Page 22 of Unhinged

Instead of tackling her to the ground and fucking her, I moved into the shadows, watching Isla to see what she’d do next. After only a second of us staring at each other, she faced Chris. Her movements were deliberate, her hands steady as she held the knife in her blood-streaked hand.

She stepped closer to him, her voice a soft, dangerous whisper. “Do you remember all the shit you did to me? All the things you put me through?”

I knew she wasn’t looking for an actual answer. My girl was in her element, and I unzipped my pants, pulled my cock out, and started jerking off as I watched her gear up to kill this motherfucker.

Isla tilted her head, her expression one of cruel amusement. “Do you remember how you used to strip away my self-worth with your words and hands until I was nothing?”

Chris’s gaze was unfocused, but because he was about to die and he knew it, the douchebag’s eyes were filled with a pathetic glimmer of hope for mercy.

My beautiful psychopath wouldn’t give him any.

I saw the way Isla's expression changed as she fully immersed herself in the situation. She wasletting herself be claimed by the same fucked-up darkness I had inside of me… the same kind that made us the perfect match.

And then my pretty little lunatic laughed. It was a sound so chilling and beautiful that I felt my heart pound harder and my cock jerk. I stroked myself even more and felt it leak with pre-cum.

I gathered all the cum dripping out of my slit and called Isla over. She obeyed instantly, and with one hand still stroking myself, I used my other hand to smear cum all over her lips.

“Be a good girl and suck my fingers clean.” While staring at me with those gorgeous icy-blue eyes, she licked and sucked at my fingers until she got all that salty seed off. Then she was standing in front of Chris again.

“I’m glad I finally found you after all these years,” Isla said and ran the tip of the blade down his sternum. Her voice dripped with dark satisfaction. “It was like you just disappeared, Chris. Like you knew what a piece of shit you are and didn’t want to be found.” She ran the blade tip parallel with his navel, adding more pressure now, so his skin opened up and part, blood spilling out. “Now I get to show you the same ‘love’ you showed me all those times before. But I’m the one in control now.”

Chris bared his bloody teeth and whimpered, and I could see the terror in his eyes turn to panic. That made my cock throb like a motherfucker. Isla lifted the blade and pressed it against his throat.

She was in total control. Her hand was steady, her focus clear, her face blood-splattered, and the pulse at her throat beating steadily. And then Isla leaned in to whisper something to Chris that I couldn’t hear. But I didn’t need to know what she said. Her words were only for him—a final statement of retribution and vengeance.

And whatever she said made him break.

With a last, desperate plea that fell on deaf ears, Chris sobbed as Isla drove the knife right through that soft indent at his throat. He gurgled and choked on his blood, and the red fluid slid out and streaked down his chest, mixing with bruises and cuts that already littered his body.

She ripped the knife out, and the crimson sprayed out in a gush and covered the lower half of her face. Then she stabbed the knife right in the center of his navel. His life was fading as he babbled and struggled to hold on to that last vestibule of survival.

His blood seeped from multiple wounds, the sight a crimson wave of violence and grotesquepleasure. Isla stabbed him repeatedly, her body like a blur as she moved her arm fast to deliver her revenge. I knew her vision was no doubt locked in that same haze of murderous need that I let control me.

Her ex was dead, but my beautiful girl was still driving that knife home. And fuck, she was gorgeous. And then when Chris hung there, no more life in his corpse, she tooka step back while breathing heavily.

It was then, as I stared at her with the blood of her ex she just murdered dripping off her body—from head to toe—that I felt myself come. My orgasm was swift and as violent as this situation. I spilled my jizz all over the cement, my focus never once leavingmy gorgeous murderess.

When the last tremor left my body, I stepped out of the shadows, my pulse racing, my cock still hard. My dick wouldn’t go down until I was buried deep in Isla’s tiny slit and I spewed my load into her tight, lithe body.

“Come here,” I ordered in a harsh, aggressive tone. Isla turned and showed me her beautiful form covered in blood. Her entire visage looked wild. I fucking loved it. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath, the knife still clutched in her hand.

I’d never seen anything more breathtaking in my life.

I’d known from the moment she stood over me, holding up the bouquet of fingers I’d given her as a gift—and looking like I’d just proposed in the most romantic way—that she was meant to be mine.

Even though I told her to come to me, I was the one who went to her. “You’ve never looked more beautiful,” I murmured, my voice thick with desire and awe as I cupped her cheek and tilted her head back. “So fucking gorgeous,” I whispered. I pulled my hunting knife out from where I secured it at the small of my back in my waistband.

With the weapon in my hand, I cut the rope holding Chris up. His corpse fell to the ground in a gruesome heap.

Her lips parted as she stared at his lifeless body, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. I dropped the knife and pulled her to me, crashing my lips against hers. The kiss was hard, desperate, and filled with the twisted, deranged love that bound us together. I tasted the coppery flavor of Chris's blood coating her, and I started licking it off of her.

She tangled her hands in my hair and let me lick her clean like some deranged lion. “I need to fuck you now,” I growled and took her to the cold,stained, and blood-covered ground, Chris right beside us, his lifeless eyes staring at us. Fuck, that was hot.

We were both lost in the darkness of our violent union.

Our relationship—our love—was brutal, chaotic, and savage in every way.

It was wrong—the way we were—but it was fucking perfect.

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