When she moaned with pleasure, I sat up again. “Look at me,” I commanded, opening the chamber of the gun and emptying all but one of thebullets from it. She watched me throw them across the room and spin the chamber, so we’d have no idea where the bullet lay.
I aimed it at her and pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing. The tension sky-rocketed and plummeted in a second flat. We both gasped.
“I need to do this my way; I need to see it through,” I told her, and she was surprised by something at last when I handed her the gun. “One attempt, whenever you see fit. And then you hand the gun back to me. We keep going until…”
“Until.” She nodded, and I lowered myself down her body. I needed to taste her. I hated her very soul, despised what she’d done, who she was to her marrow, but since I laid eyes on her in that prison, so different to the woman too sick to go on the stand in court, this was always our end.
I’d fucked her before, when she thought she was manipulating me into setting her free, but this felt different.
It was with full, open honesty that I touched my tongue to her clit and massaged. I craved this, I fucking craved the taste of my brother’s killer’s pussy, and I was caving in.
The barrel of the gun pressed against the top of my head as I pushed her legs further apart, laying wet, sucking kisses over her.
“Do it,” I demanded, lifting my face for a second before diving back in. My tongue roamed everywhere, my hands rubbing the valley between her thighs and cunt, thumbs drifting closer to her hole.
I wanted it all, every drop of her. Her thighs tensed, her stomach clenching and unclenching with my movements. I grunted, she moaned, the gun never leaving the crown of my head. And it was that want for her that brought me nearer to death, to the desire to feel nothing. Instead of this.
“You want to come first?” I asked with a laugh when she still didn’t pull the trigger. “Just in case?”
She moaned, writhed. “Yeah,” she sighed. “Almost there.”
I pushed two fingers inside her, my cock pulsing at the way she clenched around me, and I curled, rubbing and searching for the spot to drive her to oblivion.
She began panting these soft little ‘oh’ sounds, and I locked in, sucking on her clit, fucking her with myfingers, writhing, grabbing what I could with my free hand, needing to touch and feel and push her over.
This was so twisted, a sick game we were playing, but I was done pretending. Neither of us was getting out of this alive.
The gun clicked — empty — as she cried out and came, delicious fluid flooding from her pussy as I lapped at her, riding her through.
It wasn’t relief that rippled through me at the empty cartridge, but I couldn’t place what it was.
Nevertheless, I didn’t relent, sucking on her clit until she yelped and squirmed in overstimulation before sitting up on my haunches.
She handed me the gun with a wary look, and our fingers brushed as I took it and twisted it round to point at her. The handle was warm from her grasp.
“What now?” she asked, panting, her body flushed red and slick with sweat. Too relaxed, even if her eyes were watching the gun, darting between it and my face in rapid succession. Couldn’t stand the sight of her.
I flipped her over, not wanting to see her face. It was too much, too honest. She saw through me too deeply for me to lie. Everything was too raw, too open.
So I pushed her up onto her knees, shoving them apart and pressing the gun into the small of her back until she bowed, bending her spine and presenting her delicious pussy and ass to me. It glistened, her pussy fluid having dripped all the way down her crack. This is what I could handle, this part of her. Her body, not her mind, not her face.
Lowering myself, I couldn’t resist another taste, dragging my tongue from clit to ass, feasting on all of her.
“Adrian,” she moaned my name when I flicked my tongue over her ass again, and for a second, I could almost pretend this was normal. That we were just a regular couple having a dirty fuck.
“Maybe I’ll take you here,” I said, flicking my tongue again, biting at the sensitive skin next to her hole. “I’m sure you’ve seen the proficiencies of this room; I have everything we need.”
She arched her spine further, an invitation. She couldn’t see me, but I pointed the gun at her most delicate area, tempted to push it in and pull the trigger.
But I wanted to fuck her first. Get inside her ass before I blew it to pieces.
I left her for a moment, coming back with a bottle of lube. I’d debated the butt plug, working her up to it, but screw that. I needed her pain like I needed air. Less and less. Fuck.
With a heavy huff through my nostrils, battling away any notions of softness, of sick emotion, I pushed the barrel of the gun against her ass.
So she knew what I was thinking.
“Adrian,” she gasped. “It’s cold.”
