SERAPHINE
Leroi is being uptight, and he won’t stop ruining the moment with his constant questions. What difference does it make? I had to defend myself from Samson. The psychopath got what he deserved.
A network of thick veins runs vertically along the underside of his shaft, which branch out into smaller diagonal and horizontal vessels. Leroi’s cock is a thing of beauty, much like the man himself.
Precum beads on its bulbous crown, making my mouth water for a taste. I wonder which is saltier, his cum or his blood. I want to taste them both.
Just as I’m about to run my tongue along the mouthwatering vein running up Leroi’s shaft, he takes hold of my face and forces me to look into his eyes.
“Seraphine?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”
“Get in the bath.”
“Don’t you want a blow job?” I ask, my mouth drifting toward his cock.
Groaning, he steps back and out of the reach of my mouth. “That’s a lesson for another time.”
My lips tighten, and I push back a surge of irritation. He’s a control freak and a perfectionist, but I suppose that’s part of his charm. It takes a man with that level of discipline and restraint to sneak past all those guards into the Capello mansion and murder the entire shitty family. I can’t even blame him for Samson being alive because I spent five years with the twins and only managed one major victory.
With a reluctant sigh, I rise off the edge of the bathtub. Leroi climbs in first, takes my hand, and lowers us down to sit, so I’m resting on his lap with my back against his chest.
His thick erection nestles between my ass cheeks. I give my hips a little wiggle, and he releases a throaty moan.
“Behave,” he growls, his voice thick with arousal.
When he grabs my thighs to hold me still, I settle back with a giggle.
“Yes, sir.”
“Say that again,” he says, his deep voice vibrating against my back.
“Yes, sir,” I repeat, my voice softening with mock submission. Reaching behind my back, I wrap my fingers around his shaft. “Anything you want.”
Leroi groans. “That’s my naughty little angel.”
He places soft kisses on the side of my face, all the while rubbing off the blood with his wet hands. The water is warm, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his touch.
“You took my cock so well,” he says. “Are you sore?”
The muscles of my pussy clamp. “Just a little. It’s more like an ache from being stretched.”
“Is that what you like? Being stretched open?”
“Only by you.”
His hand drops.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.
“Of course. Why are you even asking?”
He lets out one of those long, frustrated sighs that are usually accompanied with pinching the bridge of his nose or rubbing the patch of skin between his temples. I pretend not to notice. If Leroi has hangups about sex, then he needs to do it more, not less.
“Seraphine,” he says.
“Leroi.” I mimic his tone.
“You can’t erase years of abuse with a few brutal murders.”
“Why not?” I glare straight ahead.
“You’re impossible.”
I raise my shoulders, not feeling the slightest bit murdery. Leroi doesn’t understand that his presence is everything I need.
He wraps his arms around me and plants a soft kiss on the tender spot behind my ear, over the scar from my chip. Shivers skitter across my skin, making my nipples tighten.
“Do that again,” I whisper.
“This?” He kisses it again.
My muscles relax. “Yeah,” I say with a long exhale. “Your touch is all I need to erase my past.”
His second sigh is quieter, sounding a little more resigned. I reach for his large hand and intertwine our fingers.
“It wasn’t that bad,” I say softly.
Leroi doesn’t respond. Either he wants me to elaborate or he thinks I’m lying.
“I suppose the first few weeks were the worst. It was terrible, really, but that’s so far in the past, it’s barely worth mentioning.”
“Yet you still have nightmares about what happened to your mother.”
I stiffen. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“Seraphine.”
The hands running over my skin still, and I grind my teeth.
“What’s the point of rehashing the past? I’m over it.”
“You gouged out a man’s eyes for… How did you put it? Being rude?”
“I was still upset about the man who came to my room,” I mutter.
He pulls me into a hug that feels like swaddling, but I tense under his grip. Is this where he insists that I see another therapist? My lips purse, ready to refuse.
“I’m sorry for letting you stay in the apartment when I had company. I should have ignored your wishes and carried you over to Miko’s, where you would have been safe.”
My eyelids flutter shut, and I relax back into his embrace. “That’s alright,” I murmur. “I got over that pretty quickly, too.”
“Murdering the man who assaulted you is understandable, but you didn’t stop there. You need a healthier outlet.”
“I have you.” It sounds harsher than it was meant to. I reach behind my back again to take hold of his erection, but he grabs my wrist.
“You’re avoiding the topic.” His voice is even, but the words sharpen.
My hands curl into fists. I pull at my arms, trying to break out of Leroi’s grip, but he’s too strong. Even when I jerk my head backward to smash the back of my head into his nose, he’s already two steps ahead.
“Let go of me,” I snap.
“So you can derail this conversation?” He scoffs. “You claim to be unaffected by what happened to you in that basement, but your actions say otherwise.”
“Are you judging me for Paolo?” I jerk my elbow backward, trying to snap his ribs.
“No.” He pulls my arms out of reach. “But I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’ve suffered.”
My eyes sting, mostly out of frustration because he’s caught me at my most vulnerable. I’m naked, without weapons, and positioned so I can’t use my nails and teeth.
“Let go of me,” I say, my voice straining. “Please.”
“Not until you tell me something.”
“I already told you about Samson’s dick. What more do you want to know?”
“Did the abuse stop?”
“Yes?”
He exhales a sharp breath. “You don’t sound so sure.”
“Well he couldn’t exactly rape me without a dick, could he?” I snap.
“What about Gregor?”
“He never touched me like that, even though he acted like he did.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’d hear him tell Samson that I was a worthless fuck or too loose. It was all excuses.”
“Was he gay?”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. In some ways, Gregor was worse than Samson, because he wasn’t like the average man who only thought with his dick. “I don’t know. Maybe? He only cared about hurling insults and sending me out on missions.”
Leroi kisses the side of my face. “Thank you for telling me.”
I don’t relax because this interrogation isn’t over. He’s still gripping my wrists.
“How long did the sexual abuse last?”
I bow my head. “A few weeks. Dad was the one who took me to the basement, saying that I was an impostor who owed him.”
“For what?”
“All the money he’d spent on me since I was born.”
Leroi makes a disgruntled sound.
“Yeah. He said since Mom was dead, I had to work off her debt.” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “He left me down there for hours with no food and water until I was weak and feverish. That’s when he brought the twins and introduced me as their new toy.”
Leroi hisses through his teeth. “They just accepted that?”
“Gregor laughed and said no, but Dad insisted. He said they could do whatever they wanted, but they couldn’t leave any permanent marks.”
When Leroi doesn’t react, I continue. “Gregor rejected me at first, saying that little girls weren’t his type and he didn’t want Samson’s sloppy seconds, so it was just me and Samson until he made the mistake of forcing me to give him a blow job.”
“That’s when you bit him?”
I nod. “It was worth it at the time because Samson didn’t touch me like that again.”
Leroi relaxes a little before asking, “What happened next?”
“The twins beat me up, then left me to starve and fester until Dad came charging in, screaming about me ruining his son. By then, I was too weak to care. I thought he was going to throttle me until Gregor stopped him.”
“Why?” Leroi asks.
“I didn’t understand what was happening until I woke up one day drenched in cold water. There was a new man in my room. He said he was there to train me. That I was going to learn to kill to pay off Mom’s debts.”
Leroi’s breath hitches. “Who was he?”
“Gregor called him Anton.”
