Page 55 of Madness

Heat pooled in my stomach as my body strung taut. The lack of oxygen making my fingers and toes tingle. My nails dug into his skin, his blood dripping down as I exploded around him again. A gush of wetness burst between my legs as my vision went black.

I didn’t know if it was his hold on my neck or the massive orgasm, but I felt the world drifting away. Or maybe I closed my eyes because I could still hear Maddox.

“Oh, my little dove. You love my pain. You’re squirting for me.” He groaned as his hips snapped again. His body shuddered above me as he filled me with his cum. His own release mixing with mine. I wanted it. Wanted the proof that he was as lost as me.

He loosened his hold on my neck but kept his hand there. His head rested on my shoulder, and his hot breath made goosebumps race down my body. Maddox’s voice was the last thing I heard before the world went dark.

“My little dove. Mine.”

29

Maddox

As many times as I killed, I’d never thought about death. Never wondered what those last moments felt like. If there was peace or fear in the end. If people thought of loved ones or all the mistakes they’d made. If they could tell it was the end or if it surprised them.

I’d thought about it tonight.

When my hands were squeezing the life from Kincaid’s body, I’d wondered what she was feeling. Wondered if she was welcoming it. She’d told me she wanted to die. I’d envisioned killing her before. Felt the rush it would give me.

But then she’d smiled and placed her hand on my chest. Those wintery eyes locked with mine. It wasn’t because she wanted to die and had accepted it; I could still see the life in her. See the fire to live.

It was like she was accepting this part of me. This disregard for killing. The thrill I got from it. Like she was telling me she saw the demon inside, and she wanted him.

It was then I realized I couldn’t kill her. I never would. I still thought I would let her go through. Thought I would break her and toss her used body aside.

Then my world crumbled. She rearranged it.

The second I’d slid into her tight pussy, felt her fall apart for me, it changed everything I thought I knew about myself. I believed I was incapable of feeling emotions. Sure, I felt anger or satisfaction at someone’s death. But nothing had prepared me for what being inside Kincaid felt like. Then she begged me to kiss her.

I never wanted to kiss anyone. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had. Kissing was an act of tenderness. It was a representation of affection. A feeling I didn’t think I was capable of. But when her lips touched mine, I knew I could. I could feel something.

For her.

I lost control. My chest tightened. The blood stilled in my body. My only focus was her. All I thought about in that moment was Kincaid. Her beautiful blood-soaked body. Her white blonde hair flowing around her. Her moans of pleasure and pain. Her hands on me. Her lips on mine. Emotions I couldn’t name clawed at my insides.

It wasn’t love; I was too fucked up for that. It was worse. It was obsession. Madness. She was mine. I knew it.

She was made to take my pain. To take my cum. She was designed to give me peace in this world. She was made for me alone. And I was never letting her go.

If I was someone else, someone who could feel love, I might have let her go. Let her live without my soulless demon tainting her. But if I was a better man, a weaker man, I already would’ve done that. There was no way out for her now.

I wasn’t a good man. I wasn’t even an okay one. I was the worst. Probably couldn’t even be considered a man with all the depraved things I did. Enjoyed doing.

Kincaid let out a soft whimper as I finally pulled from her body. I hadn’t wanted to leave her, but we couldn’t stay like this. My cock twitched again as I looked at her, utterly destroyed on the table. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even as if she’d passed out. Her body was damp and flushed. There was dried blood on her skin, and my cum trailed down her thighs. I wanted to slam back inside her. But I wouldn’t.

That alone was enough for me to realize the depth of what I felt for her. That I cared enough to not want to hurt her further. That I was willing to delay my pleasure to tend to her.

I scooped her up, cradling her in my arms. Her head lolled to the side, resting on my shoulder. I inhaled her powdery scent that was now ruined by everything we’d done. I didn’t bother covering her naked body as I carried her from the room and up the stairs. After Tristan had walked in on her, I’d made it very clear what would happen if anyone disturbed us again.

My bare feet didn’t make a sound on the carpet as I placed her on my bed. She probably needed a shower, but I didn’t want to wake her. Instead, I went to the bathroom. I soaked a few washcloths in the sink and brought them back to the bed. I ran the warm cloth over her body, doing the best I could to clean the dried blood from her porcelain skin. I loved looking at it, but she couldn’t sleep like that.

I bent forward and licked a drop that had landed on her beaded nipple. It mixed with the taste of her skin, making my cock ache again. Kincaid moaned quietly but didn’t stir from her sleep. I wasn’t used to holding myself back. If I wanted something, I took it. I already had her. Now I needed to keep her.

I’d pushed her far enough tonight. The cloth caught on a jagged edge of her skin. My eyes were pulled to the cut she’d given herself. I hadn’t expected it. Still didn’t understand why she did it.

Maybe that was what drew me to her. Her unpredictability. Or maybe it was how she took my pain. Craved it.

There was an undeniable attraction, but I’d fucked a lot of good looking women. I’d never desired a single one in the way I desired Kincaid. I’d become bored of them. I’d never been able to push one as far as I pushed my little dove. And not one of them had looked at me the way she had.