Page 59 of Grave Love
“For you.”
A guttural roar bursts through me. Ren gasps and twists back, almost tripping off of the stool. I grab her ass, keeping her in place.
“This isn’t about me, and you know it,” I snarl.
“For my grandmother. For my mother.”
I lean my head down, my hot breath warming her through the fabric of her shirt. Her body erupts with goosebumps. She’s sensitive, and so responsive to me. The trees surrounding us spin, and I know that I can’t take much more of this.
“That’s not it, little corpse, and you know it,” I whisper harshly.
“I’m not good enough for myself,” she cries.
I pull her off of the stool, then drop my phone as I plunge my cock deep inside of her. She screams, her pussy constricting around me like she could strangle me to death with that cunt. I fuck her hard, pulling her body with me so that the noose tightens around her neck. Her eyes widen, the blood pooling in her cheeks.
“Plea—” she sputters, losing her ability to speak. “B-blaze, please—”
I step back again, the rope choking her, her face blooming into a purplish-red, bright and fucking beautiful, even in these harsh lights. She bobs on my dick, swinging for control. Fighting against me. Against herself. Against her will to do anything at all.If the fall from a noose doesn’t break the person’s neck, then they can last up to five minutes asphyxiating like this. Swinging like a pendulum. Back and forth between life and death. And that’s the struggle that I want: to see exactly what my little corpse does as those minutes count down, what she does when she sees the world darkening around her.
I hold Ren there, kneading her hips, my dick swelling, her cunt constricting on my length for dear life. Her eyes bulge, red vessels mixing with her irises, milking her focus into a muddy brown, and her cuntsqueezes—that rippled velvet clutching against me one last time, the life in her pupils rolling to white as she loses consciousness—
I pull out the switchblade and cut the rope. She collapses into my grasp. We crash down to the ground, the twigs, the branches, and the fertile decay digging into our arms, our legs, every part of exposed skin. I loosen the noose enough to give her life again, but I don’t stop fucking her. I thrust hard,deep,impaling her with my cock, goring her like a predator until I stab into her cervix, until I know I’m carving out a space for myself inside of her where she’ll never be able to forget that I fucking own her.
She comes back to me, gasping for air. I thrust her around until she’s lying on her stomach, burying her body into the twigs and leaves. She groans, the pain stabbing into her, and I fuck her from behind, relentless, not giving a fuck if she likes it, because she wants to be taken, used, to be worthy of something, and if it’s the last thing I give her, then I’m going to fucking do it. Our bodies cut an imprint of us into the ground, marking our space, the first descending steps into our mutual grave.
“This is what you deserve,” I say. “You’re just a whore. My dead whore.”
I fuck her, harder, and harder, teaching her everything I know. Everything about life and death and this fucked up existence that we both crave and despise so deeply. How it numbs us. Forces us to hate the world around us. Tricks us into thinking there’s nothing good worth living for, when reality is far darker than that.
“You think you’re not good enough?” I growl. “You’re wrong. You’re nothing, little corpse. And nothing can’t disappoint. Nothing can’t be guilty. Nothing can’t fail, because nothing doesn’t exist. And that’s all we are, Ren.Weare nothing. And if you can’t see that, then I’m going to fuck you until you understand exactly why I want to live.”
I yank the hair at the top of her scalp, pulling her back like a chained animal, and she cries so loud, so deep, sopowerfulthat I can’t hold back anymore. I come inside of her, my cock jerking, my body convulsing. Ren’s demons crawl into me and consume every last ounce of control I have. She dives over that edge too, her cunt twitching, come gushing out of her, mixing with mine, surrendering to that pleasure, needing it as much as she needs air.
We fall to our backs, collapsing from the adrenaline. I reach over and grip a fistful of her hair, dragging her against the twigs and branches until she’s closer to me. She whimpers—it must hurt—but her clammy body finds its place on top of me. She curls into the fetal position, her breathing languid, finding her serenity in the aftermath of it all.
I brush the leaves and hair out of her eyes. They’re closed now, so damn exhausted she might be asleep already.
“That’s why,” I say quietly.
Her chest rises and falls. There’s a chance she didn’t hear me. I’m okay with that. Relieved, even. A spiral of pressure claws up my chest, reminding me that none of this is what I planned. I already have that connection I crave. She should be dead right now, and that high from her murder should be satiating me, giving me the motivation to find my next victim.
It’s a cruel game, playing with someone’s sense of self, and thatshouldfit me. It doesn’t though, and I can’t explain it. My dick is hard, but there’s something else there too. A force that relinquishes my control of her. Of this. Of us.
It’s like I can’t control myself anymore.
I place a hand on her throat, then massage the bruises there, and impulsively, she spreads her legs. I don’t squeeze though. For once, this isn’t about forcing her to come; it’s about letting her know that I’m here. That I see her. That I still want her, even after all of this. Even if she thinks she doesn’t deserve anything—not even a fucked up sociopath like me—I’m still here.
She nuzzles into me, her nose flaring against my chest, finding comfort in my touch. It must be painful for her to have my fingertips even skim across her neck—there’s no doubt that the rope gave her a friction burn—but Ren’s eyes remain closed, her body relaxing. Finding peace.
I let her sleep like that, the remnants of the noose hanging around her neck like a leash.
And for a while, I rest my eyes too.
Chapter22
Blaze
I skip workthe next day. It’s a compulsion at first. A need to do something else. Something other than work with Ren. And yet my body aches—literally fucking hurts—like it needs her. I don’t know if I strained my muscles fighting her in the woods, or if I’m just addicted. It’s like my body craves her as much as it craves the high from my first kill.
