5. Cherise

Chapter five

Cherise

Two Months Until Christmas

“ W ho’s in my fucking house!” Branson roars down the hallway. Shit. I tried to be as quiet as I could when I went through the window, but my damn boot caught on the ledge and made me lose my footing. I stumble forward, crashing into a dresser and knocking over a lamp that shatters on the floor. This really disrupts my plans of catching him off guard and knocking him out, before I tie him up to play.

I quiet my breathing and enshroud myself in a sense of calm. I can do this. I have to do this—there is no other option. If I want my friend and I to be free, the bad men and The Saint must die. I crouch down inside the bedroom’s darkness, just off to the side of the doorway. I hear Branson’s thundering footsteps pounding down the hallway towards where I am. I reach inside my jacket pocket and pull out my serrated blade, the handle firm in my grasp—holding it in front of my body—aimed and ready to strike if he storms into the room.

“I’ve got a gun, you little piece of shit! Show yourself!” His statement is confirmed with the click of the gun’s safety being released. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sings mockingly. He’s getting cocky, thinking he has the upper hand with that piece of metal. I’ll shove it up his ass and pull the trigger, just to let him know what a mistake it was to bring a gun to the dance of death with my lethal blade—and I know how much he loves anal play from the amount of times he shoved his disgusting, puny cock in my ass.

I pull out my phone, unlock it to my open music app, and press play. The lulling Christmas song, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” blasts through the phone speakers, and I slide it across the floor into the hallway. Come play with me, motherfucker.

I fall on my ass and let out a sharp hiss at the sound of the gun firing in the direction of the phone. I guess I spooked him—Branson is trigger-happy—but that means I’m in control here. He doesn’t know where I am. He lets out a loud exhale. He’s so close now I can smell the rot emanating off his flesh from outside the doorway. I flick my eyes up when I see the outline of the gun entering the room first, held in his pathetic, shaking hands.

I feel my heart thrashing in my chest, but I stay as stiff as a board. I watch Thomas enter the room with slow, calculated steps and the gun held high in front of his body. He reaches above me and flicks on the light switch without taking his eyes off the closet in the room’s far corner. Idiot. He steadies the gun, points it at the closet, and fires off three rounds—the bang of each shot ringing inside my ears.

He stalks closer to the door. “I would show yourself right now. I’ll go easy on you and make this quick. I promise,” he sneers. Yeah, dude, that sounds real believable.

I slowly move off the wall with feline grace and get down on my hands and knees. My knee-high white socks with tiny red bows on the sides protect my bones from the painful and cold hardwood floor. Once I’m behind his trembling body, I lift my blade, and in one quick slash, I slice into his Achilles tendon. With another shot into the floor and a female-sounding shriek of pain, Branson falls forward onto the ground with a hard thud, and the pistol flies out of his hand on impact. Blood puddles onto the wood at a rapid pace from the wound.

His screams are music to my ears, a blood-curdling chorus mixed in with the old-timey Christmas song in the background. A vicious smile curves my lips upward. Without another thought, I dash onto my feet, press my combat boot onto his spine, and crush him hard onto the floor. I sing the words to the song, straining the muscles in my leg as I push with all my might onto his back. “I ought to say ‘no, no, no, sir.’”

“Who the fuck are you!” he shouts through gasping breaths. “Just take whatever you want!”

“I will take whatever I please; don’t you worry about that, Thomas Branson. Just like you took, and took, and TOOK from me!” I scream, the raw emotions pouring out of me. “Who will be the freak now when I mutilate your body? I will make sure your family can’t even recognize your ugly, fucking face.”

He screams louder and prays to a God that never answers, between gasps of pain. “Please! God, someone help me!” He tries bucking his hips to push me off him.

A chuckle bursts out of me at his pleas for help. I adjust my grip on the handle of my knife and remove my foot while attempting to straddle his thrashing body, before he flips onto his back faster than I anticipated and pushes me back with his hands. A vicious shout of rage surges from me, and I see red.

His eyes bulge out of their sockets when he finally takes a good look at me. He knows who the fuck I am now—the ghost of his past, come back to reap his tainted existence. “I-it’s you! How did you escape?”

I laser-focus my vision onto his face, and tilt my head slightly with a wide grin. “I really can’t stay, but baby, it’s cold outside,” I sing the lyrics in a soothing, relaxed tone.

I lunge forward, and Branson turns back over and crawls to retrieve the misplaced gun. I land on him, straddle his back, and sink my blade into his flesh with both hands on the handle—crying out in pure bliss at the feel of plunging it deep into his spine. His entire body relaxes, but he’s still crying out in agony. His outstretched hand that was reaching for the gun goes limp on the floor. “Is your body going numb, Branson? Did I sever your spinal cord?”

“P-please let me go. I’m sorry! Sab—” He lets out another blood-chilling scream when I stab him again in his side.

I lean to whisper in his ear; my voice is soft but shakes slightly. “She’s dead, remember? You killed her that day. You took everything from her. So now, I will take everything from you,” I sneer with my lips pulled back.

I stand up once I’m sure he won’t be able to move and pick up the pistol on the floor. I observe the little piece of metal in my hand, and my breath catches. I hate guns—but I made a promise to myself to fuck his ass with a bullet—I would hate to break a promise so soon. I rush back over to him and place my knife on the floor next to me. Humming along to the lyrics of the song, I grab the waistband of his gray joggers and yank down to reveal his entire hairy, bare ass to me. I swallow hard and scrunch my face in disgust. “You like anal, don’t you, Tommy? I remember—I remember it all.”

He whimpers softly, but he can’t move his body or even attempt to stop me. I get down on my knees and shove the barrel of the gun straight inside his hole. “Fuck you for everything. I’ll see you in Hell, asshole. Two down—two to go.” With a sharp inhale, I pull the trigger twice in fast succession, filling Branson with two bullets in his intestines. The harsh sound of the shots fills my ears. I let out a sigh of relief when the room goes silent, and his body no longer moves up and down to fill his lungs with air.

I remove the pistol from his gaping backside and slide it away from me. I leap onto him once more and stab him repeatedly, anywhere and everywhere. Over and over, I sink my knife into every inch of his disgusting body, while I release shouts of pent-up agony and pain. “Die, die, die! I hate you! I hate all of you!” Blood soaks into my socks, squirts onto my pale skin, and coats me in his DNA.

After I remove my blade from his flesh for the last time, with a shuddering breath, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and laugh the hardest I ever have since I was a child. With heaving breaths, I open my eyes and stare down at Branson’s corpse, forever branded by my blade. So much blood—there’s too much blood. Staring into the crimson abyss, it begins to swirl all around me; it sinks into my skin and steals the air from my lungs. Memories flash across my mind of that night ten years ago—the night I lost my family. I can never remember it the way I know I need to—it only comes in bits and pieces. Broken remnants of the past circle through my brain, and I try to focus on one part at a time, but it goes so fast. There’s blood everywhere. My mother’s lifeless body on the floor. Hooded figures circle me. The Saint—his black hair, twisted grin, black cloak, and cold, blue eyes.

I shake my head. “Focus! Why can’t I see your face?” I shout to the dead space around me. The thoughts stop when I stare down at the body beneath me.

“You did it. I’m so proud of you,” my friend whispers next to me. “One step closer to freedom.”

A warm smile tilts my lips as I stare at my beautiful friend. “I know. We’re so close now.” I stand up, my knife still in hand, and saunter over to the bed. I sit down on the edge, and think of my future. Visions surge into my head of the day I’ll get to sink my blade into The Saint—when I get to hear his shrill demonic screams consume the air. I clench my thighs together at the thought of The Saint, of how I will kill him and rid the earth of his sin. My breath catches on a hitch, and the tiny hairs on my body stand up. He’s so close now, I can sense it.

I look up to find my friend gone. Good. I scoot back a little further onto the bed, placing my heels on the edge, and spread my legs wide. I reach down underneath my skirt, smooth my fingers over my damp panties, and let out a soft moan. Consumed with so much need, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, I push my thong to the side and plunge three fingers inside my entrance hard and fast. I pump them in and out while I release quick, breathy pants—but it’s not enough to push me over the edge. I need more.

I turn my head to look at my outstretched arm holding my bloody knife, and the handle is quite thick. I can’t… can I? I lick my lips, and Nik’s face burns into my mind. I feel my core grow wetter at the thought of him and what his cock would feel like inside of me. I quickly decide that the handle will do for now.

I hold my weight with my elbow and grip the knife at the base of the handle. I bring it to my slick core and line it up at my entrance—pushing it in slowly. I moan loudly when I feel my inner muscles clamp around it as it stretches me, trying to hold in the handle’s thickness. It’s still warm from my tight grip on it during my slashing frenzy. I adjust to its odd shape and slide it in and out faster and deeper, careful not to let my hand slip onto the blade. My breathing quickens as I chase my release. I lay flat on my back, reach my other hand to my bundle of nerves, and rub it in tight circles. My hands work in perfect harmony the closer I get to my orgasm. I tilt my head and look at the doorway and see Nik standing there. His eyes darken a shade and glaze over with lust; his lips are slightly parted as he watches me fuck myself with the knife. I’ve got it so bad for this guy that my mind is bringing him to life right before my eyes—and that only makes chasing the high of release that much faster. I watch as he bites his lower lip and emits a low rumble from deep within his chest.

I look into his chocolate brown eyes and explode. My jaw drops, and I cry out along with my release, which hits me like a freight train. My entire body shakes, and I grind my hips while I thrust the handle quickly as I ride out the orgasm—never losing eye contact with my hot stalker that I can’t escape from. My mind did such an excellent job on his body—he almost looks and sounds real.

I drag the blade out of me and place it down on the bed. I push myself up, and my breath catches when Nik strides into the room. “Such a bad girl you are—my little reaper,” he says with a low growl that almost doesn’t sound human. His gaze latches onto mine, and I feel like I’m staring into the pits of Hell itself. And for some reason that I don’t understand, I want this man to drag me into the darkest pits of the Earth. I want him to ruin me and remake me. I want to burn with him in a smoldering fire, so bright that we can’t catch our breath—so consumed by him that I never want to leave his fiery embrace. He leans down and glides his fingers across my cheek.

I tense and let out a shocked gasp when I feel his skin brush against mine. What the hell? “Are you real?” I whisper gently.

He cocks his head and pulls a cherry lollipop out of his pocket. He rips off the wrapper and pushes the candy past my lips with no resistance. Once the cherry flavor hits my tongue, my eyes widen as realization washes over me. “I’m real. I’m here.” He holds the lollipop’s stick, slowly thrusting it back and forth in my mouth while I swirl my tongue, and he lets out a low groan. “What a pretty little creature you are, covered in blood while you fuck yourself with a knife handle. You are fucking fascinating, Cherise Bates. I want to possess you. Claim you. Mark you as mine for all eternity,” he says with a hellish growl.

I should be frightened that I’ve been caught in the act of murder, but as I sit here with this beautiful man pumping my mouth with one of my favorite things and saying all of the right things, all worry leaves me. I grab his wrist and pull back so he removes the sucker from my mouth. “So do it.”

He groans again and throws the candy onto the floor. He grips my arms and lifts me to stand before him. “Do you understand what I just said? Aren’t you frightened about what that might mean?” He searches my eyes wildly for any sign of doubt.

I huff with a sultry smirk. I fist his satin shirt, stand on my toes, and crash my lips onto his—giving him my answer. He kisses me back roughly, parting my lips hungrily; it’s punishing, bruising, and unforgiving. He threads both of his hands into my hair and pushes his tongue into my mouth, as we fight for dominance. I nip and suck on his lips, which makes a feral rumble emerge from deep in his chest. He pulls back slightly to observe me. “What are you doing to me?”

“What are you doing to me? You’re distracting me, Nik,” I retort with a breathy laugh.

“From what? What did this man do to you?” He’s getting too close. As much as I want him, I can’t get attached. I learned that’s how you get hurt, especially by those who claim to love and care for you the most.

Without answering, I push him backward until I have him pinned against the wall. I grip the back of his head and bring his lips down onto mine once more. I run my hand down his hard abdomen, until I reach the swell in his jeans. He gasps against my lips when I grip his cock in my hand through the fabric. I pull back with a shaking inhale. “You’re huge,” I say with an uncontrolled whimper.

“You don’t even comprehend how right you are, little reaper. Can you handle it?” He asks with an alluring smirk. I grip his bulge tighter then run my hand along the swell of denim. I nod slowly, never looking away from his dangerous gaze. His eyes darken to an almost crimson shade, but they only mirror his lust for me.

“I want to see it. I need to taste you,” I say with a breathy moan. I place my hands on the button of his jeans and quickly undo it, along with unzipping him. “Let me see,” I plead, my fingers hooked in the band of his pants as I kneel before him.

He lets out a nervous laugh and glances at the dead man behind me. He turns slightly to flick off the light and grabs the door handle to slam it shut, enclosing us in the dark room. “I can’t get off while looking at a dead dude, so unfortunately, you won’t be able to see my cock that well in the dark. But make no mistake, Cherise, you are unleashing something feral within me. If you don’t tell me to stop right now, I’m going to fuck that pretty, cherry-scented mouth like a demon from Hell. Tell me to stop, and I will—but only this once will I offer you that salvation. Because once my tip passes your lips, not even God can save you from what I will do to you, little reaper.”

I dig my nails into his jeans, and I try to pull them down myself. My breathing is uneven and trembling. My blood is on fire, and I have an overwhelming desire for this feral man and his possessing words. “Who said I needed saving from God? I’m already going to Hell, so take me there with you. Don’t stop, Nik, don’t ever fucking stop,” I rasp.

He lets out a vicious, possessive growl as he rushes to pull his pants down. I see the movement in front of me as his massive dick springs free, almost hitting me in the face. “Remember the rules, you asked for this. I will never stop now, Cherise.” With that, he grabs the back of my head in a vice grip, and I hiss from the sting of my hair being pulled so tight.

I place one hand on his shaft and stroke it slowly back and forth. I swear, I can feel his cock growing even larger in my palm. Is he pierced? I flatten my hand and run it along the underside of his shaft and feel every bump and ridge under his skin. I bring my other hand to touch the velvet-smooth tip that’s already slick with precum, and I swirl my thumb over the head. It’s shaped differently than any other man’s cock I’ve ever felt—the tip is curved on a slant, and my mouth waters as a thrilling electric pulse shoots to my dripping core. What would this feel like inside of me? He growls and grips my hair tighter. “Do you like it?”

I swallow hard and nod. I look up to meet his fiery, otherworldly, glowing red eyes. I blink rapidly and shake my head. Is this real? “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,” I murmur as I dart out my tongue and swirl it around his curved head, lapping up the precum as I do. His cock twitches in my hand, and he growls.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?” he gasps. The sound of something sharp scraping against wood echoes above me.

I pull away to see what Nik’s doing, but he pushes my head forward, so I take him fully into my mouth. Fuck, I couldn’t even deep-throat him if I wanted to. He is that huge. I flatten my tongue and glide it against his intriguing shaft—over every ridge and bump along it—as I bob my head up and down. “Such a good girl, you’re taking my cock so well. Don’t stop, baby.”

His voice is the deepest I’ve ever heard him speak, distorted and almost with an echo that doesn’t resemble any tone a human could create. I stroke the base, and the rest of his cock that my mouth can’t reach, while I quicken my pace. I place my other hand on his thigh and dig my nails in, which I’m sure leaves little half-moon shapes on his skin. He threads both his hands into my hair and tugs, before he thrusts into my mouth, making my eyes fill with tears from how full and deep he just went down my throat. I try to breathe through my nose, but it’s becoming hard to focus on breathing with this monstrous cock in my mouth. He becomes needier with each powerful stroke, every thrust becoming more feral and out of control as he loses himself in me—and I want to give him this.

“Fuuuuuck, your mouth is perfect. You’re going to make me cum from how well you take it. I’m going to fuck every hole on your body, Cherise.” He pants breathily, each breath getting deeper with a threatening growl rolling out of him. “You are mine.” He fucks my mouth with so much force, tears stream down my face, and I try not to gag. I dig my nails harder into his flesh and let out muffled moans after each thrust. “Lucifer, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” he bellows right before I feel his seed coat the back of my throat. He pulls his cock out, and I suck in a sharp inhale of precious oxygen.

I swallow his cum, and it almost burns as it slides down my pipe—it’s sweet, with a hint of a fiery spice that I can’t place. I wipe my eyes and kiss the tip once more. I stand up without saying a word and turn toward the bed to pocket my knife. I sigh, but don’t turn back to look at Nik. “Are you okay,” he rasps, his voice back to his usual tone.

“I’m more than okay.” I turn back to face him. “I really can’t stay,” I sing. As visions of The Saint killing my family resurface—almost like a sign—I’m reminded again of Nik’s distraction in my plans. “Don’t follow me. You’re gonna ruin my plans, so we have to be done for now.”

I move past Nik, opening the door to leave, when I hear his raspy voice overpower me. “We will never be done, Cherise. I already gave you a chance to back out, and you didn’t. I’ve marked you—and I will have you, all of you—and soon.”

“That may be, but it can’t be right now. Goodbye, Nik.” I glance at the deep claw marks in the wall before I exit the bedroom. A shiver surges down my spine, but I pay it no further mind. It’s just another distraction or my mind playing dirty tricks on me again. I pick up my phone off the floor and leave Thomas Branson’s house. I have a mission to complete, and Nik Saintclair will no longer interfere, no matter how beautiful he is, or how monstrous his cock is.