Page 13 of Die With Me
Coming out from under sedation is like living a fever dream. Your hearing intensifies—sometimes your taste if you had something shoved down your throat to help you breathe. You feel everything that was done to you, and you struggle to open your eyes to make sense of where you are.
To make sense of what happened while you were vulnerable to the doctors and nurses—or, in my case, a crazy little demon who’s out for my blood.
And there’s a lot of it—blood, that is.
Every single part of me feels like it’s on fire as I peer down at the mess Misty made. There are parts of me where she flayed my flesh, and the blood has dried. It cracks as I shift, pouring new red rivers from the wounds.
Misty’s name—herrealname, Marisela—is abloody mess over my right pec, and the wordmineis jaggedly carved over my left—directly over my heart.
“Misty, what have you done?” I question, choosing to continue using the name she picked because of me. She’s covered in crimson, still half-naked from earlier, grasping at her head while repeating how sorry she is and that she can’t do it.
Her beautiful eyes dart to the left, and she gnashes her teeth at the air as I ask her, “Misty, who are you talking to?”
My head pounds, temples throbbing as my adrenaline spikes. Shifting, I do my best to prop myself higher on my pillow. Every slight motion rips a fresh wave of discomfort from me as my eyes begin to focus better.
She’s mumbling to herself, kneeling at my side with a long blade lying by her knees and pieces of my skin scattered all around us. Her craftsmanship is magnificent, ensuring I suffer while not bleeding out.
The pain is severe, and I fight hard to swallow the bile that rises in my throat.
Tears line her eyes as she looks at me. “I have to do it. I have to do it for Adam.”
She reaches for the knife, prompting another burst of adrenaline to course through my veins and mask the pain. Moving quickly, I snatch her wrist and haul her up my body, letting out a pained grunt as she lands on my chest. “Then let me savoryour sweet cunt once more before you send me to Hell.”
I’m naked, my clothes a tattered mess all around us, and despite the distress my body is in, my cock still hardens at the sight of her covered in me. Her tits are bare, painted with thick red, and my words make her pussy wet, the arousal seeping from between her legs to mingle with the blood smeared over my chest.
As quick as a snap, her demeanor changes. “Even near death, my pussy is what you’re thinking about? Then I guess I’ve done my job, il mio mostro.”
Her lips smash against mine for a brief moment before she climbs the rest of my body, pulling her skirt higher until her warm, wet center is positioned over my face. “I’d make you beg for your last meal, but I feel generous.”
My blood on her tits cracks and flakes off as she reaches for a knife, slicing through the fabric of her skirt and tossing the garment and blade to the side. I close my mouth around her. She’s sweet and tangy as I slide my tongue through her slit before plunging through her folds, twisting her nipples and pulling as she rides my face.
A different kind of heat pours through me. This one is all liquid fire as it runs through my veins and straight to my engorged cock. If this is to be my end, I gladly accept it.
But I’m taking her down with me.
Misty tips her head back, hands reaching behind her to grasp my cock, giving it a few tugs before she lifts onto her knees and spins around to seat herself on my face. She mutters, “Shut up, Adam.” But the words die on her lips as she deep-throats my length, pulling a groan from my throat that vibrates up into her core.
Pain and pleasure mesh in a bloody, slippery dance as she sucks my cock and I eat her pussy like we’re teenagers trying to fit everything in before curfew. Her little mewls and gasps every time I suck her clit spur me on, and when her teeth graze the sensitive skin of my cock, I roughly slap her ass in return before pulling apart her cheeks, giving me easier access to nibble on her swollen bud.
“Ahh!” she cries out around me, trying to pull her head back, but I wrap my thighs around her neck and hold her down, bucking my hips into her face as I reach for the knife at our side.
As I tense them to keep her hostage, I map all the places she cut me, leaving more raw flesh than regular skin. If I hadn’t woken up when I did, I wonder if she would have kept going until I looked like one of those images of the human body and the muscular system.
Her garbled noises cause her throat to constrict around my cock, pulling my release from me. The sounds of her gagging fill me with delight, and I waituntil she’s thrashing around, desperately trying to escape, until I let her go.
Misty scrambles to the end of the bed, her back to me, as she gasps for air and spits my cum from between her lips while cursing my name.
And the satisfaction is nothing compared to the howl she lets out as I rise and sink the long blade into her side.
Before she can get away, I pull her backward by her hips, sinking into her with one thrust, my pelvis meeting her backside as I bottom out inside her. “Did you think you’d be the only one to draw blood tonight, piccola demone?”
She claws at the knife in her side, debating whether to pull it out or not, as I fuck her into the mattress. A high-pitched squeal fills the air as I continue to drill into her, watching as her blood streams around the knife and mixes with mine on the sheets. “Harder!” she moans before snarling, “I said shut the fuck up, Adam!”
“He isn’t here! I am!” I fuck her roughly, demanding that her body recognizes who it belongs to. Reminding her that every second between us is real and that whatever she’s hallucinating isn’t. “Everything of yours belongs to me, Misty. Do you understand?” I lean forward, pulling her head back by her hair, and whisper, “Including that fucked upmind. So if I hear you say his name one more time, I will cut out that perfect tongue.”
“Fuck you!” she spits, slamming her hips back against me, the blade in her side forgotten.
Chuckling, I twist her strands around my knuckles again, pulling her head back at what must be a painful angle. “Oh, I am, baby. Can you feel me?” I reach out with my other hand, pressing on her lower abdomen with every ardent thrust. “Can you feel me here?”