Chapter 36

It's early evening, and I walk into my bedroom after a long day of plotting another hit for a client. The music blares, and Dolly's perfume assaults my senses, a heady mix of sweetness and danger. I hear her singing along to the tune playing from the bathroom, the door left open. I peel off my leather jacket, tossing it onto the bed before pulling my hoodie over my head. When I am finished, I stride toward the bathroom door, peeking around the frame with one eye.

My gaze travels down the length of her back as she leans over the sink, scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror while doing her makeup. She's wearing a tiny black, skintight mini dress with thin straps on her shoulders, paired with her usual black platform boots. Her blonde hair, thick and loosely curled tonight, cascades down her back to her ass.

When she stands straight, I notice she has long black, silk gloves that reach up to her upper arms, covering her pain from the other night. I start wondering what she is up to until she turns around, and I dip back, leaning against the wall, thinking how to confront her.

Beside me, I spot a small white box on the chest of drawers, and I gently reach over. I lift it before bringing it in front of me, my eyes scanning over the text and realizing they're anti-depressants. I open the box, seeing she has already taken two, and then place it back down.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I feel the weight of the past few days pressing down on me. Since the other night, I have had to withdraw from things to assess them for what they are. The words she said to me, even if she was clearly out of her fucking mind and not remembering she said them, they rocked me. They have made me think I might not be right for her, even if I feel like she is the other part of me. It makes me believe those words that were spoken were still from somewhere deep within her and they had truth in them.

I am a violent asshole, I know this, but if something has happened to my Little Dolly prior to her meeting me, am I just adding to her fucking trauma? Am I just like "them" as she said? I guess some form of guilt is creeping in. Something I've never felt before, but it just shows what this girl does to me. There's a war within myself because it seems like she likes who and what I am whenever we're together which has me fucking conflicted. I know, soon, I am going to have to speak to her about it, but only when she is feeling herself. I don't want her having another psychotic episode.

The way I was so rough with her when internally she has been so broken makes me shudder. I've done terrible things and hurt people without a second fucking thought, but with her, it's different. I care about her in a way that fucking scares me. Yeah, me, the man who has never been afraid of shit in his life. The man who kills people for a fucking living in the most horrific ways without feeling a single ounce of remorse.

I run a hand through my black, curly hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. When she suddenly walks in, she doesn't see me, and I watch her every move while she leans over the bed, reaching for her small black bag with a shoulder chain. My eyes move down her again, knowing I have been unfair by being so closed off.

"Going somewhere?" I say, my voice low and deep.

Her body jolts before she spins around to face me. She lifts a brow in defiance, clearly annoyed with how I have been.

"I'm going out for a few hours with Blush," she responds, sliding the chain of her bag up her arm.

I push myself away from the wall and take slow, intimidating steps toward her, noticing how her breathing has picked up, but her chin is raised with confidence. When I stop in front of her, I take in her pretty face, the black makeup decorating her blue eyes, making her iris's pop. Her full lips, glossed, draw my attention and I find myself wanting to slide my dick between them for looking so goddamn beautiful. She tries to pass me, but I grab her upper arm, pulling her back in front of me.

"Now you want to bother with me, Hell?" she asks, hurt flashing across her features although she tries not to show it.

I move my hand up the curve of her back until it's on the nape of her neck, and she cranes her head as I speak over her lips. "Tell me, Dolly, do you like the way I fuck you?" I ask, my voice a growl.

She searches my eyes, "Yes," she whispers without hesitation.

"Why?"

She thinks about it for a moment, her eyes scanning mine. "Because you're the first man I've met in my entire life that I fully trust," she breathes out honestly. "You're the first man who has ever given me not only the pain I crave but the beautiful bliss that comes with it. In your presence, the ache in my heart is replaced with your agonizing pleasure. I am safe, even if safety hurts like hell."

My eyes close as I rest my forehead against hers, allowing her to continue. "At first, I was skeptical. I felt like it wasn't right, like I was wrong for wanting it as much as I did." I open my eyes and stare into hers, the intensity of her words striking me. "But then I realized, it was okay to give in to your dark desire for the man you trust and..." She pauses for a moment, taking a deep inhale, "You show me there is a twisted form of good in you, when you don't show it to anyone else. It makes me feel.."

I lift my head, my gaze scanning her face, wondering if this is the truth and she slides her hands up my chest. "You make me feel things my cold insides have never felt, Hell. Fire. When I feel dead, you have always made me feel alive again. You breathe life back into my soul every fucking time we're together and when you touch me."

I take in her words carefully before asking something else that weighs heavily on me. "Why do you like receiving pain, Noir?" My eyes bore into hers, and she inhales sharply before facing aside.

"What makes you think there is a reason?" she responds, her voice barely above a whisper. I don't answer immediately, my gaze fixed on her pretty side profile as she tries to avoid eye contact.

"There's always a fucking reason," I finally say. "I have hundreds of reasons why I am who I am, yet not one of them really justifies my lack of self-control to want to inflict pain on other people."

She looks into my eyes finally, her expression full of vulnerability and defiance. "I guess you and me aren't so different."

My eyes harden as I take another step forward, my voice dropping to an intense growl. "You're nothing like me. You could never be." I slip my arm around the middle of her back, pulling her close to me, my face inches from hers. "For the last fifteen years, I have been built to deliver immense pain and suffering, Dolly. And I fucking love how it feels."

She remains silent and blank, her eyes searching mine. "Why do you like to receive pain? Why the fuck did you mark your pure skin before you even met me and why are you doing it again now?"

I probe for her to voice the answers, even though deep down I think I know why, yet my frustration still mounts that she claims to trust me but won't tell me the truth. I notice her eyes brim with tears before she turns her face aside, her voice trembling. "It doesn't matter," she murmurs in a low tone.

I suddenly grab her face, squeezing her cheeks, and force her to stare into my intense eyes once more. "It does fucking matter to me," I declare through clenched teeth. "When I said you're mine, Noir, I meant it. That doesn't mean just your pretty face and beautiful body—that means your soul, too. I want it all. Your hurt, your tears, your fucking laughter. I don't want to just give you pain; I want to give you more. You need to feel more."

Her tears spill over, tracing paths down her cheeks. "I don't know if I can," she whispers, her voice breaking. "The pain helps."

That's when it hits me—it's this fucking trauma thing. Noir has never experienced anything other than what she is used to, just like me. She's never experienced that fluffy shit, and although it doesn't bother me as much, it clearly bothers her.

Without warning, I grab the back of her thighs, lifting her quickly and dropping her back onto the bed. A squeak escapes her from my sudden dominance, but before she can say anything, I shove my tongue into her mouth while lying on top of her.

Her body tenses for a moment, then melts against mine, her hands gripping my back. I drag her thin dress straps down her shoulders, the fabric slipping easily under my fingers. With a swift yank, I pull the bust down until her breasts are freed, the cold air causing her nipples to harden instantly. I push her dress up her thighs, my hands rough and urgent.

Her moans vibrate against my tongue, as my hands roam over her exposed flesh, feeling the softness of her curves, the way she arches into me, craving more.

I grab the strings of her panties, dragging them only halfway down her thighs, not wanting to peel my skin away from hers to rip them off fully. As I free my belt and drag my zipper down, I slip my hand into the back of her hair, taking a handful and tugging it back to expose her neck to me. Flopping my hard cock out, I press the tip against her wet entrance, breathing heavily over her parted lips, then sink into her.

She lets out a dragging gasp as I stretch her, her eyes rolling back, but I don't ram into her like I usually would. I make her feel every fucking inch of my dick and piercings as I gradually slide down her walls. The sensation is intense, her warm cunt enveloping me, and I savor every moment of it. As soon as I am balls deep, I dip my head and do something I've never done—I smother her delicate neck with my tongue and lips.

I feel her shudder from the sensation, and I slowly start to fuck her in a way that is absolutely foreign to me, but not to her. Except this time, it's not with Limp Dick, it's with me and I will make her fucking come for me.

While dipping into her over and over again, I deliver no pain, and surprisingly, it's not as shit as I thought it would be, but it's undoubtedly because it's with her. Nothing could ever be shit with her. She digs her nails into my back, her nipple piercings sliding up and down my chest with each stroke, one clashing with mine. Her moans as well as her come leaking down my fucking balls tell me she is enjoying what I am doing to her.

"We're so much more than depravity and pain, my pretty girl. Our connection is what forges us, not our twisted fucking mindsets," I murmur in her ear through heavy breathing.

I lift my head, taking her plump lips to mine again, and she eagerly kisses me back while I continue to grind my cock into her soaked pussy with a steady, deep rhythm, bucking my hips against her and spreading her legs further apart. I move one of my arms beneath her knee, lifting it so I can drive further, and after some time, we both cave into the pleasure.

Her body and pussy tighten around me, her orgasm shaking her to her core. I press deep, my cum shooting into the furthest depths, and I let out a growling groan against her lips from the sensation. I continue to fuck her slowly until we're both finished and then I rest my face against the crook of her neck, giving it a couple of breathless kisses.

But then I suddenly hear her sob, and I raise my head swiftly. As I look into her watery eyes, she just stares at me with a wobble in her lip. I tilt my head to the side as she slides her arm around my shoulders, drawing me down to her lips.

"Thank you so much," she whispers, her voice cracked.

My eyes ease, and I lean my forehead against hers, sweeping my thumb down her jaw.

She closes her eyes, a tear slipping from her eye into her hair. "I never thought I could feel that way."

If I do actually have a heart, I felt the ache in it when she said that. What the fuck has my Dolly been through? Who the fuck has done this to her? I'll fucking kill them. I'll make them suffer so horrifically. I'll burn the entire fucking world down for her. I need to know, but I also know I must wait to confront her about it. She's so fucking fragile right now.

"I don't want you ever doing that to yourself again, pretty girl." I murmur over her lips, "If you feel like everything is falling apart, you need to fucking come to me. I might not be the best of men, but I'll try to be the best for you."

She breathes in deeply before giving a small nod in agreement. After a moment of silence, I push myself off her, slipping my arm around the middle of her back and drag her with me. While standing, I buckle my belt and she pulls her panties up her thighs before adjusting her dress.

I watch as she passes me, striding into the bathroom to fix her makeup that I ruined, seemingly now a lot happier. When she returns, she heads straight toward me. She throws her arms around my shoulders, drawing me down to her lips, and devours my mouth so fucking hard with a moan that I feel like I might tie her to my fucking bed and ruin her pretty asshole all night long.

I lift her dress, giving her soft, peachy cheek a rough squeeze, enough to make her squeal and smile against my lips. The sound of her now giddiness is music to my ears.

I glance all around her face, taking in every detail, every expression, before I speak. "Later, I can't promise I'll be so nice, Noir."

She gives a sinister smirk, her eyes glittering with mischief. "Promise?" she raises an eyebrow, biting her bottom lip.

I growl, my hunger for her flaring up again. I give her ass a sharp slap, the sound echoing in the room. "Get the fuck out of here with my fresh cum smeared all over your cunt before I chain you to my damn bed," I grit out, my voice filled with frustration.

She giggles, sending a shiver down my spine, and dashes past me. I watch her every move, my dark eyes following the sway of her hips and ass until she smiles back at me before walking out the door.