Page 41 of White Wings of Desire

I move my finger to the trigger, biting my lower lip to muffle my screams as I concentrate on the task at hand. Knowing exactly what he wants, I let him continue his relentless chase until I feel his hips begin to stutter and lose their violent rhythm. Then, with another deep thrust, I pull the trigger, and the pistol clicks–an empty shot. Noah immediately goes rigid, his muscles flex, and the warm, soothing sensation of his cum fills me. His whole body is trembling, and he slumps back into the chair, dragging me down with him. I let go of the pistol, which falls to the ground with a loud thud.

I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself against him. He holds me tight, his arms wrapped around my middle. I feel every twitch of him inside me until it stops. He softens and slips out of me.

We remain in this position for a long time, holding each other.

He nestles his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath tickling my sweaty skin. "I love you," he whispers, his voice trembling and thick with emotion, betraying the vulnerability of this unfiltered moment. His confession makes my heart skip a beat and my stomach flutter, but I don't respond. There are no words to describe what I feel. Doubt creeps in, a whisper in the back of my mind asking if what I feel is genuine affection or merely a byproduct of our twisted situation. So instead of answering, all I can do is hold him tight, cradle him in my arms for now.

Chapter 31

Noah

I raise my left hand to my chest to feel for my pistol tucked securely in my chest holster. My right hand slips under my suit jacket to feel for the one in my waistband holster. My pistols.

Check.

My eyes land on the small black hard-shell case sitting in the trunk of my RS7. The case holds everything I need for an enjoyable little game of torture.

Check.

After another week of holding out, tonight is the long-awaited payoff. I informed Mr. Williams a few days ago that the job was done, and he has since invited me to a party to celebrate both Evelyn’s supposed death and the expansion of his sketchy company. I can't wait to kill that bastard. My fingers itch with excitement. When we spoke on the phone, he kept calling my Dove a dirty whore, a nasty piece of meat who deserved to die. No one is allowed to talk about her like that. At that moment, I could have jumped in my car, driven to his office, and put a bullet in his skull. But I didn’t. I kept my cool and waited for the right moment.

The sound of high heels clicking against the polished wooden floor of the house snaps me out of my thoughts, and I spin around. My eyes widen at the sight of her, looking down at me from the top of the landing that leads down three steps into the garage attached to the house. Looking her up and down, my breath catches in my throat, and my heart skips a beat when I realize she's wearing the white dress I sent her when I was still determined to kill her. I hadn't noticed that she had packed it when we went to her apartment.

The soft white satin falls over her smooth skin, hugging her curves beautifully. Highlighting my absolute favorite part of her body, her hips and round ass. Her hair is styled in beautiful big waves. The makeup on her face is flawless, complimenting all of her beautiful features. And that deep red lipstick. Oh, how I'd love to see her lips wrapped around my cock painted that color. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to ignore the blood rushing down between my legs. Clearing my throat, I straighten my suit jacket before walking over to her and holding out my hand to help her down the stairs.

"Thank you," she says and takes my hand to walk down the three steps.

"You look beautiful, my Dove." I lift her hand to my mouth and place a soft kiss on her knuckles. Even after all these weeks, having her by my side still feels like a fever dream. I fear the morning when I wake up and she's no longer there. If that day ever comes, I can't imagine what kind of person I will turn into. I will wreak havoc and kill anyone who tries to keep me from her until I have her back. Of that, I’m certain.

"Like one of your birds?" She smiles and steps closer, leaning into me, and reaches for my tie, straightening the slightly loose knot. I wrap my arms around her waist, cupping her ass in my hands, and lean down to kiss her beautiful red lips.

"You are the most beautiful little bird. No one could ever outshine you," I whisper against her lips, and I can feel the smile on hers against mine. I squeeze her ass cheeks and press her closer against me. Shoving my half-hard cock against her stomach.

I groan in annoyance when she pushes me back, putting distance between us. "Keep it in your pants," she says, pulling a moan out of me when she cups me in her hand through my pants, squeezing my cock. "We have things to do."

"Of course." I grab her hand that is still holding me through my pants and lead her to the passenger side of the car, open the door for her, and hold her hand as she slides into the seat. I shut the door behind her and turn around, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I have to think of something to make my hard -on go down.

Dead people.

No.

The thrill of killing is something that excites me.

Naked old men.

Yes.

This not only kills any remaining arousal, but also fuels my anticipation of killing the old pig who doesn't know he's about to die. I walk around the rear of the car and slam the trunk shut before making my way to the driver's side and climbing into my seat.

Game on.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her leg moving, bouncing up and down. The sound of her heel tapping against the carpet in the footwell in a steady and fast rhythm giving away her nervousness.

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