Page 19

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

I whispered into the void as Santino pushed his face between my breasts, hands splayed against my back, guiding my movements as I bounced on his cock, riding him until my thighs burned and his name slithered from my tongue like a ragged plea.

“ Preziosa ,” he rasped into my ear, nipping at my lobe.

I moaned a barely audible “What?” and threw my head back.

“Wake up.”

I jolted awake, startling Pheonix, who quickly hopped off the foot of my bed and trotted into the hallway.

A dream. A fucking wet dream.

Letting myself fall back onto my pillow, I gathered the white comforter to my face and muffled a scream into the thick fabric. I didn’t know what I hated more, the fact that I was dreaming about fucking Santino or that I’d woken up before experiencing a dream orgasm.

I had come to terms with remaining celibate until the day I died. The thought was a comforting one—until now.

I think.

Goosebumps littered my skin as the memories of the last time my body experienced an orgasm flashed in and out. Even during those hellish moments, no matter how fiercely my mind fought, my body betrayed me. The self-loathing and guilt that followed tested my sanity and found me bent over, retching the filth and shame.

It doesn’t matter now. That girl is dead.

I shoved her back where she belonged and sighed, wiping the sweat beading on my forehead.

Santino Leone.

As much as I wanted to convince myself that the dream meant nothing and was simply a product of last night’s events and being in his home, I knew better. The sexual tension still burned between us. One moment, I was threatening his life, and the next, I allowed him in my space. Allowed his touch and sweet gestures. Swooned over his words.

Trust?

He claimed to want to earn my trust. But if I was being truthful with myself, he already had it. Or else he’d be on his way to a morgue alongside Tarasov. Instead, I’d spent the night on his couch, ate his damn breakfast, and let him drive me home.

Blowing a breath, I covered my face with my hands.

And now I was dreaming of his cock…and liked it.

My pussy still throbbed, and deep down, as terrifying as it seemed, I’d give anything to fall back asleep and meet him in a world where I was safe, one where I’d get to taste an ounce of bliss, even if just for a night.

Just one night.

Before I could overthink, I slid my hand under the sheet and between my thighs, closing my eyes when I slipped my fingers into my panties. Maybe he’d been just a figment of my delusions, but to my body, it was real, and I’d responded accordingly. Tentative touches accelerated the beating of my heart.

“Santi,” I whined into the dark as my fingertips shifted into slow strokes, imagining his hand instead of mine and his lips on my neck.

He’d whisper preziosa close to my ear and not only tell me I was beautiful but make me feel it by kissing every inch, even my scars.

“Just like that.” I thrust my hips, coating my fingers with my arousal and groaning as I rubbed circles over my clit. “Fuck.”

My thighs spread wider, lip trapped between my teeth as I climbed higher, and the pleasure rolled through me until I felt the urge to scream. Snatching my pillow, head bouncing on the mattress, I smothered my cries as I fell over the edge with Santino’s name in my throat.

For five minutes straight, I stared at the ceiling, my mind blank but racing all at once. I didn’t want to think, to dwell on what this all meant, so I shot up and into the bathroom. In another ten minutes, I was out the door, walking past a half-sleeping Phoenix, who propped her head when I grabbed my black bag and headed for the door.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll be back.”

Bells jingled above my head when I crossed the threshold of The Veil, a bar two blocks from my building. With roughly two dozen patrons, the place was relatively empty for a Friday night in Miami. Most crowded around the bar, while a scant few busied themselves by the pool tables and TVs.

I sat in a far corner, my back to the wall, and ordered a water. The bartender was an older woman with a blonde bob and a sweet smile who eyed me curiously at my choice of drink but happily obliged, sliding the glass across the counter.

“Let me know if you want something with a little more kick. You look like you could use the good kind of amnesia.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged, absently wiping a wet spot with a rag before stuffing it into her back pocket. “You just look like you got a lot on your mind. ”

“Don’t we all?” I said with a sigh.

“True. But I know that look. Relationship trouble.”

Was I that obvious? Was my face still flushed from my orgasm?

“I’m not in a relationship.”

“Broke up?”

“No, I—”

“You want to be in one?”

I blinked rapidly at her intrusive questions. “That’s…not it.”

“Sure,” she said with a wink. “You know, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t stress over a man or woman.”

If she knew the extent of shit I stressed about, she’d be jumping over the bar and sprinting out the door. I brought the glass to my lips and chugged my water, hoping to deter more conversation. But Stacia, according to the badge clipped to her belt loop, was relentless.

“I’ve never seen you around here. And I don’t forget a face, much less one like yours and those pretty eyes. You live in the city?”

Stacia reminded me of a neighbor of my mother’s back in Rio—a kind woman with too much time on her hands and just as many stories. But as she began to ramble on some more, I noticed a man across the way. He had slick hands like those of a magician. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t quick enough, and I caught when he dropped a powdery substance into the drink across from him. I didn’t see his companion, but I could only assume he’d waited until they were out of sight.

Adding another waste of skin to my tally hadn’t been on my plans tonight. Nevertheless, I was always prepared. Squeezing the strap on my bag, I shifted to my feet. Stacia paused her monologue, and I felt her eyes on me as I moved toward the man whose cock would harden for the last time tonight—well, if one didn’t count rigor mortis.

As ungracefully as I could muster, I tripped over my own feet and crashed into his table, ensuring to strategically tip the drink in his direction. The special cocktail dripped onto his lap, and he shot to his feet.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry!” I cried, putting on my best damsel act.

“Shit.” He shook off his pant leg as droplets hit the floor .

In a flash, Stacia was there with her rag, but I snatched it and proceeded to wipe the man’s wet crotch. Of course he let me.

“Let me get that.” I grabbed his waistband and hauled his hips to my face, gazing up from beneath my lashes. “Just a little dab and it should dry in no time.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a slight grin, and I returned the gesture, adding a wink for good measure.

“It’s…okay,” he said, using his finger to twist one of my curls.

I leaned close to his ear. “There’s an alley around the corner. I’ll wait fifteen minutes. Let me make it up to you.”

The bell signaled my departure as the door swung open, and I stepped into the warm night. A rush of adrenaline poured into my bloodstream with every step. I turned the corner into the desolate strip and smiled as I slipped on my mask, reveling in the familiar tingle of an impending kill. It had taken years to nurse my wounds, not just the physical ones but the lasting scars that had been carved into my soul. I never forgot the look of horror in Mr. H’s eyes when I drained his life, just as he had mine.

For months, I dreamed of all the men who had lined up to violate and destroy everything I was. And the only way to quiet their voices was through violence and death. Finding the worst of society was easy. They didn’t just dwell in the darkest corners of the internet or some obscure underground club.

Monsters lived among us.

“There you are.” His dark shadow loomed at the end of the alley.

He’d pulled a hoodie over his head, shrouding his features. But I imagined he wore a smug grin, his cock hard in his pants, ready to take his fill.

“Here I am.”

Despite my invitation, and like the scum I knew he was, his hand wrapped around my throat as he pushed me against the brick wall.

“You cost me a fun night. But I’m a forgiving man for the right price.”

I brought my mouth to his jaw and cupped his balls. “Who says the fun is over? The night is young, pretty boy.”

The smile on his face only lasted a breath when my knife pushed into his abdomen twice before he even knew what happened. With wide eyes and slackened lips, he stumbled back, staring at his bloodied hands and then at me in disbelief.

When I returned home, my mind would be plagued with thoughts of Santino and all the ways he confused the hell out of me. But for now, I’d quench my thirst for revenge and quiet the demons with the pathetic cries of Mr. Douchebag rapist.