The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,74
the weapons I'm slowly turning them into.
I get a little self-conscious and try to move.
He growls at me with a frown, grabbing my workout tank and pulling me down until I'm draped over him. He kisses me brutally, all teeth and a hand snakes up into my hair to pull me until it hurts.
My pussy is instantly wet, like he's trained me to love his brand of violence.
He jerks my head back to speak to me, the words low and pissed off where they're murmured against my lips. "This is mine. The whole fucking lot of this body and this ass and those fucking tits are mine. You think anything it could change into will stop that? Nah, baby girl, you've got it all wrong in that perfect head of yours. It's fucking mine now and it's mine when you're all big and round with my babies and in fifty years when you’re gray and covered in wrinkles it's still mine. Don't you ever fucking forget it. I play for keeps and you're it."
My mouth is open, the pressure of his fist in my hair so strong I have to keep it that way, and so when he kisses me again it's a little wet and uncoordinated. It doesn't matter though and the tears that fill my eyes at his words don't matter either.
He flips us both over so he can fuck me on the mat, brutal and raw, until I remember that his heart beats for me and nothing will change that. When he pulls out again to come all over my pussy instead of inside it I whimper at him.
If I'm his, why won't he fill me up with his come? Fill my belly with these babies of his he keeps promising me?
I wait until he cleans me up with his shirt and lays back down with me before I bring it up, the high of my multiple orgasms making me brave enough to ask the question.
"There's no way on this Earth I'm worthy of having kids with you until my list is crossed off. No way I'm having you vulnerable and, fuck, hormonal with those men still out there. We can't start a family until they're all gone. Even the Jackal. D'Ardo would find out and come here himself to fuck with you. He's fucking... deranged about mothers. His own and any other woman who's had kids."
Oh.
I wasn't expecting that.
My chest feels as though it might burst open with pressure but my stomach feels like a void, an empty chasm now I know his reasoning.
"What if you can't kill them all? What if someone gets away?" I whisper, a lump forming in the back of my throat that makes it impossible to swallow.
He pulls me into his arms more fully, tucking my head up into his chest. "Don't you worry about that, baby girl. That’s my shit to deal with, your shit is to paint and to train and to... bake bread. Whatever you wanna do."
His hatred of my bread baking is still funny to me, the way he glares at the kitchen the moment he comes home to the smell of it.
He can't help eating it with me.
I stretch out my back like a cat, the aches and pains I feel are like an addiction. If it's possible to be both used and adored, then Illi has perfected that line with me.
Even with every inch of me aching, I know it's a feeling I know I'm going to crave for the rest of my life because the pain is a sweet and tender thing. His heart beats beneath my cheek, steady and sure, and I rub my face against him.
"I'm going to need to need this every fucking night, baby girl. I need you naked and in my arms, rubbing on me like a fucking siren and I'm going to need you to tell me that it's not going to change."
I smile at him, pushing my hair over my shoulder so it’s out of our way. He growls at the move, pushing it back so he can thread his fingers through it.
"Right. Let's get the fuck up before I decide to stay home and fuck you for hours instead of getting to that list of mine."
With the amount of work I put into my art, I start to run out of canvases and oils on a weekly basis.
It’s often enough that I begin getting better at using mon Monstre’s computer and ordering things online.