Marrow

KYRIE

A cool touch trails down every ridge of my spine, as though the person behind it relishes the quality of bone beneath my skin.

My back tenses. My exposed skin pebbles. Electricity spins in my core, my heart stuttering with the charge surging through its chambers. The music of the club seems to slip beneath the veil of my pulse. I barely resist a shiver as those fingers trace to the bottom of my backless dress before gliding up again with the lightest caress.

The scent of vetiver drifts around me in a cold embrace.

“Blonde is not your color, Dr. Roth,” a voice whispers close to my ear, stirring strands of my wig to tickle my neck.

“But they say we have more fun, and I’m looking for the very best of times tonight,” I reply, my sly smile spreading at the tension I feel in the palm that splays between my shoulder blades. “Besides, my name is not Dr. Roth.”

A familiar hand appears from over my left shoulder to top up my glass of wine from the bottle resting before me. “Well, that I already knew.”

“My name is Bethany,” I say, gesturing toward the empty chair across from me. “Care to sit?”

“Won’t that inhibit your…fun?”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Perhaps,” Jack says as he walks around the high-top table and sinks into the chair to level me with a piercing glare as he takes a sip of his whisky. After two glasses of wine and a spilled history between us, it physically pains me to look at Jack, with all his cold, dark beauty and his black suit and those silver eyes that flay me open to hunt down every hidden weakness. I swallow another mouthful of Shiraz, hoping it will drown my feelings into lifeless indifference, though I already know it won’t work. “You said your wellness is in my best interest, and in case you haven’t heard, there appears to be a serial killer on the loose.”

My gaze drops to the void between us, the reminder of his motivations dampening any static lingering in my veins. “Right…that’s a memo I seem to miss regularly.”

“Isobel—”

“Do not, Jack,” I hiss, my free hand gripping the edge of the table as I lean forward. The unexpected burn of tears stings my eyes at the sound of that name falling from Jack’s lips, pulling my scars taut. “Do not ever. I am not Isobel. I told you this. That girl is already dead.”

Jack holds my vicious stare. I blink the glassy sheen away. Nothing about him changes in his observation of my swirling distress.

I knock back the rest of my wine and place the glass down on the tablecloth with a dull thud. “Well, congratulations are in order, Jack. You’ve been in my line of sight for all of thirty seconds and you’ve already ruined my evening. A new record,” I snap, whipping my sparkling clutch from the table as I move to stand.

Jack’s hand darts out and encircles my wrist in a steadying grip. He’s careful not to touch the stitches embedded in my skin across the healing wound.

“I’m sorry,” he says, as though he’s never put those two words together and is just as surprised as I am that they could exit his mouth. “Sit.”

I don’t make a move.

“Please.”

I lower myself onto the plush seat with a slow descent, Jack’s hand unfurling from my wrist only once I’m sitting. We regard one another in tense silence until a loud group passes too close to our table for his liking judging by his cold stare, their proximity breaking the spell between us.

“How do you know Hayes hasn’t followed you here?” Jack asks when he turns his scrutinous attention back to me.

“Because Hayes couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag.”

Jack snorts a laugh and takes a sip of his drink, and I savor the glimpse of his fleeting grin at my words. “Even so, I followed you here undetected.”

“Did you though?” My grin widens as Jack flashes me a vicious glare. I lean forward and clear my throat to deliver my best stage whisper. “A black BMW XM is not really the height of ambiguity, Jack. In the game of who is the most lethal, you lose points for hubris.”

“Just as easily you will lose points for underestimating an opponent. I should know,” Jack says as his gaze leaves mine to sweep across the room. His jaw tics as though he’s trying to hide a smile, but it quickly fades. “Hayes… he’s not so easily fooled.”

“So I’ve come to understand. He came by my house earlier.”

That gets Jack’s undivided attention. His gaze snaps back to mine and burns with molten fury. “When? Why?”

“Ten o’clock. He was waiting in front of my house when I got back from a run with Cornetto.”

Jack’s eyes narrow.

“My dog.” Jack’s head tilts and I roll my eyes. “You should really know the vitals of your opponent, Jack. Large, fur-covered mammal? Cornetto…? Christ. Points lost for critical details missed.”

I swear I see a hint of a blush on Jack’s cheeks. “I knew you had a dog.”

“Did you know what his name was?”

“…No.”

“Minus five points.”

Jack lets out an exasperated sigh at my brilliant, cunning smile. “Hayes, Dr. Roth. What did he want.”

“Bethany. Minus two more points for not sticking to my cover,” I reply, managing to subvert Jack’s growing irritation by diving into the information he wants before he can draw his next breath. “He wanted to have a little catch up, dredge up some old history. He told me he believes the Slayer is still active but that he’s changed his process. He doesn’t believe Brad is to blame for the body in his basement. He believes the fire was set by someone else. He’s convinced the Silent Slayer is involved.”

Jack’s lips tense into a grim line. “I don’t think he’s as hapless as he first appears. I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like anyone.”

“That’s not—”

“Well, aside from yourself. You like yourself. A lot.”

I beam a bright smile when the silver in Jack’s eyes slashes me with menace, though his ire doesn’t last. He’s too curious to let his irritation get the better of him for long. “Who are you after tonight?” he asks as he refills my glass of wine. I rush to bury the intrusive thought that begs me to say you.

“Someone who exceeds my criteria,” I reply, my voice thinning with distraction as I glance across the motion of bodies on the dance floor. “His name is Sebastian. He’s been banned from a few local strip clubs, gotten grabby with the girls when he’s drunk and high. There was an assault case against him three years ago but it was dropped.”

My gaze pins to my target in the distance, a shorter man than Jack by a few inches but broad, powerful. Sebastian can pass for handsome until you look too close. He’s only twenty-four but looks older with his slicked-back blonde hair and the early signs of bad decisions.

“He’s probably not got anything of value to you,” I mutter as I follow Sebastian’s progress through the lace of laser lights blanketing the dancers. I know Jack has strict criteria for the bones he chooses to pry from his victims, and though I don’t know what they are, I doubt that Sebastian would meet Jack’s discerning tastes. I peel my gaze away from my prey. “To be honest, I’m surprised you’d follow me.”

Jack lifts one shoulder, feigning disinterest, though his gaze is too cutting for casual curiosity. “I had a gut feeling you were up to something peculiar when you went to Parkside Place. Do you have a condo in the building?”

“I did, but I guess I’ll have to sell it now. I liked that condo.”

“I already know where you live.”

“Sure, but I don’t need you finding all my little lairs. I’m going to have to give another one up tonight since you’ll be coming with me,” I say as my attention shifts to the dance floor. My intended prey slides through the crowd toward the bar, swaggering through the swarm of bodies with his slick suit and his coke-fueled arrogance. I sweep my clutch from the table as I rise.

“Who says I’ll be joining you?” Jack says, defiance heavy in his voice as he leans back in his chair with his whisky in hand, the round ball of ice clinking against its glass cage.

I’m the one who shrugs with feigned disinterest this time, and though I feel the bitter sting of disappointment, I’ve got enough practice to know it won’t show on my face. When it comes to Jack Sorensen, disappointment is something I’ve grown accustomed to. “Suit yourself,” I say, recalculating my next moves to lure in my target now that Jack is bowing out of the game. “I suppose this is a good time to tell you that Sebastian Modeo is Anna Modeo’s younger brother, and she was murdered by the Silent Slayer twelve years ago. If Hayes believes the Slayer is still active, perhaps we should give him a reason to follow a dead-end trail that leads away from Westview. But don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about my fun evening in extensive, gory detail.” I clink Jack’s glass with mine as I stop at his side, downing my drink before leaving it behind. “Cheers. Have a great night, Jack.”

“Bethany,” he says with a single nod. Jack doesn’t look up, doesn’t shift his relaxed stance. But I think I catch a glimpse of his fingers tightening on his glass before I turn away.

I slip into the growing crowd as I head for the dance floor. That ember of disappointment dims a little as I near my mark, and I give Sebastian a coy smile as I pass in front of where he stands in the short line for the bar. He returns my grin with one that’s much more lecherous, running a thumb over his bottom lip as he follows my path into the dancers. I keep hold of his gaze over my shoulder for a few steps, brightening my smile like an invitation to follow. I don’t watch to see if he does, but I know Sebastian Modeo, even though he doesn’t know me. I know all his next moves before he does.

I weave just far enough into the throng that Sebastian will easily find me, allowing myself to be absorbed by the music and shadows and bodies and shifting lights. The rhythm creeps into my chest, curling around my veins. My muscles loosen. The base of my spine unlocks. I move with the people around me and they welcome me as though I’m part of their circles, even though I’m the death in their midst. When the DJ blends one song into another and shifts the intensity to a driving beat, I raise a hand like everyone else, closing my eyes as my movement settles into the percussive hum.

When I open them, Jack is there with an expression on his face I’ve never seen, some kind of fury interwoven with a deep, cutting need, a desire that carves a path into my chest until it’s slashing at my crumbling walls.

I try to smile in triumph, hoping to cover the turbulent swirl of emotion embedded in my heart. The way his attention drops to my lips and his eyes seem to brighten with intensity in the dim light makes me think I’m unsuccessful. “Oh good,” I say, losing my breath as Jack takes a step closer and his hand curls around my waist, his fingertips cool on the bare skin of my back. “There’s only one thing Sebastian likes more than a blonde with a low-backed dress.”

“And what’s that?” Jack asks as his fingers press harder to my skin, prompting me closer. His eyes are soldered to my lips, their silver flecks lost in the darkness that surrounds us, though I still feel the weight of his gaze.

“Watching. He’s a voyeur. I was going to have to lure him away with a lie, like a roommate looking for some group fun. If you’re hoping this little display will put a stop to my clandestine activities tonight so you can catch him yourself,” I say, giving a pointed look to the other hand Jack glides up my bare shoulder as it climbs toward my neck, “you would be wrong.”

Jack’s palm stops on my throat. It captures every beat of my quickening heart. His thumb glides across my neck, tracing the line where my hyoid lays hidden beneath my burning flesh. I think for a moment he might back away, but he doesn’t.

Jack’s hand at my waist slides across my dress until it lays a cooling cloak against my exposed back, pulling me closer. I place my palm on his chest, my fingers curling into the black fabric. I should be pushing away. I should fight back against this magnetic force. But it’s like trying to think your way free of gravity, or to stand unmoving in the swell of a tsunami.

Vetiver. Flashing lights. The pounding beat, like I’m living in the chamber of a giant heart. My body is flush against Jack’s, every cell within me an inferno. Time slows. I’m powerless. And I’m exactly where I want and fear to be.

“Lille mejer,” Jack whispers into my ear. My eyes drift closed. My head tilts to the side as his lips graze the shell of my ear. Two little words and I don’t even know what they mean, but they’re like a spell, an elixir that drowns me. “I’m not here to claim anyone but you.”

Jack’s cheek grazes mine as he pulls away just enough to meet my eyes. A slash of light illuminates his face for an instant that sears his beauty into memory.

And then his lips are pressed to mine.

It’s warm, alive. Electric. Like only the thinnest threads of restraint hold him back from taking every piece of me, until he’s consumed my very soul. My lips part and his tongue enters my mouth, not exploring but claiming, just like he promised, my pulse surging in answer against the warmth of his hand. And I want it to never end. I want time to die, so I can feel the beautiful torture of this torrent forever. Anger and desire. Fear and relief. A kind of hunger that will never be sated, that will burn in my heart as an undying ember.

I want this. I want this so badly that the desire twists in my belly like a serpent of fire.

But I can’t have it.

Because I can’t trust Jack. I know it. He’s only doing this to crush my crumbling walls so he can find a way free of the threats I’m dangling over his head. And his insatiable curiosity compels him to figure out how I could have slipped past his defenses. That has to be what this is. He wants to find my weaknesses and crush me with them.

And what better way to destroy a person than to fill their heart and then crack it in half.

I loosen my grip on Jack’s shirt, trying to force myself to cling to my memories of pain. Every cruel word. Every time he told me I didn’t deserve what I’ve earned. Every time he made me feel unworthy, or unappreciated. My mind settles on the image of Jack standing at the back of the gala, nothing more than an indifferent spectator while a pit of anger and hurt burned a hole in my guts. I remember cutting his name from my tongue as I held up my Brentwood award. I try to forget that it was once made of glass.

I let go of Jack’s shirt. His hand lifts from my throat as his lips part from mine.

“Hey… Sebastian, right?” Jack says, turning his attention away from me with an easy grin as he reaches out his right hand. Sebastian is next to us, smoothing a moment of puzzlement beneath a slick veneer. “I’m Adam. We met at Velvet Lounge. Remember? Such an epic night, but I think I forgot half of it.”NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

Effortless.

I feel like I’m still lingering in his kiss while I watch Jack lure in my victim with a handful of threads and a counterfeit smile.

That’s how easily he will destroy you and leave you for dead.

Sebastian grips Jack’s offered hand, his smile growing more relaxed despite his ongoing struggle to remember their first meeting. “Yeah, Adam, of course. Do you know—”

“This is my…friend…Bethany,” Jack says, interrupting Sebastian’s attempt to put pieces together that will never fit. There’s a note hanging in this introduction, one that says I’m an easy score. That hurt I was searching for isn’t too hard to find.

“Hi,” I say, putting more effort into my fraudulent smile as I extend my hand. I take a step toward Sebastian, close enough that Jack could drop his hand from my back, but he doesn’t. “I saw you at the bar. Have we met before?”

Sebastian’s gaze drags up from my chest to linger on my lips. “I don’t think so. I’d remember that face.”

I beam as though his complement is a revelation. And I keep beaming, at every idiotic joke and stupid thing Sebastian says as we worm our way into his trust. It doesn’t take long. A few drinks, a few songs. By the time Jack suggests a party at my condo where there will be more women and free coke and full bottles, Sebastian doesn’t even stop to think about it. He knocks back his drink and leads the way toward the door.

It isn’t until we step into the elevator at the condo that I sense the first crack in Jack’s perfect mask.

He takes my hand as soon as I’ve pressed the button for the twenty-fifth floor, and with a gentle tug, he guides me to his side, shielding me from Sebastian’s eager gaze. I don’t pick up any tension in his words as we make small talk about liquor, but I feel it in his fingers as they stay curled around mine. He doesn’t let go when the doors open, not until I pull my hand free to find my keys in my clutch.

I step inside first, the apartment as empty and quiet as a tomb. Dim lights and the view of the city from a wall of windows illuminate the modern, open space.

“Make yourselves at home,” I say as I head to the kitchen, placing my belongings on the counter to pull a set of glasses from a cupboard. “Round of drinks, boys?”

“Please. Whisky on ice,” Jack replies, his voice deeper than I’m used to. I catch his eye for only a moment before he heads to the Bluetooth speaker on a side table to connect his phone and start a playlist.

“Great place, but where’s the party?” Sebastian asks as he heads farther into the living room. Jack joins him, looking completely at ease as he shucks off his suit jacket and takes a seat on the gray sectional, spreading his arms across its back.

“I got a text from Amanda, they’re on their way.” I give him an easy smile as I bring the drinks to set them down on the coffee table. Sebastian’s shoulders seem to loosen between my lies and the liquor I provide, and he takes a seat on the matching armchair across from Jack.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t start our own fun in the meantime,” Jack says with a secret smile to Sebastian, reaching out a hand in a request for me to join him on the couch. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

I swallow a moment of discomfort, not for putting on a show, but for the clash between my real feelings and this fabricated moment. But I keep it trapped beneath a sweet smile as I place my hand in Jack’s and he pulls me onto his lap, straddling his thighs.

Jack’s hands glide up my back as he takes in every inch of my face. “Anything you don’t want to do, tell me,” he says for only me to hear. “Traffic lights. Understand?”

I watch him back for a moment before I nod, a little surprised. When I lean down to kiss him, the energy between us sparks with a different kind of heated anticipation. I place my hands on Jack’s face and my tongue lavishes his mouth, dragging across his in long strokes, and when I pull back I take Jack’s bottom lip with me in a bite. Jack moans as my teeth scrape across the sensitive flesh. He wraps his hands around my ass to tug me closer until I can feel his hard length between us.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Jack asks between kisses as I grind on his cock. It strains against his pants and I press harder, not just for show, but to find friction for the throbbing ache in my clit.

“I bet she tastes as sweet as she looks. Maybe you should find out,” Sebastian replies, and when Jack pulls away from my neck to meet my eyes, a ravenous beast is looking back at me.

We could have murdered Sebastian five times over already, but the truth is, I want more than just the anticipation of the kill. I can keep trying to push my feelings away, but I still want him. I want Jack touching me, kissing me. Worshiping me.

Devouring me.

I raise an eyebrow in a challenge.

In my next breath, Jack has me on my back, his palms a cool brand on my thighs as they slide beneath the hem of my dress. He pushes it up over my hips and his mouth is on my pussy before he’s even tugged my panties down, his frustration with the thin fabric mounting until he whips a switchblade from his pocket and cuts them off in a single, fluid slice, much to Sebastian’s delight. When they’re gone, Jack parts my lips and drags his tongue across my entrance and he groans, groans right into the depths of me as though he’s been starving for my taste.

“So sweet,” Jack whispers against my clit before worshiping it with licks. One of his hands slides up my body to pull my dress down, exposing my breast to the cool air. A gasp leaves my lips as the tape tears from my nipple, its sting replaced with Jack’s fingers as he teases it into a firm peak.

I’m burning. I’m desperate. I barely hold onto the sounds building in my throat as I raise my hips when Jack sucks on my clit, chasing my pleasure with his tongue. The more I try to keep from moaning, the more I fail, and when Jack pushes one finger into my pussy and then another to curl them in deep strokes that glide across my G-spot, I stop trying altogether.

“Your sounds are mine,” Jack hisses, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s pushing my damp panties into my open mouth. I look down my body at the fierce command in Jack’s eyes, whimpering at the erotic taste of my own arousal. He pushes the last of the fabric past my lips and holds my jaw shut with his thumb. “They are only mine. Now come on my fucking tongue and keep quiet.”

Jack gives me a flash of a wicked grin.

And then he descends on my flesh.

He pumps his fingers and works my clit until my muscles are spasming, pulsing around him, sucking him in. Tiny bombs of sparks explode across my vision. Pleasure winds up my back and tightens it like a bow. My heart deafens every sound and thought and I don’t even know if I obey his command. My eyes are still closed when Jack pulls the fabric from my mouth and kisses me, sharing my taste onto my tongue.

When the kiss slows and Jack pulls away, he stays hovering over me with one arm braced next to my head, the other hand working his belt buckle open.

“I’ve had a vasectomy,” Jack says, keeping hold of my eyes as though we’re the only two people left in the world. I hear each tooth of his zipper as it opens, each one like a tick of time. “I’ve been tested and I’m clean. But you should know that condoms can be…difficult for me. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes,” I say, and though I want to ask what he means, I don’t.

“Are you sure?” he asks. I nod until his eyebrows raise and I confirm it out loud. “This might feel…different.”

I finally look down between us.

“Oh my God.”

I take in the sight of Jack’s erection, the base gripped in his hand, my orgasm-addled brain taking a moment to process what I see. There are pairs of studs trailing the length of the underside of his cock, with a Prince Albert piercing at the head, the titanium glinting in the dim light. Sebastian echoes my thoughts with sounds of surprise and words of approval. But it’s like he doesn’t exist to Jack.

“Are you sure.”

Heat floods my core, my pussy begging before I have a chance to.

“Definitely. Very sure. Very, very sure.”

Jack smiles, and it’s so wicked, so sexy, that I almost come again before he’s even touched my clit with the titanium ball at the head of his cock. A desperate sound of desire escapes my lips and Jack’s eyes narrow in warning.

“What did I just say, lille mejer,” he whispers.

“Don’t worry, my studded buddy,” Sebastian chimes, his words slurring as the sound of rustling fabric drifts toward me. I hear the clink of his belt buckle opening. “I have a way to keep her quiet.”

I blink once at Jack, my face saying a thousand thoughts that I can’t seem to shape into sounds. All of them orbit the word fear.

One moment, Jack is there, gliding his piercing across my sensitive nerves in a gentle tease.

The next he’s gone, and the sound of a pained and panicked cry rises above the music.

“She deserved to have a little fun at your expense.” Jack’s voice is a rumble of menace toward our guest. I scramble to my feet just as Sebastian falls to his knees. “But if you’ll excuse the pun, I draw the line at you thinking I’d ever let you touch her.”

Jack holds my eyes as he makes another slash across Sebastian’s throat with his switchblade, sending a spray of blood pulsing across the floor and his clothes.

Sebastian slams to his chest with his waning strength, his gurgling pleas quieting into stuttering exhalations.

Jack tosses the switchblade into the shadows and turns, his pants barely clinging to his hips and his erection still hard beneath his briefs. He pulls his blood-soaked shirt off and stalks toward me, lethal, consuming. Inescapable. When Jack reaches out a hand it’s like a magnet, and I take it, following with sure steps as he leads me to the growing pool of blood and pulls me down with him to the floor.

Jack folds a bloody hand around my throat as he lowers my back into the sticky warmth. He tugs his pants and briefs down and enters me with a single stroke to the sound of my shameless moan.

“What did I tell you at the club, Kyrie?” Jack says, his voice sweet and alluring, his eyes alight with silver sparks of fury. He slides out of my pussy, inch by inch, every round titanium ball causing a tingling swirl of growing desperation to ignite in my belly. “What did I tell you?” he repeats, squeezing a fraction tighter around my neck.

“Well-being… Best interests…” is all I can manage between panting breaths as I try not to come so soon with the deceptively gentle glide of his studded cock.

“No. Try again.”

“Claim…”

“Good girl. That’s right. I said I’m not here to claim anyone but you. So that is exactly—” a vicious thrust has me whimpering with pleasure— “what I am going to do. And any man who even imagines touching you will be sliced into ribbons of flesh—” another pounding thrust, the impending orgasm unstoppable in my core— “and then I will fuck you in a pool of blood while their heart still drums its final beats.”

I moan as Jack grabs my thigh in a bruising grip, pulling my leg across his back so he can bury his cock deeper, the titanium ball at its head caressing my G-spot with every rocking stroke. “Not a disincentive…will find more prey,” I grit out between a growing cadence of punishing thrusts.

“I never intended it to be.”

My back squeaks through the cooling blood. Jack lets go of my throat to pull my wig and cap off, tossing them away across the floor. He grips my hair in a tight fist and wrenches my head back to expose my neck to his bites and kisses. And he fucks me. He fucks me like this is all he’s ever wanted to do. Like he’s taking something forbidden.

Like he craves me.

“If this plan works…” I say in a breathless voice as I drag my hand through the blood gathered on the floor. Jack leans back to study me, the deep thrusts continuing unabated, his expression one of furious need. I grin as I paint a diagonal smear over his heart, and then another to make an ‘X’. “Then I will have won Thunderdome.”

Jack scoffs, slowing the glide of his cock as he grips my hair and bands his arm around my back. He lifts me so that I’m straddling him as he kneels in the crimson pool. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m the one who killed him.”

“And as usual, that wouldn’t have been possible without me.” Jack opens his mouth to argue, but I seal his lips with a bloody finger. “Oh and by the way, if another woman even imagines touching you, I’ll cut off her fucking hands and feed them to you. And then I’ll take her precious hyoid and crush it, and I’ll enjoy every fucking second of forcing you to watch as I flush it down the goddamn toilet. Understand, petal?”

I bat my lashes with an innocent pout and grip Jack’s shoulder with one hand as I impale myself on his thick erection, spreading my hips wide to take him deeply with every thrust. I want him to fucking destroy me. To tear me apart, to fucking annihilate me because I will keep coming back, forever the unquenchable fire that clashes with his indestructible darkness.

Jack tightens his grip on my hair and his eyes go black when I lay my bloody finger on my tongue and seal my lips around it. He tilts my head back and nips at my neck, hard enough to mark me. His lips drink in the salted mist on my skin, carving a path down my throat, down my chest until he envelops my nipple, sucking on it hard, lavishing it with his tongue before releasing it with a scrape of his teeth that has me gasp.

“Diabolical… and duly noted,” he says. “But there’s only one woman’s screams I care to hear.” Jack bites the side of my breast just hard enough to coax a squeak past my lips and he chuckles. “Lille mejer, you can do better than that.”

Jack slams us back down on the bloody floor but protects my head with his hand, the air whooshing from my lungs with the impact, my breath claimed by his waiting lips. I lose myself to the feeling of his skin and muscle beneath my fingers as they dig into his back, to the pain and pleasure of the bites he soothes with kisses, to the vicious thrusts that fill my aching pussy. His distinctive scent of vetiver floods my senses as I kiss his neck and taste his skin. When my channel tightens around his cock, Jack twists his hand in my hair, keeping me right where he wants me as he stares down into my face.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, and he watches every moment of the release that spins through my core. I come apart with my back lifting from the blood, chanting a hymn of Jack’s name that sounds as much like ecstasy as it does a despairing cry. I swear I can feel every caress of metal in my pussy, every drop of heat as Jack spills into me with a roar. Every beat of his heart.

And we lay on the bloody tiles for a long while, as silent as the body in our midst, three souls claimed on the twenty-fifth floor.