Page 50 of Caution Tape

He quickens his thrusts and grips me tight, grazing his hand up my neck until he’s gripping my jaw. The pleasure solidifies into something so powerful, and so breathtaking, I can’t stifle the cries that erupt from my chest. The wonderous sensation builds until it… explodes like a bomb.

The peak is even higher than I imagined, gripping me tight, and holding me there, in a paralyzing sensation of pleasure so strong, it’s almost too much to bear. It’s so thrilling, and so out of this world that it almost breaks me.

He comes inside of me once more, and from the sound of his sharp groans and bewildered gasps, I know this feeling has gotten a hold of him, too. Eventually, we find our way back down again. I feel jolts and shocks as he pulls out of me. He falls onto his back beside me. My skin still feels like it’s on fire.

Here we are, trying to gain control of our breathing while lying beside one another, covered in blood, sweat, and arousal.

I utter the first thing that comes to mind. “I could have killed you.”

He stares up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

I roll onto my side and study his reaction.

“I could have killed you, Nolan,” I repeat.

“No,” he answers coolly, as a matter of fact.

“No?”

“You couldn’t have killed me,” he says. “You wouldn’t have, and you’re not going to.”

He turns his head and meets my gaze, cupping the wound in his shoulder with his palm to gain control of the bleeding. I blink at him incredulously, watching his lips part, waiting for him to finish.

“You’re not going to kill me, Cora,” he reiterates. “Besides, you’re going to need me for this.”

“For what?”

He crookedly grins, his dark hair a disheveled mess, and his eyes wild and unhinged. “To live out your darkest little fantasies. You need me.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“You’re sloppy.”

“So, what?”

“We’re going to fix that.”

My heart leaps at his remark, as my eyes flutter shut, and I smile to myself. He wants to teach me. How romantic.

Chapter Nineteen

Nolan

There is a mountain of work to do.

The thought occurs to me as Cora sleeps against me, her head resting on my chest. As we breathe together, the top of her head rises and falls, each time brushing against my lips as I look down and ponder her.

My orderly room has been destroyed. Plastic and blood are strewn across the bed, more plastic is on the floor. It bothers me. I told her she was sloppy, but I’ve been just as bad.

We have only a precious few days before people start noticing the disappearances. Jerald was one thing; a flaky college student who might go fluttering off to music festivals.

Michael was another issue. And once the police begin searching, it won’t be long until they connect him to his patients. To Cora.

To me.

She stirs slightly and her arm, draped possessively over my waist, pulls me tighter.

How far gone is she, really? Is she simply a broken girl, lashing out at the world and all the men who hurt her? What am I to her, really? The big bad wolf, butherbig bad wolf. Am I a weapon, to be aimed and then discarded?

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