Page 33 of Bloody Quarter

My body flushed hot, and even though I didn’t think he meant that answer sexually, all I could think about was what was in his jeans. I was tempted to defy him, tempted to see what exactly he meant, but there was only so far you could push a serial killer, and as much as I’d been willing to die on that bridge…now…I wanted…I didn’t know what.

“Say the words, Doll,” Greyson whispered, his body brushing against mine, and I sucked in a shaky breath.

“Fine, you want to hear the words. Yes, it would piss me off to see you fuck someone else in front of me or to even know that you had.” Saying the insane words out loud tasted like acid on my tongue and burned in my stomach like it was trying to scorch away any last bits of sanity and virtue I had left.

“So, you wouldn’t want me to do this to them,” he asked, his voice rough as he traced my jaw with his lips and bit the side of my neck. It was hard enough to bruise, and yet my eyes fluttered closed. “Or this?” He gripped my waist and ran his hand up my side, making it hard to draw a single breath. “Or how about this?” Greyson pressed up against me, and I fought my body’s reaction to him as much as I could, but it felt like I was using a bucket to bail out a boat that had already sunk.

“No, I wouldn’t want to see that either,” I said, and Greyson gripped my chin, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “But that doesn’t mean I want you to do it to me either,” I said stubbornly, and he smiled.

“Another lie, but we’ll deal with one at a time. You did as I asked, so on my next day off, I’ll set up the kitchen so you can attend classes.”

“Are you really going to trust me with knives and a stove?”

“I trust you to want more than death. Start considering this your second lease on life. Some reapers take your soul. I’m going to give yours back.”

He pushed away from me. My head swam with all the contradicting issues and theories that were Greyson. I’d gotten extremely good at reading people, but him…there was no reading a book with words moving on the page faster than you could make them out.

If this were Hogwarts, he would be the staircase that constantly led to different areas of the castle, leaving you breathless and confused as to how to find the front door and escape.

“Come on, I don’t have much time to get you ready before we open.”

I had no idea what the hell that meant, and I couldn’t be bothered to ask. There was some shit you just didn’t need answered.

Greyson

I’d outdone myself. My canvas was fantastic to work with but fuck me, this was better than I could’ve imagined. I loved how Alora looked. Defiant and as terrified as she had been for the past ten days. She was proving harder to break than I thought she’d be, considering how I found her.

I held up the final little piece of torture for the night. “What is that,” Alora asked as she stared at the object. They called it an egg, but to me, it looked more like a massive sperm with a curved tail.

“You don’t know?” She shook her head. This was going to be more fun than I thought. “You put this in your pussy.” Her eyes went wide as she stared at the black object in my hand.

“Why?”

“Are you really in a position to ask questions?” She licked her lips even as her eyes flashed with anger. She was in a constant war with herself, and there was something so intoxicating about that. “Either you can put it in right now in front of me, or I put it in for you.” I smirked. “I’m not going to deny that you giving me a reason to finger your pussy turns me on.” She quickly plucked the device from my fingers and then stared at it. “The thick end goes inside of you, and the tail lays over your clit.” I held out the clear lubricant. Alora opened her mouth and mumbled something under her breath before glaring at me as she dripped the liquid onto the vibrator. Fuck, I was already turned on. The entire shift was going to be a lesson in patience. Alora handed me the tube back and slowly pushed the vibrator inside her pussy. She sucked in a gasp and tensed, and I had to wonder how long it had been since she had sex. The anger was immediate, and my muscles trembled under my skin, demanding to know who had touched her.

She licked her lips and then looked up at me, and the anger was squashed down with the hint of desire staring at me. Alora was trying hard to fight it, and that was fucking hot. I was hard instantly. This would be torture for both of us, but what a sweet and delicious torture it would be. Alora sucked in a breath as she got it settled into place, and I ached to spread her wide. Kneeling in front of her, I held open a pair of black bathing suit bottoms, and she stepped into them.

“So, I’m getting to wear more than this X across my nipples?” She looked down at the two narrow swatches of leather that just covered her. “And I thought you were going to keep me naked and let every guy in the place fuck me.”

Uncontrollable rage gripped me, and I growled. The sound rumbled like an animal in my chest. Alora stepped back, her eyes wide and terrified, as I closed my hand into a fist.

“Don’t ever mention other men fucking you again. They can stare all they want. Men and women can jerk off in the bathroom as they think of you, or they can go home and dream about it being your pussy they are fucking instead of the poor person waiting for them. But they do not, under any circumstance, touch you. If they do, or if you welcome it, then it will be the last thing either of you do. Understood?”

“Yes,” she said, and nodded.

Like water to a flame, the rage extinguished once more. Grabbing the paint, I needed to put on my finishing touches. The red looked like smears of blood running down her body. The rest of the artwork was flowers and bones, which would blend with the lore and coming Mardi Gras.

Stepping back, I admired my work. Alora’s eyes looked darted around the bar, wary of what I’d just done to her and what was yet to come.

“You look so beautiful painted in red, Doll.” I’d always had an eye for art, and some of my favorite pieces came from the street vendors right here. Artists who would never live in the limelight or sell a piece for more than fifty bucks, yet the talent was outstanding. I’d stolen this idea from one of the vendors who painted skulls, turning them into the iconic sugar skull. The tourists ate them up, and now I had a living, breathing version. I’d styled her hair to have the same wildness as the look in her eyes. The thigh-high black boots completed the outfit, but there was one more thing that needed to be done.

“Greyson, everyone is going to stare at me all night. Please don’t do this.”

“Let them stare. Let them see what they will never have because you’re mine, Doll. If one of them so much as brushes a finger against your skin, I’ll gut them and fuck you in their blood.” I traded the paint for the black box and opened it, pulling out the red ball gag. “Turn around,” I ordered, and Alora eyed me and the item in my hand. “What did I say about making me ask twice?”

“Not to.” She turned precariously on the tall heels that almost brought her to eye level with me. “Open your mouth and hold your hair up.”

“Greyson, please….”