Page 8

KANE

I lift my chin to give Delilah the perfect opportunity to deliver the final blow. To kill my body after so many years of experiencing death over and over and fucking over again.

She’s a chicken shit and too self-absorbed to do it because it would mean she dies alongside me. That’s the only reason for her hesitation. Because the minute I drop, so does she.

“Kane,” she moans, breathy and perfect. The exact same moan that has fucking haunted me since I was a teenager. The moan that irrevocably changed my life and ruined me. It’s that fucking moan that’s led to my descent into becoming a ghoul.

So, I punish her for it.

Ripping the knife from between her teeth, I slap my fingers directly over her asshole. The moans increase, both in volume and length. A dark laugh works through my throat as I do it again. “My little pain slut. Do you want me to abuse this little hole of yours?”

Her jaw trembles as she tries to breathe while dripping down her thighs. “Kane, let me down.”

“Why?” I muse, circling her nipple with the tip of the knife as I plunge two fingers into her tight ass.

“Fuuuuck,” she moans. Her neck tenses. The ropes tighten, abrasions forming on the column of her deceitful throat.

I make a nick on her tit and watch her blood slowly bead on the small line. My mouth waters as I lean forward, collecting a drop. It forces me to moan into her skin, and I lose control. Wrapping my teeth around the cut, I suck more into my mouth and scissor my fingers in her ass.

“Kane,” she whimpers.

I let her skin go, my teeth marks embedded into her chest, and my voice comes out deeper, harsher. “Keep whimpering like a pathetic little dog. It turns me on.”

She sounds perfect.

I hate it.

I hate that Delilah still has control over me, that I can still be in awe of the symphonies of her moans. She’s not only talented when stringing notes together on the piano. The ones she creates with her vocal cords have always meant more. Held more emotion. Enchanted me.

The moans continue. They float around me and change the atmosphere.

They nearly transport me back into that besotted prick who would have laid on the floor to make her steps more comfortable.

I can’t chase it away on my own, and I pull my fingers out of her ass.

She clenches, another attempt to get control of me, so I bite into her chest.

It’s not to indulge her.

I need her to be in pain. To be torn apart and fucking ruined, to feel a fraction of the destruction she’s caused me. But it’s translated as pleasure, and she screams out as I roughly push an inch of the knife’s handle into her ass.

“KANE!”

Reaching around her sinful body, I grab her bound wrists and pull. If she wants freedom so fucking badly, she can earn it through the same way she does everything—by fucking it.

Small pants and moans break up the sound of my name on her lips as I slowly turn the knife and hook her bound wrists beneath the blade.

There’s no risk of it cutting my dick with the sharp edge against the rope.

The compact edges fray. It’s too thick for it to be cut entirely as I line up at her cunt.

My deviant doll rolls her hips, searching for me, and I push up. Her warm, dripping cunt welcomes me easily. Heaven is wrapped in hell, and I fully plunge into the flames as I thrust up.

Delilah rocks on the table legs, but she fucks me back.

“Look at you,” I scoff. “Ready to die for dick. Always ready.”

Her eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen them. They almost match her true demonic nature as she lies, “For yours.”

The rounded edge of the knife handle pushes against the thin wall separating us and massages my dick as I fuck up into her. The audacity of her filthy fucking lies makes me move faster, and her foot slips off the table leg as she lets out a choked scream. “Kane!’

I make no attempt to stop her hanging herself as I speed up.

But she becomes a fucking gymnast and jumps, wrapping her thighs around my waist. My bloody fingers ping off her cheek as she drops her hips down, fucking me back.

She rests her forehead on mine as I hold her waist. Her beg brushes my lips. “Kiss me.”

Taking her bottom lip between my teeth, I pull. I pull to hurt, to mark her, to fucking stop myself giving in.

Delilah meets me thrust for thrust. Her face becomes redder and the harsh rope scratches her neck. But she doesn’t look away from me, and all I can fucking hear is her mumbled moans of my name. My palm stings from the force of it striking against her ass as she moves with more urgency.

“Beg.” I slow down, watching her frustration build as she works so fucking hard to fuck me.

She doesn’t.

The conniving fucking cunt stays silent and pins her eyes on me as she rolls her hips. The beam creaks from her determination, the rope rubbing against the oak. But nothing is a deterrent and she counters, “Kiss me.”

She’s getting close to her release and clenches around me. Her hips roll, massaging my dick from the inside out, as she repeats, “One more time. Kiss me as Kane, when I know it’s you.”

I tilt my head back to remove the temptation and her face falls.

It doesn’t settle into anger but resolve as she locks her ankles against my ass and stretches her neck to alleviate the strain of the noose.

It only shows the red bands while she rides me without any support.

My jaw aches from how hard I’m tensing to hold back when I want nothing more than to come deep inside her poisonous cunt.

Her eyes soften. Fake . And she tenderly begs, “Kane, please.”

Something snaps at the sight of her softening, becoming the person she was with me.

My fingers dig into her skin as I hold her hips.

There are going to be bruises in the shape of my hands, but she’s successfully snapped the last thread of my control.

Pulling out until only the tip of my dick is left in, I thrust back in. Hard.

She rocks on the noose, her upper body falling backwards as small chips flake off from the beam with dust.

But Delilah’s beyond beauty, and I’m fucking weak.

My blood stains her skin, my marks litter her chest, and it will never be e-fucking-nough. There needs to be more. Something irreversible. A mark on her soul that claims it as my own.

Her pussy tightens around me, and her moans turn into small puffs of air. I move faster and bite into the swell of her chest. It’s hard enough for me to feel her muscles twinge and force a weak scream out of her strained throat.

I can’t come without the mask, with my face in view and everything on show.

But I force her release as I pull her down, grinding my hips up.

Pulling the knife out of her ass, I thread my fingers through her hair and pull her head back.

The rope is pulled taut as she shudders and I lightly press the blade to it as I beg, “Tell me you love me.”

Just the thought of hearing those words on her lips has my balls tightening. She shakes on the rope and her thighs grip my hips. My bones are going to have Delilah-shaped dents from how hard she’s holding on to me. Yet it’s a small croak that makes everything combust.

“I love you,” she chokes and gasps as she comes on my dick, “Kane.”

I sway on my feet, the knife gliding through the rope and unravelling the cord, and I wrap one arm around her as I thrust up twice and fill her cunt with cum.

Light flashes behind my eyes, my ears ringing, and a phantom weight is removed from my chest as Delilah falls into me. Her full weight rests on me and pushes her head forward to seal her lips over mine. The act takes me by surprise, and I freeze.

She softly kisses me, coaxing my tongue to move with her own. My movements are clumsy as I hesitantly cup the back of her head with my palm flat against her hair. The burn of the strands rubbing into the cut on my palm grounds me, and I walk us forward.

Moaning into my mouth, she twists her hands and smiles against my lips.

The kiss is everything we used to be. Innocent, soft, and filled with care.

But she ruined it. I slam her against the cabin wall.

The luxurious wood is soft against my knuckles as they take the brunt of the force from the back of her head. But she fucking moans .

My fingers tremble as I take out the syringe from my pocket, and all the brutality of the last decade clings to my back.

The memories drag me to the in-between of life and death, where I’m in a constant limbo without anything solid on either side.

It doesn’t lessen as I push the needle into her thigh, or when she gasps and tries to pull away to see what it is.

My eyes fucking burn and my throat thickens as her lips slowly stop moving. But I can’t move away.

Not even as she slumps against my face.

“I loved you,” I mumble against her unconscious lips. “And you killed me.”

Delilah doesn’t even give a fuck about what she’s done. She doesn’t care about the extent of the damage that she caused, and I can’t tell her the truth when she’s awake.

“I was going to let it go, move on with my life and try to pick up the pieces. But then I saw you again. You were laughing, smiling. I fucking hate you for that. I was dying and you were laughing. I loved you so fucking much. You were all I had left, and then you were laughing with some other prick while I was in hell.”

Wrapping both arms around her, I hug her and rest my forehead on her shoulder.

For the first time in over ten fucking years, I wrap my arms around someone.

I feel a warm body against mine and I’m not repulsed.

There’s no bile burning up the back of my throat and I’m not so alone.

For once, there’s someone in my life again.