Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

NEO

" T hat it?" Sean asks, handing me the manilla envelope as he stands from his desk chair.

Opening it, I make sure everything's there.

Passports. New I.D.s. Sean even made new Social Security cards for Lyla and me. There are also visas. Permanent ones. He did well.

"No. This is it." I give him the envelope with his cash and tip him a nod before turning and leaving.

The drive back to the hotel isn't far, but Lyla will be livid with me when I get there. Then again, she might be so revved up that things get interesting before we leave for our red-eye flight.

I grin as I throw the car in drive and speed toward the run-down motel we found on the side of the interstate.

She will be confused and wonder why we're deviating from our plans here in the States, but I think it's time for me to take the reins back. It's time to show my stupid girl who's in charge.

I made her, not the other way around.

While it's been fun watching her bathe in blood and wade in darkness all these years, it's my fucking turn.

I haven't felt the urge to maim in so long that I thought myself broken for a bit, broken by the very woman that I can't quit.

Half of me even gave over to the idea. Because who would I be without my stupid girl?

I can't kill her.

I've tried.

A sickness in me feeds off her presence and her very existence.

So, I thought I'd have to resign to being by her side while she killed. While she carried out the justice of others.

Sometimes, she killed for fun, which I didn't mind.

My crazy love is wild and free, and I love to revel in her insanity while my cock thrusts through her tight, warm…

You're getting carried away!

I shake my head free of the thoughts warring in it and adjust my dick as I enter the parking lot and find the empty spot in front of our room.

Room 147.

Where my Lyla is waiting for me, and where I will see how far she's willing to go to stay beside me.

When I saw Anne Hatt on the news, a switch flipped.

I needed her blood to coat my skin.

I wanted to hear her gurgled cries of agony as much as I wanted to watch the light go out in her eyes.

A thrill raced through me at the idea, and I found the first connection I could in this podunk town to get fake papers and booked Lyla and me a ticket to London, England.

I open the door and drop the manilla folder on the bed .

I don't have to look for Lyla; I know where she is.

Stepping into the bathroom, I flick the light on.

She winces, her eyes covered in running mascara—now dried—looking up at me.

"Mmm, you look fucking beautiful," I tell her.

She's half-standing, half-hanging from the shower rod, cuffs biting into her wrists.

Stepping into her, I run my fingers over the marks the metal is creating, my breathing growing erratic as I hear her whimper at my touch.

"Neo, where did you go?" she asks.

I detect fear in her voice and close my eyes, letting the feel of its fingers rake through my broken psyche. I love it when she's afraid, especially if it's me she's fearful of. Not that my fractured girl fears much anymore.

"I had something to do," I tell her vaguely.

Her brows furrow. "You had something to do that I couldn't be a part of?"

Anger rises at her questioning me, and I snarl, snapping my teeth, only missing her nose by a few inches.

She straightens, her cuffs clanging against the metal shower rod above.

"I don't need to take you with me all the time, stupid girl. One does need a chance to miss their vises."

Her pupils dilate at my calling her my addiction, but I don't let her pull me into her delusional world with her. If I allow her to drag me into her bubble of delusion, I won't want to come back out.

I'll stay here with her all day and miss the flight and change my plans if it means I get to watch her ass cheek with my name branded on it bounce as I fuck her hard and deep.

"Why do you look worried, stupid girl?" I ask her .

Her unease is painted on her beautiful eyes like words on the page of a book.

She thinks I've had my fill of her.

She thinks I'm going to kill her.

Even when she knows I'm obsessed with her.

If I could become the air she breathes to know how it feels to be inside of her lungs, I'd fucking do it.

Yet, this stupid girl thinks her time with me is ending.

Part of me wants to prod at the notion. Let her think it's real.

"I'm not worried," she says, her voice shaking.

I grin, leaning in.

She shifts, standing as straight as she can against the tub's edge.

"Liar," I accuse, my tone sounding foreign, even to me.

She pants, trying to keep her composure but failing. "I'm not lying."

"You think I'm going to kill you."

My words float between us like a discarded and dirty plastic bottle on the ocean's surface.

"Are you going to kill me, madman?" she breathes, teasing into my space as her nose touches mine.

I growl, flicking my tongue against her closed lips.

They part, and a moan escapes.

"I am a madman. Do you know why?" I ask, grabbing her throat into my hand quicker than a Cobra's strike.

This time, her moan is loud and guttural. I like that when she cries out for me, it seems to come from her soul.

"No. Tell me," she manages.

"Because you made me so. I was a killer before you, Lyla. But you made me mad. You took me deeper into the depths of insanity with how you made me love you, how you forced me into obsession with you. You're the reason I don't want to kill because I don't want to do anything more than bury myself inside you and never come back out. If you're darkness, Lyla, I want you to swallow me fucking whole."

My admission quickens the speed of her attempts at breathing.

"Neo," she pleads, pressing her thick thighs together at my words.

"Does that make you wet for me? Is your pussy flooded at the idea you've broken a killer?"

Her eyes widen when I cut off her air completely.

"I'm not going to kill you, Lyla. I'm just going to make you want to be dead."

I let her throat go and step back, watching her with a heated gaze as she sucks in air, her eyes panicked.

Her fear is like fuel to me, and as I watch her realize that the Neo Wade she knew in that asylum is alive and well inside me, it energizes my cataclysmic soul. Fire is ignited in my belly as I storm forward and release her cuffs.

She drops to her knees, rubbing her wrists as she looks up at me from beneath damp, dark lashes.

"At my feet, right where I fucking like you. Good."

"Take my cock out," I tell her, and she hastily moves to listen.

She undoes my jeans, smoothly tugging the zipper down before she pulls me out of my boxers. I'm so hard for her, making it difficult to manage.

What does she expect when she knows how much I love her fear?

Once it's out, her hands slide over my shaft as she licks her lips.

She opens her mouth to take me inside, and I stop her.

"Did I tell you that you could have my cock? Did I give you permission?"

Her eyes flick up, and there it is again.

"God, Lyla." I rush her, toppling her backward off of her knees. She catches herself on her hands that splay out behind her, but her head leans over the tub's edge.

I grab both sides of her face, pressing the back of her head into the ledge, and she fights to adjust with her neck.

"I'm going to fuck this pretty mouth of yours. You'd best hold on, lest I snap your delicate little neck while I do so."

It's all the warning I give her as I angle my cock with one hand before sliding it into her mouth and down her throat.

The angle is fucking divine, and her teeth scrape the skin slightly, and the feel of the pain makes my eyes nearly cross.

She scrambles to shove her body up onto her hands that press against the floor.

It would be so fucking easy to end her.

"I could kill you like this," I tell her as my cock slides past her gag reflex, and it flickers over the head in greeting.

She moans around me, and it feeds some sick part of me.

"I could come down your dirty fucking throat and then end it all. One quick turn of your head, stupid girl, and it would be all over. "

Her eyes roll back in her head as if she's idolizing the idea.

My cock slides deep into her throat and muffles a scream as I hold onto both sides of her face, pressing with all my weight against her head that lays awkwardly on the edge of the tub.

"You look like my little fuck toy, you know that?" I manage through gritted teeth.

Her mouth feels so good that I barely get the words out.

Another languid moan releases around my cock, stroking it as I fuck her faster, harder.

Moving my right hand from her cheek, I pinch her nose shut, cutting off her air.

"You can breathe when I come, stupid girl."

She tightens her lips around me. Likely in hopes that it'll quicken my release.

I smirk. "Which do you think will happen first, my orgasm or your death?"

My left hand sinks into her hair, fisting it.

She looks like a masterpiece beneath me as she grapples with her hands for purchase on anything to keep her pretty neck from snapping against the tub and my weight fucking down at her from above.

"Fuck, stupid love. That's it, suck me fucking dry. You dirty little whore!" I erupt in her mouth, hearing her gags as she tries to swallow with her nose plugged like music to my ears.

I don't let her nose go until the last minute.

Stepping back, I pull out of her mouth as she collapses to the floor, heaving and gasping like a fish that's accidentally found the shore.

I crouch, cock still hard and out of my pants, cum still leaking out. Cocking my head, I watch her revive before me. Reanimated like a spirit called to a Ouija board.

"Sometimes I forget how perfect you are," I whisper.

I know she's heard me when her eyes dance up to mine, and she tries to lift off the floor using the tub.

I shake my head, standing as I run my hand over my cock and back away from her.

"Ah, ah, ah, stupid girl. You know I want you to crawl."