Page 3 of Not Taken

Every brush from Caleb’s lips was like spitting on the memory of my wife, the life we lived, and the daughter we made together. It made the pain of living more intense. With Caleb, my bloody world vibrated, and I loathed him for it.

“You're such a nasty little slut for me, aren't you, Eli? You'd do anything for my cock.”

I groaned as he descended on me, but it wasn’t enough. His warm skin had to be melded with mine. I’d do anything to feel him inside me again.

I dropped my hands straight to his ass. He grunted as I grabbed his waistband, tugging at his shorts. His ass was as hard as the rest of him, and I followed the waistband around his hips to push it down over his dick, finally gripping his cock like I needed.

We both moaned, the sound lost between us as I brought him closer to me, making sure he could see the look in my eye as I kneaded his ass and stroked his cock. He shuddered under me and I knew I could take him if I wanted to. But I’d rather be thrown onto the ground, stepped on, beaten. I wanted the pain.

“Do you like me rubbing your ass, Caleb?” I laughed, goading him on. “Look how easily you fit into my hands. Like your bitch ass was made to be fucked.”

Lust burned through me at the thought of fucking him, of taking my anger out on him. He wouldn’t let me, and I could lose myself if he gave me that much control. I could see traces of Wyatt and Bruno whenever I looked at his face, which made it even more fucked up than it needed to be.

Caleb snapped, ready to go at me again, and my stupid body trembled in anticipation. Not even killing brought me the same level of satisfaction as watching fury mar Caleb's face.

He grit his jaw as he tugged on my cock again and I lost it. I was trying to remain composed, but there was no way I could do it when he towered over me like this.

“Mine too,” I murmured against his lips, shifting my hand so I could pull his cock to mine.

“Shut up,” he growled as he threw himself at me so he could take my lips again as I squeezed his ass. I kept him close, and he let me, jerking against me. It was just my shorts separating us now, and they had to go.

“Caleb!” I rasped against his lips, meeting his anger head on. He knew what I wanted.

Both palms on my waist, he dragged my hips off the wall, my back bending, crushing my cock against his. I grunted as he tore at my shorts, yanking them off my ass so he could grab me.

I didn’t have a second to breathe as he scoured my lips, both of us panting against each other, our breaths merging, tasting his desire. It was good. It was so fucking good, feeling his hot cock thrusting against me. Taking me down, taking me out.

Each thrust made him more furious, until I was completely pinned to the wall, my shoulders scraping on coarse concrete, barely able to hold on to him when he was kissing me so violently. The sting from his bites on my neck was nothing compared to the cut of his teeth against my tongue as we demolished each other.

I was never going to survive this.

His hands squeezed my ass cheeks and I buckled under him. One finger ran from my tailbone through my crack. No mercy as he pushed his finger against my hole.

“Who's the little bitch ass now?” he spat out, forcing his finger inside me. With no lube, no anything, the aching stretch was perfect. The resistance, the pain, the way I winced as he laughed; I needed more of his cruelty.

He grunted as he thrust into me. One knuckle, then two. I cried out as he went farther, clinging to him, trying to split my legs, give him more room to grind against me, but the shorts around my thighs kept me fixed in place.

I moaned as he pulled his finger out; dry, aching, and my hips jolted.

“That's what you get for being a mouthy little bitch,” he said against my lips.

“Is that the best you've got?” I groaned as he entered me again, harder this time, his thick finger dragging against my ass, spikes of pain shooting out. I deserved it. I deserved every ache.

My legs nearly gave way as his tongue edged the seam of my lips, bullying me into opening for him again with a moan. It was the smallest moments like that, those pieces of softness, they were what truly destroyed me.

My guilt burst through me, and I broke the kiss, rocking my head back. My wife’s screams and Wyatt’s jeers as he raped her, merged with Wyatt’s terrified wheezing as I leaned over him and savored how slowly he died with my knife in his belly. My first kill; cold, heartless, no joy or pleasure. Just the simple knowledge that the man who killed my wife would never breathe again.

That's how it was each time I tortured and killed someone. When I ate, when I woke up, when I trained with other agents. I was an empty, hollow form that served one purpose; killing brought me back to life. Once the main Donelli family were gone, I could finally rest in peace.

Until Caleb. Who’s slightest sweet touch amongst the madness of our hate set me off and reminded me of the man I used to be.

“Look at me!” he snarled, ripping his finger from my ass. My chin dipped and I met his wild glare. Panting, watching, my fingers twitched against his asscheeks. I ached with the need to show him what was really happening beneath my skin, how much he made me feel, and how much I hated him for it.

“You think now's the best time to be fucking with me?” he growled against my lips, grinding his cock against mine so slowly I would have fallen over if he hadn’t pinned me against the wall.

I was so close already. All he needed to do was call me a slut again, and I was sure I'd come.

He was my next target. Heir to the Donelli family, one of their top enforcers, and Sam Donelli's only child. I'd been picking off those closest to Sam, working further in to his inner circle, to make him suffer for longer. I hoped killing his son would crush him, so he could know what it was like to lose the person most precious to him too.

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