He doesn’t stop, his mouth doing dangerous things to me before I eventually come down from the high. When he pulls me down, his mouth slick with my arousal, he drags me in for a kiss, flipping us over so I’m beneath him.
His cock is thick and hard, sliding between my legs, causing me to jerk from the sensitivity.
“I will always love you,” he promises before he lines himself at my entrance and slams home.
I draw in a sharp cry, the sting blending with the pleasure as he watches me, his mouth tracing passionate kisses along the line of my jaw.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, wrenching him back down into another kiss, and when his hips begins to move, unhurried and deep, I’m lost again. To him. To us. To the quiet magic we create together.
And in this moment, I hope it never ends. When we come together, he gazes down at me, and I know he sees all of me. The good. The bad. The broken. The beautiful.
And somehow, he loves me anyway.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
KIRILL
ONE WEEK LATER
As I enter the basement,each step brings me closer to death—but not mine, of course.
Eli is still there, hanging upside down from the ceiling, barely clinging to life. Blood stains the plastic floor beneath him in dark, sticky patches, some of it old and dried, some of it fresh enough to still glisten.
Keeping him alive has taken effort. Care. The kind of patience most men wouldn’t bother with.
When I make a promise, I mean it. So when I said I’d drag this out and make him suffer, I meant that.
When he hears me, his head lifts weakly. His face is swollen beyond recognition, but he still senses me, recoiling as I step closer.
“P-p-p-please…”
It would almost sound pitiful if I gave a damn.
“Just…kill me.” His one decent eye squeezes shut as another tremor tears through him. “You…you proved…your point.”
One of my men steps up behind me and places a knife in my hand, the blade long and heavy, made for tearing through flesh. The second Eli registers it, a broken sob leaves him.
I bend just enough so he can see my face clearly. “Today is your lucky day.”
His whole body stills.
“Because this ends now.”
For one brief second, relief flashes across what’s left of him. Until I continue.
“You will never hurt her again.”
His eyes flare, panic rushing back in.
“You will never touch those boys again. And when you’re rotting in hell, I want you to know one very important thing.” I edge closer, the knife resting against his stomach. “You never should have touched them.”
He hyperventilates just as the blade sinks into his stomach. I take my sweet time as I open him up the way a butcher opens an animal, the cut deep as the metal slides through tendon and muscle.
His scream tears through the basement, and it brings me immense pleasure. Blood pours over my hands, but I keep going, dragging his intestines out and leaving them hanging for him to see. He jerks violently, his breathing turning into a wet, choking sound.
I step back, admiring my work.
