-Let me go!-
She was screaming and crying while he held her under him. He didn't bother to shut her up.
Even if she hadn't a chance to break free, she kept struggling, unconscious that he was only getting excited more.
Mac lowered himself to her, on her neck, smelling her hair scent.
Grass, probably some flowers. Something so rare in the desert where it seemed to be only sand and dust.
A breath of fresh air under the burning sun. And he had, needed, to take it.
He looked at her tears running down her jugular and couldn't resist but lick them away and then bite her hard until he tasted blood.
The only things he could hear were her screams and his heart beating fast.
-Let me go!-
She was his.
Even if she had ran away, she was still his.
But now she was dead.
That thought hurt and angered him.
Mac stood up in front of her.
-Fucking go away!- he yelled.
She didn't moved, she approached him instead.
-You don't want me here, with you?-
Her hand caressed his cheek, and he let her do it, enjoying her soft touch.
-You ain't here.-
-Yes, I am.-
She started to kiss his face. She smelled sweet like he remembered but like cigarettes too. But she had never smoked and she had never touched him like this.
It wasn't her.
She wasn't here.
How could she?
-You're a fucking hallucination.-
She said nothing, continuing to kiss him softly but with passion. His dick twitching in his pants.
She felt so real and he decided he didn't care.
Probably he would wake up fucking the sofa but now he wanted her even if it was his own mind fucking him.
Fucking drugs.
He held her tighter, digging his fingers in her skin and pressing her body against him.
She wrapped her arms around him, like she had never done, always pushing him away from her.
She moaned his name so soft and that hit him like nothing before.
Fucking meth.
How much had he taken this time?
She started to walk, pushing him sit on the couch and he dragged her too, letting her sit on him.
His hands went under her coat, encountering the shirt and the skirt's fabric, already rolled up cause of their position and he reached her thighs.
He rolled the fabric of the panties around his fingers, pressing them even more into her skin, violent as he always did with her, pushing her towards his cock.
He felt her flinch slightly but she said nothing this time, letting him kiss her deeper, filling her mouth with his tongue.
-You back for more? -
Mac was still divided by the reality and the thought of a hallucination. Anyway, the only thing he wanted now was to taste her again, sink in her and feel her around him.
A muffed moan came from her, her lips still on his.
She had planned to enjoy every single moment of her revenge, from deceive and tease him to finally hurt and kill him like she has always dreamed.
It was just acting but, somehow, it seems so easy to play that part.
Making her plan, sometimes she has found herself thinking that being with him again could make her feel sick, dirty…just a little hungry bitch.
That's not what was happening.
She could feel herself getting wet and couldn't keep a moan when Mac started kissing her neck, right on the sensitive skin of the scar.
His hands were hard as always, digging into her skin, hurting and leaving marks. The same cage of muscles that has always suffocated her, now make her feel in balance on that couch, on him, safe from fall.
She felt justified. She had to enjoy every single moment of it, even what has violated her time before, because it was her revenge.
Because she must play the part, staying at his game, for make him vulnerable.
She bites her lips, trying to keep clear her mind, while Mac moved her panties on the side, pushing two fingers inside making her tense. He didn't wait and started moving his hand, savoring her sounds. Her hips moved against him without she could control them, and she started wondering, for the first time, if she hasn't fucked it all.
The right choice was to kill him right away, while he slept.
But no, his lust has contaminated her and, not for moment, she had thought to kill him easily.
She had to kill him watching his blue eyes losing light, switch from lust to pain and having him helpless under her.
Like he had her.
Again, only in that moment, she realized she wanted to do what Mac has done to her.
She was becoming like him, thirsty of sex and blood.
Again, she realized how corrupted was her mind, not clean anymore.
She wanted to fuck and kill him at the same time, pushing him to the sky and then down the hell, making him regret everything.
But the only one fucking now was him as she hold him closer while her orgasm hit, unable to stop shaking.
Mac did the same, pressing their body together like he wanted to fuse them.
His dick was clearly against her, already hard, and she couldn't control her mind when she remembers the feeling of having him inside, a sign escaping from her.
No, it hasn't to be this way.
Don't lose control, don't lose control, don't lose control. A mantra in her head.
Don't let him overwhelm you.
You have to.
She moved away from him, hushing when he keeps her still.
-Let me take care of you now. –
She tried to keep her voice steady, but it came out softer and more breathless than ever. Her own head spinning from shame. But he let her go, his liquid eyes stuck on her, studying every movement.
He has never been this way and she looked at him for some second, not believing of having him so quiet at her will.
Just like this. He must be like this.
Completely lost in her, not to realize the gun or the knife ending his life.
She felt powerful and that scared her.
He probably felt this way torturing her.
-What are you doing to me? -
Mac's question remained suspended, without an answer.
Only her kissing him softly, undoing his pants and stroking him. First slowly, then harder, pushing him to the edge.
She stopped right when he was about to come, leaving him panting and unfulfilled.
She smiled, damn.
So innocent and, at the same time, so conscious of what she was doing to him, undoing his shirt, and lowering her lips at every button opened.
He tried to do the same to her, catching the collar of her coat, but she hushed him again, kneeling and lowering herself right on his cock.
Never. She has never done it and he couldn't have even imagined her doing it.
Always so rebel to his touch, to keep her still by force. And now he was almost caressing her, keeping her where he wanted with his fingers through red hair.
She wasn't her.
His mind was fucking him even with a fake version of her.
Where was the real girl? Meters under the ground. Thanks to him.
He tightened his hold, pulling her head by the hair and forcing her to look at him.
He lifted her without any struggle, like a doll, and throw her on the couch.
Finally on her, like it has always been.
Finally, a little bit of fear on her face.
His name died on her lips when Mac lowered himself on her, aggressive, almost hungry of her.
She started to squirm. Their first time returning in mind. He smiled and quickly blocked her, continuing to lick, kiss and bite her.
Mac pinned her wrists to her head with a hand, the other started running along her body, still covered by the coat. He reached the task and a little weight in it made him stop.
He pulled out the lighter, the one he lost. Mac looked at it for a moment then he clicked it. The little flame swayed between their faces, so close they could feel the warm. He looked at the scratches on the metal, recognizing them with the thumb. Mac frowned and put it in his trousers.
-Thanks for bringing it back. -
Then he started to undo her coat.
-Mac…- his name carried fear with him, and he smiled again, burying his face on her chest, black laced bra and all.
She called him again, a silent prayer. He ignored her, strengthening the grip.
-You ain't her! You fucking ain't her! – He bited her again and again, on her chest, on her neck, again on the same scar of months ago.
-She's fucking dead! – He realized he was trying to convince himself of it.
-Mac let me go! – her eyes were wide open, red and glossy by the upcoming tears.
-Fucking liar! – he slapped her - Liar! Fucking admits it! – another slap.
He took her face hard in his fingers, waiting for her to speak. She stayed silent shouting her eyes, not wanting to watch that blue.
-Aren't you screaming now? – he moved her face slightly in both directions, trying to catch something. Every fucking thing, any little expression but she stayed still.
She always kept her eyes closed and he watched as her face tended as she squeezed them even more, exactly as he remembered.
-Who are you? – he asked, strangely soft but his expression only remembered a predator impatient to eat his prey. She swallowed hard.
-Fucking answer me! Who are you? A fucking ghost?! A fucking dead corpse!? – he slammed her hard on the couch.
-It's me! I'm fucking real! – she finally cried harder, shaking and trying to hit him.
-I hate you! I wanted you fucking dead! I hate you! – she had it all wrong and desperate. She has fallen right in his cage, again.
Mac smiled wildly, finally recognizing her, finally having the confirm it was all real.
She wasn't dead, she was really here, again under him, again for him to take.
Another hard slam on the couch made her breathless.
-You fucking sucked ma cock, you bitch…- Mac licked every bite.
-You just came back for more. - he grabbed his knife from under the couch pillow and cut her panties - Then take it! – and he shoved himself inside, making her scream.
Other female screams coming from the TV combined with hers.
He started pumping without waiting.
So fucking tight.
It felt all wrong, she has done everything wrong. It was all just a mistake.
Why she had to wake him up? Why she wanted to kill him while fucking him? Why had she returned to him? Why? Why? Why?
Every trust made a question pop in her mind, like only in that moment she was able to make right reasoning.
He puts the knife under her neck, finally making her stop fight. He lightly touched her skin with the tip, like teasing, running from her chin to her breastbone.
He was watching her like a psycho, and that stare make her feel dirty, disgusted by her weakness.
She was losing again. What could she do?
-Just fucking kill me! I'm already dead. -
-You're already worse that dead. You're in their land and no one can even hear you.-
He pushed more the knife against her skin, just enough to not cut her.
-You are so wet. Just for me. – and he lowered on her mouth, eating her sobs.
She squirmed under him, bending her knees, putting her legs up and he went inside her deeper. Mac moaned shameless.
She was giving it, he knew it. Every girl he fucked surrendered to him at the end, when the fucking human biology did its job. And she was no exception.
He let her wrists free, grabbing her hips for push her even closer but he kept the knife between them.
She shacked again, arching her back and squeezing her walls so tight around him, already on the edge. He almost fainted on her, all his weight on her, blocking her left leg between him and the couch.
-Cum for me, little girl…-
She puts her arms on his back, scratching it and another incontrollable convulsion of her arms just ended in a bloody red line all along his side. Her hand fell right near her right boot.
She loudly moaned too and he was just a few thrusts from coming.
He slammed even harder inside her, closing his eyes and right in that moment, he felt something cold and sharp under his neck.
Mac came.
-How could you? – she talked at him from below, sitting on the dirty floor of the bedroom, her legs tight to the chest again. Dry tears on her cheeks.
She kept looking right in from of her, her gaze trespassing him. She just looked broken, numb.
-How could you cause so much pain and not feel the slightest remorse? –
He approached her, lowering himself and taking her face between his fingers, forcing her to watch at him. Their eyes met for a second, then she closed hers.
-'Cause…- he licked her lips – It's what I want. And I like it.-