. Digging into my skin.

  As his lips crash to mine.

  “Come for me, piccolina. Come all over my cock.”

  And I do. The pleasure overtakes me. My fingers curl into his hair and tug the smooth strands.

  “Fuck,” he yells and empties inside me, his fingers tightening around my throat, prolonging my own climax.

  I run my fingers through his hair, and Bishop places kisses all over my face.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says.

  “I thought I lost you,”I mutter.

  “Never, piccolina, you're stuck with me.”

  I’m still in a state of shock, having Bishop really here. I keep thinking I’ll wake from this nightmare and he'll really be gone. He’s been so caring and treated me like I’m fragile this last week. I know the reasons why he is doing it, but I can’t stand it anymore.

  I need him. I need him to erase every bad thing in my life. I need to create moments like this that I will forever cherish.

  Bishop cradles me in his arms until I fall asleep against his chest.

  I keep thinking even after this long, that I will wake up and he won't be here.

  Please don’t let this be a dream.

  Her face still haunts me.

  The way she begged me to not go... Leaving her wasn't an option. I fought and I fought hard.

  Waking up to Brantley and Ethan arguing, guilt had sunk in.

  I had died. I know I had, I remember a white flash of light, and Callie’s sobs were the last thing I heard before I slipped into what felt like a dream.

  Ethan thought going up against a man like Boris was a terrible fucking idea. But that’s all I had. Terrible ideas, because there was no way I was letting Callie stay there a second longer, not when we’d found her.

  We’d stormed in, guns blazing, and all I cared about was finding her.

  Finding my piccolina.

  Knowing what they did to her only fueled me to take every single one of Boris’ men down. Brantley and Dexter captured each man who had hurt Callie.

  Today I will end their lives, but not before they all feel what Callie did, until they feel every inch of my wrath.

  The monster is ready to play, and knowing these men hurt my girl, it fuels me to inflict as much pain on them as I can.

  Callie twitches in her sleep, and by the way her eyes scrunch and flutter, she’s reliving what they did to her.

  I hold her to me, my fingers tangled her hair while I kiss her temple.

  “Ssh, piccolina. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  She relaxes with my voice in her ear, but it’s not enough. Moments later, she jumps awake, screaming. Clinging to herself.

  I grab her face to get her to focus on me.

  “Ssh, I got you. It’s just me.”

  Callie shakes violently, a trail of tears soaking her cheeks.

  “Piccolina.”

  She grabs my shirt in her fists, pulling tightly.

  “I will avenge you, I promise.”

  Her lips seal against mine, and it takes everything in me not to take control, but I let her lead me.

  Callie breaks the kiss, leaving us both breathless.

  “Bishop?”

  “Yeah, baby?” Caressing her face, I watch as she lowers her head. I take her in.

  Every mark.

>   Every bruise.

  Every tremble.

  Boris and his men think they’ve won. I smirk thinking about ripping each one of their beating hearts from their bodies.

  “I’m scared.”

  My thumb wipes down her face and, kissing her nose, I pull her down onto my chest. I let her lie there listening to the beat of my heart before I speak.

  “Did you hear that?”

  She lifts her head. A little V appears on her face as she frowns in confusion.

  “I don’t understand,” she mumbles.

  “It only beats for you, piccolina.”

  She sniffs and lays her head on my chest again.

  “I promise you they will suffer.”

  “Brantley already told me you got them.”

  I almost chuckle out loud. Those were Brantley’s orders. If something were to happen to me, kill them and make them suffer, and tell Callie they were gone. But if I somehow made it or there was a chance I would,

  they were left for me. I want to be the one to take every last one of them down.

  “He was following orders.”

  “Oh.”

  “So they're not dead?” Her lip trembles fear taking over.

  Holding her face in the palm of my hand, I say, “They will be.”

  “Can I watch?”

  “Piccolina. I’m not sure.”

  “Bishop, I want to watch as you rip them apart. I want to see them suffer like they made me suffer.”

  Callie straddles me, ripping her shirt over her head.

  My fingers trace every mark they left behind. Her wrists are red and raw from being tied up. I know that. Brantley told me they were in a bad way, the bandages she has covering them, making me see the pain she suffered at their hands.

  “I don’t want you to fear me, baby.” That's what I’m afraid of; there is no telling what will happen once I start on Boris. I want to tear them apart with my bare hands, but having Callie there, will she see the true monster and run?

  “Bishop? Callie whispers, dragging me from my blood raged thoughts.

  “Do you still want to marry me?”

  I smirk.

  “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask, piccolina.”

  “You don’t think I’m ruined?”

  Growling at the mere thought she thinks she is ruined, I say.

  “You are fucking perfect, brat.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t want me after...” She trails off, and I know it’s the last thing she wants to say out loud.

  “I will always want you, you are mine. Forever. Piccolina.”

  Callie slams into my chest, wrapping her arms around my middle. I let out a hiss when she knocks the wind from me.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She flattens her palms over my chest, inspecting me.

  I let out a bellow of laughter.

  “Hurting me is the last of your concerns, my love.”

  “Promise me you’ll love me forever?” she whispers against my lips.

  “Until I take my last breath, piccolina.”

  Seeing the men tied, naked and bound, to chairs with tape around their eyes and mouths gives me pure satisfaction.

  Brantley leans against a desk, tossing a pair of pliers around. I would never in a million years have thought he would have become my confidant.

  Hearing Boris whimper like a fucking small child makes the grin on my face grow.

  “You're a sick son of a bitch, my man.” Brantley chuckles, tossing the pliers at me.

  I had been bed ridden for two weeks. I’m not sure if Callie realized it had been that long because Brantley had to keep sedating her.

  I knew the moment I woke up the first thing I wanted to do was go see her, but the doctor kept urging me to rest, that walking around wouldn’t do me any good.

  But my girl came to me, so it made for one helluva reunion.

  We rip the tape off each of their eyes, reveling in the screams that echo through the basement.

  “I want you to watch.” I clench my teeth, trying to calm the anger long enough to not just rip them to shreds.

  They need to watch as I slowly reduce them to nothing.

  The heavy door behind us bangs as light shines in from inside the house.

  I hear her before I see her. My piccolina is stubborn, but fuck, she is a fighter.

  She’d been through hell and back and still she stands strong.

  “I want to watch.” Her voice quivers a little.

  “Brat.” I warn.

  “I need to do this, Bishop, please.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I know she won’t leave, even if I carry her out myself.

  I sigh.

  “Are you sure?” I watch her face for any reaction.

  She nods, staring at the men who took from her and sealed their fate the moment they touched her.

  I lean into her, lifting my hand to hold the back of her neck, bringing her lips an inch from mine.

  “I’m so fucking proud of you, piccolina, you are a goddamn goddess.”

  I kiss her, gliding my tongue around hers. I pull back breathlessly, eager to put on a show for my queen.

  “Watch as I take every last breath from them, baby. They are about to pay for touching what is mine.”

  Callie’s eyes light up as I spin, grabbing an axe from the table.

  I didn't turn and look at her until my shirt and trousers are soaked in blood. I’m down to the last man.

  Saving Boris for last is a no-brainer. I want him to watch and hear his men suffer as I tore skin from their bodies, ripped teeth from their mouths, cut their slimy dicks off, and as I sodomized each one with a bat.

  They all died horrible fucking deaths, but I’m not done yet.

  I’m fighting for breath as my adrenaline spikes. I can feel the monster. Long gone was Bishop, and in his place stands the darkness that will go to the ends of the earth to protect the woman he loves.

  I’ve already failed Callie twice, a third time is not a fucking option.

  I rotate and check on my brat. Her eyes glisten, but I can tell it isn't from pain. They’re tears of joy. Pure fucking joy.

  “You think they suffered.” I let out a menacing laugh.

  Boris’ eyes widen as he screams trying to free himself of his restraints.

  Brantley rips the tape from his mouth, punching Boris before he speaks.

  Boris slumps forward. Sweat drips down from his body, making a puddle in the floor along with the blood he’s already lost.

  Reaching under his throat, I hold the blade to his throat, lifting his chin.

  “Fucking look at me, you god-damn coward.”

  Brantley chuckles behind me, enjoying this profusely.

  I make small cuts along Boris' body, watching him weep with each one.

  “Please,” he begs like the coward he is.

  “Please, did you stop when she screamed?” My voice breaks.

  “Did you?” I scream at him.

  I shake my head while I run the knife over his face, making the blade dig in just that little bit further. He cries out when I slice open his cheek, the inside of his mouth opening up.

  “I fucking love this side of you.” Brantley laughs.

  I stare back at him, knowing I look like something out of a horror movie right now. Even now I don't recognize myself.

  Is this how Jacob gets? The thought of my friend urges me to go on, because he will be next if he hurts one hair on my sister.

  “Now be a good boy and watch while I have some fun.”

  Boris bleeds out while I force the bat in over and over. He may not have raped Callie, but he ordered his men too.

  I spit over his worthless body, turning to leave him to rot in Hell.

  My legs carry me to my woman, and I lift her from her seat and up the stairs. No one dares to glance at us as I move through the house. I put Callie down and rip a water from the fridge, downing it in seconds before grabbing another one.