They never listen.
Why don't they ever listen? It's not like I didn't warn her. Why can't she understand that she's mine?
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Only mine.
The only name that should better come outta her mouth is mine.
'She doesn't know your name, Ky.'
Well, I'm gon' make her know. She'll chant it every damn second, like a mantra. It'll be tattooed on her tongue. It's just two letters. K-Y. That's all she needs to remember. That's the only name she's supposed to moan when she comes.
She's mine.
She became mine the second I saw her in that club. And now, she's mine to keep, to love… to punish.
I'm definitely gon' punish her for this. She don't know how much she's torturing me. I gotta teach her that I'm the only one who can kiss her, the only one allowed to touch her. Sure, she's drunk, but that don't mean she won't do it again. And again. And—
N… No. There won't be an again. I'll make sure of that. I'll make her understand.
The world is empty. Ain't nobody here but me and her. Or I can make that happen if that's what it takes.
I don't wanna punish her. But, I have to. She'll understand that I'm doing it for her—for us. Tying her up, making her come until she can't stand sounds more like pleasure than torture. Though, that ain't what I plan on doing.
I'd never torture her. The punishment's gon' be more like a lesson to her. She'd never dream of being with nobody but me after that. Just like it's supposed to be.
Ky and Rayna.
Something in me wants to pull the trigger on that motherfucker taking what's mine up those stairs, but I shove it down. If I kill him now, he'll drop, and she's gon' fall—and I can't risk her getting hurt.
Veins pulse in my eyes, and all I see is the red that'll stain his T-shirt by the time I'm done with him.
He's gon' beg for death, but I ain't giving it to him. Only his creator has that right.
Janelle Alston. I haven't decided what to do with her yet. I was in the shadows, admiring my girl, when she showed up out of nowhere and handed over some reckless advice. The music was loud, but I could still read her lips. I'll let my girl decide what punishment Janelle deserves—when she's as obsessed with me as I am with her.
She will be. Soon.
"Hey, handsome."
My eyes fix on my girl and the asshole with her until they disappear. My fists clench in my pockets.
"I'd love to see what you've got down there. Do you mind?"
He's already going to die, but if he so much as touches her, he won't be getting the peaceful exit I planned for him tonight.
"Ahhhh! Oh my God!"
A scream rings out. I snap outta my thoughts, scanning for the source. My eyes settle on a woman on the floor beneath me, her wide eyes full of terror.
"Don't kill me, please," she pleads, breathless and shaking.
I follow her gaze. She's looking at my belt. Wait… did she lift my hoodie without me knowing? How the fuck did I not feel that?
I sigh, pulling the hoodie down to cover the gun. "Look what you're doing to me, Mama," I murmur to myself with a smile, then walk past her, heading upstairs.
The second floor comprises eight rooms, four on each side. The music up here is drowned out by the sounds of moans and groans.
I open the first door, and the sight that greets me is four naked girls surrounding a man on the bed who looks like he's due for death. They all turn to me, eyes wide. I shut the door and move on.
The next door reveals two girls tangled up, lost in their own pleasure. I slam it shut behind me.
I go room to room, my pulse quickening with each empty search.
Only two rooms remain. I pull the handle on the second-to-last door, and there she is. I didn't get the chance to admire her earlier; she was just a glimpse at the counter.
My heart pounds against my chest.
She's beautiful.
Her eyes, her nose, her lips—everything that makes up that face is a work of art. That dress clings to her like a second skin, hugging every curve, and I feel a pang of jealousy. I should be the one holding her that tight.
My eyes scan the room—no sight of him. She's alone, standing in the center, trying to get her dress off.
I shut the door, and she turns to me, her eyes meeting mine. "Hiii," she greets, a wide grin spreading across her face.
Judging by the clothes on the bed, he's in the bathroom. Getting ready for his demise, I'll make it memorable.
"Who are you?" She asks, walking towards me. "You know what, forget it. Help me take off this dress."
Fuck.
My stupid dick is already hard from that request alone. All I want to do now is bend her over and show her the thirty dimensions.
Not yet.
I go and shut the bathroom door. I'll deal with him later, right now I have to deal with her. She's obviously drunk, so punishing her tonight would be a waste since it will fade like the effect of the alcohol in the morning.
My hand grips her neck tight, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath my fingers. I pull her closer, close enough to feel her uneven breath against my face. "Why did you let him touch you?" I ask, my voice low, barely hiding the anger I've been holding back all night.
Her gaze locks with mine, her eyes unfocused, hazy from too much alcohol. She gasps for air, her hands gripping my wrist, nails digging into my skin, but I don't let go. My other hand finds its way to her lips, tracing them lightly. "You let that dude kiss you." My voice softens, but the edge remains as I bring my face even closer, our noses brushing.
"I'm the only one who gets to kiss you. Only me."
I slide my hand from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her into me. She tries to catch her breath, but I don't give her a chance—I capture her mouth in a deep, demanding kiss. My lips press firmly against hers, tasting the remnants of the night, and I feel her resist for a moment before surrendering. My tongue slips between her lips, exploring, claiming.
I break the kiss, and she slumps to the ground, sucking in deep breaths through her mouth.
She looks so beautiful.
I'm the only one allowed to make her breathless.
Me and me alone.
I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, heading toward the door.
"Leave me," she protests between coughs.
Eyes follow us as I walk toward the counter and grab her bag. She's no longer hitting me, which means… she's passed out.
"Hey, let go of her!"
With a reluctant sigh, I turn to face Janelle. She's wearing heels but I'm still feet taller than her. I have a hood covering half of my face and my locs are doing the rest.
"Where the hell are you taking her?" she demands, her eyes burning with defiance.
My eyebrows shoot up, impressed by her willingness to fight for Rayna, even though my girl ain't in any danger. I might consider sparing her for that.
I don't have time for this so I pull up my hoodie, revealing the gun tucked in my waistband. Her eyes widen at the sight. Finally.
"You think I'm scared of that?" she retorts, just as I'm about to leave.
She's brave, but damn. Just leave me the fuck alone! I'm not trying to kidnap your friend.
I could pull the trigger on her right here, right now. "What about your friend? Think she's scared?" That's the only way to get her off my back.
Janelle glances from Rayna to me, concern etched across her face. "D… Don't hurt her." She begs. "How much do you want?"
It's always about money with people like her. I don't need your cash, for God's sake.
She keeps talking, but I turn away and stride toward the exit. I lose her in the parking lot; I think she stops to call the cops or something. Good for her.
I rode my motorcycle here, but now I need a car. Every car around me is locked tight, and breaking one open would take at least three minutes. I ain't got three minutes.
She's so light, feel like I'm lifting air. She needs to eat more, but that ain't no problem—I'll be feeding her breakfast, lunch, dinner, and everything in between until she's hooked.
There's a dude in black pants and a gray sweatshirt standing in front of a car. Our eyes lock every time he looks up from his phone.
I watch him, a nervous twitch in his movements, glancing at me every few seconds like a deer caught in headlights. Whatever he's doing on that phone, it's not good. The moment he sees me approaching, he tries to dive into his car, but I slam my hand against the door just before he can shut it.
"Get out of the car," I command, my grip firm and unyielding.
He hesitates, fear flickering in his eyes, but he reluctantly steps out, his body language screaming guilt.
"Give me the keys."
"I… I can't give you my c… car keys. I did nothing, bro." His voice shakes, and I see the sweat bead on his forehead.
"Calling the cops counts as nothing?" I fire back, my gaze piercing through him like a dagger. The urge to put a bullet in his forehead is overwhelming.
His eyes dart around, searching for an escape. "I… I… it's just… the girl…" he stutters, his lips trembling.
I pull out the gun and point it at him. "Give me the fucking keys before I crack your skull open."
His gaze locks onto the weapon, and I can see the panic set in. Without hesitation, he fumbles and hands over the keys, his resolve crumbling.
I open the back door and gently lay Rayna on the seat, my heart racing as I check to make sure she's okay. When I shut the door, he's already scrambling away.
Coward.
Though, I got no intention of stealing the car; he'll get it back from the cops by tomorrow. I slide into the driver seat and take off.
The car speeds through the bustling streets, weaving through the night traffic. I ease up on the brakes whenever we hit a bump or take a corner too fast, making sure she doesn't slide off the seat.
A quick glance at the passenger side, and I notice her bag. I don't know nothing about brands but the shit looks expensive. It's brown and rectangular, with pebbled leather and a flap closure. There's a distinct H on the front flap.
Maybe Janelle gave it to her. But then again, there's something about that data Liam sent… something that keeps gnawing at me, pulling me into ideas that go way beyond crazy as Liam would call it. But he doesn't know crazy.
Crazy would be tracking down every single guy she's ever hooked up with, drag them into some dark, forgotten basement and make them devour their brain matter dipped in hot sauce until—
"Mmmm-Ohhh."
My body stiffens. Ain't no way she just moaned.
"Ahhhh," she moans again.
My eyes dart to the overhead mirror, and I tilt it so it faces the back seat.
Damn. She's sleep-touching herself.
Another moan slips from her lips, and my dick is ready to bust outta these pants.
I try to focus on the road, but my eyes keep drifting back to the mirror. She's drop-dead gorgeous, playing with herself. Only I get to watch her do this, but damn. Right now?
My dick's swollen, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel tight. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Veins pop on my forehead as I swallow hard. I could just pull over and replace her finger with my cock, but nah, I gotta punish her first—cleanse her from every touch that ain't mine. Tonight ain't the night for that; I'll let her rest and let the weight of what she did sink in.
"Uhmm, Byron."
My heart slams against my chest, pulse thundering in my ears. She just moaned another dude's name.
Byron.
The name echoes in my psyche. He's on my radar, but killing him too quickly would be a waste. I'm saving the best for the last.
After she called his name that day, mistaking my call for an eatery, I dug through her data. Turns out, if I didn't know better, I mighta believed he's just her best friend. I even ran a little research on him, and, wouldn't you know it, he's someone I already know. It's satisfying, having more than one reason to kill him.
I ease into a parking spot in her building's underground garage. One hand grips her handbag while the other hovers over the door handle. I step out and open the back seat door, a smile spreads across my face—she still has her hand in her cunt.
Gently, I pull her hand free, bringing her fingers to my lips. I close my eyes, savoring her taste as I run my tongue along her fingers, tracing every curve, every crevice. The faint hint of strawberry mixes with something deeper, something raw. I slide my tongue beneath her nail, seeking out every drop of her essence. The taste is intoxicating.
But it's not enough. I want more. I need more. With a deliberate bite, I pull at her one of her pink faux nails, easing it free, savoring the metallic taste as it settles in my mouth. She stirs, groaning at the brief pain, and I soothe her by rubbing her finger with my thumb.
Carefully, I slip her finger from my mouth and pocket the nail. Adjusting her weight in my arms, I step back, nudging the car door shut with my foot. The garage is empty, at least I don't lose a bullet.
I make my way to the elevator, her soft breathing against my shoulder. The wait feels like an eternity, but finally, the doors slide open.
It takes just a few minutes to reach her floor. Standing before her door, I press my finger against the biometric scanner and the lock disengaging with a soft beep. Hacking her apartment's security system and not the smart lock security would be considered dumb.
I step inside, kicking the door shut behind me and turning on the light. I've already mastered the ins and outs of her apartment, and I know my way around. The living space features an open floor plan with sleek hardwood floors, and soft night light filters through the large windows.
Modern navy couches adorned with white throw pillows are arranged in a square, centered around a glass coffee table that reflects the dim light. She could easily fill the space with more personal touches, but instead, it's sparse, with little décor beyond a few large paintings that dominate the wall. A work of art also having something for art isn't a coincidence.
I stroll over to her bedroom, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a warm hue over the space through her bedroom window. She looks so peaceful asleep in my arms, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that calms my racing heart. I want her here forever, nestled against me where she belongs.
As I lean down, I place a tender kiss on her forehead, savoring the moment before I gently lay her down on the bed. The mattress gives slightly under her weight, enveloping her in comfort. I kneel beside her, my fingers deftly removing her heels and setting them aside, careful not to disturb her serene slumber.
Tucking her under the sheets, I can't help but let my fingers glide through her hair, shifting it away from her face.
She'll want me to hold her forever. It's just a matter of time.