He looks away and walks inside. It sounds like the door slams. I walk back to the door where I hear his heavy footsteps. His door is on the other side, down the hall. They stop, and I hold myself back from opening it and finding him, asking him one more time to fuck me, but then they keep moving and release my pent-up breath in disappointment. Asshole. I know he wants me. I can feel it, and he won’t budge. Pivoting, I put my hands on my hips, trying to get my outrageous arousal for him under control. When it doesn’t work, I strip, needing to do something, anything.
I head to my bedroom and stand in front of the wall mirror I added a few days ago. I scrutinize my body, thinking about what he would think. Would he like my small, upturned breasts? Would he like the fact that my pubic hair was shaved low, or would he prefer me bare? I touch my breasts, closing my eyes, imagining it’s him doing the touching, the pulling. My nipples feel tingly, and I move my hands down, over my belly, and then lower, watching myself in the mirror, imagining a tattooed hand caressing me, playing with me.
My fingers easily slip through my pussy lips, finding the slick wetness. I open my legs wider, thinking about Stone’s rough voice commanding me to fuck myself. My face is flushed, and my legs tremble when I firmly manipulate my clit, pressing hard, wanting the pain and the deep pressure. “Fuck, Stone. Make me come.”
Suddenly, he appears behind me. His intense, tattooed body crowds mine. My devious mind creates a scenario where he wraps his arm around my middle. His thick, blunt-tipped fingers cover my own, and he pushes both our digits inside me. I stand on tiptoes and cry out at the intrusion. My body feels feverish, out of control. His other hand comes around me from the otherside, lifting my breasts up before he leans down and bites my neck, both our eyes locked in the reflection. My head lolls to the side as I let him feast. Sharp canines pierce my skin, and blood drips down, covering my chest, my nipples, his veined, tattooed arm.
“Look at you. My pretty little victim. A willing participant in her own demise. I’m going to hurt you, Countess and you’re going to beg for the pain.”
He rubs the blood over my body, coating me in the warm liquid. More drips down to my pussy, rivulets of it. And he doesn’t stop fucking me. If anything, it makes me even more slippery, and soon he adds more fingers until he’s four fingers deep with his thumb circling my clit. He pinches my nipples, and my orgasm starts, and I moan, rubbing against him, chasing the euphoria I know only he can deliver. His arm tightens around my waist, and his fingers move faster, harder inside. I scream his name, watching myself buck against his wrists. Once the high comes down, I stare at us. My chest is heaving, and my body feels relaxed, yet I’m still hungry. I find myself begging for him to put his dick inside me, my body, my pussy saturated with my blood.
“Fucking messy girl. Look at you, dripping your cum and blood. You want my cock?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then beg. Beg for me to ruin you. Beg for your own destruction. Get on your knees.”
In my mind, I kneel, bright red blood coating my knees. It’s a grisly scene, but erotic at the same time.
I look up at him as he takes out his cock and feeds it between my lips. It’s big and thick, almost too much to handle, but lost in my reverie, the fantasy me knows I can do it. He rubs the tip along my lower lip, watching me with those dark, intense eyes. Greedily, I open my mouth, a willing servant to his demands. I suck his cock, tasting his essence. I wrap my hand around thebase, using my spit and blood to smooth over the veins and soft skin. Lifting my mouth off, I lick up the shaft, tasting the metallic flavor of my blood mixed with him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, visualizing him thrusting in my mouth, my mouth slobbering all over. I want that. I crave that. Spontaneously, I cry out again, coming while my mind is stuck on the fantasy of him spurting down my throat.
When my second climax fades, I’m kneeling on the floor, my mouth full of saliva, four of my fingers buried deep inside me. I collapse on my hands, out of breath and completely wrecked from my imagination. The feel of him felt so real.
Standing, I stumble to shower and stand under the lukewarm water that seems to be a permanent state of affairs. I need to get my plumbing fixed. Despite the tepid temperature, my body still feels hot, from the intense moment of fantasy Stone biting me, making me bleed. Did I really just masturbate to the reverie of drinking my own blood while his cock was in my mouth? Leaning against the cool tile wall, I cover my mouth with my hand, horrified and titillated at what happened. I should feel shame or concern, but the pleasure that still thrums through me makes it hard to regret it.
I wonder what he’s doing next door. The bad girl inside me hopes he heard me fucking myself through the dry wall, the insulation, and the plaster. I savagely hope he has remorse for rejecting me.
He may be avoiding me, but I’m not going to hide away anymore.
Chapter 32
I click ‘replay’ again on the video for what must be the hundredth time.
The sounds of her moaning and fucking herself are a symphony. Those ragged, needy breaths reaching a crescendo. I strain to hear it, but my name is clear. She stretches it out, ending her orgasm with a plaintive moan. I curse that the camera is only in the living room. She fucked herself, saying my name, and all I can witness is the lusty, desperate sounds she made while she climaxed.
Dragging in another lungful of acrid smoke, I blow it out and pace. I should be back at the cabin, checking on the latest prisoner I’ve left to roam the 80 acres. The electrical fences are up and working, and the tracker I planted in his neck shows his chaotic movements. He’s near a water source. He won’t last long, but for now, it satisfies something in my soul to watch him fight to survive.
Once the video continues with the sound of running water, I lean forward and replay the sound of my Countess one more time, enjoying her climax while I think about my next kill.It makes my blood lust feel stronger, the anticipation more intense.
The news from Riggs that another body had been found, this time one of our recruits, was making the hunt for every single Mestizo member all the more critical. It was the body of one of the members who was found dumped outside the clubhouse. It was a young recruit, and Riggs and I spent the last few days trying to keep everyone calm while also investigating the murder. The police couldn’t be involved, but that didn’t matter. We knew. The manner of death was brutal, haphazardly vicious.
The wounds were rushed. It was clear that the killing was a spontaneous act of revenge. The last shipment totaled over three dozen, and I couldn’t help but smile. El Jefe had lost possible millions on the human flesh he peddled. Bastard.
For every innocent woman, man, and child I save, I feel Ivory’s blessing. Her approval. She had died, fought against that fate for her daughter, and they ended up giving their lives. In some way, protecting them while I torture the men who prey on them makes the emptiness of my soul worthwhile.
If only we could remove Riggs’s brother from the helm of the Legion Lords, we could have more opportunities to change things, but to kill him would invite a new level of war. One was enough. We were not prepared to enter into a civil war. Many members were loyal to Hadrian and his new brand of evil. The payoff for joining the Mestizos and aiding in their crimes was too great to resist.
Lying down on my bed, I stare at the ceiling and rest my phone on my chest, pressing play again, groaning as her breathy sounds come through the speakers. Soon they lull me to sleep, and I smile, imagining what it would be like to hear those sounds in my ears as she rides me. Or better yet, to listen to those same sounds, but this time they would be filled with pain. Filled with pleas for me to make it hurt more. Her eyes would be filledwith tears and desire. Tears from the beautiful pain that she would crave. My cock is breaching her ass. I know for a fact my Countess hasn’t had her ass played with. That virgin hole would submit so beautifully to my cock. The piercings along my ridge would add to the sensations, pinching and burning.
I grip the sheets, twisting savagely in my fist, rhythmically raising my hips as I moan through the fantasy, the fetish of having her tear a little, cry out as I fucked her into the mattress. Then I’d soothe the pain with my tongue, help her find pleasure once my cum oozed out of that tight ring of muscle.
My body begs for release, but I won’t give in. I won’t come. The denial is what I like. The pain in my cock feels fantastic. I let the dream take me and fuck my phantom countess all night.
I should be restedsince I slept for hours, but instead of relaxation, I’m agitated. After fucking Camryn in my dreams, breaching every hole on her body with my dick, fingers, and tongue, I’m ready to face another day of knowing she’s right next door. It pissed me off to wake up with my real cock aching, wanting to be back in the fantasy warmth of her pussy.
I walk into the shop and stop short when I see the same woman I bent like a pretzel while I nicked her skin with the tip of my knife. My eyes go down to her fucking short skirt, sitting onmychair, flipping throughmyfucking magazines. My eyes roam her body. Jesus Christ. Her long black hair is loose, creating a waterfall over her shoulder. Her T-shirt is cute, too. Pink. A bearded dragon is on the front with the words ‘Bearded Mama,’ on the front. Her jeans skirt is too damn short. Christ, I sound like an old man. But I don’t want those long legs visible to anyone, least of all me, because I don’t have much control whereshe’s concerned. My obsessive lust is for the shadows, not for 10 fucking a.m. She’s testing my limits.
