Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Briar

(Two Years Ago)

The executioner, a man feared by the devil himself, can be gentle and sweet.

Dariyus carries me into a large bedroom. It’s white, blindingly white, the kind of white that you see in a mental asylum. But it’s pretty, and the bed is huge, custom-made, and looks like it will easily fit five or six people.

“Is this where we all sleep?”

“It’s where you’ll sleep. I don’t wanna invade your space, especially after what you just went through.”

His words sting. I should be glad that another man doesn’t want his turn with me after two very brutal men have violated me for the past few hours. But rejection sets in. Maybe he doesn’t find me pretty enough. Perhaps he doesn’t like full-figured women.

I shrug, trying to act more nonchalant than I feel. “It’s cool if that’s not your thing.”

He laughs as he runs the shower, placing his long fingers under the water to check the temperature. “I can assure you that fucking the brains out of beautiful women is definitely my thing, but I’m trying to be a gentleman here. Some of us had parents who raised us right.”

“Didn’t know psycho killers had parents.”

His head snaps toward me.

Here we go.This is where I’ll see the executioner. Hopefully, I won’t die.

But he only bursts into boisterous laughter. The man sounds downright jolly. “Do you think I just hatched at some point?”

I like Dariyus. He’s easygoing and doesn’t take himself too seriously. All the stories I’ve heard about this man go out the window. He doesn’t behave like a deranged killer. He’s a cinnamon roll. A cute little golden retriever. But a golden retriever can be lethal if provoked. Perhaps that’s the story. A good man who did some dark things to survive.

“Well, since you’re a mammal, I assume you didn’t hatch. “

“My parents were good people. Honest, hard-working, and loyal. Some would even say they were God-fearing. But good people don’t survive in an evil world. I learned at a very young age that to survive in the beast’s world, I had to become one. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to treat a lady. Be a good girl and get in.”

I step into the hot shower and turn to watch Dariyus remove his boots, socks, and drop his pants. I’m mesmerized by his body. It’s as if he’s carved from steel and marble. Every curve of every muscle makes my mouth water. Dariyus is a damn work of art.

My gaze moves up his body, appreciating every goddamn inch of the man, especially what he’s packing between his legs. I guess it shocked me when he approached Malachi and fucked his ass, but goddamnit, that’s the biggest cock I’ve ever seen. It must be at least ten inches, and it’s thick. I mean, coke-can, thick.

I meet his eyes, and his lips turn up in an arrogant smirk. “Like the view, Nafasam?”

“What’s not to like? You own a mirror. You obviously put a lot of effort into”—I wave my arm up and down, gesturing at his physique—“whatever fucking Rembrandt this is. No, I take that back. Rembrandt couldn’t do justice to a work of art like you.”

Dariyus walks into the shower, and the ostentatious space is suddenly too small. I wrap my arms around my body, covering myself.

His enormous dick brushes against me as he moves under the hot spray of the shower. “It’s a little too late to hide your body from me. I’ve already seen everything you’ve got to offer.”

“It’s a little nerve-racking, looking the way I do and standing naked beside a god like you,” I admit.

“You were talking about artwork earlier. Did you know most priceless works of art depict bodies like yours?”

“You’re only saying that because you wanna get into my pants.”

“Briar, I don’t have to say shit to you. I could bend you over, fuck any hole I want, and leave without a care. You made a deal that didn’t include any of us being good or kind to you. I say what I do because I’m not blind. I’m standing in front of the only woman who makes my heart beat and my skin sweat. I wouldn’t change an inch of you. I like that you’re soft, that your tits are so fucking large I could suffocate in them. I want you to sit on my face and drown me with your cunt. So no, I’m not saying that because I want to get in your pants. I’m saying it because, based on the reaction of my cock, and everything I feel when I’m around you, you’re already mine.”

His words are a direct assault on my clit. I now understand when people talk about vagina flutters because mine is fluttering like the wings of a caged bird.

Dariyus’ long arm comes around me, pulling me toward him. My chest presses against his. “I wanted to fuck you from the first moment I saw you. I’ve got a lot of videos of you in my spank bank. But I’m not like Ezra and Malachi with sex, at least not with women. I want to please you. I want you to come so much that you can’t walk for a fucking year. For you to submit to me because it makes you feel good. I don’t have a desire to hurt you or call you names. I only want to worship you like a queen. Like my queen. And most of all, I want to be your safe space. The person you run to whenever you need anything. I may be a killer, and some call me a monster, but in your eyes, all I wanna be is a knight in shining armor. I’m not a good man, but I’ll always be good to you.”

Metaphorically, I melt to the floor. There’s no picking me up. I’m done for as I realize that of the three of them, it’s not Ezra who could break me; it’s Dariyus.

I remain silent because I can’t trust my words. I don’t want to be trapped in their web.

Darius says nothing more. He moves past me, grabs the bottle of shampoo, and squirts it in his hands before lathering my hair.

I relax into his body as he massages my scalp. “I can’t remember the last time someone washed my hair. It’s nice.”

“I’ll wash it for the rest of our lives if that’s what you wish.”

We remain silent as he continues to wash my hair before lathering my body. His hands work over every inch of me. The act is so erotic, I could come from his actions.

He holds me in his arms as we stand beneath the water. I’m transported to another space where everything is calm, safe, and perfect. For now, I don’t worry about my past. I don’t think about my future. I simply exist in this moment with him.

He gets out of the stall and holds open a large, fluffy white towel for me. Water drips on the floor from his soaked body, but he pays no attention. There’s no concern for his comfort, only mine. He wraps me tightly and dries my body with care.

“You’re a regular Florence Nightingale,” I tease.

I stare at his reflection in the mirror, and his eyes sadden, the humor and lust replaced with something tragic. I want to ask him about it, but I don’t want to dissipate the bubble we’re in, so I remain silent and bask in whatever this is.

He leaves the towel covering my shoulders and wraps himself in another. “It’s getting late. Let’s get you to bed.”