Page 43 of Tear Me Down
“You remember our deal, little wolf?” he forces through grunts, and the thought of his cum dripping out of me again only turns me on more. One of my hands moves to his hair and the other up his shirt to claw down his back, desperate to anchor myself to his celestial form. His breaths become stuttered as his muscles tense along with his grip, but his movements do anything but falter. He picks up speed and force, driving into me so harshly that the continuous slapping of our bodies rings throughout the small space like claps of thunder. “Maybe I’ll send you back onto the streets with my cum dripping down your thighs. How’s that sound, baby girl?”
Before I can answer, his mouth is on me again, roughly searching for any piece of me that’s not in this moment, though he won’t find one. He’s completely sucked me in, ingrained so deep into my soul that we share the same air. The scrape of his teeth on my bottom lip makes me shudder, and a loud moan escapes my mouth.
He clutches me in his grip and lifts me up to meet his thrusts over and over as we move in a perfect rhythm, until his arm travels to grasp my hips, supporting all of my weight and doing the work for me. It’s as if I’m suspended, hanging under the terms of complete surrender, and I give into it willingly.
The pressure in my belly builds, keeping my breaths stuttered and causing me to pant. Our exertion is thick in the air, and everything else around us has melted away, leaving us in this heated moment that’s waiting to unravel. One of his hands grips my hairline and yanks back, exposing my neck and biting hard enough for me to yelp, causing the twist in my gut to tighten so much that I cramp.
I let go with a scream of his name, crying out as my orgasm rips through me. My entire body shakes in his grasp, and I pulse around him, clenching onto him so harshly that it pushes him over the edge right after me. He drives in deep one last time and spills himself into me.
He presses his weight against me, almost collapsing completely as he sets me back on the table. Our breaths mingle together in the miniscule space between us and gradually return to normal.
“Fuck, you're about to take me to church; I'm dying to drop to my knees and worship you.” I can’t speak yet, still trying to catch my breath, but I suck in more air as he pulls out, leaving me empty and full simultaneously.
He glides a soft kiss onto my lips as he tucks himself back into his pants and helps adjust my dress before walking back over to our victim. I have half a mind to step out and clean up, but that’s part of his point, I’m sure. To have me so thoroughly marked in front of a man that thought it was acceptable to touch me, and making sure he knows who I belong to before he dies.
The moment turns just before he begins searching his pockets. That metaphorical dark cloud that manifests when he’s about to kill someone is resurfacing, and the room suddenly feels cold. He starts with the man’s hoodie pocket before moving on to the others, and it’s not long before he pulls out a bag loaded with pills. My eyes widen, because from the looks of it, there must be at least a hundred in the bag, and just from the little knowledge I have on drugs, that’s an excessive amount. Damien turns towards me in a swift movement and tosses them to me before searching him further.
“Good catch, little wolf.”
“You think this is the new drug?” I ask as I look over the bag, astonished by the similarity to acetaminophen, even down to the color.
“I’d almost bet on it. Do you see how every pill has three dots only on one side?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s easier to crush with the divots, especially when they use something like a credit card or a knife, easier to make…”
“Dust,” I finish for him, and he smirks as I shake my head. “I’m not sure druggies will ever stop surprising me.” I look back over to him just in time to watch his features fall, a sadness washing over him.
“Was crack your parents’ drug of choice, or was that just the main thing they were caught with?” he asks genuinely, probably hating the question, but wanting to understand better.
“For the most part, but they would do pretty much whatever they could get their hands on. Cocaine, meth, even heroine once or twice. They tried to make meth once, but almost blew up the house, so they didn’t try that again.” I huff out a small laugh, trying to maintain our happy mood, but he growls at my answer, showing his obvious distaste.
“Fuck, I hate your parents.”
“Me too, babe. Good thing they’re already dead, I have a feeling you would’ve killed them.”
“Fuck yeah, I would have.”
I giggle and throw the pills back to him, and when he doesn’t find anything else on the man, Damien pushes his head back, stands, and walks over to me again. As he looks at the tools on the table, I get a good look at the once-hooded man, and a dark wave washes over me, the familiar feeling of recognition slapping me in the face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he places his hand behind my head and neck, faintly scratching my lower scalp.
“I don’t know why, but he looks familiar.”
Damien looks back over to him, and I can see his muscles tense as the man starts to groan.
“Could you have cut his hair?”
“I don’t think so, maybe? That doesn’t feel right.”
The man groggily looks up, taking a few moments to focus before moving his gaze from Damien to me almost immediately, the same hit of familiarity obviously affecting him. The identical feeling grows in my chest as he looks at me, and while I can tell I haven’t seen him recently, I definitely have before. Damien notices our awkward staring contest, and he snaps, walking up to him and punching him, almost knocking him unconscious again.
“You keep your fucking eyes on me,” he says angrily, and the man does what he says, immediately looking back at him. Damien then grabs a chair and sits in front of him, straddling it and leaning forward over the back. “I’m goingto ask you some questions—you answer truthfully, and I'll be merciful. Lie? I'll have you begging for death. Why did you just get this bag from that pharmacy?”
“The pharmacy makes an order, and we pick it up. You know, like any other prescription,” the man retorts in a smartass tone.
“It doesn't look like any other prescription I've ever seen.”
