Page 33 of Red My Lips

“This is crazy, Gage.” He attempts a laugh and a reassuring smile. “C’mon, you know me.”

Walking around the chair, my tongue runs over my top teeth in contempt. Watching his body move on the chair as he fights against his restraints has the anger boiling hotter inside me, fueling my rage. I picture Jill lying behind the curtain with his talentless fingers all over her. All over what’s only for me. What’s mine.

“Exactly, I know you. I know what kind of a scum-sucking rat you really are. A greedy little opportunist who never knows when to quit.” I lean in closer. “Your grabby little hands are always reaching for what’s not yours to touch. This time, you went too far.”

He’s right-handed, so I grab his left. He resists my hold, but it’s useless. His hand trembles in mine, and I soak in the racing of his pulse. Lifting up his pinky, I turn to look him in the eye. “Did this finger touch her?”

He starts to shake his head frantically in a lie of self-preservation. We’re way past that.

Dane tattoos with his right hand, so his left hand would be the one used to wipe and manipulate the canvas—my Jill. Every finger on this hand has touched her.

A malicious smile crosses my face, and he stills. “Go ahead. Lie to me.”

He pales considerably, the blood draining from his face. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pisses himself right on my chair.

“Okay, it touched her.” Before the words have even left his mouth I snap his pinky with enough force to shatter the bone. Dane yells, his breathing becoming erratic. He huffs his breaths through clenched teeth against the pain. His agony itches through my blood like a drug.

I’m just getting started.

Lifting up his ring finger, I cock my head to one side.

“Did this finger touch her?” I ask, earning a groan. He hesitates but doesn’t give any excuses or lies this time. Finally, he nods. That finger gets snapped too—twice.

Finger by finger, I ask which ones touched my Jill. Soon, his entire left hand is mangled and swollen, all five fingers rendered completely useless. Then I move to his right hand. Only three of those five fingers are spared—the ones that only held the tattoo gun.

Snot and tears run down Dane’s face, mixing with the blood trailing from his nose as he cries. Staring down at him, I don’t feel an ounce of remorse or sympathy, just malice.

“Nothing else touched her, I swear. Nothing,” he blubbers, but I don’t believe him. My eyes trail down his body to his limp dick.

His tiny limp dick.

“You touched yourself, didn’t you?” After Jill left with her tattoo, Dane disappeared for a good twenty minutes. “Touching her made you hard. Being so close to her pussy and tits, feeling the softness of her against your hands, made you hard as a fucking rock. You were so turned on that you went to the bathroom after she left, and you jerked yourself off, imagining it was her. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. She’s hot. I couldn’t help it.” His stammering grates against my self-restraint. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you rub her?” I ask, my voice shaking as I fight to stay in control.

“What?”

“Did you rub your erection against my Jill while she was in your chair?” I say the words slowly, the deadly intent swirling through me so powerful I can taste it.

“I—I didn’t mean to. I was reaching for something and—” His entire body is trembling as I fist his balls in my hand, squeezing them tightly.

“Say it.” My knife chinks open, ready to spill blood. His response has me seeing red, all control leaving my body as my demons take hold of me.

“Yes. My boner touched her, but—ahhh!” His words trail off into screams of agony, raw and unfiltered, as my knife saws the testicles from his body. His wrinkly ball sack is tossed to the floor at my feet. Blood spills over the plastic-covered chair onto the tarps covering the floor. Dane’s body jerks, his back arching, as his eyes roll back in his head. Losing consciousness, his body goes limp.

Power pulses through me, addicting and euphoric. I feel vindicated as gratification rolls over me and settles into my bones.

I don’t know what made him faint—the blood loss or the pain. I don’t give a shit. I’ll patch him up with a few rough stitches and a bandage around his shriveled junk. Letting him bleed out would defeat the whole purpose. I won’t kill him—letting him live is so much better.

Dane will live the rest of his life not able to fully use his hands to create the art he’s dedicated himself to. He’ll never get an erection thinking of my Jill again or at all. Most importantly, he’ll never lay another finger on my girl.

No one will.

Chapter Fifteen

Gage

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