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Who gives a fuck if it’s because of my direction?

I grab Parker’s hips hard enough to bruise and slam into him. He whines, gritting his teeth, his body jerking forward, driving into Blair with a force that makes her scream. I do it again. And again. Harder each time, using my anger, my jealousy, my need to hurt him, to remind him who’s in control.

Parker’s moans turn to grunts, then to choked sobs. His face is twisted with pain, his body shaking. Every brutal thrust drives him deeper into Blair, and she moans louder.

“Fuck,” Parker gasps, his voice breaking. “Please, Cage. I can’t take—”

I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I’m chasing something dark and violent, something that tastes like blood and possession and the absolute certainty that she’s mine and no one else’s.

Parker leans his head down, his face pressed against Blair’s shoulder. Every time he tries to pull away, I tighten my grip on his hips and pick up the pace, drawing all the way out of him and slamming back in to the hilt.

Overwhelmed with getting the life fucked out of him, he bites down on her shoulder, his teeth sinking into his skin.

Blair winces. “O-ow!” Her hands push at Parker’s head, and something inside me snaps.

He hurt her.

Only I can hurt her.

I reach for the knife. Blair sees it, and her eyes go wide. Her mouth opens to scream, but no sound comes out. Just a strangled gasp as I grab a fistful of Parker’s hair and yank his head back, exposing the pale column of his throat.

“Mine,” I whisper, and I draw the blade across his skin.

He makes the most ravishing gurgling choke, and his body goes rigid, asshole clenching around my cock.

His hands scrabble at his throat, trying to stem the flow, but it’s useless. The blood just keeps coming, pouring over his fingers, over Blair’s chest, over the ground.

Blair tries to shove Parker off her, screaming, but his weight becomes dead and heavy. He collapses onto her, his body twitching, his blood soaking into her skin, her hair, her mouth.

I follow him down and keep my rhythm inside him. Now we’re stacked on top of Blair, and the motion of my thrusts makes his cock push into her even as he’s dying, even as it goes soft and useless.

The sight is obscene. It’s perfect.

Blair is sobbing now, her hands banging on Parker’s shoulders, his chest, trying to get him off her. But I don’t stop. I keep moving, keep pounding into him, keep watching the way his blood spreads across her skin like a baptism.

She’s beautiful, soaked in blood under the moonlight, tears streaming down her face. God, I could witness this forever.

I reach down and drag my fingers through the red pooling on Parker’s neck. It’s warm, almost hot, as I bring my hand to my mouth and suck.

The taste is copper and salt. It makes my vision blur and my cock throb. I groan, low and guttural, and the orgasm hits me like a fucking freight train with no horn to warn.

It’s mind-numbing. All-consuming.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, I’m coming. God.” I throw my head back, my mouth hanging open, and the sounds that tear out of me are animalistic.

Groans and moans and something that might be Blair’s name or might just be a prayer to whatever dark entity is watching us right now.

I come inside Parker’s corpse, my legs shaking, my hands gripping his hips so hard I feel bone beneath my fingers. The pleasure is so intense it borders on pain, and I ride it out, every pulse, every wave, until there’s nothing left.

When I finally pull out, Parker’s body slumps to the side, rolling off Blair and onto the dirt. I rub my thumb across her cheek, smearing the blood.

As much as I’d like her to stay like this, my father would have my head on a stick. I take off my black shirt and start cleaning her off with it as she slowly drifts off into a slumber.

“My perfect little mess. You’re never getting rid of me now.” I place a kiss on her forehead.

15

Blair