27. Crave

present

The shock radiatesacross Rae's face as my cock explodes in pleasure. She twitches against me, bracing herself against my shoulders, too distracted by my identity and her survival to focus on the raw sensations.

My cock gives one last pulse inside of her, then I pull out. I use a pocket knife to cut her down. She falls to the cement, yanking the noose from her neck.

"You," she rasps. "It's you. You?—"

"Mask got you fooled, huh, ma'am?" I say, in my fake Southern accent. I zip my pants. She scoots back like a crab, my cum squishing out from between her legs.

"How? I—" she whispers. "I don't—Why did you?—"

"Why not?"

We stare at each other. The confusion is so palpable on her face, I can taste it. Bitter and sour, like biting into a cake and realizing you're allergic to the main ingredient. Watching her process the information is like pumping the energy straight into my veins.

"You forced me to eat your ass," she says. "You raped me."

"I raped you in that mask too, but it was fine when you thought I was some sexy masked vigilante, wasn't it, little girl?" I ask. "You enjoyed it. You enjoyed every fucking second of it. You even said you wanted to eat my ass. You fucking begged for it."

Her whole body crumbles into a ball of jerky vibrations. I lean against the wall, looking down at her with mild amusement.

It's funny how we hide ourselves from our own truths. Rae needed the mask to pretend like it was okay to fuck a man like me, because at least she could pretend I was a hot murderer underneath the leather. A man who would protect her even when everything went to shit.

I used to lie to myself too. I told myself I wasn't a killer. I simply killed my adoptive family because I was forced to. It was the only way I could survive.

Now, I know better.

"You are a monster," Rae stammers. She pulls herself to her feet, then backs away from me. "You used your position as a security guard to corner me. To protect this house. This—this place where you killed people!"

"If I remember correctly, you like that I kill people." I chuckle, then mimic her girly little voice: "I just want someone who sees me for who I am, even if you did kill my daddy."

"You disgust me," she spits.

With those words—those three little words—I'm back to that nine-year-old boy with hate growing in his heart, knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I'd never be enough for Mrs. Galloway. I'd always be the rat hiding in the basement. The diseased vermin. The pest she needed to get rid of.

But when it comes to us, Rae doesn't get a fucking choice.

I race forward, grabbing her hair. She claws at me, scratching my face. I whip her around like a ragdoll.

"Get off of me! You disgusting freak!"

I drag her to the shower stall. Turn it on. It whines, then gurgles out brown liquid before it clears up. I throw her inside.

"A disgusting freak," I murmur. "I like that."

"You are?—"

I grip her neck, shoving her face under the water, watching her struggle as the water fills her lungs. She thrashes violently, a bronco at the rodeo with a desperate need to escape. But I'm stronger. Smarter. Bigger. No matter how much we're the same, I'll always overpower her.

I keep her there, struggling to fight under the water. Watching her take it. Seeing how much it destroys her to know the truth. Her masked man, her killer, her dream boy savior, is nothing more than the disgusting mall cop freak she hates.

Me.

She chokes on the water, her wet hair clinging to her face. Her red hair streams down her cheeks like trails of dark blood. I give her space to breathe as I shove my hand down between her legs and rub against her cunt.

"Look at you," I growl. "Sopping fucking wet. Getting raped again by your least favorite security guard."

"It's leftover from before I knew it was you," she hisses.

"Bullshit."

I drop her ass, letting her fall. She stumbles into the corner of the room, practically crawling for a way out. I grab my mask and stomp across the cement floor, then wipe it between her legs, drying her pussy with the worn leather. She snaps her teeth at me.

"The fuck are you doing?" she yells.

I unzip my pants, starting a new experiment. Her eyes glaze over as she gapes at my cock. No matter how much she wants to deny it, the bitch is fucking obsessed with my dick.

"I disgust you," I say. "Don't I, little girl?"

"I hate you."

I grab her by the throat, choking her until her eyes bulge. I bring her back to the running shower. Water pounds into the cement like a flash flood.

"You don't hate me," I say. "No, little girl, you fucking worship me. You know that I'm the only one who gets you. I'm the only one who will ever see the real you. I put on a leather mask, but you wear a mask every goddamn day, don't you, Rae? The good little girl who can do no wrong. Who dreams of killing and fucking and stealing and murdering and doesn't see anyone else as an equal. But I see you, Rae. I see down into your fucked-up little brain, and I know everything. I know how bloodthirsty you are. I know how hard you come when I use you exactly how I want."

I move us both under the water, then shove my dick inside of her pussy. She glares daggers at me, but it doesn't stop her from wrapping her legs around me, bringing me closer to her. The water pounds onto my back, splashing onto her face.

"Fuck you!" she screams.

"You and me? We're cut from the same cloth, little girl, but there's one big difference that you need to remember for the rest of your short life." I bare my teeth, thrusting viciously into her cunt. "I'll always have power over you. It doesn't matter if I'm Craven Gaines or Michael Hall or some stupid masked killer named Crave. You are made for me. From me. With me. And I will always own you."

She spits in my face. I clench my jaw. I pull my hips back, removing my cock, and her eyes drop, a frown pinching her lips. I rip off my gloves and shove a finger into her cunt. I slide in easily, her liquid need like blood gushing against my palm.

"Oh look," I murmur sarcastically. "What do you know? The bitch is wet, just like I thought."

She shivers, her body nearing that peak, and I slide her down until her face is directly under the water. She writhes, but I pin her down, forcing her to take it and drown as I finger fuck her used-up cunt. She coughs violently, and I pull her to the side, letting her find her breath.

I pull out my fingers and shove my dick back inside of her.

"I told myself I would kill you, but here you are," I snap. Her eyes water, her lips part, and her pussy squeezes around my cock. "I should've killed you a long fucking time ago, and you like that I haven't yet. You like that I've kept you alive. You think it gives you power over me," I growl. "Only if you keep me entertained, you little slut. Only if I don't grow bored of you."

I come inside of her again, and she convulses in relief from the agonizing pleasure, cresting over that final peak. Her entire body crumbles with need and arousal.

I pull out, then turn off the water.

The faucet drips softly, a sound I remember well. Both of us are soaked.

She sucks in a breath.

"You're not mad because it's me," I say. "You're mad because you know I'm right. We're the same, Rae, and it's always been that way."

She squints at me. She doesn't move.

I walk up the stairs.

In the parking lot, I contemplate going back and killing her. But that would be too easy. I could also chain her up and brainwash her the good old-fashioned way, forcing her to accept who we are. Neither of those options are as enticing as the new challenge in front of us right now.

Rae will accept her need for me, and it will be of her own volition. I'll make sure of that.

I take my knife to her tires and pierce the rubber. The act is on the security cameras. I don't give a shit; I'll erase the footage like I always do. For now, Rae will be stranded in Pahrump, chained to this stupid fucking town, like I am.

You did that to save me,a woman's voice pops into my head. You don't want me to run away.

It's not Mrs. Galloway's voice this time. It's Rae's.

My hands curl into fists. Is she replacing that old cunt inside of my head?

I turn toward the Galloway House.

"I'm going to kill you one day," I growl.

Then why don't you do it now? her voice taunts.

I smash my fist against her car's windshield. A spiderweb cracks along the glass. My knuckles bleed, the tiny cuts pooling like syrup.

I punch it again. And again. Until it shatters, leaving an opening for me.

I pull the DNA tests from my pocket. I use the blood from my knuckles to write a note on top of one of the results. The name is listed as John Doe. She won't want to believe who it really is, but she'll finally know the truth.

I didn't kill her father. Not like she thinks.