Chapter 28: Zayna

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Zayna

H e fucks me in the shower slowly. When we get out and dry off, he fucks me from behind while I’m bent over the bathroom sink. He’s soft. Gentle. Killing saps some of the violence out of him and he was only rough when he kissed me. Ruger finds clothes in his friend’s apartment, and we now have to wear matching St. Louis Cardinals sweatsuits.

Truly weird clothes.

But they’re clean, soft and comfortable. Ruger reveals the bedroom to me like it’s a gift. I get where he’s coming from when I see the gigantic king-sized bed. The bedroom is the biggest room in this condo, and it’s clearly just to fit this large, cozy bed. I can’t wait to fall asleep against his chest.

I doubt Ruger has much sleep in mind, even if we’re dressed. It’s Boston, so every inch of this condo is freezing, even with the heat on. We need to get beneath those white sheets immediately.

“Tomorrow night, we can go on a date,” Ruger says as he touches and teases my hips and butt on our way to the bed. He pulls back the sheets and we fall in simultaneously. Our bodies immediately rush together so we can cuddle. Why is murder making us both so tender?

My body curves neatly against Ruger’s. We fit perfectly together. He moves my hair away from my neck and continues with his pattern of slow, soft kissing.

“I can’t keep my hands off you,” he says, breathing through his words with frustration that I can feel as his dick gets hard against my ass. Again? How much energy does this man have for sex? And how much more of that big dick can I take? My hips and entrance are both already sore… But his touch unravels me.

I squirm and press my ass back against him. I can feel the shape of his dick as he gets harder. He kisses my neck and his hand wanders from my hip, up the side of my sweatshirt, and then wraps his hands around one of my boobs. Ruger has a deep fascination with them. He teases my nipple through my bra and quickly loses patience, reaching underneath it to touch my breasts.

My nipples are hard and respond by sending surges of pleasure to my pussy. I have to give up on the guilt I feel for allowing Ruger to touch me. I have done so much worse than letting this man touch me now. The worst part is feeling no guilt. All I feel right now is good. Pleasure unlike anything else. I’ve never felt my nipples so intensely, and he touches the area of raised skin around each nipple so slowly that I feel far more aware of my body than I ever have in the past.

His body could dominate every inch of mine completely, but he chooses to tease me slowly instead. I press my butt against him, still too tense about the two of us to ask for what I want out loud. Ruger has no problem being the vocal one between the two of us. One hand continues to tease my nipples and the other reaches down the front of those red St. Louis Cardinals sweatpants. I have no underwear on.

Ruger wouldn’t have cared if I did, because he knows exactly what he’s looking for. His fingers split my lower lips and humiliation flushes over me. I just got out of the shower. He barely touched my nipples. We already had sex… but I’m soaked.

This isn’t leftover lubrication either. Ruger’s touch revs me up faster than that damn motorcycle engine. I whimper as his finger just brushes past my clit and my initial arousal turns into a deep craving for more of Ruger. His hands. His dick. I want any part of him to touch me that is guaranteed to make me cum. Ruger senses my yearning for more.

I whimper and pull my sweatpants down before pushing my hips back as he continues playing with my clit. The heat pulses from my entrance and this deep throb of arousal continues inside me. I push my hips back again, trying to find Ruger’s dick and slip it between my butt cheeks. Really give him a hint.

I keep forgetting that he has a streak of cruelty that I have witnessed and participated in. Ruger pinches my clit between his fingers and instead of receiving the pleasure I crave so badly… I freeze. My breath hitches in the center of my chest and Ruger chuckles, teasing me further with the warm breath tickling my neck and ear.

“You want me,” he whispers. “You want me so fucking bad, even if I just fucked your tight ass pussy in the bathroom…”

I whimper out of some fucked up combination of resignation and guilt as he continues massaging my clit and then moves his fingers over the length of my slit.

“Don’t worry baby,” Ruger continues, without waiting for a verbal response. “I want to fuck your pussy nice and slow…”

His enormous body shifts behind me as he removes his sweatpants. His arm is big enough to pin me to the bed as he keeps playing with me and taking his clothes off, enjoying the speed and messiness of the process.

Once his pants are all the way off, I feel the head of Ruger’s dick smack against my ass cheek with enough force to make it jiggle. We move together slowly until the gigantic head presses against my entrance. I’m ridiculously wet, but still sore from our earlier encounter in the bathroom. I wriggle my hips, breathing slowly to make it easier to stay calm while Ruger’s massive cock penetrates me. My body still has a natural tightening fear response to the invasion.

Even if this time, I want him… Not just because I want something from him either. It’s deeper than that. It’s not just the fact that Ruger killed for me, it’s the way he did it. He’ll do it again too. It was strange and exciting to sit in his lap and watch the man who hurt me die in front of me. I should feel guilty. I should be fucked up the way a “normal” woman would be. But I just want sex.

Like Ruger.

With Ruger.

I push my hips back and moan loudly as I take too much of his dick inside me. It hurts. So badly. But I want him. I need him to take me tonight and finalize our twisted pact. When I first met this man, his hands were covered in blood. I need physical proof that he’s doing this for me — not just the joy of killing.

His lips graze my throat as he thrusts more of his dick inside me. I moan and lean back into the small offering of pleasure he gives to counteract the pain. I don’t want to think anymore. I just want this — the delicate balance between pain and pleasure in a strong man’s arms.

“More…” I plead with him. I don’t know how he’ll respond to this desperate begging. My heart thuds as I wait to receive either more torture as Ruger stretches out the anticipation between us, or if I’ll finally get the satisfaction I want from him. More sex… More of his dick…. More orgasms. His lips fasten around my neck and he shoves his cock all the way inside me.

It’s a tight fit. Very tight. Juices squirt out of me as my body makes a desperate effort to ease his entry between my legs. But nothing can stop the divine mixture of pain and pleasure I experience from having this man’s thick, veiny cock buried between my legs all the way to the hilt. Fuck guilt. Fuck the past. Fuck everything I’ve been through.

I just want to be here. The only place in years I haven’t felt lost.

“Fuck, baby,” Ruger whispers. “You are perfect, you hear me… Perfect…”

He fucks me slowly and earnestly again. I don’t know how to feel about this man who shows every outward sign of racism whispering into my ear that I’m perfect. And meaning it. I don’t know if I should trust his change. What I do know is that Ruger feels good.

Once I adjust to how good his thick cock feels between my legs, I push back against him and we meet each other with gentle, rhythmic thrusts until the pressure between my legs is too much for me to handle. I try to ride the wave of orgasm as it hits me, allowing the sensations to linger as Ruger rubs my clit. Fuck, he knows exactly what he’s doing and it makes it harder to think straight.

But much easier to have multiple orgasms. I moan and push against his shoulder, encouraging Ruger to push inside me deeper and tease my clit so my orgasm is more intense. My pussy has such a tight grip on his dick that after all those orgasms, he can’t stop himself.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “I could make a baby with your fine ass.”

Then with that complicated and honestly fucked up statement, he thrusts the rest of his cock all the way in and finishes. I grip Ruger’s thigh as he spills his seed between my legs. Partly begging him not to pull out so I can feel the warmth of his cock’s eruptions. But also… what did this man say?

He doesn’t seem to find his words out of place. He keeps kissing my neck. Touching my hips. He’s so loving and soft that I almost want to let his little baby comment fade. I keep ignoring the risks we keep taking. It’s easy to live in a fantasy world with Ruger… But then he says things that make him very real and our reality together a little terrifying.

When he pulls out of me, Ruger pulls me against him to cuddle.

And then… he says it again.

“I think we could do it,” he says. “You would be a good mama.”

I flip over to face him, squirming closer to him afterwards to capture as much of his warmth as possible.

“Ruger,” I whisper, letting my fingers trace his bare chest. He has the Jack of Spades tattooed on the right side of his ribs. I let my fingers trace the outline of the card. Every inch of this man is so unfairly beautiful. He can hide it with those biker clothes or sweatpants. But not in bed, where I can feel the muscles and the scars. I can tell some are from bullets but others are from the wrong end of a belt. “We can’t have a baby.”

I don’t even sound like I believe myself. I am at the highest risk for having a baby since… well, since the crime. I haven’t had much interest in men and I’ve done what I can to avoid them. This being the man whose bed I just fell into concerns me. I met him with blood on his hands and now we’re talking about a baby?

Has life fucked me up that much?

Ruger takes my hand and presses it to his chest.

“I know you’re thinking about the bad shit,” he says. “I’ve been covered in it my whole life. But we could be different.”

“We’re murderers, Ruger,” I whisper, as if saying it quietly will make a difference. We’re alone in his friend’s bedroom, tucked well away from the world.

“Yes,” he says. “But we can leave all that in the past and start new. Sleep on it, baby. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

I thought we were going to kill again tomorrow and now, I’m not sure which one makes me more nervous.

“We already have a baby,” I venture carefully.

Ruger laughs. “I miss Eden too. But I want a baby with you and me.”

It sounds strangely naive. Strangely romantic. It’s that same hidden softness that drew me to this bloody monster in the first place. And I hate that very badly in the depths of my soul, I want to say yes. I want to give him everything — even if it makes no sense.