Page 223 of Hate Mates

“Kill them.” I laugh.

“Easy, Kitten. We’re not on liking terms just yet. In fact, I’d much rather kill you along with them,” I tell her. Her eyes widen as if she had no idea I hated her.

“My father …”

“Did daddy tell you we would have a happy little marriage? He’s wrong. Dead fucking wrong, Kitten. In fact, I’m going to make your life a living hell,” I growl at her. That shuts her up. She quickly closes her mouth as I move back in front of theothers. “Who wants to die first?” I ask, pointing the knife at each of them. Instead of waiting to hear a response, I slit the first man’s throat. Cybil throws up, heaving next to me as I step up next to another of them.

“Please,” he begs as I laugh harder.

“Please? Are you begging for life or death?” I ask him in return.

“They didn’t want the families together! Your … your father has other plans for her!” he yells, nodding toward Cybil. I cock my head to the side to study his face, to see if he’s lying to me, and judging by the look on his face, he isn’t. So what the hell does my father have planned? Or is he truly lying to me?

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard things,” he replies quickly.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, okay?”

“Not good enough.” I bring the blade to his throat and drag it across. Blood immediately gushes from his wound, and he falls to the ground. Cybil is still heaving. Probably never having seen a dead body before. The women tend to be kept away from all this mess, and then men like to keep it that way. Too bad for her, I don’t.

I move down the line of the last two before slitting their throats, too. I watch them bleed out, and then I order my men to leave. I walk over and untie Cybil, dragging her to her feet before tossing her body into the puddle of blood on the floor. She cries, and something about her tears just spurs me on.

“I’ve thought about fucking you in their blood. In fact, since I walked through the door, the thought of you slipping and sliding on your hands and knees for me in it has my cock hard.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not? Prefer to wait until our honeymoon, then?” I ask her as I grab my cock and stroke it through my pants. I walk overand force her to look up at me, leaving blood from my hands all over her face. She retches once more but I keep a firm hold on her cheeks.

“Suck my cock,” I tell her. She tries to shake her head, but it’s useless. I have her face in my grasp, and there’s nowhere for her to go. “Take my fucking cock out and suck it. Or I’ll paint that pathetic little face of yours with their blood,” I warn her. I know that will make her sick, that’s why I threaten to do it.

Cybil quickly reaches for my pants, pulling the zipper down and undoing the button, slipping my cock out. I reach down with the other hand, shoving my pants and boxers down the rest of the way, not caring they’ll be covered in blood. That’s just how I want them.

“What are you waiting for?” I ask her when she doesn’t move. Cybil licks her lips and leans in, taking just the tip into her mouth. I release her cheeks, grab the back of her head, and slam myself into her mouth. She gags, and tears fill her eyes, but that doesn’t stop me. I fuck her little face the way I wanted to her pussy. I shove myself down the back of her throat, listening to her gag and feeling her spit as it slips out of her mouth and drips to the floor.

“You like that? You like being my little whore?” I ask her, shoving in further. Tears fall down her cheeks now, and I want nothing more than to lick them off and make her cry harder.

I force myself down her throat and hold still there until I come. She chokes on me and gags to the point I think she’s going to throw up, and only then do I pull out of her mouth. I jerk my cock, spraying what’s left of my cum all over her face as cum and spit mix and slide down her chin.

“Get up, we’re leaving,” I tell her. She quickly stands to her feet and sips in the blood before righting herself.

“I don’t have any clothes,” she whispers.

“You think I give a shit?”

Chapter Three

Ibrought Cybil home and now she’s in my room sleeping. I don’t know how I feel about her being in my space. The thought of breaking her and ruining her has hit me harder than I thought it would. I want to break her. I wanted to watch her crumble at my feet, but looking at her in my bed made me wonder. She isn’t a peaceful sleeper. She’s jumpy and unsettled. Her lashes may flutter in her sleep, but she’s far from getting a good night's sleep.

I sit in the corner of the room, a lit cigarette hanging from my lips as I blow smoke through my nose. Her hair is fanned out across my pillow, her now clean body splayed out under the sheets. I let her shower when we got back. I allowed her to take some time for herself, but that’s about all the time I plan on giving her. She’s to be mine to have and to ruin. And I will ruin her.

A soft knock on the door causes her to startle in her sleep. I blow out another ring of smoke before standing and walking to the door. I pull it open to see my sister with a pile of clothes in her hands.

“What’s that for?” I ask, nodding toward them.

“For her. She needs clothes.”

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