Page 65 of Vicarious

“Yours,” he replies immediately, and this time I believe him. Then, “Whose pussy is this? Who do you belong to?”

“You. Always and forever you.” And this time I mean it. Not because I desperately need him to make me come.

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

Travis’s whimpers becoming choked and his breathing becoming sporadic distracts me, and I stop my movement to look at him. He’s about to give. Right now.

So I lift off Viper’s cock, stand up, and direct him to do the same. He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head, but follows my direction all the same in the end.

I turn the chair so the back is facing Travis, and then brace one knee onto the seat while leaning my hands on the back.

I look at Viper and say, “Fuck me while we watch him die.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Viper’s stands behind me, and rams his cock into my pussy. Hard, fast, desperate. Every time his cock fills me, it feels like his entire being is consuming me, and I wonder if it feels the same for him.

The chair moves a little with every thrust into me, and I grip the back of the chair tighter as I feel my pleasure building and the tight knot of heat in me intensify. I want to close my eyes and relish in it, but I resist the instinct.

Travis is dying in front of me. I don’t want to miss him take his last breath. I don’t want to miss the light in his eyes go out. I want to see his terror while his last sight is the thing he liked to see so much. Me coming from being fucked so hard, and he can’t even enjoy it like the sadist he is.

At this point, it might be a bit hypocritical to call him a sadist considering I’m getting off on the fact that Viper ruined his life so we could kill him. Getting off on being fucked while watching him die. If it does, though, I don’t care.

“Fuck,” I shout as I feel my orgasm coming. “Fuck. I’m—” I take a gulp of air, unable to finish my sentence. “Don’t stop. Don’t—”

Travis’s feet and legs give out. The weight of his body completely falls. The belt digs into his throat. He begins to gurgle and choke, and his body begins to jerk and thrash as he’s deprived of oxygen.

“Yes,” I shout. I’m not sure if it’s for Travis dying or for Viper fucking me. “Yes. Yes. Ye—”

I grip the chair tightly and let out a wail of pleasure at the same time as Travis gurgles one final time and his body completely stills, and Viper lets out a loud growl as my even tighter pussy grips his cock, forces his orgasm, and milks him of his come.

When I’m more or less sure that my legs can hold my weight, I turn my back to the dead hanging body to face Viper. Even though I can stand just fine, he holds me in a way to steady me just in case.

“I love you,” I say without really meaning to. I kiss him and add, “So much.”

It’s one hell of a time to confess that to him. In an abandoned warehouse where we just fucked while watching a man die and his dead body is hanging behind us. It’s probably the least perfectly romantic time and place to do it for most people. But the most perfectly romantic for two people like Viper and I.

Viper laughs in response to my confession and says, “I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, I still do. But I only hate you because I love you.”

“That makes no sense,” he mutters, but I feel him smile against my lips as he replies, “I love you too, Bell.”

29

Viper

“Marry me,” I say with my arm around Dele’s waist and my face buried in the top of her hair.

I hadn’t been intending to ask her now of all times. Not yet. I planned to wait until after we killed Pray. When all was said and done, she and the children were safe, and I’d made her queen of the biggest criminal empire in the west. One day the world. Everyone who helped us get there would be there and see me do what would show everyone that she was mine and mine always. That anyone who tried to take her away from me would have hell and then some to pay.

I certainly hadn’t planned to ask her as we stand in Jason Travis’s house in front of where we dangled his dead body after we set the scene for what will be unquestionably declared a suicide. But perhaps asking her here and now is fitting. Especially for us. When has anything for us ever been anything but spontaneous and unexpected and seemingly unideal?

Without taking her eyes off the body or complaining that I asked here and now of all times, Dele replies, “You have to divorce your wife first.”

“She’s legally dead. And that’s how I intend her to stay.”

“And what do you plan to do with your not dead wife?”

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