The Hellhound (Riders of Tyr #2)

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Chapter 34: Easy Laughs


I am losing the little control I have over me as climb up to Iris’s lips. That girl is breaking me into thousand pieces and instead of being scared shitless, all I can think of is that only she can make me whole again. All I wanted to do is show her I don’t mind her scars. I got scars on my own, covered by tattoos but still there. I wanted her to know she is the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Never in my life had I ever thought that I would go down on a bitch before. All I knew was bitches going down on me, leaving me empty. But this time it was different. Her scent was more than the coconut essence I usually smell in her. It was more, it was deep and sweet, irresistible. I had to taste her, lap up that amazing smell, take her essence for me, only me. Seeing Iris so taken and sensitive drove me crazy. Her sweet taste, her soft sighs, the way she tagged my hair was the best thing I have felt. And when she lost it, pressing my finger between her folds, I knew it wasn’t enough. I need to have it all. All of her to myself.

“Rage,” her eyes are swimming in a hazy lake as I reach her lips.

I got a lump in my throat so I decide not to talk, using my tongue in a different manner. I enjoy kissing her so much that I could do that shit all day if I didn’t know it’s lame. But at this moment kissing is not enough. I have to be inside her or I’ll snap. If there was an army between me and her, I would kill all of them just to find myself entangled between her thighs. She kisses me back and slowly opens for me enough to slip inside her mouth. Her tongue touches mine, soft and delicate and my already erect dick jolts in my jeans. Without even knowing it I am rubbing myself against her feeling the heat of her pussy through the jeans. But the sensation, intoxicating as it is, isn’t cutting it. I need more. I need to be inside her.

The thought cripples me. I stop moving, stop kissing and I push myself up, away from her. Iris is taken aback and her eyebrows frown. I hate it when she is frowning. I want to always see her smile. But I am constantly afraid I’ll be the one to take the smile off her perfect lips.

“What’s wrong?” she asks and her hand touches my face.

Had I known then how soft her touch would be, how liberating and healing, I would have taken that hand the moment she walked in the bar and never let it go.

“Rage?” she persists and kisses my arm.

I can’t go there. I have never done that shit before. Sure, I’ve shoved my dick down the throat of rotters but that’s about it. I’ve never kissed before Iris and for sure I’ve never fucked anyone ever. I’ve seen my brothers do it all the time, in public, I know how things work, but it’s not the same thing. Suddenly Iris is too close, her touch burns me and fear dominates my soul. A whisper caresses my ear, warning me, telling me that I do not get to be happy and no one around me ever does, too.

“Fuck!” I hiss and I try to leave her.

But my body doesn’t budge as if having a will of its own. Iris does move under me as she pushes closer, lifting up her body to touch more skin with hers. Her big eyes look at me and I can’t resist her. All whispers stop instantly. She is the fucking one and I can lie to myself all I want but that won’t change a thing. I could leave and put miles between us but I will always be hers and I’ll be damned if she isn’t mine. Mine. My Iris since day one.

I take my jeans off and drop myself down to kiss her. I take her lower lip between my teeth, the same lip I yearned to suck that first time I saw her biting down on it. And then do the same with her upper lip as my hips move closer between her thighs. Iris moans in my mouth and opens her legs more for me fueling me. The moment I reach her wet entrance I stop.

“Iris,” I whisper fearing I might scare her but I need her to say it.

She doesn’t even blink, just looks me in the eyes, her face a mixture of anticipation and fear, the same fear that I have as I feel her move closer to me, allowing the swollen head to push open her folds. I inhale sharply by the sensation but I hold back.


“Yes,” she pants. “I want this. I want you.”

I fall on my elbows, pressing my forehead on hers and push further inside. I wait for the Hellhound to wake and hurt her at any minute. She is so small against me, so frail and fragile that I am scared nothing good can come of this. But I don’t stop, just move, inch by inch, as if I am treading a porcelain floor that might crack. Still, there is no way I am stopping now. Her wet core is the most unexpected snare that has caught me and I don’t want to let go. There are no voices in my head, no fear, no past or future, only my sweet Iris. I feel her expand to take me all in and I push further.

“Aah!” her face cringes in pain and I freeze.

“Iris? Fuck! I am hurting you,” I hiss in panic but she is faster than me.

“No, please, no. Don’t stop,” she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me to her.

I search her face in agony but my body claims more and I sheath myself inside her with one sudden move. My head falls back and I stop savoring the moment, being inside her, feeling her sweet core tight around me. But even that is not enough for me anymore. My instinct kicks in and I push back, not all the way, just enough to have the same sensation of being buried inside her. Iris trembles and sighs underneath me. I pull closer and find her lips, kissing her with fervor, breathing deeply through my nose just to keep my heart from bursting. And she responds, kissing me back, moaning in my mouth every time I go all the way in her.

I struggle to maintain control and keep that sweet rhythm but it’s a fruitless effort. I am taken by her body, her scent, the way her skin feels against my skin, the way her nipples brush against my chest each time I move, the little sighs she lets in my mouth. My moves become more and more curt, faster and I get overwhelmed, seconds from bursting into tears. Right there entangled in her thighs, wrapped by her little arms I feel safe. Fuck, I would crawl up inside her to keep feeling like this.

“Rage!” she sighs and I focus on her face.

There is no more pain on it, just utter bliss. Her arms are knit tighter around me and her eyes get wider and wider as if she doesn’t believe what is happening to her. Seeing her like this pushes me off the edge. If I ever thought I knew how it was to come, I was a fool. Nothing I have ever felt in my life, good or bad, couldn’t compare to the fortitude of what is flooding over me. My whole body is as if lifted off the bed and am floating with Iris still around me.

I thrust again, racing to an end that is so strong I am certain will break me into pieces but I don’t stop. And then Iris arcs beneath me, her head buried in her pillow and lets out a little cry. Seconds after, I feel a pressure over my dick and that is the end of me. As she convulses around me, I go balls deep inside her and I hit my orgasm with a hundred miles, my growls and grunts filling the room.

“Fuck. Iris! Iris! Iris!” are the only thoughts I can form.

When I come down, she is there looking at me with her grey eyes smiling as is her whole face. I can’t resist her. I smile back and fall on her, trying not to crush her with my weight, and I kiss her. She is mine, all mine. I am not letting her go and I will kill anyone that will try to.

“Are you OK?” I ask her as I pull up.

“I am. You?” she tilts her head.

She knows me so well. She knows the demon lurking inside. He has seen me battle it every single day.

“I better than OK, Iris. I am with you, baby girl.”

I get up ready to fall on my back beside her, suddenly feeling tired, a sweet exhaustion coming over me. As I am away from her, I see it! Blood! Blood between her thighs, on the bedsheet, blood on me. The sight hits me like a hammer right in the guts and I am ready to throw up. I hurt her. I fucking hurt my Iris.

“Fuck, Iris!” I get off the bed to stay away from her. “What have I done?”

With a loud shriek, mocking me for thinking it was going anywhere, the Hellhound rises inside me and forces me to look at the blood. I am bad! Evil! I hurt the only person I care for. My fists form on their own accord and land on my head. I try to take control, make sure Iris is OK, take her to a doctor but it is impossible. I made her bleed! I can’t be near her, never again. I got bad blood inside me and all I can do in life is make people bleed. She is fucking bleeding and in my mind’s eye there is blood everywhere, all over the bed, falling on the floor, staining me.

“Rage?” her voice tries but I am gone.

I turn away from her and I hit my fists on the walls with all my force. Is that a cruel joke? Am I in Hell? I must be. Where else would a moment of ecstasy turn so sour in my mouth? That is my eternal condemnation. I fall on the floor and I am trapped in the same moment that broke all that was human inside me. My head hits the wall and my nails dig into me. Alone. I should have stayed alone, away from her. I carry death, rotten death in my soul, in my veins and anyone that touches me dies, too. How could I have been such a fucking fool?

“Rage! Look at me!” Iris demands.

I can’t look at her. I hurt her and she has to go away. Never touch me again. Never let her touch me. The sensation of my skin against hers punches me in my stomach as the Hellhound shrieks triumphantly, mocking me. Blood, blood was all that comes to those I love. Blood is all that is left of them. All I get from them is blood. Their blood on my skin.

“Get out!” I scream forgetting that she is hurt.

“It is OK, Rage.”

“How the fuck is you bleeding OK?” I turn to her.

She is wrapped in the sheets of the bed and she is kneeling next to me. Fucking stupid bitch! How can she still be here after what I have done?

“Get away from me!” I yell. “Get away while there is still time.”

“I...uhm...” she looks down and blushes. “I was a virgin.”

I blink at her. What the fuck is she talking about?

“I have never...My sister told me that would happen the first time...”

“What?” I am too distraught to register what she is saying.

“This was the first time for me. The first time I...” she pins me with her look.

Her words sink in. Iris had told me that Daultrey had a disease and couldn’t get it up. I had always assumed that Daultrey had abused her, his sick mind finding a way to hurt her. But no. I search her eyes and as my breath calms down to normal I get up, helping her up too. I was the first to have her like that. And she was the first to have me like that. I look back at the bed. There is just a stain there, not the rivers of blood my eyes formed in their panic. A stain of blood that tells me that she was mine and nothing more. She is here, she isn’t gone. Iris is here.

“Fuck, baby girl. I was a virgin too,” I chuckle.

First she frowns and then it happens. Not a smile as usual but a laughter, a real genuine, hearty, gargling laughter. And damn me if I am not laughing myself.

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