Page 28 of Run Little Killer

NIX

" T hink we're close to being done here?" I murmur to Rhett, adjusting the stiff collar of my button-up shirt.

"Fuckin' hope so," he sighs, rolling his neck.

We've been standing guard for what feels like hours now, the sun brutally beating down on us. Because of course it's abnormally hot for October today, and it doesn’t help that we're dressed in black from head to toe like we’re about to bury someone.

I’d rather be burying my cock deep inside Lennon's cunt.

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, my eyes trail to where she’s loitering nearby, sitting against a tree reading some trashy magazine she brought along from the clubhouse.

Warren gave us a questioning look when she climbed off the back of my bike, but never said anything, and Mav didn't fight Rhett when he told him that her coming with us was non-negotiable. The old bastard gets away with that shit since he’s the boss’ right hand man.

I pull at my collar again, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of my neck.

I suppose I don't have any right to complain about the miserable heat given why we’re here.

This job is a show of good faith to Warren to make up for the one we botched.

Still, I'm ready to get the hell out of here and these damn clothes.

Like undeserved mercy, the door swings open, Warren's personal bodyguards stepping out first and heading straight to their blacked out SUV.

"That'll do it, fellas," Warren announces as he steps out, slapping a hand on my shoulder. "Tell Mav thanks."

"Will do," Rhett says, tipping his head towards him.

We watch as they load up, doors slamming shut, gravel crunching beneath the tires as they pull out of the abandoned warehouse’s decrepit parking lot. As the taillights fade out of sight, we stalk towards our bikes, Lennon sexy ass already standing beside them waiting.

"Ready to go, darlin'?" Rhett asks, pulling his kutte from the saddle bag and slipping it on.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"Gonna start towards Englewood," I answer, pulling my own kutte on.

"Oh," she breathes, a little crease forming between her brows.

I meet her gaze as I tie my bandana around my face. "That's where you were headed, wasn't it?"

"Uh, yeah," she stammers, carding a hand through her hair.

I slip my hat on backwards and tug on my leather gloves as the silence stretches between us. With our gazes still locked, I study her for a long moment, trying to get a read on her expression. Her jaw is tight, eyes flat and dull, like the smoke that curls in the air after you smother out a fire.

"You done eye fucking me, ya creep?" Lennon huffs, propping a hand on her cocked hip.

The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk. "With my eyes," I murmur.

"What'd ya say?" she asks. "Use your big boy voice."

That brat mouth of hers sends blood rushing straight to my cock. Her defiance is my favorite form of foreplay– the more she fights, the harder I get.

"I said," I start, boots thudding as I stalk forward and wrap a tattooed hand around her delicate throat. "With my eyes, yeah, but in general– no."

Her pulse races beneath my fingers as I flex my grip and back her towards the bike, her lips parting with a gasp when her ass hits the seat.

I lean down, dragging my tongue up her jaw and across her scar, teeth sinking into the tender flesh beneath her ear.

She lets out a yelp as I tighten my grip, hovering my face a whisper above hers.

Our breaths mingle as I say, "I will never be done fucking you. "

Releasing her throat, I pivot around, hitching my jeans up and swinging a leg up over the seat. I crank the key, engine roaring to life as I wrench the handle bars. "Get on the bike, Lennon."

She slaps her palm down on my shoulder, hard and deliberate as she swings herself up to straddle my back. Her hands settle on the crest of my thighs and I nod to Rhett, the soles of his boots scraping the dirt before he takes off like a shot.

I twist the throttle wide open, Lennon tucking in tighter against my back as gravel kicks out behind us. Any excuse to have her pressed up against me.

Staggering behind Rhett on the highway, I set the cruise and sit upright.

It's gonna be a long ride– more than 600 miles to Englewood. My left hand comes to rest on top of Lennon’s and I feel her head turn, fingers intertwining with mine as this foreign sense of stillness descends on me.

With her, I don't feel the need to recoil from her touch outside of sex.

That was the shit that really fucked with my head when I lived at Cindy's.

I could dissociate when she forced herself down on me, find some place for my mind to wander to– not thinking or feeling, just letting her coerce my body's natural reaction. But after, when she made me stay to shower or sleep with her, my mind wouldn't shut off. Self-loathing prickled beneath my skin, the overbearing weight of shame settling in my chest until I felt nothing but disgust for myself for staying. But I couldn’t leave. There were two other boys just a little younger than me in her care, and every time I felt the urge to run, the thought that they’d be subjected to her abuse if I did kept me locked in place.

I’m starting to think that maybe the cracks weren't from the damage, but just space waiting for Lennon to fill. And the more miles we cover, the more I realize it might just destroy me to let her go.

The last bit of sunlight clings to the sky as we pull into a truckstop on the edge of some bumfuck town in Ohio.

The word MOTEL flickers in large red letters on a sign across the access road.

There's no name on the front of the building, just peeling paint and a 'vacancy' sign glowing in the front window.

I saddle up to the gas pump beside Rhett, removing the cap to my tank and setting in the nozzle. Lennon stretches behind me as she asks, "We staying at that murder motel tonight?"

"Only the best for you darlin'," Rhett teases with a wink.

"How chivalrous," she scoffs. "Better be careful you don't ruin my low expectations with the way you spoil me."

"Don't worry, your expectations aren't what I wanna ruin," I say as the pump clicks off.

Replacing the nozzle and the gas cap, I dismount my bike, tugging down my bandana. "Wanna go get us a room while we grab some shit?" I ask Rhett.

"Works for me," he replies, cracking his neck before restarting his bike. "I'll be waiting out front."

"Sounds good," I say, turning back towards Lennon and lifting my chin. "C'mon, little killer. Not only do you get a room with a spectacular view of highway 35, but you get to indulge in a meal from Kum N' Pump."

She rolls her eyes, sliding down from my bike and heading for the doors. "How will I adjust to this life of luxury?"

A little bell chimes as we walk inside, the smell of motor oil mixing with day-old rotisserie hot dogs. I don't care how hungry I am, I ain't eating that shit. They look like a geriatric dick that spent the day in the Florida sun.

I grab a few pre-packaged things from the deli cooler, a liter of coke, and a fresh bottle of Jack. Lennon's standing near the front, brow raised as she looks down at a display of ceramic wolves and angels, unimpressed.

"Ready?" I ask sliding up beside her.

"Yup," she says popping the P and holding up a Red Bull.

I shake my head. "Goddamn girl, you trying to be up all night? "

"Caffeine doesn't give me energy, just makes me normal," she says, shrugging a shoulder. "Plus, I like the taste."

"Oh," I hiss through my teeth. "Hate to break it to you, but there isn't enough caffeine on the planet to make you normal."

The back of her hand smacks against my chest as we step forward in line. I unload my arms, the cashier scanning the items as I pull out my wallet and glance towards Lennon.

Her knuckles are white as she tightly clutches the Red Bull can, eyes whipping in my direction before I even say her name.

I know that look.

"She's stealing!" The cashier shouts as Lennon bolts for the door.

"For fucks sake," I mutter, throwing a couple hundreds down on the counter before taking off after her.

Lennon

The cool breeze rushes over my flushed skin, but it does nothing to tamp down the panicked heat searing through my veins as my feet carry me across the vacant lot.

My face was on the goddamn newspaper.

I’m headline news , right there in black and white on the front page: MENTALLY UNSTABLE PATIENT STILL AT LARGE printed in bold right above my less than flattering intake picture from Briarwood.

It was stupid for me to think that the further we got from Briarwood, the less chance I’d have at getting caught.

I stupidly let myself believe in the illusion of freedom, chasing after a happily ever after with blood coating my hands, but this was never meant to be a fairytale.

It’s a tragedy, speeding toward its final, catastrophic act.

In seeing that newspaper, reality crashed back in, violating the temple I constructed in my mind. The unbothered ease and blissful peace I felt last night and today slips through my fingers like sand as I sprint across the parking lot, heart thundering in my chest.

"Lennon!" Nix shouts, the steady slam of his boots hitting the ground somewhere behind me.

Each menacing step lands like a warning shot as he closes the distance, but I don’t look back. It’ll only slow me down.

Sticks and dry grass crunch underfoot as I leave the pavement, running straight for the forest bordering the motel.

I’m swallowed up by shadows the moment I cross the treeline, only able to see by the dapple of pale moonlight leaking through the canopy above.

Relying on my other senses to guide me, I pick up on the faint sound of trickling water somewhere ahead, propelling myself in that direction.

If it’s a creek and I can get across it, then surely he'll give up the chase.

That night with Shawn re-wired my brain, forever altering my fight or flight response. My instinct used to be to fight, but when I was pinned beneath him, too drugged out to defend myself, a switch flipped. Then the drugs started to wear off, I regained my faculties, and I didn’t fight. I ran .

I ran from Shawn and Natalie on wobbly legs, blood streaming down my face and thighs.

I tried to run from Briarwood when the police first dropped me off– which they chalked up to being unmedicated and in need of treatment– then busted the hell out of that place and ran.

And now here I am, unmedicated and having arguably the best week of my life, and I'm still running.

I'm painfully aware that running won't solve anything. It’s an act of avoidance, a coward’s way out, but the more I'm triggered by something, the faster I shut down. Adrenaline floods my system and sends me fleeing like a spooked possum.

Not having a destination doesn't seem to matter to the cortex of my brain responsible for fight or flight. As long as I’m running, I’m still free. Still breathing.

My calves burn with each stride, lungs aching with each labored breath. The deeper I go, the denser the forest becomes, gnarled roots and thickets of brush slowing me down.

"Keep running, little killer!" Nix's gravelly tone calls out, his voice far too close. "There's nowhere you can run to, no place to hide that will keep me from what's mine."

His salacious threat lands as a shock to my system, the effect of it somehow rewiring my instincts yet again. His voice is like a shot of dopamine, his words eliciting a visceral reaction that slows my feet.

Maybe this time, I’m not running to escape.

Maybe I’m running to get caught.

Before I can fully contemplate that thought, the last bit of distance between us vanishes, Nix’s shadow swallowing mine as he bands a thick arm around my waist.

"Caught you," he murmurs in my ear, yanking my body back against his.

Desire pools between my thighs as he roughly pushes me up against a tree, control shifting as I give into him.

My breath hitches, bark biting into my skin as he yanks down my leggings and panties in one swift movement, a needy moan ripping from my throat when a gloved hand cracks across my bare ass cheek.

"The more you run, the harder I'll fuck you, until you remember exactly who it is that you belong to," he growls.

My stomach swoops, pulse thundering with anticipation at the sound of his zipper lowering.

He kicks my legs apart, and before I can even blink, he’s slamming into me from behind.

My inner walls spasm as he bottoms out in a single, brutal stroke, and some twisted sense of satisfaction ripples through me, realization dawning that this is what I really want. To be caught. To be claimed. By him .

"So fucking tight," he groans, drawing back before snapping his hips and sinking in even deeper.

I cry out, palms splaying against the tree to brace myself for each feral punch of his hips.

"That's it baby," he murmurs. "Let me hear those pretty sounds as I wreck this cunt."

His claim is as savage as his words are filthy. Every thrust is harder than the last, pain and pleasure weaving through me as he speeds up his assault. His balls smack against my clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through me as my orgasm builds.

"Fuck!" I pant, my legs quaking, core knotting. "I'm gonna come."

"Go on little killer,” he growls, fingers gripping the flesh of my ass cheeks and spreading me wide. "Coat my cock with that sweet mess, let me see that pretty little pussy fucking drench me."

Release slams into me like a head-on collision, pleasure ripping through every nerve ending like lust-laced sin. His pace is relentless as he fucks me through my climax before toppling over the edge into his own. Hot ropes of cum spill inside me, leaking down my thighs until the last thrust.

I go slack against the tree, carnal bliss coursing through my veins as Nix's body blankets mine. The weight of him is warm and steady against my back, anchoring me to the moment and calming the chaos in my brain.

Sure, he just chased me through the woods and fucked me within an inch of my life, but I feel strangely… safe with Nix. Safer than I have any right to feel.

His panted breaths skate across the shell of my ear, warmth blooming in my chest as he holds me close and murmurs, "Thatta girl, little killer."