Page 64 of Crawl
I instantly straighten myself, giving us distance. “I never said I was Cassius Winstone. I said to call me ‘Cash.’You didn’t listen.”
“Then who are you?”
I stare at her, willing her to pretend like she truly wants me to be the same Mr. Winstone who abused her best friend.
“Face it,” I say. “You’re glad that I’m not him.”
“Tell me who you are.”
There’s tension in her eyes, like she’s angry and doesn’t know who or what to believe. But I’ve told her the same line before, and I’ll say it again. Nothing is going to change that.
“Call me ‘Cash,’” I say.
She lunges at me, her nostrils flaring, fire in her eyes. She howls like a wild animal and her nails pry at my skin, trying to hurt me. Like she’s trying to scrape out my heart with her tiny fists. But I’ve been through worse.
“Why are you upset?” I laugh, letting her do her worst. Her nails sear into me, but I don’t care. I know how to channel it out. “You were going to kill him anyway.”
“You stole that from me.”
Her fists hit my chest like a dull drum, but I stand still. Each blow hammers into me, and I don’t give a damn. After a minute, she huffs out a breath, then screams as she rakes her nails down my chest again. I hiss through my teeth, little beads of blood sprouting on the swollen skin, but she does it again, her fingertips damp with my blood. She paints my body red like she did with her stepdad’s blood.
But it’s my blood now.
She grabs my face, forcing herself forward to kiss me, but I pull the gun from my holster, using the long barrel against her throat, cutting off her air just enough to make her stop. She squeaks in surprise, and I bare my teeth.
“You should have known better, little cure,” my voice reverberates. “You thought I only keep knives? I keep guns too.”
But still, she doesn’t run away. She holds my face again, cupping me like a child, and for a moment, it’s like she’s holding me up. I want to let go of everything and vanish inside of her.
But I can’t. No matter what I do, I have to dominate her. I press the gun’s muzzle into her temple, and this time, she bites her lip so hard that her skin turns purple. I’m getting close. She’ll break soon, and then it’ll be over. The only thing left to do will be to frame her.
Or else she’ll destroy me.
“On your knees,” I say. She falls instantly. I knock the gun lightly into her chin until she opens her mouth. “Suck it,” I order. She closes her eyes, tears forming at the edges. But once her lips press into the metal, she pushes that fear away and pleasures it like a cock. My dick swells at the sight. Her purple lips press into the metal, her cheeks suctioned, drool wetting the sides of her mouth. She looks so good like that. On her knees. Her life in my literal fingers.
And yet she has no idea how much she controls me.
“You want the real me?” I ask. “I’ve been more real with you than anyone in this world. And that’s what pisses you off. That you still want me for it.”
She pulls off of the gun and snaps her teeth together, her eyes full of fury. I pull her up to her feet, ripping off my pants and spinning her around, pressing her into the countertop again. I use the arousal from her pussy lips to wet my dick, then I force myself into her ass. Her lungs empty in a sharp, breathtaking gasp, and I slam inside of her, holding the gun to her back. She may be the first person I haven’t killed, but that doesn’t mean she’s safe. In a second, she can join the rest of them, trapped in the insulation of their own homes, rotting with the foundation.
And yet, inside, I know that’s no longer true. I will never hurt Remedy like that. I refuse.
But I can still control her.
“You think you can see everything if you’re always on the attack,” I growl. The muzzle digs into the skin between her shoulder blades, right in the middle of the tattoo of those two skeletal bodies. She arches her spine again. Her breaths come out in rapid succession; she’s scared. “But I always had you first, Remedy. You always were, and you will always bemine.”
I wrap my hands around her hips as I push my dick deeper into her ass. Her clit is wet and swollen, and I circle it with my fingertips, my hand frantic. I need her to come. I need her body to convulse in a way that’s completely mine, and not the performance she gives to everyone else. Each time my full length fills her up, she gasps. Her ass is so damn smooth, it’s intoxicating. I can barely hold on to my goal. She’s so close to orgasm that I suck in her tangy musk like it’s the last breath I’ll ever have. And when her muscles start to constrict, I pull out, letting her suffer through the lack of fulfillment. Her jaw drops, anger flashing in her eyes. And I study her.
Her green eyes flicker like she’s trying to find the missing clues. But I’m here. It doesn’t matter who she thinks I am anymore.
“You killed Cassius Winstone,” she says confidently. “I owe you for that.”
“And you killed your stepdad.”
She nods and keeps our eye contact. “Which means, whether or not you like it, we’re in this together.”
I laugh.Together?“All it means is that we’re both killers,” I say.
