Sancte Diaboli

“Wait here…”

When I bring my hands back in front of me, he pauses, steps back, and collects his belt from the ground. Pulling my hands behind my back, he hooks multiple loops around before tugging to tighten it. He spins me around, brings his hand to the back of my neck, and shoves me facedown back onto the counter. Kicking my legs wide with his, I wait silently for his next move, but nothing happens. Just when I think he has disappeared, the tip of his finger dips into my entrance before he hovers over my body, dipping his finger into my mouth.

“Stay like this.”

I don’t move as his footsteps disappear out of the room. A couple minutes pass when he finally reenters, drawing the blinds closed that sit behind the kitchen sink. A flicker of flames bouncing off the walls comes into view and my body freezes. What is he doing?

“This wax is soy…” His voice comes in low, and my heart beats erratically in my chest. “Meaning it cools faster when it hits the skin. We’ll see how you do with this, but eventually, I want to move to beeswax.”

“I don’t—”

The tip of his cock throbs against my entrance as his fingers dig into my hips, raising my body higher until my feet are off the floor. My hands are still bound, but the position is comfortable. He slowly presses his hips into me, his cock moving inside my wet walls every few seconds before pulling out. He runs the palm of his hand down the arch of my spine, as he dives deeper inside. I moan loudly, the feeling of him inside of me almost too much for me to handle. Every time he pulls out, his piercings get cold, so every time he reenters, they’re carnally obvious. Finally he slams into me roughly and I jolt forward, my nipples grazing against the cool marble as my body is shoved farther up the counter. Hot liquid spills down the curve of my spine and I yelp, cursing under my breath as it cools and hardens. He pushes into me again and again, every single thrust pushing me closer to intoxication. He’s going to completely dismantle me and leave me open and raw by the time he is done, and right now, I would let him.

“Don’t come until I say. Hold on to it.”

Sweat drips down off my face as he wraps my hair around his wrist and tugs on it roughly. My eyes sting as strands of hair are ripped from their roots, but he doesn’t stop. My i

“Brantley, I’m going to snap—”

He dives into me roughly, tugging on my hair. That’s when I feel the cool metal of a knife on my shoulder blade. My eyes roll to the back of my head when he presses the blade into my skin. I hiss, baring my teeth, but he continues with his onslaught. The warmth of his mouth falls over where it stings on my back, and everything is suddenly too much. The piercing on his tip hits the very edge of my cervix, sending electric shock waves through my body. I scream, tugging on the belt that’s around my wrists, needing to hold myself up.

He releases the belt just as he hits something deep inside of me. This time different. The waves crash over me in tidal-like swells and everything around me turns black. My muscles twitch so severely that I convulse, the warm rush of an orgasm so, so much more potent and powerful than other times. I’m barely back in the present when his arm is around my midsection and he’s dragging me down to the kitchen floor. I’m turned reverse cowgirl, but my eyes are still closed.

“I can’t—I’m going to die.”

His hand is on the back of my neck, his other on my hip. “Ride me until I come, and don’t stop until you feel it…” He squeezes so hard I’m sure there will be more bruises. “You wanted to fuck like the big kids, then fuck me like a big girl.”

I roll my hips over him, but it’s not fast enough because he’s slamming my body on top of him in no time, like he can’t handle me being in control. The hand that was on my neck is now on my other hip as he drives inside me with force and power. Everything throbs, but my body constantly shakes as he continues. Flipping me around with my frail limbs flying everywhere, he slams me on my back and spreads my legs wide until he’s back inside of me, with one palm on my thigh. His cock thrusts inside of me, deep and vicious. His mouth on mine as he sinks his teeth into my lower lip again. He brings his hand to my hair, pulling at it to hold me in place while never breaking the kiss. It’s not until he’s groaning through his orgasm, his cock pulsing inside of me when I truly feel the fatigue. His heavy body falls on top of me, slick with sweat, blood, and the evidence of all of my orgasms between us.

My hand is in the damp strands of his hair, my breathing still heavy. “That was a near-death experience.”

He laughs, kicking up from the floor. He moves across the kitchen, opening one of the many cupboards and flicking open a first aid kit. “Turn around. I’ll bandage you up.”

Who would have known? Sex with Brantley contains hot wax, blood, and always, always a Band-Aid. For your skin, you’re out of luck if you need one for your heart.

After dragging my half-dead body back up to my room, I’m tugging clothes down from the hangers when I hit dial on Bishop’s name.

He answers instantly. “You okay?”

I pang with another surge of guilt. “Yes, I was wondering when the ceremony is?”

“Not until Sunday,” he answers carefully. It’s Wednesday. I will be back by then. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I pause. I could tell him. No, I can’t. I shove the clothes into a small duffel bag and zip it up. “Yes. I’m fine. You worry too much.” I reach for my passport and emergency cash inside the closet. Brantley put it there when I was thirteen. Told me if anything happened to him that I needed to run. I take out my passport, a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, but leave the black cell phone.

“I worry because I care, and contrary to how you’ve been treated since you’ve been in my life, the emotion is rare for me.”

I chuckle, tossing everything into a small shoulder strap bag. “Just like Brantley?”

“Not that bad…” Bishop grunts.

“How are you feeling about the ceremony?” I ask, moving the curtain out of my way so I can see a clear view of the driveway. I watch as Brantley moves around his Bugatti, his phone pressed to one ear with his hand resting on his car.

“Ready for it to be over.”

“Bishop?” I whisper, as Brantley climbs into his car and Tillie in hers. “I love you.”

He sucks in a breath. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m just telling you.”

“Saint, I—”

I hear shuffling in the background and people calling out to him. “I’ve got to go. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”

I smile. “Sure. Bye.” As I bring my arm down, my stomach drops with it. I know what I’m doing is going to be seen as a betrayal, but I have to do this. I made a promise.

She sent me the details I needed, which included a damn limo ride to the nearest airport. I didn’t know where. I hadn’t stepped inside the city before, so everything was like bright lights to me. The rushing, the urgency that everyone moved to didn’t process through my brain. Why was everyone in such a hurry? For what?

We pull up to the airstrip and the driver slides the tinted window down that separates the back and the front.