That’s not any of us are here. We’re sadistic and morally fucked-up. Born from absolute hell, thriving on pleasure, feeding on pain, and drinking down fear like it’s our fucking oxygen.
Without warning, I yank her hand aggressively, pulling her closer. She flinches, the gun barely held steady in her other fist as I gaze down at her palm.
You’re different. You’re not like them. You’re still alive—still fucking breathing—and I still want you. This… whatever the fuck we are… I don’t give this to anyone else. When the fuck are you going to understand that?
As soon as she’s read it, I take full advantage, fed up with the big bullshit act. My hands shoot out, grabbing her waist with a violent force, driving her downward to straddle my lap, her pussy slamming onto me.
Her eyes go wide, body taunt, but she keeps the gun pressed against my chest, her breathing erratic.
I remain expressionless, my darkening red gaze trailing over every curve of her body, ravenous, wanting nothing more than to tear and stretch her tiny cunt apart, taste her insides in a way that ain’t humanly possible.
She doesn’t realize how fucking hard I’m holding back. How much I’m restraining myself from being the violent, murderous, and uncontrollable cunt that’s always begging to surface.
Just. For. Her.
“No,” she murmurs, the barrel of the gun digging harder into my skin. “I’m tired of your deranged shit. This ends tonight.”
My eyes flash, and I lift a brow, a dare in my eyes. Suddenly, my hand snaps out, snatching the back of her neck in a punishing hold, dragging her mouth closer to mine. I bare my teeth in frustration, a hiss slipping through, and her eyes squeezing shut.
She’s so fucking naïve sometimes. Too proud, too damn stubborn to see the truth bleeding out around her. She fights it like it matters, like she isn’t already into me, but she’s never been closer to me than she is now, and she’ll never crawl far enough to ever escape it.
Her eyes slowly blink open, locking straight onto mine. And there it is again. Her gaze drops to my lips, and I notice it, the small, but definitely there, surrender.
She lifts the gun, pressing it to my temple instead, while her other arm snakes around my shoulders. Her fingers tremor as they weave through the long waves at the back of my wet hair as she leans against me, pressing her tits on my pecs.
The touch sends an unexpected shiver straight down to my dick, my eyes heavy. I’ve never been touched like that before. Never let anyone get close enough.
“I shouldn’t want you, Wrath,” she confesses, the words coming out like a dying prayer. “You’ll be the death of me... and I... I’ll be the thing that drags you back to hell, where you belong.”
Her breaths fan against my lips, soft and warm as she inches closer, but just when they’re about to touch, I turn my head slightly, looking away.
I don’t do that.
Never have.
Sure, I fuck, to the point of no return, but intimacy has never been my… thing. For obvious fucking reasons.
That... making out... it’s not something I give a fuck about. Not when it’s classed as some kind of… affection.
Full of hope and false fucking promises. That’s all it’ll ever give.
Why would I give anyone that when they always gonna end up dead by my cruel hands anyway? It’s probably the only thing I’ve ever been able to stop myself from doing.
“But I thought I was different,” she whispers, more fact than question, but she says it in a way that annoys me.
It sounds almost like disappointment. She’s reading me too fucking fast, faster than anyone ever has. Even Hell didn’t get it this quick.
When I look at her, it’s brief, a flick of my eyes before I’m tearing my gaze away again.
Fuck’s sake.
My infuriating little fucking corpse. What are you doing to me?
“Hmmm. So you don’t speak, and you don’t want my lips on yours.”
She suddenly purrs the words, switching tactic, and there’s something reckless in them now, something a little too brazen. The cold steel of my gun presses harder against my temple as she shifts in my lap, deliberately grinding her warm cunt along the length of my hard cock and my teeth bite while I glance down, watching, feeling.
“So what is that mouth good for, Wrath?” When she finishes, my red eyes snap up to hers, burning with a crazed intensity.