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The bedroom door creaks open, making me stir from my sleep. Teddy lurks in slowly with his head down. I watch as he moves to the bathroom and flips on the light. I slip out of the bed, adjust the jeans I never took off, and approach him. As I get closer, I notice splashes of red running down his neck. My body stills for a moment behind him. This is not my Teddy.
His back heaves as he takes in short, sharp breaths. His hair is disheveled. The dark, slight curls aren’t slicked back. They’re messy and inconsistent. His shoulders are flexed, showing off every muscle in his back along with every vein running down his arms to his balled fists. This isn’t the Teddy I see every day. This is the Teddy everyone else gets, the Teddy everyone fears. This is Theodore Hale, leader of the Hale family Mafia. Covered in blood, yet still so beautiful.
“I know you’re up, Monkshood.”
His voice startles me from my perpetual stare. I step further into the bathroom and walk in front of him. Blood drips from his hair, down his forehead and neck.
I raise my hand carefully and run my fingers through his hair, coating them in blood. “Are you hurt?” I feel around gently, seeing if there is a cause.
He grabs my wrist and lowers it from his face. “It isn’t mine.”
I nod and look into his eyes. “What happened?”
“I didn’t kill him” is all he says, before unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down, letting them fall into the pile with his bloody shirt and gloves.
“What did you do?” I whisper, looking at his naked body.
He stands tall in front of me with confidence painted all over his face. “I did what had to be done.”
I give him a weak nod, then walk to the shower and turn the knobs, letting the steam thicken and engulf the silence. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t push him.
Teddy comes behind me and wraps his arms around my stomach, resting his head on my back. I can feel dampness seep through my shirt, and immediately, wetness starts to pool between my legs. I shouldn’t want him this way—this isn’t my Teddy, but who am I kidding? He is mine. All of the perfect, sweet, and beautiful parts, along with all of the dark, vicious, and ugly parts.
I turn in his hold and look into his eyes. With hesitation, he pushes his lips to mine, almost like he’s testing the waters to see if I pull away. I inhale deeply with my lips locked to his and bring my hands to his head, pushing them through his hair and gripping him tightly.
With my actions, the ravenous beast is released. His hands find my hips, and he hoists me up, twirling so my back is to the doorway again. He takes a few steps while still kissing me, and sets me in front of the counter, then, in a quick movement, he breaks from me and rips my shirt from my body. I fidget with the button of my jeans, failing to get them off with shaky hands.
As much as I want this, Teddy covered in blood is a sight I’ve never seen. It sends my heart almost beating out of my chest and my body shivering. I’m not sure if it’s from fear or lust.
Teddy takes over and grabs each side of my jeans and pulls them hard. My button goes flying as he continues to tear my jeans until they’re completely open. I step out of them. He runs his hands up my hips, to my ribs, until his hands cup each of my breasts. My nipples pebble at his touch, sending small jolts of electricity through me, and I realize this is most definitely lust.
I move my hands and trace the path his hands followed up my body, leaving a trail of blood, until they meet. I rest them on top of his. He squeezes me and I moan, letting my head fall back and my back arch with anticipation.
“You’ve never been so beautiful,” he muses before turning my body to face the mirror.
His hands run up and down my sides, his thumbs hooking into the waist of my panties. Slowly he pulls them down as I look at myself in the mirror. Blood stains my entire midsection and lingers on his hands.
I can feel his hard, throbbing dick press into my ass as he stands back behind me. He dives his hand into my hair, pulling all of it, and jerks my head back, exposing my throat. “You’re going to watch me fuck you,” he says, leaning his head to my neck, tracing his teeth over the sensitive skin. “And you’re going to like it.”
I shudder with his words and prepare myself for what’s to come. I grip the counter and moan softly, inviting him into me, using my body to tell him I’m ready.
He thrusts into me with abandon, and I scream. Over and over he slices through me, rougher than the times before. “Fuck,” I hiss, finding my release, and it only fuels him.
He pulls out of me and flips me again, placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me to my knees. “Open,” he demands.
I do as he says and take his entire length into my mouth. I massage my tongue over his dick, smiling when he shakes. I grab his thighs and pull him into me further, gagging and drooling every time he flexes. His eyes stay locked onto mine as he fucks my face.
Once my throat is sore and my body shakes from the small fragments left of my orgasm leaving me, he cums in my mouth. Before I can make any move, he tears out of me and squats in front of me. He grips my chin softly with his thumb and pointer, then lays a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Swallow,” he grunts.
And I do. His sweet release coats the inside of my mouth and all the way down my throat. Once every drop is gone, I lick my lips and look back to him.
“Good girl.” He pets my hair and wipes the tears from under my eyes before standing me up, walking me to the shower, and cleansing my body.
