Chapter 9

Harlee

I walk behind Ethan as he drags Richmond across the bedroom floor towards the bathroom. The man thrashes against his restraints, wriggling like a worm as he tries to free himself from Ethan's grasp.

"Look at you, you can be a real gentleman after all," I say with a chuckle, coming to a halt and leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom where Ethan is making sure that Richmond's hands and feet are securely tied. The man lies on the floor, gagged with a towel. His eyes are bloodshot, tears are running down his cheeks and snot is hanging from his nose.

"Well, it's slumbering in the depths of me, but I can't say you've been very deserving of that treatment all night," he says, and I roll my eyes at his answer.

"Ouch... back to being an asshole." I look down at the knife in my hand, twirling it and studying the light reflecting off the sharp edge. At the sound of the rope whipping, I look back at him where he throws the rope over the rail above the bathtub, his muscles flexing under his fitted shirt as he pulls the man up. Richmond's eyes are now wide open and he screams against the gag in his mouth. Once he's floating in the air, Ethan ties the knot securely to the counter to make sure he doesn't fall into the tub.

"All done," he says, dusting his hands as he takes a step back.

"Thanks." I walk up to him and take in the view of the man dangling freely in the air. It's been a while since I've been able to collect this much blood in one sitting. My sources have been mostly men since I came to the U.S., and due to my simple disadvantage in strength, I haven't been able to get them into this kind of position easily.

I steal a glance at Ethan, who has his arms crossed over his chest. Maybe I will have a use for him after this. While this night began with nothing more than the hope of getting laid by an attractive man who may meet my needs, I found something far more intriguing. A man who knows my secret, a man who isn't put off by the fact that I kill to use the blood to paint the pictures I sell for hundreds and thousands of dollars.

"So, expert, how are you going to do this now?" he asks, glancing at me.

"Slit his throat and let him bleed out slowly. The bucket I found in the kitchen should be big enough to hold all his blood." I keep my focus on Richmond, who is again struggling against his restrains, causing him to swing from side to side.

"Well then, go ahead. I'm curious to see your work up close."

"For how long have you been watching me?" I ask, approaching the tub and crouching down beside it, making sure the bucket is clean and perfectly positioned. My eyes meet Richmond's bloodshot ones staring back at me in panic, his face already crimson as he shakes his head frantically.

"One year," he admits. "I attended one of your exhibitions a year and a half ago. At first, I only went to your exhibitions, but when there was never a chance to talk to you, I resorted to other methods."

"Stalking me, huh?" I chuckle and grab a handful of Richmond’s hair before bringing the knife to his throat.

"I'd rather call it admiring from afar and making sure you’re safe."

My heart leaps in my chest, and I lower the knife again before turning to face Ethan. "Making sure I'm safe?"

"Yeah." He shrugs nonchalantly, as if stalking me, watching me kill and cleaning up after me is the most normal thing in the world. I roll my eyes and tighten my grip on the knife, turning away from Ethan. A flutter erupts in my belly and warmth creeps up my neck and spreads across my face. This man is unbelievable.

I raise the knife to Richmond's throat again in an attempt to distract myself from the butterflies going crazy in my stomach.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" I ask, pressing the blade against his skin, and the man nods. "Something that will convince us not to kill you?" I raise my eyebrows. He nods again, and although I suspect what his words will be, having heard them many times before, I pull the gag from his mouth.

"I'll give you all the money you want if you let me go!" Richmond chokes out the second the gag is gone. They never disappoint. Money . The one thing that has always gotten them out of sticky situations. Until now.

"No, thank you," I say, my eyes back on the blade at his throat.

"Sir, please!" Richmond turns to Ethan and I twist around to where he stands with his arms crossed.

"No amount of money is worth stopping what I’m about to witness."

"Please, please please—" Richmond pleads, grating on my nerves.

A sigh slips from my lips as I shake my head and with a powerful swing, I slash through the major arteries in his neck, blood bursting from his skin, spraying into my face before running down the man's face and dripping into the bucket. Completely ignoring Richmond's wailing and screaming for help, I shove the gag back into his mouth. "How annoying," I mutter to myself before pushing myself to my feet and turning to face Ethan.

"Has anyone ever told you how breathtaking you look when you're slitting someone's throat?" he asks, and I can't help but chuckle and shake my head.

"No. Because no one who has ever witnessed it other than you has ever lived long enough." I reach him in a couple of long strides. "And you better watch out, or you'll be next on my list. I'm sure I could paint an absolute masterpiece with your blood." A smile spreads across my face as Ethan's hand cups my cheek and runs his thumb over my skin, wiping away the drops of blood that cover my skin.

"Are you flirting or threatening me?" His lips curl into a smirk.

"Both?" I toss the knife on the bathroom counter before running my hands up his chest and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Rising to my toes, I begin to pepper soft kisses along the sides of his mouth, over his jaw, and down his throat. I run my fingernails down the nape of his neck, scratching the short stubble of hair, causing Ethan's whole body to shudder against mine. "It's going to take a while for all the blood to leave his body... why don't we use the time?" I whisper into his neck, running my tongue up the side of his throat and grinding my hips against his.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea," he whispers, his palms landing on my ass and pushing me closer.

"Good." I smirk and slide my hands back to his chest, shoving him back into the master bedroom where the Christmas tree is now illuminated, a fire crackles in the fireplace, and the soft melody of Christmas music plays in the background. "But first, let us toast to this evening. To the fact that we found a solution after all."

I pull away from him and pick up the two glasses of champagne I had prepared while he was dealing with Mr. Richmond and hand one to him. Without a second thought, he takes it and swirls the bubbly liquid before his eyes meet mine again.

"To us," he says, raising his glass.

"To us," I repeat, clinking our glasses together before raising mine to my lips and taking a sip while maintaining eye contact with Ethan, who also takes a sip of his drink. I then place my glass down and take a step toward him, wrapping my arms around his stomach. He welcomes me with open arms, holding onto me as I slowly but surely guide him backward toward the big bed.

With each step, his movements become slower and slower until his knees hit the edge, and he collapses backward, his eyes falling shut, his breathing shallow as he lies motionless in front of me.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart , but the rest of the night, we're going to play the way I want," I say to myself and get to work undressing him. Shoes, pants, and boxers go first. An amused smile plays on my lips as I catch sight of his half-hard cock. I then move to his torso, removing his jacket and shirt. Now completely exposed, my eyes settle on the tattoo that covers his right chest and upper arm. The head of a snake is on his chest, in the process of swallowing a skull, while its body wraps around his arm, surrounded by shattered bones. A dog tag is attached to the snake with his name and other information written in the small space. How poetic, a soldier who has seen and done the worst while serving his country has turned into a monster and is now killing the people he was sworn to protect.

Then I grab the knife in Ethan's holster and cut some of the sheets into strips and use them to tie his hands and feet to the bed. When I consider my work done, I take a few steps back to admire my creation. Ethan lies beautifully sprawled out on the bed, his chest heaving slightly with each shallow breath. I reach for my champagne glass and take another sip.

My eyes land on the Christmas tree and I snatch one of the candy canes from it, ripping open the wrapper and lowering the minty stick into my mouth. I then turn back to Ethan as I swirl my tongue around the candy before pulling it out of my mouth. My eyes travel over Ethan's body until they land on his cock, my lips curling into a smirk, and I look down at the candy cane in my hand before looking back at him.

It's been a while since I've been with a man who enjoyed being sounded, and I have a gut feeling he wouldn't mind; he might even enjoy it. After all, he is a big boy who can surely handle a little pain.

I take another sip of champagne before popping the candy back into my mouth. From my purse, I fetch a small packet of lube and climb onto the bed. Straddling Ethan's thighs, I wrap my fingers around his length, giving him a few lazy strokes. His pulse drums against my fingertips, steadily pumping blood into his length and causing it to harden.

"Such a good boy," I praise and continue until his cock is solid. Then I rip open the package of lube, pull the candy out of my mouth, and smear it all over it. I position the now narrower but rounded tip of the straight side against the tiny opening of his urethra. Slowly but surely, I apply pressure and the narrow tip breaks through as I make sure to keep his cock straight.

This is going to be a lot of fun when he wakes up.