I Know What Love Is (26 page)

“
You will,” he says and kisses me, so fast my head spins. I push against his shoulders, conflicted. I'm pissed and scared and wanting so badly to trust him, but I don't. Not at all. But he doesn't budge, just continues kisses me like a man possessed. His kiss is messy and hard and all-encompassing. I can't help but get swept up in it. I've missed the way he kisses me. I've missed the way his body takes hold of mine and completely bewitches me. He invades me, thrusting his tongue against mine and sucking my lips and pulling my hair. He acts like touching me is his right and he's going to take what's his, by charm or by force.

Just like old times.

“Pritch! That crazy cooze shot me.” The man moaning and sputtering on the ground finally pulls Elliot's attention off of me. Mr. Backseat's looking right at me, and if looks could kill, I'd be dead as a doornail. “I'm gonna kill you, you bitch!” he hisses, bug-eyed and frantic, pain and anger tightening his face. He tries to stand, but falls back on his ass. Elliot disentangles himself from me, slowly. His green eyes never leave my face, but I dart my gaze between him and Mr. Backseat. The creep is still moving, despite his injuries. I'm not quite convinced he's no longer a threat.

If I still had my gun, I would put him down like the rabid dog he is.

“Pritch! I need a doctor, man,” Mr. Backseat moans. “Fuckin' kill that bitch and we can get outta here.”

“
Everything I do, I do for you, Joanie,” Elliot whispers in my ear. Then he turns and advances on Mr. Backseat. The realization of his predicament dawns on the creepy asshole and he starts crawling away, dragging his bum leg through the brush.

“
I'm your friend, man. You gonna choose crazy pussy over me?” Mr. Backseat throws over his shoulder, even though he knows his goose is cooked. “Pritch! No!” he screams. As I watch, struck dumb with dread, Elliot jumps on him from behind, his arm looping around the man's neck. He tightens his chokehold and Mr. Backseat's eyes bulge and his face goes pale. He struggles, but he's no match for Elliot. Elliot's eyes bore into mine as he strangles the life out of his former friend. I'm frozen, unable to do anything but stand there and watch a man die right in front of me.

It takes a long time for him to die.

Or maybe time has slowed. I can't tell. I can't stop staring at the expression on Mr. Backseat's face as the life leaves his eyes. It's oddly fascinating. And horrifying.

Finally, he's dead. His eyes go blank and he droops, his whole body going limp. Elliot shoves the dead man away and stands, swiping his arm across his forehead. His chest heaves and he's sweating like he's just been running a marathon. His eyes are manic, and I take a step back, flattening myself against the tree.

Elliot is back on me in a flash, one hand clamping around my throat and the other dragging my hand down to the massive erection tenting his jeans. I moan, the sound a mixture of the fear and desire I feel for him, but I don't hesitate. I practically rip open his fly, freeing his big cock. I wrap my fingers around him, loving how warm and heavy he is.

I've missed him so much.

I stroke him and he growls like he's in pain.

“
Harder,” he hisses. I do as he commands, jerking him off fast, rough, and hard. He presses his forehead to mine, our breath colliding furiously at the exertion. It doesn't take long before he makes a strangled sound and stiffens. A smile curls over my lips as his hot come shoots into my palm. He doesn't need to tell me what to do.

I lift my palm to my mouth and lick up every bit of his come, eyes closed as I savor his taste. His breathing is jagged and I know I'm turning him on. After being in prison for three years, I know that was just an appetizer. The main course is surely coming up.

“I would never let him touch you,” he says, finally, his voice hoarse. “I needed him to get out, that's the only reason I brought him.”

“
You didn't trust me enough to tell me,” I say, dragging my gaze up to his eyes.

“
I couldn't,” he rasps. “It had to be real.”

“
My terror had to be real?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up. “I had to be as terrified as possible?” He nods, the manic look in his eyes blazing. “Good job, Asshole. It worked.”

“
I know. I could see it. I could feel it. It made it easy to kill him.” His gaze is drilling into me, deep under my skin, and I know he's telling the truth. I want so badly to trust him. But I can't. Yet. “I'm never sharing you again. That shit is done,” he says and I feel his words deep within me. I believe him.

“
I thought you wanted to punish me,” I whisper. He thrusts his thigh between mine and twists my hands behind me. My heart jumps in my throat, and I don't know if I'm going to scream or come. Maybe both.

“
I am going to punish you,” he says, his lips brushing mine. “I've been thinking about how I'm going to punish you for three years.” He grinds his hips into mine and I gasp out a moan, feeling completely and totally owned by him. I'm his and he's mine. It's never been clearer to me than right now. “Three long years,” he growls, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. I arch my back, pressing the length of myself against him. The tension of the last twelve hours dissolves like smoke, and it's just me and Elliot again.

Joan and Elliot, two normal, crazy-ass people.

“I'm going to punish you so hard, you're going to scream. You're going to scream so loud that it'll be embedded in my brain for another three years,” he whispers. “Fuck, I want to hear you scream, just for me.” He traces my bottom lip with his tongue and a shiver runs down my spine. My nipples are so hard, they could cut glass. I'm totally and completely mad for him, all over again. “But first, we have to take care of Lassiter.”

“
Lassiter?” I murmur.

“
Yeah, Lassiter.”

“
Oh,” I answer, tilting my head to look around Elliot, at the dead man crumbled on the ground. Mr. Backseat has a name at last. “Yes. We do.”

Time to bury my first body.

I have a feeling it won't be my last.

Chapter Twenty

I
wake up and my whole body aches. I don't know how long we've been asleep in the car, but my back doesn't like the lumpy backseat. My knees hurt and my shoulders hurt as well. But Elliot's face is pressed to my neck, his big body wrapped tightly around mine. We're dirty and we smell like sweat and earth and death, but I don't want to move. I want to cherish the feel of him for a little while longer.

We buried Lassiter in the shallow brush of the woods, then Elliot rolled a log over the spot to deter animals from digging him up. We buried him naked, without anything to identify him or be used as evidence. I pried the spent bullets out of a tree and pocketed the shell casing, leaving nothing behind. Elliot found my gun in the dirt and gave it back to me. I tucked it back into my ankle holster, feeling confident that I would no longer need it.

We slept longer than we should have. Our arms and hands and clothes are caked with the moist dirt of woods and I feel in desperate need of a shower. We have to backtrack almost a day's drive to get back on course, and I'm not looking forward to it. But we have to get out of Kansas as soon as possible. The longer we stay, the worse it will be for us.

I run my teeth along the shell of Elliot's ear, rousing him softly. I wish I could let him sleep, but we have to get moving. The plan's been shot to hell, but I'm not going to stop pushing. I have Elliot, finally, and I have no plans to give him up. He's mine. Period. He moans, his brow furrowing as he comes back to life.

“Wake up, my love,” I whisper lightly, so lightly I almost hope he doesn't hear. I just want it to be a hint on his brain. A hint of a feeling. I don't really love him. Well, I don't think I do. Either way, I want him to think I do. He clenches his arms around me tight and I squirm a bit under the pressure. “El, wake up,” I whisper again. He finally opens his eyes and I watch as he slowly focuses on me, his cruel mouth turning up in a smile.

“
You're real,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I thought I was dreaming.”

“
I'm real,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We're real.”

“
Oh, baby.” He squeezes me again and I can feel his erection against my leg. “I'm going to fuck you.”

“
I know, baby.” I kiss him again. “But we have to go.”

“
No.” He shakes his head, burying his nose back in my neck. “It's time for your punishment.”

Anticipation floods through me and my panties get wet on demand. I know we should get on the road. I know we can't waste any more time, but I can't stop myself from dragging my nails over his shoulders, leaving a trail of dirt on his shirt. I want him to punish me. I want it so bad it hurts. He lifts up off of me, arching his back and pulling off his dirty T-shirt. My hands immediately seek out his bare skin. He's damp with sweat and I want to run my mouth all over his chest and lick every drop off of him.

He stares down at me, his eyes changing from sleepy to manic in no time flat. I bite my lip as he drags his gaze down my legs, his big body taking up all the empty space in my car. He's bulked up since he's been in prison, although I don't know how that's possible. He went from big to bigger. His arms are massive, his shoulders broader than I remember.

He's terrifying.

A ripple of fear runs through me, but it's tinged with arousal. Whatever he's going to do to me, I want him to do it. I don't care if it hurts. He can do whatever he wants.

“
Get out,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“
Get out?” I repeat, a pang hitting me low in the guts.

“
Now,” he growls and I know it's time to go. I scoot to sitting, my eyes on his, and then open the door. I bolt out, jogging across the road, putting some distance between us. I know he'll hunt me down, and I can't wait. He unfolds himself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

“
Check the trunk,” I call to him. He shoots me a dark look then unlocks the trunk. He pulls out the black bag I have in there, filled with things I brought just for him, including a length of rope. The rope I've been keeping for over a year, waiting for him to tie me up with it. His face darkens, and I know I've picked exactly the right gift for him. His eyes find mine, and I can't help it.

I smile.

This situation is so messed up on so many levels, but I'm done apologizing. I'm done feeling guilty and feeling like I'm broken and I'll never be fixed. I know what I want and I'm done denying it.

I want Elliot and all of his fucked-up, violent, psychotic criminal perversion.

“Take off your fucking clothes,” he says, raveling the rope around his forearm, then unraveling it. I don't hesitate. I pull my T-shirt over my head, then kick off my shoes. Elliot leans against the car, his eyes on me as he continues playing with the rope. I unbuckle my jeans, sliding them down my legs as quickly as possible. I feel dirty and sweaty, but I don't give a fuck. I want Elliot to get me even dirtier.

I stand there, naked in the middle of nowhere, and I feel right at home.

*****

I'm so hard it feels like my cock could slice through my jeans like a knife through butter. She's tied between two trees, her arms spread eagle, and her knees on the ground. Her bronzed skin is bared completely to me, all of her open and wanting. She's still skinnier than I want her, but her body will always be my temple. I'll worship her until the day I die. Her tits rise and fall with each breath and her pink nipples are pinched tight . The slit of her pussy is calling for me. Her panties are stuffed in her hot little mouth and her eyes are glazed and hungry.

God, those eyes.

I thought I would never see them again.

I still don't think she believes that I love her but it's true. As I look down on her beautiful face, I know it's true. She's given up everything for me, just like I gave up everything for her. We're completely even now. The past is not my fucking enemy any longer. I don't ever want to go back. I'll die first.

I stand back, admiring my handiwork, ignoring my dick for as long as possible. I want to keep this memory of her for the rest of my fucking life. She deserves every bit of this punishment, for what she did to me. Every new photo she sent was like a dagger to my heart. The pain would shoot  all through me and the ache would never go away.  I never knew love could hurt so bad, until I met her.

I'm going to hurt her right back.

I unbuckle my jeans and pull my cock out, circling my fingers around the base. Fuck, it feels good. I can't wait to plunge balls deep into her. The waiting is almost painful, but it's a good kind of pain. It's pain with an end in sight. I fist my hand in her hair, pulling her head back. She cries out, the sound muffled by her gag. I run the head of my cock down her cheek, then over her lips, toying with her.

“You want to suck this cock?” I ask, tracing her bottom lip. She moans, her eyes glazing over and her eyelids fluttering. I know she's turned on. She wants me. She wants my cock. It's time to take back what's mine. I dip my fingers into her mouth, pulling out her panties. She gasps in air, but before she can take a deep breath, I plunge my cock deep into her open lips. I feel the vibrations of the gag at the back of her throat on the tip of me and it feels like fucking heaven. It feels like getting a fix from a drug, and I'm an addict, through and through.