Page 33 of Karma

But I still see his blue laser eyes clearly. He’s close, I could already sense that, and he’s wordlessly asking me if he can finish. I nod. Because why the hell not? It’s why I came here. To taste all of him.

Which on the next shuddering thrust, I do.

He buries his cock all the way down my throat, shuddering and groaning as hot jets upon jets of his semen fill me. Much too much for me to swallow it all, but I give it my best shot. A lot of it trickles out and down my chin, especially after the last shakes subside and he starts growing soft.

His grip on me loosens and I let him slip out as I stand up, glad that he’s standing so close because my legs are none too dependable right now.

His eyes are burning into me in a whole different way now. There’s no sharp edge to the lasers anymore. Only a lot of light.

“That was not what I expected,” he says in a jagged sort of voice.

I grin at him. “What did you expect? More gagging?”

“For one thing,” he says quietly. “But also less satisfaction.”

Then he kisses me with the kind of urgency that suggests he’d like to do less talking so he doesn’t say too much. And I can understand that pretty well too. Talking’s overrated at the best of times and completely unnecessary at others. But that’s not quite the case right now.

“My turn?” I ask as soon as he gives me space enough to breathe.

His grin is downright sinister. And so damn inviting.

“We’ll see,” he says then kisses me again.

In a way that makes me completely unaware of losing most of my clothes as we move to the lumpy bed. I should take more control of all this. But his kissing is too good to argue with. I doubt he’ll make me do anything I don’t want to do. Blame the scent of whiskey in the air or the familiar lumpiness of the bed and the scratchy, bleached sheets for being so trusting of that.

Could be I’m completely wrong and this is all one giant mistake that will end badly. Could be it’s exactly what I want and need all rolled into some very good kissing.

I don’t have to know the truth of that yet. This is good enough for now. It’s just perfect.

15

Grim

I’ve never yet turned down a blow job. Life’s too short to do that. Especially life on the run. Reaper and Karma both accepted this about me, even though Karma herself never strayed and Reaper was a possessive bastard. But he knew my heart belonged with him. I killed my own father for him, after all, because he’d never let the two of us be together. And also because he was a violent, abusive bastard who would’ve eventually succeeded in killing me, my mother and my little brother if I didn’t do something about it. I went on the run with Reaper and they got to live. But that’s all truly done and buried now. Scattered in rivers and fields and plains all over America.

I don’t even remember the kid who spent the first six months on the run violently wishing I’d never killed anyone, even though he is me. That didn’t stop me from thinking about all of that and more after I was left alone in that bar downstairs.

I alternated between feeling killing rage at Karma for straying, to the same kind of rage for myself for thinking it’s time to move on, for letting her go so she could stray, for giving her the excuse to. And back again. Over and over. And whenthe music got too loud I came up to this room. Just me and all the fucking ghosts. All the years, all the memories that ended so abruptly, so unexpectedly last winter. All the purpose, desire and history that bled out when Reaper did under that bridge, on that cold night. All the bad decisions that led to it. He was the one who held it all together for me, for the rest of us. He was supposed to outlive us all, damn it.

If I hadn’t slammed that metal pipe against my father’s head all those years ago when he was about to shoot Reaper, he wouldn’t have died under that bridge. He would’ve died in that barn on my father’s rundown farm. Not better. Just different. I’d have to go back a whole lot further to change that. But I don’t want to change it. The way it was is just perfect. What I want is for it to still be. And I’ll never have that. Wish I could stop wanting it. But stupidly, I can’t.

I was just about ready to put my fist through every wall in this decrepit hotel room when Scorpio knocked. He had no way of knowing about the killing rage boiling inside me and I had no idea what to do with it.

But the thing about that son of a bitch is… he’s more attractive than anyone I’ve ever met and he’s got a mouth on him that just makes it worse. I always had a thing for smart mouth bitches, never could resist them.

So, yeah, turns out I did know what to do with the killing rage. I deposited it down Scorpio’s throat along with my cock. It went a lot better than smashing up this hotel room would’ve. Helped calm me down better too.

Now’s he’s almost naked, lying next to me in bed and I don’t know where to go from here. I just know where I want to go. But my wants don’t have much basis in reality lately.

He’s a great kisser with exactly enough tongue and lips and teeth… just like his blow job. But I’ve graduated to kissing his neck as I stroke his cock with one hand and run my other handover his abs. He must work out a lot. I like that. I like the definition, the ripples of his abs, the waves of his biceps.

“Enough of this,” he says lazily. “I wanna fuck.”

But his eyes are closed and he’s leaning against me like he’s in no hurry to start doing anything other than letting me continue doing what I’m doing. I can smell Karma on him, but also his own scent. Something that reminds me of the quiet night after a lot of partying. I like it.

I let my hand slip off his cock and further down between his legs.

His hand shoots out like a snake and grabs my wrist, and his whole body is suddenly as tense as a string. I like feeling the power coiling through those muscles of his I was just admiring.

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