Page 52 of Scorching Lies

My fingers grip her thighs, lifting her, dried and wet blood covers us both, I walk us backwards until my legs hit the couch. Sitting down, I slam her back down on me. Pushing all the way to the hilt, she takes every inch. Gripping the back of her neck I pull her closer, nipping at her throat, her collar bone, her nipples. Every inch of her skin.

“Fuck me. I want to watch you lose control of that tight little cunt. Soak me down to my balls.”

Slapping her ass, she jolts, but does as she’s told. My hand snakes to her front, tightening around her throat. Her lips turn purple, her skin already to pale from the blood loss. The shirt already forgotten when it fell to the floor, the blood dried at the wound, but still she rides me. Tattoo bastard is still laid out on the floor unmoving. Using my free hand I pull the band out of her hair, letting her blonde waves cascade down her back like a deadly waterfall. The sight before me has my head falling to the back of the couch.

Her tits bounce, making her phoenix look like it’s taking flight. Her chest rising and falling faster, both of us covered in blood, with her riding me. Skin slaps skin, her legs shake, I can feel her pussy pulsing around me. Sliding my hand between her legs, I play with her clit. Pressing and pinching the swollen bundle of nerves between my knuckles while I slip a finger inside her.

“Oh fuck. Yes. Please. Sogoddamnfull.” She moans.

“You’re mine. Say it.”

Her head drops forward. Tears leaking from her eyes when she looks back down to her new ink.

“Look at it and say it.” I growl out.

“I’m yours.” She whimpers.

“Fuck, Killer. You’ll only ever be mine.”

Lifting my finger I press it to her lips, silently ordering her to open. She does. Wrapping her tongue around the digit and sucks it clean. Using that same hand I press her down on me, my hips thrust up to meet hers. My hand squeezes her shoulder and she screams from the pain, but I’m too far gone to care. Watching my dick disappear inside her while looking at my name carved into her skin has my dick throbbing.

“Come all over my dick. Soak my cock like a good little slut.”

Those words mixed with the pressure I’m putting on her shoulder and my hips slamming into her, she finally let’s go. My name leaving her mouth on a wail. I slam into her once more, letting her pussy grip me, milking me of my release. Stars fill my vision. Her weight falls over me, her body spent and no longer bleeding. I lift her off of me, letting her settle into my lap.

I tap my hand against her cheek, “Killer.”

Her eyes roll back and then she’s gone. Her cunt spilling our release down her legs, blood dried to her body, and my name scarring her skin. She looks like the angel of death laying there and my soul cracks at the realization that I’ve burned her too deep into my thoughts.

Kissing her cheek, “I’ll only ever see you. No matter how fast you run or how hard you fight, you’ll always belong to me. There’s no world in which I don’t crave you. No life in which I won’t possessevery inch of you. Kenna Kingston, I’ll burn the world to ashes to keep you now that I’ve tasted you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

KENNA

Iron hot pain spreads through my right shoulder, jolting me awake. My body is stiff when I stretch out across the soft sheets. My head swims, memories fading in and out, unable to piece them together. Bright white lights blind me as soon as I open my eyes. Waiting for them to adjust, the first thing I note is I’m in my bed, but that doesn’t make any sense. Pain echoes through me, a constant reminder of memories that allude me. Pushing off my blanket, a tug against my arm has me halting movement.

“Shit.” I mumble.

Looking down, I take stock of my body, finding much more than I expected. In the crease of my elbow, an IV sticks out, feeding me fuck knows what. I sure hope it's something for the unbearable ache on the right side of my body. A white bandage stained with blood is wrapped around my arm, under my armpit, and over my shoulder. Pressing down on the center I beg myself to remember. When my fingers make contact, fire shoots down my arm and flashes of a gun barrel pointing at me runs through my head.

“Oh god!” I jolt at the realization that I was shot.

Without the adrenaline flowing through me the pain hits me full force. Looking around my room to put more pieces together I see a body slumped in a chair against the wall, bundled under a pile of blankets. The person's body slowly rises and falls with shallow breaths. Whoever it is they are passed the fuck out. Turning to check for my phone my breath hitches, my heart skipping a beat at the sight of a vase. My nightstand houses a massive bouquet of orange and black lilies. At the base is a cream-colored slip of paper withKillerscribbled across the front. Licking my lips, my eyes close.

Squeezing them tight, I force myself to remember exactly what happened. I was getting my tattoo colored in when Ryker busted through the shop door. Glass flashes in my mind, pictures blending together, blood and screaming.

“Oh god, Jax.” I whisper, my fingers covering my lips.

Drawing in a deep breath I keep pushing myself. Ignoring the throb against my skull, I repeat each memory until small pieces start falling into place.

Ryker entering me.

Jax on the floor, blood dripping from his head, his breathing shallow.So much blood.

It all blends together in a kaleidoscope of ecstasy. Ryker has a way of bending pain into a weapon that he uses to manipulate my body. Moving my fingers to my temples, I massage the tension until I finally put the final piece together. Tears sting the back of my eyes, ready to fall at the vision, Ryker name carved into my skin.

“No. No. No.”

---