Her whole body begins to shake against the tips of my fingers, and I revel in the emotions building inside her, growing harder and harder as her fear begins to build.
Yes, little rose.
Fear. Me.
“Your father owned a flower shop, didn’t he?” I say, leaning forward so I can take a whiff of the fear she exudes. “Ferry is the man who denied the order because it wasn’t to his liking, who refused to pay him, who made him walk … only to be killed right in front of the very fucking doorstep of The Tomb.”
She gasps, and I watch the single tear running down her cheeks with peak interest like it’s a droplet of Ambrosía itself.
Fuck.
I never imagined the truth would be so intoxicating.
Or that I would get so hard at the thought of her finding out. Guess I really am as sadistic as she thinks.
“You’ve been searching, haven’t you?” I murmur as I drag her closer to me across the table until she’s seated right in front of me, legs on both sides of my hips. “For the one to blame.” I lean in to whisper into her ear. “To kill.”
Her eyes find the gun on the table as sweat drops run down her neck, and then they find mine.
“Just like you’ve been wondering if you should kill me.”
Is she going to do it?
Will she attempt to murder me in cold blood?
In an instant, she reaches into her dress at the top and pulls out a knife, swinging it at my neck, but I grasp her wrist and pin her down against the table, knocking the knife out of her hand. It clatters onto the floor.
“You didn’t think killing me would be this easy, did you?”
“You asshole!” she grits.
I spin her around so her ass faces me, and I push her up against the table and drag up her dress until she’s exposed. “You want me to die by your hand? Earn the privilege.”
The man in front of us tries to slip out of the couch, so I home in on him and growl, “Sit. Down.”
With my hand still clasping her wrist, I sit down behind her and bring my mouth to her wetness, dipping out my tongue to take a lick. I can taste her rage on my tongue, the taste divine, like nectar for the fucking gods, and I’m about to dine like it’s my last meal on this godforsaken earth.
“What the f—” she moans when I spear her with my tongue, rolling it around inside her.
“Doesn’t it feel good, the need to kill?” I groan as I lick her out. “Like an aphrodisiac for the mind … nothing compares.”
“F-fuck,” she murmurs, unable to keep the moans at bay.
Ferry’s lips part. “I don’t want to interrupt something. Whatever it is you two h—”
“You’ll stay and watch me make her come …” I interject, toying with her until she mewls. “And it will be the last fucking moment of bliss you’ll witness before you die.”
“What?” she gasps.
“That gun in front of you has only one bullet left,” I say as I lap her up. “So make your choice wisely.”
I drive my tongue into her, tasting her sweet revenge before it happens. She’s my addiction, my one vice I can’t seem to quit, and it will be the end of me.
But at least it’ll be a death worth dying, knowing the last thing I felt was her body writhing from my tongue as I lap her up.
I press kisses against her mound and grip her ass tight while I dig in, spreading her wetness all over while she struggles on the table. I take one last swipe before I stand and zip down.
She immediately reaches for the gun, but my fingers shoving inside her slit make her stop midway there. Because the first thing I do when I pull them out is spread her wetness all over her ass.
“What are you doing?” she gasps, turning her head.
“You want to take a life? Then I will take the last inch of your body that has yet to be corrupted.”
Her pupils dilate as I push my index finger into her ass, and she moans as it fills her up knuckle deep.
“Another,” I groan, pushing the next one inside, stretching her to the limit.
“Oh my God!” she groans.
“Look at her, Ferry. Look at the woman who will be your end,” I growl. “Doesn’t death look pretty writhing from my fingers?”
“You’re fucked up,” Ferry says, shaking his head.
“You wish you never crossed paths with me,” I grit back.
I pull my fingers out of her, only to push my tip against her ass.
“Wait, I’ve never done that, you’re not going to—” She yelps when I push in.
And fuck me, the feeling is out of this world—so tight, so perfect, so utterly untouched that it almost makes me come instantly at the thought that I’m the first.
“You can take it. Just like you took me up your pussy, you’ll take my cock up your ass like the good girl you are …” I groan, and I grip a fistful of her hair and tilt her head back to make her look at me. “Because you are my good girl, whether you want to be or not, and I will own every inch of this goddamn perfect body and make it mine.”
I push in farther and farther, allowing her to feel the size of me, and I dribble down spit to lube her up some more.
She moans with every inch, but I’ve not nearly even begun.
“That’s my good girl. Now try to reach for the gun.”
“I can’t,” she yelps. “It’s too much.”
“Yes, you can,” I growl, fisting her hair tighter. “Grab the gun, little rose.”
Her fingers stretch out before her as far as I’m stretching her ass, pushing in farther and farther until she can barely take it anymore, but I know it’ll fit. She’ll make it fit because she is my fucking Ambrosía, and she was fucking made for me.
“Take the gun. Make it yours,” I growl.
Her fingers scratch at the table, desperate to cling to hope.
Hope that she may be able to avenge her father, and I will watch her every move with eager eyes, waiting for the moment when she finally cracks.
When fear and despair finally win.
And that goddamn wretched smile finally disappears off her face.
“F-fuck … it’s so tight,” she moans as I push her up against the table while I drive inside her.
I place a flat hand on her back and dip in deeper. “More. I need more. Give me fucking more, everything you have.”
She mewls when I thrust in fully, but as her nails dig into the wood, she finally makes the leap toward the gun.
And my heart nearly jumps out of my chest with excitement.
“That’s it, little rose. Take it. Take what belongs to you like I’m taking what belongs to me.”
She holds it like someone who’s never held a gun before, and I’m almost certain that’s the case. But I know this little vixen can do it.
Violence lives and breathes in her veins just like mine, like a monster scratching at the walls, and all I need to do is coax it out of her until it seeps from her pores.
“You … you …” she grits, lifting the gun as I thrust into her, deeper each time, stretching her to the limit.
“Yes. Feed me your fucking hate, little rose, because I cannot survive without it.”
Slowly but surely, she points the gun at his face.
“Don’t do this,” Ferry says. “Please.”
“Do you see the monster behind the man?” I groan, pushing in until I’m balls deep and groaning with delight. “Do you feel the thrill of the kill before it happens?”
I lean over her, caressing her back as I slowly close in on her ear. “Shoot. Kill him. Right between the eyes. Show him the murderous demon that hides beneath your skin.”
With sweat drops rolling down her neck, she points it at his eyes, her hands shaking as her fingers curl around the trigger.
“Please, let me go,” Ferry begs. “Please. Kill him instead. He’s the one making you do this.”
Ferry points at me, and I grin from his blatant attempt to change her fixation.
But he doesn’t understand how deeply I’ve infested her brain, her mind, her heart.
The gun is still in her hands, still the one focal point as if she’s thought of nothing but murder since she laid eyes on it.
“You can listen to him … kill me then … you don’t have the heart,” I whisper, burying myself to the hilt while I moan along with her. “Or you can listen to me … and end his miserable little life like he deserves.”
She shudders in place, torn between her wish to kill and her inability to.
Because I know what’s been bothering her all this time now.
The desire is so strong she can barely contain it, yet that fucking smile prevents her from going all the way.
But I will make her lose that innocence.
“If it wasn’t for him, your father would still be alive today,” I whisper into her ear. “You want to kill me? Show me you can do it.”
I pull back, leaning up to grip her ass as I thrust in deeply, coaxing out another moan.
My hand dives between her legs, and I roll my fingers around her wetness, applying ample pressure with each thrust. Her hand begins to shake more vigorously with every thrust.
“I can’t,” she mutters.
“Yes, you can,” I retort, going faster and faster.
“Now come, little rose,” I say. “Come and you will find the relief you so badly crave.”
She mewls along with every pounding, every fleshly connection between our souls, until our sweat mingles and our hearts beat in sync to our darkest desires.
And as I pull her off the table to meet me in my deranged fantasies, I bite down into her shoulder while pushing her over the edge.
BANG!
The moment her clit thumps, the gun goes off, and a loud moan escapes her mouth.
Blood sprays from his face, onto the table, onto her, and I lick up the mixture of blood, sweat, and tears right off her skin as my own climax begins. Howling, I cover her mouth with one hand to prevent the squeal from rolling off her tongue while I grip her hip with the other and thrust in deeply, coming inside her.
One. Two. Three more thrusts and I’m spent.
But my God …
“Death becomes you,” I whisper.
