Gliding my mouth upward, I catch her mouth in a kiss as I speed up my pace, pressing deeper inside her, sweat dripping down my skin. The air grows thick, and our scents permeate it, intensifying the madness enveloping us both.
Sex was something I indulged in when I needed release, a mutual exchange where I knew my feelings were never involved, and I’ve never slept with anyone more than once. All the encounters were quick and impersonal, and I could never truly relax, always staying aloof. I was respectful toward all the women I’ve been with, even though I knew they agreed to it only to get something in return.
Sharing this with Diana, though?
It’s like being a virgin all over again because it’s never been this good, this intense, and the act in itself means so much that my heart squeezes inside my chest with weird emotions I can’t understand or wish to examine.
She laces her fingers in my hair as I continue to kiss her, then sways her hips upward, meeting my thrusts with her own powerful pounds until she spasms around me, coating me in wetness. She rips her mouth away from my lips, gulping for airas her pussy clenches all around me, her skin flushing red when she finally reaches her peak.
Whimpering and moaning, she wraps her legs around my waist as I place my elbows on either side of her head. I thrust into her over and over again as the tingling at the base of my spine starts, her pussy clamping around me. The pressure becomes too much, and I spill inside her with a loud grunt.
Dropping on top of Diana gently, I allow her to hug me, our heartbeats thumping wildly against each other’s as we catch our breaths. At this moment, I wish to remain indefinitely inside my wife and never let her go, so nothing and no one could take her away.
However, if Diana herself ever learns the truth, she’ll want to leave me.
And that’s when she’ll learn that just like my namesake, I’m an excellent hunter, and she’ll never get away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Every evil in the world has a past.
If we can excuse or justify, it depends on us.”
Orion
Orion
Jazz music blasts from the speakers, echoing through the space and adding to the grim, gloomy, and desperate atmosphere that pollutes the air in this dark, spacious dungeon, an art form in itself.
I wouldn’t expect anything else from Levi, although when I was his age, I preferred a slightly different setting because the rawness of it added to the constant storm brewing in my veins.
Various torture devices fill the place, from electric chairs to huge crosses where one might be nailed to death.
My lips twitch at Levi’s creativity and insanity, I’d be curious how he uses it and on whom.
I look at the tables heavy with knives, blades, electric drills, axes, and guns, all in different sizes. Rare, expensive pieces that one might find only if they have wealth and connections.
I call the likes of us artists for a reason, because we use the torture devices as our equipment of choice in creating a masterpiece that’s human suffering, and their bodies serve as canvases that we can display for the world to see, so they can appreciate our work.
Then again, rarely, if ever, the people who end up on the other end of our rage can be called human, for their hideous deeds destroy lives and entrap souls in eternal agony.
A whimper shifts my attention to the wall in front of me, where a man is chained to the ceiling. The sharp thorns on his collar cut into his neck and cause blood to spill onto his chest, staining his white shirt that’s drenched in sweat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his bare feet moving to the side, and he cries out when he steps on the shattered glass underneath them. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He raises his eyes to me, tears streaming down his cheeks as he grips the collar, his entire face pleading with me, which is rather pathetic. His dark hair is soaked with sweat, and by the stain on his pants, along with the disgusting smell reeking from him, Grant has already pissed himself.
Ah, the cowards who wield their power over those who have no means to protect themselves can never stand a chance against someone stronger than them.
They fold like cheap paper towels, and this enrages me more.
“What didn’t you mean to do, Grant?” I ask, grabbing the whiskey bottle from a nearby table and pouring a generous amount into a glass. “Tell me.”
Hope flashes on his face. All this talk about his brilliance must have been a lie, because why else would this idiot assume that my asking him this question means anything good for him? “Diana is not who she seems.” He licks his chapped-from-tape lips, wincing when his tongue touches his bruised skin, and pulls at the collar once again. “She’s a liar, and I tried to protecther from herself, but she wouldn’t listen. I had to use force to keep her in line.”
Shaking my drink a little, I watch the ice slowly dissolve, and the glass grows colder. Such a contrast to the rage spreading fire all over me that wishes to burn the guy until nothing is left.
However, I agree with Levi.
A punishment has to fit the crime, so I won’t kill him.
Although he might prefer death over what I plan to do to him next.
