Page 50 of Keep Me

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Her voice is thick with emotion, but it never cracks. “You could have died. No information is worth that.”

I spin on her, fury like a furnace burning me hot. “You think I’m mad that I had to fight? Let me make you understand something.”1 I stub my cigarette out on the windowsill and stalk toward her. “I operate in the world constantly at threat of being killed. There is never a single moment when that threat doesn’t exist. Sure, tonight the odds that I died were considerably higher, but that’s not why I’m mad.”

Her brows pinch. “Then why are you mad?”

Mad. What a wholly inadequate word for this fucking tornado raging inside me.

I run my hand over my hair, trying and failing to articulate what I’m feeling. I was taught to bury that shit deep. Trying to explain what’s going on in my head and my chest and my fucking heart is like trying to speak a language I’ve never heard before.

I push hot air out through my nose and start speaking, still scrambling for the right words. “You—I—Why do you have to make it so fucking difficult to protect you?” There’s catharsis in raising my voice, pinning all my rage and frustration on the source of it. “Agreeing to get brutalized in front of a rabid crowd? You’re delusional if you think I’d sit back and let you do that.”

She shouts defensively, “I’ve been protecting myself long before you came along!”

“That’s the problem,” I shout back. “You think the bad guys in this world are the same as the bad guys in your world. They aren’t. They’re fucking monsters. You’d think you’ve seen enough dead bodies to know how to avoid becoming one, but you don’t have a fucking clue.”

I crowd into her space, but she refuses to step back, looking up at me with fire in her eyes.

“I could’ve handled it,” she says adamantly.

I scoff, shaking my head.

“Don’t scoff at—”

My gun is out of my waistband and pressed into her forehead before she can finish her sentence. “You think you’re so tough, huh?” Her forehead relaxes under the pressure of the barrel, but she swallows deeply and clenches her jaw. I lower the gun to her sternum and say as I walk her back, “You think you could’ve handled them?”

I have her up against the desk and flick my chin for her to sit on top of it. “They wouldn’t have given a fuck about you. They don’t give a fuck about your pleasure. They would have taken what they wanted, not caring if it hurt you, if it broke you.” I trail my gun between her breasts, getting high off the way her nipples harden under her dress and her breath hitches as I drag it lower, down the path of her thigh. “I wasn’t going to stand by and let someone do that to you.” My knuckles whiten around the gun as I dip it under the hem of her dress. “The only person who can make you scream is me. The only person who can hurt you is me.”

I’m not sure she’s even aware she’s inching her knees apart for me. “Because when I do it, you’ll love it.” Her thighs shake as I trace the inside of her bare thigh with the cool metal of my gun. Her breathing deepens, and my cock hardens as her lace-covered pussy comes into view. “Nobody is going to care about your pleasure like I do, little menace. Nobody.” I nudge the muzzle against her wet panties, groaning at the way she sucks in a sharp little inhale. Her chin lowers, looking at where my hand disappears under the skirt of her dress.

I grab her by the throat and force her to look up at me. “Now pull those panties aside for me.” Her eyes are big and wide as she does. I can’t look away from her face as I glide the metal up and down her slick cunt, captivated by all the tiny expressions flashing across it as she realizes what I intend to do. Continuing my thoughts out loud, I say, “And you’re gonna love it, you twisted little slut.”

Her mouth hangs open like a response is dancing on her tongue, but she snaps it shut, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she leans back and uses her hands for support. I push the barrel through her folds and tease her entrance. The crease between her brows deepens as I slide the weapon into her. The barrel fills her pussy, causing the hard edges to drag against her inner walls, and her mouth falls open on a gasp.

I glide my thumb from her throat, over her jaw, and slide it between her lips. She bites down, a throaty moan wrapping around it as I glide the gun in and out of her. “Fucking filthy,” I breathe, dragging my nose up her cheek.

I continue to fuck her with my Glock, and I withdraw my thumb to tighten my grip on her throat, pinching the sides of the smooth muscle. “You think they’d know how to choke you, just enough to bring you that thrill of fear while bringing you closer and closer to the edge?”

She shakes her head, and her eyes begin to water. The sight stings, but not enough to make me stop. It’s more like the snap of a rubber band, sharp but fleeting. I fuck her harder as I ask, “Why are you crying?”

I loosen my hold so she can talk. “I. Don’t. Know.” She speaks through gasps as I plunge deeper into her.

“You remember what to say to make it stop, right?”

She nods, her bottom lip trembling.

“Say it.”

“Serrano.”

“Good. I’m not going to stop until you come on this gun or you say that word. Understand?”

“Yes.” She sniffles, but there’s a renewed strength in her eyes, a new fight in the set of her jaw. She surprises me when she leans forward to tug on my belt and jeans. My cock is out seconds later, throbbing and glistening with pre-cum. My skin burns waiting for her touch. Before she wraps her small hand around me, I spit on my length, and she licks her lip hungrily.

I throw my head back, rocking into her fist and finally releasing the groan that’s been building all night. The light tug of her hand gliding up and down makes my body quake and my ribs scream, and I never want her to stop. I move my hand from her throat to cup her cheek, wiping the stray tear with my thumb as I speak through gritted teeth. “Don’t think for a second that you aren’t the one in complete control. That you don’t have total power over me.”

Telling her this breaks something inside of me.

Breaking is often equated with ruin. But this doesn’t feel like ruin. It feels like the tired, weary pieces that were trying so hard to stay together are now relieved of that burden.

---