Just Another Empty Threat -Bk 3

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Chapter 6

She fought the urge to pack her bags. And then there was the desire to bolt the front door and get the locks changed. She had promised not to run from him, she reminded herself, and despite the fear and the dread coursing through her body, she had to keep that promise.

She closed her eyes only to see Luis desperate face. His pleading eyes bore into her. She shook her head trying to clear the memory. She knew the man. She might not have liked him but that didn’t stop the pictures of him with his young family flashing through her mind.

Being there hadn’t been as easy as she anticipated. Now the adrenaline had worn off she felt sick. The blood between her toes was a constant reminder of what she’d seen. She had to be strong but right now she needed to wash the blood off her, anything to feel clean again.

Tearing off her bloody clothes, she headed for the shower. Her eyes itched with the tears she didn’t dare shed. She needed the cleansing waters to make everything right again. Hot water and clean clothes would give her the strength to stand tall. She had to be strong.

She heard the door open but didn’t acknowledge the man leaning on his cane in the corner of the room. Putting her face into the water, she let it run down her blocking out his presence. She wasn’t ready to be the woman he deserved yet. She needed to pull herself together. She had to be enough to stand next to him. It was vital to their relationship.

She waited to see what he was going to do. Expecting him to join her she rubbed her face and busied her shaking hands. Exfoliating took care of that, but the shower door remained closed, and the dark shape still occupied the corner. He wasn’t coming to her.

She felt her chest tighten. He was silent and waiting. What was he waiting for? Did he know? Was he waiting for her to break? Was he teaching her a lesson?

Her pride finally surfaced. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of saying ‘I-told-you-so’. No, she wasn’t going to let him know that he was right. She was just having ‘first-killing-spree’ jitters. It was probably a thing. It was normal to feel this way. Experience would harden her to these anxieties.

She forced herself to turn off the water and step out. She felt like she was emerging from an egg into her new life. Although she hadn’t killed anyone, yet, she had participated in the blood bath. She was tainted. Her world would never be the same. She was now officially a criminal.

Taking a towel from the rack, she reassured herself that she had made her choice and there was no turning back. She wanted to be his woman. And to be that person she needed to be able to stomach days like today.

“What are you doing Felix?” she asked when she was confident that she had control over the quiver in her voice.

“I’m waiting,” his voice was soft with no trace of the anger he’d displayed in the car, “Are you OK?”

“What do you mean?” she answered too quickly.

“Well,” his grimace was audible, “You saw me, like that. You saw what I can do.”

“You?” she frowned, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve never seen me when I’m like that,” he looked away, “I killed a lot of people tonight. Did that shock you? Do you hate me for it?”

“I’ve always known what you do,” she replied confused, “Why would I hate you?”

“Because knowing what I do,” he took a deep breath, “And seeing what I do, are two very different things. I’m a killer. I took men’s lives tonight. You saw that and you saw the blood. I want to know if you still feel the same about me now that you’ve seen me at my worse?”

“Your worse?” she smiled, “I’ve seen you in a far worse state than the one you were in tonight.”

“Yes,” he signed, “But wallowing in self-pity isn’t the same as being a murderer.”

“Is that why you were angry?” she asked, “Because I saw you like that?”

“No,” he said simply, “You weren’t talking to me, I wondered if this was why?”

“It didn’t occur to you that what you said in the car might be the reason why I’m furious?”

“I said nothing in the car that wasn’t the truth.”

“Why do you insist on starting fights with me?” she flung back.

“I don’t enjoy it,” he growled, “It’s just sometimes you drive me a little crazy.”

“Crazy?” she laughed, “How?”

“You know how I feel,” his grip tightened on his cane, “I hated having you there.”

“How is this relevant?” she said, “We talked about this. You accepted my decision to be here.”

“Yes, I know we did, but talking about it and having it happen aren’t the same,” he looked away, “I don’t like it and that is why it is relevant.”

“I won’t let you lock me in the house while you’re out there.”

“I know that,” he huffed, “That’s why I’m trying to do this. I know it is what you wanted, and how you see the future of our relationship.”

“What we want,” she corrected, “And how our relationship has to be.”

“No,” he replied, “What I want is you alive, unharmed, and surrounded by our children. And our relationship can’t work if you’re dead.”

“I face the same risks as you,” she growled, “But instead you want to wrap me in cotton wool while you go all ‘John-Wick’ out there.”

“I face those risks because I have no choice,” he shook his head, “I must be there. You don’t. You are choosing to be there.”

“Do I?” she turned to him, “Do I have a choice?”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he grimaced, “I accept that for you to be happy in the relationship you need to be equal partners with me, and I respect that. I want you to be my wife and I know that I need to make personal sacrifices to make this happen. I am willing to do that. However, I need you to acknowledge that this is difficult for me.”

She wrapped a towel around herself and waited for him to finish.

“I will do my best to give you what you want,” he continued, “But it isn’t easy for me.”

“If you had been hurt,” he stopped, and shut his eyes, “If you had been killed.”

“Felix,” she stepped up to him and took his hand, “That didn’t happen.”

“Not this time,” he agreed, “But next time, or the time after that.”

“The same is true for you,” she said as she dropped his hand and turned away, “Those dangers are the same ones you face and have done for years.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “But I’m not you!”

“Was I that pathetic?” she questioned, “Was I that bad out there that I slowed you down? Was I a hindrance? Was I embarrassing to you?”

“No,” he growled, “You’re missing my point. I can’t do it. Me. It is me who can’t do this.”

“You can’t?” she queried, “What can’t you do?”

“I can’t do anything,” he whispered, “I can’t protect you in a place like that. I wouldn’t have been able to save you if you’d been hit by even one of the thousands of rounds of ammunition that were fired tonight. I am powerless in that situation.”

“You didn’t look powerless,” she said softly, “You looked the opposite of powerless.”

“I had everything to lose,” he dropped his face, “Can you understand that? I will do what you ask but I can’t pretend that it doesn’t scare the shit out of me.”

“You didn’t look scared,” she stepped closer and found his hand, interlocking her fingers with his.

“Fear is contagious,” he shrugged, “I’ve spent years learning how to mask it.”

“With anger?” she asked.

“Yes,” he exhaled, “Anger is the most effective and easiest method to conceal that sort of fear.”

“And in the car?”

“Yes,” he hissed through his teeth, “It threatened to overwhelm me. And you wanted to go back to that place.”

“And if it did overwhelm you,” she asked, “What would have happened?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “My father used to beat me if I showed any weaknesses. The only time I’ve let my insecurities surface was when I thought you were leaving me again after whipping me.”

“Our first date?” she smiled at the memory of him showing his vulnerability and weeping openly.

“Yes,” his face reflected his pain, “I feel that way every time I think I’m about to lose you.”

“And now?” she asked, “Now that we are home? How do you feel now?”

“Do you have to ask?” his smoldering eyes met hers, “I want you. I need you. I want to have you naked and impaled on me so that I can stop reassuring myself that you are safe and know that I haven’t lost you.”

“Oh,” she laughed at his bluntness, “And what is stopping you?”

“You are pissed off with me,” his eyes didn’t lose their intensity, “And I was worried you’d stick that exfoliating sponge thing in a place that would be painful for me.”

“Maybe I will,” she smiled, “Take your clothes off.”

He complied without taking his eyes off her. Naked he stood there waiting for her next command. His expression showed no anger or fear, just a type of hunger that she well understood.

She picked up her panties off the pile of dirty clothing. Then she turned the water in the shower back on, swiveling the tap to hot. Opening the door from him she waited for him to use the disability rails to assist him into the cubicle.

When she had redecorated, she had made sure all bathrooms were equipped with the tools necessary for him. It was important to her that he never felt vulnerable, and although she like it when he needed her, she didn’t want him to feel helpless in their house. There were rails at various levels and angles so that he could support his weight while washing without his false leg.

While he washed the blood from his body, she reached for the stool. It was a shower chair that was made from plastic and had non-slip feet to allow him to sit and wash. It was a simple stool with four legs and no backing. The seat was a curved narrow plastic plank with cut-out holes at either end for handholds.

“I don’t need that,” he scowled, “I’m not an invalid.”

“Bend over,” she ignored his indignation, “Hands on the stool.”

“You’re not going to?” he looked at the sponge sitting in the shower warily, “I’m not into anal.”

“You belong to me,” she reassured him, “And what I plan on doing to you doesn’t involve that part of your body.”

He lifted an eyebrow as he realized what that meant. The stool was at the far end of the shower cubicle and as he turned to face it the jet of water hit him between his shoulder blades. He bent over balancing on one leg while leaning forward holding onto either side of the seat. The water hit his ass and ran down on his body in rivers.

She picked up the rough sponge, soaked it in liquid soap, and admired the view.

Running her hand up and along his extended leg, over his ass, and down his back, she enjoyed the soft moan he emitted. His muscles stiffened when she replaced her gentle touch with the foamy exfoliating sponge. She pushed hard as she moved it in small circles over his skin. It left red skin in its wake.

“Felix,” she was standing behind him, one hand scrubbing his back that was downfacing, the other reaching for his erection, “You need to trust me.”

“I,” he groaned loudly as she started to caress his penis with her fist, “Emma.”

“I like it when you are powerful,” she applied the abrasive strokes of the sponge as she pulled his cock downwards and pumped it by sliding her hand up and down in vertical movements, “But it also turns me on when you are helpless in my hands, and I have control over your body. Do you feel powerless right now?”

“Yes,” he moaned, “And no.”

“I’m milking your cock like a cow’s udder,” she whispered, “I could make you ejaculate like this.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “It feels amazing.”

“Do you have any control over what I do?” she whispered, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Emma,” he gasped for air, “As much as I want you to tie me to the chair and command my cock until I forget all my fears, right now I need something else.”

He let go of the chair and twisted as he straightened. Before she could react, he was standing flush with her, and his intense stare had her caught. She wanted to ask but she already knew the answer. He needed her in a different capacity.

He needed to have her right now in a way that left him with no doubt that she was breathing, and responsive, and her heart was still beating in her chest. He needed physical proof that she was alive and the way he planned on doing that was by evoking her passion and having her shatter with an orgasm that would have her heart beating so loudly that anyone could hear it. He needed to take command of her body and take her control making her helpless. He needed to fuck her.

He kissed her with a ferocity that had her knees wobble underneath her as he pushed her against the cool smooth tiles. The water and steam jetted everywhere forming warm pools where it could and flying droplets as they moved. It produced the most heavenly contrast - warm water versus cool and hard tiles versus clouds of billowing hot vapor.

The parts of her that weren’t touched by hot water, cooled quickly and then there were the parts he was touching. His body produced a different type of heat. One that didn’t burn but sizzled.

He was moving against her like he couldn’t get enough of her. It was like he needed more of her touching him right this minute. He pushed, grasped, and dragged himself along her body like he was a desperate man. His mouth consumed hers and when she needed to breathe, his lips moved down her neck and to her breasts. He sucked his air in around her skin.

It was intoxicating. His absolute need for her made her drunk with desire. Having a man this desperate for her was exhilarating.

There were no words. He held onto the bar above her head to support his weight as his other hand touched her upper leg. It was no more than the soft scrape of his fingertips from the base of her bottom outwards and downwards. In any other setting she might not have understood what he wanted, but here and now she immediately knew what the gesture meant.

Whereas she would normally straddle her legs, lifting them around his waist, and allowing him to enter her while hanging from him, this wasn’t possible. With only one leg and in this environment, he wasn’t able to balance with her hanging off him. And even if he could, thrusting would be impossible without toppling over and potentially injuring them both. They had been here before, so she knew this to be true. There was only one way this was possible.

He moved a fraction, separating their bodies, and giving her just enough room to pivot. She twisted herself until her front was against the tiles and then he leaned into her back. Her breast squashed against the tiles, he shuffled his good leg and then his amputated leg between hers. Kissing her down the neck and along the shoulder blades he lowered and positioned himself. His cock was hard, long and hot as it pointed upwards between the soft skin of her thighs.

His hand worked a path around her and pulled her pelvis out from the wall until it was at the perfect angle for what he needed. Then he thrust upwards with one single unrestrained movement.

He groaned at the effort or at the pleasure, which one she wasn’t sure. All she did know was that he wasn’t satisfied with just being inside her. He bucked against her with hard and fast shoves as he fought to push himself deeper into her. He growled his determination as he pound his hips against hers. His hand stayed at her front, applying pressure to her clitoris and holding her prisoner to his needs.

“Milk me now,” he said between labored breaths, “Take my cock and milk me with your pussy.”

“Felix,” it was her turn to groan.

“Own it,” he continued, “Coat it in your cream. Milk it. Make me cum.”

She arched her back as his relentless thrusts gave her no reprieve.

“Take me,” he insisted, “All of me. Show me that I haven’t lost you. Show me that you are still mine. Show me that I belong to you.”

She groaned as she closed her eyes. She couldn’t answer him with words. She was unable to move her body. She couldn’t feel the water or the steam on her skin. All she knew was the feeling he was generating inside her.

“Coat me in your cream,” he repeated with more urgency, “I want you to cum first.”

She didn’t hear his final request. She shattered with a sharp cry. Her head flung back as she felt herself convulsing with pleasure. It was overwhelming. She was consumed by the fireworks exploding inside of her. She could feel everything and nothing at the same time. All she knew was that she was in bliss.

He snarled his approval, closed his eyes, and slammed himself into her increasingly wet pussy. There was no control. There was no power. There was just the primal need to empty himself into this woman and have her soaked in his seed.

He roared as he climaxed and pushed the final distance as his cock exploded ejaculating his load into her. His body shuddered under the strain of the need to hold himself contained within her and the conflicting desire to enjoy the euphoria.

She felt him slide from her and turned to see the satisfied expression on his face.

“You belong to me,” he whispered, “And I am yours.”

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