Page 42 of When Sinners Hate
My stride changes, and I angle straight at her, as he lets go, ready to push as much as I’ve got at her to make this happen. She rolls, as my boot lands on the mattress, and grabs the knife to whirl back to me. I keep moving at her without hesitation, about damn ready to get this argument done so we can find some amount of harmony between us. The knife gets tucked up under my chin, and I keep pushing my weight into her until she’s got no choice but to wrap her free leg around my waist and clamp on tight. And that’s us then – her coiled around me with a blade pressed deep against my jugular, and me making damn sure she keeps it right there by laying on top of her.
“Fuck you, Abel.” A smile broadens on my face as she pants and keeps gripping tightly. I can’t stop it. This is the kind of measure I like in a woman. Aggressive. Honest. Menacing. Wild. “You’re not using me for goddamn profit. No one is. Never again. I’ll kill you before that happens.”
Her leg squeezes, either to pull me closer or to show her contempt, and I angle my head some more so she can get a clear view of what she could end if she chose to. She won’t. This is the first time I’ve let her have a small amount of control and she knows it. I don’t leave blades hanging around for someone to use against me unless I mean to.
Ratchet slams the door closed in the background, throwing the bolt to lock us in while he stands guard.
“I never wanted to use you for profit. No one’s getting inside you but me anymore.” She frowns as my hand travels out to the side of us. My fingers lever the shackle on her other wrist open, and she grabs at the back of my neck the moment it’s free, tugging at it to make sure that knife stays true against my throat. “But I did want to see this from you."
Another tug on me. Another moment filled with venomous intentions and threats. The slow grate of the blade increases the pressure growing in my dick, making me ravenous for her.
“You played me,” she says.
“It's a language you understand. And the only time I’ll give you a chance to win.” I shift on her, getting my arm braced by her head and pressing her back to the mattress some more. “I only ever want to see this from you in the future – this is your only warning. There’s no respect for anything but this side of you.” I watch her eyes, seeing my truth sink in. “I think this honesty from you deserves a new name. Lexi maybe. I’m damn sure she’s more real than the bullshit you brought to my door.”
She keeps frowning. No words to say about that, apparently, but it’s who she’ll be to me from now on if I keep feeling this about her. I push my neck down on the blade slowly, lowering my mouth towards hers. “You gonna let me fuck you like this, or are we gonna turn real hostile about it?” My hand slides down between us and finds her pussy, as I push myself off her a little. Her eyes dilate and her lips part as I find her wet enough to get on with what I want to do. Every move, every breath, I keep my eyes fixed on hers.
“How many men have you wanted to kill for touching you?” The panties get moved to the side, and I slide my aching dick in slow and easy, letting every ridge mean something other than what it has before. She swallows, arches a little and shivers – her only movements. She’s all about that knife at my neck, and I get that. She can have it as long as she needs it this time around. But it’s an illusion, she’s still not in control of anything. I am. It’s my blade that I’ve given her – my trust I’m showing her.
“I want you to think about how I’m fucking you now for the rest of your life. I can be real damn nice when I want to be.” The ache in my dick increases as I pause to make sure shefucking understands. “We can have this. You know what you need to do.” It’s the authenticity of the situation – the real, raw, savage nature of it. It’s not a show, nor a fucking payment plan. It’s not romantic or staged or false. It’s just two people fucking because they want to – because they need to. “You gonna give in, darlin’?” I groan and watch as her features begin to soften. The knife gets looser on my skin with every slow drive into her. “You gonna be real and let me look after you? Or are we gonna keep fighting?” The pressure between us builds and her leg starts relaxing, widening, so I tilt her ass up to me some more to get deeper than I already was.
And then we kiss – a real, fucking honest kiss.
I get more lost in that than I do the fucking. She tastes like hot flowers and attitude, and the bites she gently eases over my lips wind me up to a new level of intimacy. It’s all need and lust. It makes my hand travel to the knife pressed between us, to her fingers wrapped around it like a vice. It gets tossed from the situation, abandoned to rattle against the ground in the background.
I don’t know how long we fuck on a bloodstained mattress in the middle of a dirty, old room, nor do I care. The rest of my clothes get thrown at some point, and I stay buried deep inside her until we’re both done and I’m lying with my head on her chest. She pants beneath me and rests her hand in my hair, still with nothing to say about anything. That’s fine by me because this is the most honest thing we’ve achieved together, as far as I’m concerned. Here, in this room, drenched in death and surrounded by air thick with sin, we've been real.
My lips and teeth meander on her skin, tongue dragging the length of her until I’m back up to her face and looking into eyes I’m getting closer to. She stares quietly. Barely moving. No emotion – good or bad – that I can read. So goddamn pretty, though. Swollen lips and damp skin don’t change a damn thingabout her, nor should they. She is, without doubt, perfect in her desire.
“Lexi Cortez.” A sigh falls from me, as I say it, and I pull back and stand for my clothes. It might be a sigh layered with years of detachment and disinterest, but for once it has an ache attached to it – a yearning that doesn't rest in hatred.
I lick my lips and run a hand through my hair because of it all, rolling my neck at the same time to get comfortable with the name. Most of my clothes get pulled on and I go retrieve my jacket, pulling the cigarette and lighter out. I sit on the stool, look over at her still chained by her ankle, and light the smoke. A long draw is pulled into my body. Barely any of the smoke leaves my lungs, as I rest my elbows on my knees and stare at her still in the spotlight. It’s been a long time since I needed a hit like this. I don’t know whether I should take that as a gut reaction to stupidity or not, but this is where we are and I'm running with it.
She reaches for the shackle slowly.
“Leave it on. Feel it, because that should mean everything to you.” She frowns and looks over at me. Not that she’ll be able to see me back here. I’ll just be a dark shadow and voice.
“What does that mean?”
“I need you to listen real carefully because this is your last chance. Your life before me ends now, Lexi. There is only me. Whatever was, is over.” She sits up a little taller and watches the space I’m in. “This isn’t a game anymore. This is real fucking honesty coming from me, and I need you to heed the warning. All the shit you might have been up to has to stop. You need to look at me and see your future. I’m there in any version of it. How I behave is based on who you are to me. What would you rather? A slut I don't trust, or a respected wife?”
Another long draw in, this time blown back out again to create a cloud of smoke, and I stand to begin walking the room. The lights get turned off one by one until I wander past the onerecording her. The smoke gets flicked away, and I reach for my belt lying discarded at the side of her to thread it back into my pants.
“I need you to understand what happened here – what I'm offering you. This is a chance to make a new life worthwhile.” I crouch and pick up her chin, my eyes fixed on hers. “Learn from our time here, because other than me, no one fucks with you. Ever. No one touches you. No one hurts you either. You understand?” Gentle fingers caress her cheek, and I tilt her head to look at the sheer beauty of her. “You've been exquisite here. Keep doing that for me. Be honest. This chain holding you down? That’s the Ortega still in you, not me. That's the past if you want it that way. Don't make me treat you the same as he did. Find who you want to be without your father’s influence or coercion. Show me that and we have a chance.”
I let go and move for her ankle, fingers making quick work of the shackle and then rubbing at the mark on her skin. “I don’t expect you to love me, but I do expect loyalty. I’ll protect everything about you if I know that's there, but don't make me play you like this again. Don't put me in a position where I have to show you how heartless I am. Screw up, or show me anything other than truth and respect, and a scene like this will end differently.”
Straightening upwards, I offer my hand to help her up.
She looks at it and frowns, hesitant. “That still sounds a lot like a threat, Abel," she says quietly.
“No. It’s a promise I intend to keep.”
She nods after a few moments and looks around the room, seeming to take in the space and what’s happened in it. So I wait, still with my hand outstretched and still meaning every word I’ve said. This is her chance for something close to togetherness. Perhaps even more than that with time.
“You ready to go home?”
She keeps staring, this time at her abandoned shoes. “We don't have a home.”