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Chapter 13
NIKLAS
I finally gather the strength to pull out of that sweet, tight cunt and she releases me from the clutches of her limbs. Instead of rolling over, I sit back on my knees, before falling back on my ass, leaning against the tub.
She’s fucking beautiful. The siren sang her song for me tonight, and she did it… she pulled me into the depths of the ocean so fucking hard that I’m not quite sure what happened to me, but I’m certain I don’t want to return to the surface.
Sitting back, I watch her beautiful, soft body lying naked on the wet floor, her eyes covered by one forearm, the other hand pressed on her sternum as it rises and falls with deep, centering breaths. My eyes drift to her spread legs and to my cum spilling slowly out of her beautiful cunt, through her folds, towards her plump ass cheeks. I cock my head, lost in this beautiful picture before me, I could fucking frame it and look at it all day… every single day.
I lean over and slowly run my index finger through her folds and she startles, her swollen flesh far too sensitive right now. I spread my cum on her pussy, then between the curls of her mound, on her lower belly, drawing aimless patterns on her pale, soft skin.
She doesn’t protest, she doesn’t squirm or move away, she just lies there, and to my surprise, she relaxes under the twisted touch. Her breaths get deeper and slower and it makes me want to ask the same question she asked me… what doesshewant from me?
I know… I know she wants me to let her go. At least that’s what she wanted until she took control in the bathtub, fueled by actual bloodthirst. I couldn’t move as she impaled herself on me, wiping the memory of any other pussy that’s ever touched me. Stunned. Trapped in the primal movements of her eyes taking me all in, trapped by the moans vibrating in that throat that I wanted to constantly feel under my palm, trapped in the delicious silky feeling of her tongue licking the blood seeping out of the bullet wound.
Fuck!
Obviously, what she wants from me is not something I would have had a reason to ask her even three hours ago, but now… after what she just did, I would quite enjoy finding out what the fuck is going on through that twisted mind of hers.
Yes, she’s my captive.
Yes, I saved her.
No, I’m not letting her go.
Not yet anyway, not until I get my fill of her, not until her demons stop singing for me. I’m not making her develop any fucked up Stockholm syndrome, that is not my aim and it’s quite obvious that I don’t treat her well enough for that anyway. However, my behavior is exactly what she needs, it’s what her demons crave.
I turn and reach for the sponge sitting on the edge of the bathtub, rinsing it under the tap, before leaning over and cleaning my cum off her body. She props herself on her elbows and watches me as I wipe her swollen pussy, her curls, then her belly, rinsing the sponge in-between each before leaving it on the edge of the bath. When I look up, there’s confusion in her bright green eyes, mixed with emotions I can’t quite grasp.
That’s something I could never quite understand. I can read people’s actions, predict their behavior to the point that words are quite unnecessary. However, handling other people’s emotions or trying to understand their origins and impact, feels like I’m forced in solitary confinement with a bomb I need to disarm before it’s too late.
It’s interesting. Even now, in this silence, in this situation that should be filled by awkward unspoken words, it’s anything but. It’s comfortable, even with that curious, scrutinizing gaze in her eyes. The unspoken words traveling between us are part of an ethereal conversation that somehow we both understand. We know this meant something, yet neither of us truly knows what.
But it was pivotal.
She breaks the eye contact and shifts, bringing her legs under herself and lifting onto her knees. She comes towards me and my breath gets caught in my throat until she straddles my naked thighs.
I’m once again stunned by the situation and the shift I see in her. She’s taking control. Of me, of herself, of the situation. It should make me uncomfortable, but instead it sparks a curiosity in me that was never there before. It’s something of her own creation, a demon she birthed inside of me and that only she controls, probably without even knowing.
I watch as she leans over to the basket sitting on the bathtub and grabs a washcloth that she runs under the tap. She moves to my bicep, wipes the bullet wound and inspects.
“I don’t think there’s any remnants of the bullet. Clean straight through. You do however need stitches,” She says in a soft, faint voice that swirls through my soul.
I look down at my arm. I’m still bleeding, but it’s not quite that bad. Looking at her, I inspect her head where the skin was broken, brushing a strand of hair away from her beautiful, pale skin. She needs some closure strips on her temple, her eye is now bruised and a little swollen, and I’m not entirely convinced she doesn’t have a concussion.
This is a reminder that I lost control. I do not like losing control.
SUKI
He moves me off his lap before he gets up, and I’m left here kneeling, wondering what just happened. I was simply taking care of him, as he did to me before. I look up, only to find his sinewed arm pointed at me, palm facing up, waiting for me to grab it.
You’re overthinking things, Suki.
I take his hand, get up, and for a few seconds we both seem to forget what we are supposed to do—we simply stand here, looking at each other. We are both smeared in blood and in the aftermath of that intense fucking, we just look dirty.
However, no matter what, the sweet maple flavor of his blood will forever be imprinted on my tongue.
I bring my gaze to his dark blue eyes, his head cocked, watching me, studying, yet his expression betrays nothing. There is an emotional emptiness in his eyes that I cannot read, an intensity that I cannot quite describe. It is something specific to him and him alone and it scares me.
