Chapter 11

" W here am I?" I whisper, and the girl takes a relieved breath.

I won't let on that I felt everything she did to me because I was awake the entire time. She's stupid if she thinks I'd drink something she offered. Most of whatever was in that cup has been absorbed by the floor.

Her touch on my dick, though? Oh god. Then she climbed onto my lap and rode me like I've never felt before. I had to play dumb. With the way her hand was clamped over her mouth, I don't think she intended to come while using me. I don't know. But I fucking loved it, and I'm aching for her warm, slick, panty-covered pussy grinding on my bare skin.

Then she picks up a fucking hammer, and my cock recedes inside me. Instead of calming her, the orgasm seems to have left her angrier.

"Good morning," she says, tapping the head of the hammer on her upturned palm.

I look at the morning glow pouring through the bedroom window. A dim blue stares back at me instead of the blackness I expected. My eyes search for a clock, and when I find one, I tug at the chains. It's after six in the morning. She has no idea what she's sentencing me to if she doesn't let me get to that party.

"I have to go," I say, raising my eyes to hers. I realize I'm wearing my mask again, and I reach up to take it off.

"Leave it on for this."

"For what?"

"Tell me who they are," she says.

Is she going to bludgeon me with that hammer if I don't? After coming on my lap? That's extra fucked up.

"I . . . can't," I say. She doesn't understand. I literally fucking can't.

She drops to her knees, and before I can react, she slams a nail through my sack and hits it with the head of the hammer. She literally just played pin the tail on the donkey with my scrotum. I scream out as a blinding pain races from my nuts to my dick, and then the rest of my body floods with a sharp heat. I have never felt such a burning feeling.

I instinctively go to draw my legs up, but I'm nailed to the floor. Any movement sends another bolt of pain through me. I force my legs down, thankful she didn't hit my balls with the hammer as well. I don't think she did, at least.

But then she comes at me with another nail, and all grateful feelings dissolve.

"I thought you'd be okay with another piercing," she says as she slides a finger over one of the metal barbells in my dick.

"This is not how I expected this date to go," I say. Spit gathers and comes out of my mouth with every pained word.

"So you were awake for that?"

"Of course I was awake, you sadistic bitch! Who gets off and goes right to violence like this?"

"Karma, I guess."

"Karma's a cunt," I say.

I probably deserve this. My hand has held knives and guns that killed others. My bare hands have taken lives. I've done everything treacherous to belong right here, with her come on my dick and metal nails in my ball sack. I probably deserve one right through my cock, but let's not give her ideas.

My nut skin tenses as I try to switch my weight to my other hip.

"Are you going to tell me yet? Or do I need to send a nail through your hands like your people did to my father?"

"Is that what this is about? A decade-long vendetta?"

"Losing a parent in such a traumatic way makes it a little easier to hold on to a grudge for that long," she snaps.

"I didn't hurt you or your father," I remind her.

"You're all I have connecting me to whoever did."

"And you think nailing my balls to the floor will somehow make up for your father's death?"

She tightens her lips. "I don't know how else to get you to talk."

"Have you considered being fucking nice?"

She laughs. "I don't think that will work with someone like you."

"You're right. But grind on my dick some more, and I just might spill my guts."

"That's not happening again," she says with a glare.

It'll happen about three hundred more times in my head, I'll tell you that. Even though she's crazy, the girl can move her hips, and I'm just about willing to give up everyone for a chance to be inside her. Even nailed to the fucking floor, I bet I could still get hard if she asked me to.

Am I simping for a woman with a hammer and all the balls to nail mine to the floor? Absolutely.

Her boyfriend shows up in the doorway, and a dark laugh leaves him. I'm dripping in sweat from the pain at this point, and if anyone would understand, it's him.

"Baby, you didn't," he says.

He pulls the hammer from her hand and uses the back to pull out the nail heads. I don't know what hurts worse, the going in or the coming out, but my soul leaves my body as he removes them. They land on the floor beside me, rolling idly and covered in my blood. He smirks at me.

"I don't know if I should be afraid," he says.

Based on that bruise on her face and the old one on her shoulder, he probably should be. A man who lays a hand on a woman deserves more than nails driven into his balls.

"I would be," I say, and his face tightens into a grimace.

As he pulls my mask away from my face, he doesn't seem to recognize me. He must be a new kind of stupid. He throws my shirt at me, and I use it to stem the bleeding, which isn't bleeding the way I thought it would. This is turning into the worst Reckoning I could have imagined.

Somehow, even worse than the last.