Page 3 of Die With Me
It’s been like this for weeks now—this game of cat and mouse. We keep telling each other we will kill the other, but neither of us can deny the state of euphoria the other elicits.
If I’d known such a delicacy existed within Désirer’s walls, I’d have moved on from Carmela in a heartbeat.
The woman I used to be so infatuated with would have never let me make her bleed. No, when Carmela captured my attention, I was forced to put my monster in a cage and lock the doors. She was my chance at a different life. A domestic one that I thought I wanted.
Now that Misty has come along and pried the bars open with a crowbar, I realize I could have never thoroughly tamed the beast within me.
“ID?” A man stops me outside the hall leading to the private rooms. Quietly, I hand my fake one over, unsure if Misty used it or my real name.
Apparently, it’s the former, as the man hands it back over and checks off a name on his list. “She said you’d take care of the cameras?” he mentions as he holds out his hand.
Gruffly, I laugh. “Of course she did.”The little bitch.
I deposit a few crisp hundreds in his hand before tucking my wallet back into the inner pocket of my suit jacket—right next to a syringe of Midazolam.
I don’t want my little demon knocked out; just a little easier to handle while I take what I want from her tonight. I want her pliable. Willing. But unable to stab me in the back while she comes on my cock—which she would gladly do.
Our game doesn’t end tonight.
The room is dripping in gold-colored embellishments from the faux-marbled flooring to the wall of liquid that runs horizontally through three of the walls, bubbling like there’s actual champagne housed within the glass. A black leather booth encloses a small black-lacquered stage with a sparkling gold pole in the center of it.
And wrapped around the pole, wearing nothing but a flimsy thong, is my piccola demone.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show,” she lilts as she wraps a leg around the glittering golden rod and uses her weight to spin upside down before righting herself again.
My cock hardens immediately as her full breasts bounce, nipples erect and just begging to be bitten. A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins when Isee my handy work on her abdomen. A rugged slash of red puckered skin that’s just now starting to fade back to the color of her flesh at the edges.
I step closer to the stage, imagining what it would feel like to pull her skin apart and watch the blood well at the surface. “We have to stop meeting like this. I’m beginning to think you truly enjoy my company. Not that you want to kill me, piccola demone.”
She lets out the tinkling giggle that is her unique laugh. “There won’t be many more meetings, il mio mostro. I’m growing tired of this game.”
Something grips my chest, icy fingers of knobby bone crushing through the blackened organ. I place the roses on the leathery surface of the booth, gripping the edge of the stage to peer up at her. She flips upside down and spreads her legs wide.
The little slut is already soaked.
“You don’t look tired. So fucking wet for me already,” I growl.
Misty smirks, moving into a headstand position before gently, and expertly, kicking off the pole to lower her legs around my neck. Her body bends in half as she pushes her pussy in my face and undulates her hips, grinding against me.
Her juices soak my nose as I open my mouth to blow hot breath into her core. I wrap my handsaround her thighs and hold her to me while I breathe her scent in—vanilla and roses and pure, unadulterated lust.
“I hate that you make me this way,” she whispers from her contorted position.
“No, you don’t,” I speak directly into her, shoving her thong into her hole with my nose before I lick a path up her slit. I moan, loud and disgustingly, as I sloppily kiss her clit. “If you truly hated it, you’d never have sought me out again.”
She exhales a sharp breath as my teeth close over her sensitive bundle of nerves, nibbling on her hard enough to make her hips buck. Her skin pulls taut between my teeth as she retreats. I make her work for it, tightening my bite before finally letting go when she squeals.
With her eyebrows furrowed deeply and her seafoam orbs shining bright with rage, she snarls, “Make no mistake, il mio mostro. I’ll be your end.Thatis the only reason I found you again.”
“And I’ll be yours, piccola demone,” I say darkly.
She snorts and goes to move off the stage, opening those sinful lips to retort when I reach into my jacket and pull the syringe out, stabbing her in the thigh quickly. The dosage I give her is so low it will take a while to kick in—which is fine because I want to take my time with her tonight.
Growling like a feral cat, she launches herself at me after knocking the needle away. Long, black-painted nails pierce my cheeks as she scratches at me, keening like an animal in heat as she attacks my throat with her teeth and bites down like she’s trying to rip out my jugular.
Twisting her long, chestnut waves in my hand, I pull her off me with a roar before dragging her from the stage. She scrambles to regain her footing, hands continuing to claw at me with frenzied, uncalculated blows.
“It seems that you’re not on your A game tonight.” I chuckle, tossing her to the floor. I remove my jacket and quickly make work of the buttons on my shirt before pulling it over my head.