Her body shunts under my aggression, another choke coming out of her throat. Over and over I do it, punishing her with my dick, part wanting to fucking kill her and another wanting to find out why.Lies, fucking lies. I forge into her, her body being dragged and pushed to wherever the gun makes her travel.
She'd do this to me? To us? “Goddamn whore,” I spit, phlegm coming with it and sticking in her hair. “Up on your fucking knees.”
I pull out and move, the gun tugging at her mouth and knocking her teeth. Her face twists to me as it levers her up. She'll raise that ass for me and beg around metal, beg for her life if that's what I want to take from her. My dick slips from her and presses upwards, fingers driving it at the other hole. The move makes her try to lean away, choking again as she does. “You won't win this, Hope. You be a good girl andyou might get to live by the end of it.”
Fucking darkness comes then. It drives me into black holes where no one wants to be. She's shoved without care or thought, some part of me desperate for the bitch to be dead by that end I'm talking about. Everything's yanked, torn at, or ripped into. Every piece of her. Her clothes, every hole, every connection she tried to take from me, the trust—all sliced into nothing but a blank haze of hatred and loathing.
Disgust. That's what it is. Pure, unadulterated disgust.
She’s invited into my home, given everything she’s ever wanted, and she’d do this?
I come at some point and roar out at the fucking achievement, glorifying myself in whatever place I've just been. Still, I’m not finished with her and fuck into her ass. It's rough, my own throat choking on the very thing I'm doing, as I hold her head down and keep showing her how fucking stupid crossing me is.
The gun gets thrown behind me, pulled from her lips so I can listen to her whimpers and screams instead. She bellows them out for me, pain coming from howled screams of pity. Tears, too. Pretty tears.I can feel them on my fingers as I shove my hand into her mouth, screwing her face up towards me again. I lean in, my eyes inches from hers, and tilt to look right into them for one final shunt inwards.
So fucking blue. Tears filling them, bloodshot whites surrounding that pretty damn ocean I used to see. Why do this? She had everything here. I gave her everything. I snarl, my lips pursed from the loss of something I trusted. What a waste. What a pretty fucking waste of a whore.
I end up tossing her face away to the floor, disgusted with the sight of it, and pull my spent dick from her ass. I’m done for now. She lies there like the whore she is, a mess in the middle of my carefully crafted life. Blood and saliva streak her face. Her hair’s matted, and her ass is still on show, high-end dress that I damn well bought ripped and splayed out by her side. I growl at the vision and pull in a breath as I tuck my dick away. “Don't fucking move, Hope. You wanna live, you stay just like that.”
My neck cricks, eyes searching for liquor as I cross through to the entrance and triple lock everything down. I snatch the gun on the way back. I'll wait now—wait and think. Plan. War. That's what I'll do. I’ll find it somehow, see the route I need now I’ve got this out. I can't think. Cane? Or her? Which one? I’ve got the rest of the drugs covered, guys going into the other houses from all angles trying to work out what the fuck’s gone down. I organised that earlier, set the wheels moving while we were poring over the dead bodies. I just need to work out where the fucking leak is happening.
She splutters out a cough while I’m thinking.My dick twitches at the sound as I move back across the room. Maybe I’ll fuck her again. She’s so pretty. Especially like this. It reminds me of the first time I saw her, the thoughts I had about what my fucked-up head might do to her back then.
No, think.
The Canes.
I knock my head with the gun,trying to find the evolution behind all this, then look at the bitch. She's cowering,sniffs coming out every now and then, and mascara all over her face. It's pitiful. Fucking state of it. It arouses the man in me that’s been gone so long I’d near forgotten about him, and I reach for the bottle of bourbon. “Shouldn't have screwed with me,Hope,” I mutter out, pouring a drink.
She murmurs something, causing me to stare down at her and wait for the begging to come like it did when I first had her. She’d look at me back then from barely alive eyes and plead for her life, insisting she was loyal to me alone. I started to believe that at some point, gave her that trust and softened. For her. It must have been real. Should have been. I wouldn't have trusted her if she wasn't worth trusting. But no one else knew. “Should've known better than to rile this cunt up again.”
She doesn’t beg, though. All she does is slowly pull herself to her knees to look back at me, her hand wiping her face gracefully, as though she isn’t in a state.
“I haven't. Wouldn't,” she says, a resolute tone coming as she rights herself in front of me. “I'm on your side, Benjamin.” My cheek twitches, annoyed at fucking everything. “Why would I?” I don't know. But she has. Must have. Unless it's Cane. They could be double dealing, trying to get my city from beneath me. But they didn't know about that building or the run of brown going out. I don’t think they did. Maybe they did. I sip my drink, eyes focused on her as my brain whirrs through the possibilities. “I just… Anya's a friend of sorts. I knew you wouldn't be in the right mood. The children, Benjamin? Two boys.”
Sentiment washes through the riot in my brain, as I picturetheir faces the last time I saw them. It riles me up further, the thought of Tony’s kids left unchecked without a father filling me with revenge plans. Her knees shuffle towards me, hands out to her sides. “And I told Anya you'd look after herfinancially. I was trying to keep her on side. She knows a lot.” I step back, eyes still trained in on the bitch. “I did it for you, Benjamin. For us. Please, think sensibly.” Us? There is no us. Never was. “The library earlier tonight? That was us, Benjamin. You and me. Real for once. You did that for me, remember? Why would I do anything to jeopardize that?”
The library.
I swallow my drink, remembering that and my thoughts towards her only a few hours ago. She laughed, snickered at me as if we were normal people. I laughed. My mind spins around her reasons to fuck me over that aren't there to find. She might, though. She's clever like that. I’ve made her that way, encouraged it. The gun pushes into my skull again,rubbing it to find reasons as I walk back to a chair and sit. “Benjamin, please. You know me. You do. You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t trust me. All this time together. You know me, please.”
So fucking pretty. I watch her, intent on hating her enough to kill her. It’s not there, though. She’s too precious to die, whether she lied or not.
“Anya’s house?” I mutter, gun pointing at her again.
“Yes. Think, Benjamin. Why would I do anything else?” she says, inching forward again. Maybe she did. “I was trying to help.” It's logical. Fucking disobedient, but logical. Tony's wife always was a goddamn handful.
“I’ll kill you if this is a lie, Hope.” She nods and comes forward again, eyes still looking at me. I snarl at them, annoyed that she has this ability to get inside my head. Clever bitch. It’s working, too. I can feel her calming me down with every inch closer she gets. “I might give a fuck about you, but that won’t stop me gutting you open if you don't do as your damn well told next time.”
“You won’t need to. My life is you. Has been since you asked for me,” she says, one hand reaching for my knee.
Asked. I snort at the thought of it, given this situation, and watch that hand getting closer. I did. I asked for her. She didn’t sidle up to me like other whores did, didn’t try at all. She was aloof, capricious, and damn hard work for me to get hold of. It was the fucking thing that attracted me to her in the first place.
The gun drops a little when her hand finally lands, and I take a sip of my drink, scowling at whatever she’s trying to do.
“You would have pulled that by now if you didn’t believe me. Please, put it down,” she whispers, fingers loose on my trousers. I can't think straight. It's Tony's eyes—they're all I can see. And now his fucking kids, too, and the stamp mark pushed into his skin. I should be killing her. I should. I should be killing everyone that's too close. Getting them gone.
“Relax. Let me help you.” Help me. My eyes narrow. “Anya's family is there with her now. Tony's mother is on her way. That part is covered and organised.” My head nods to the sound of her voice. I don't know why.Maybe it's the lilt of it soothing this fucking chaos in my mind. “You want me to rub that tension out of you?” My eyes level down at hers, still not convinced she's telling the full truth, but she keeps getting closer to me with all the confidence she'd normally have. “You need to get this together, Benjamin.”
