Page 76 of Lord of Justice

This is a part of the city the police tend to avoid. Still, it's madness to be running through it, half naked, covered in blood. But I make it to the car without incident then back to the house, parkingbehind it in a narrow access road. Right on time, an uneasy Melina brings out Iris, who doesn't look confused, as I'd expected.

She looks anticipatory.

This stubborn erection is painful, rubbing against the zipper of my jeans. My wife understands what happened tonight. She understands me.

Melina escorts Iris across the street to the mouth of the access road, her head snaps in my direction and she frowns. She doesn't see me, but she knows I’m here. She forces a respectful nod before crossing the street again and taking her position by the gate.

My wife moves quickly. She's not scared, she’s reckless, but she knows I'm here. Stepping into the narrow road, she looks around. Away from the mansions, it's poorly maintained with garbage bulging out of dumpsters and pools of stagnant water.

She hugs herself, nervous now, searching for me. "I know you're here, Andrey," she whispers. I step out into the alley, and she jumps half a foot, slapping her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. It is so deliciously reminiscent of that first night when she saw me, fresh from another kill.

I'm on her in three steps, holding up my bladeand tapping it under her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Are you afraid?" My voice sounds different under the balaclava, more of a growl. Her eyes stay on mine, searching for sanity.

"Yes," she says honestly. Sliding my knife down between her breasts, I slice the waistband of her skirt. It drops to the ground, then her panties. I rip open her blouse and push her roughly against the brick wall. A breath whooshes out of her as she hits the wall. She’s examining me, seeing the blood spray, my tattoos gleaming wetly in the weak light.

Then, her hands move tentatively to my belt. I slam them up over her head, whipping my belt off and wrapping it around her wrists. There's nails and hooks pounded haphazardly into the brick. I find one and lift her onto it, her tiptoes barely balancing her on the cobblestone road. After shoving down my jeans, my fingers slide between her legs, she’s gorgeously, shamelessly wet. I cleaned my hands before I came here, even if the rest of me is soaked in blood and sin, but the cut on my hand is bleeding again.

"I knew you would be slick." I hiss into her ear. "So fucking dirty, aren't you? You want to be smeared with blood. Coated in my filth. Coming hard on my cock."

“Yes,” she gasps. “I want it.” My wife's breath is faster now, her bound wrists flex against my belt.It holds steady. Her eyes narrow, and her head darts forward, biting my chin through the balaclava, her teeth digging in hard.

Growling like a madman, like an animal, I slide my forearms under her thighs, yanking her up, onto my cock. "You're wet," I breathe in her ear, "you're ready." It's still a shock. I can see it. She draws in a breath of air so fast, she chokes. I slam into her anyway. Harder, crueler than usual. Loving the tight grip of her, all heat, and silk. I'm pounding her hard against the wall.

"Take your balaclava down." Her voice hitches on a hard thrust.

Running my nose along her cheekbone, I whisper, "No. You're tied, pinned against a dirty brick wall. Being fucked. Begging for it. What kind of woman begs to be fucked by a man covered in blood? A man with a knife. A man who's only half sane."

My wife's long legs wrap around my waist tightly, digging her heels into my ass. "Fuck. You," she whispers. But she's panting desperately, her legs squeezing me tighter as I shove into her, mindless and greedy.

I'm half insane. She's wildly reckless.

She struggles and moans as I fuck her, squeezing her ass, slapping it. My bloody handprints are all over her. I grab her chin with my cut hand, markingher perfect skin, smearing my blood over her cheek.

“It’s time to come. Obey me or I willdragit out of you.”

My orgasm is surging up my spine, making my cock swell but she comes first, her cunt clenching down. Throwing back my head, I grit my teeth, holding back a roar. Her cunt's got a grip on me, milking my cock, squeezing the come from me. I slam my fist against the brick.

I slump against her, catching my breath before I unwrap the belt, helping her down and massaging the red marks on her wrists. Throwing her filthy skirt in my backpack, I pull out a pair of her leggings, helping her into them.

She eyes me accusingly. “You planned this all along?”

“Of course.”

My wife sways, leaning against me. "Come on, you blood covered psycho," she whispers. "I'm going to wash all the crazy off you in the shower. Along with…" Her nose wrinkles slightly. "Whoever's blood this is."

Chapter Thirty-Six

In which this time, she means it. Iris is going to tell Andrey. Shereallymeans it this time.

Iris…

"What is this again?" Rose asks, holding up the stuffed toy. "Is it a monkey?"

"It looks like a mouse," Violet says. Avros doesn't care, his chubby legs push off from his mom's lap, seizing theCheburashkatoy I'd brought back for him from Moscow, cackling at its high squeaky voice when he presses the toy's stomach.

“No mouse. Monkey shit!” Avros shouts joyfully.

Violet winces. “He’s been around the guards too much.”