Bone: A Dark Billionaire Romance (With bonus book Exhibit!) (8 page)

Christopher has removed his trousers and mounted the bed, kneeling now in between her legs. His thick cock pushes insistently at the fabric of his boxer-shorts, desperate to be released. Wherever Bone is, Christopher isn't waiting for him. I need no encouragement to join him. I lift my T-shirt over my head and slip easily out of my jeans. I may be a virgin, but I'm not prepared to let it hold me back. Her eyes go to me and without needing to hear it, I can tell she approves.

Christopher wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close to him. I can feel the edge of the mattress press into the skin below my knee. These are the details that matter.

"Touch her", he says, nodding encouragingly. "Touch her pussy like you want yours to be touched."

I trail my hand from her kneecap up her inner thigh. As I do so, I feel Christopher's fingers on my skin, working their way towards my panties. I part my legs slightly to accommodate them. We lock eyes, her and me, as my fingers glide delicately across her pussy lips. Back and forth, gently like that he goes. Careful. Considerate. Practiced.

"You're so wet", Christopher says, a wedge of cotton caught inside my lips, as he teases my hole, the stub of his finger gliding back and forth across my slit, from my ass-hole up to the fat nub of swollen nerve endings that make out my clitoris. Every so often he teases at the edge of the fabric, the hem that traps my sex inside.

I can feel it crawling up my back. I can see it reflected in the charge bound up below me. There is a thin bead of sweat on her skin, rolling between the swollen mounds of tight sensitive skin that form her perfect breasts. Mine I take with my free hand. Out of the cup of my bra pops my hardened nipple. I squeeze it and feel a rush of energy bend my knee forwards.

My finger is at the edge of her pussy hole, and I can tell she is desperate for me to push it inside her. I tease it instead, nudging at the warm edges every so often but careful not to break inside. The longer I wait, the better it will be. She's just as wet as I am, just as horny. Christopher watches on, his cock throbbing against the tightened fabric of his boxer-shorts, a patch of pre-cum darkening the cotton where it hugs his form. I want it.

I want it in my mouth and in my hands. I want it inside me.

It's Christopher who takes off my panties. It's not because I've done it to her, nor because I've asked him. It's because he knows it's time. He doesn't take them all the way off either, but it's better like that. He lowers them to just above the knee, and I watch how excited it makes him to see the stickiness in the gusset hold them momentarily to my pink, swollen pussy lips. In return, I lean forward, and with him lifted up onto his knees, I pull his boxer shorts down and release his magnificent cock.

His finger slips inside me easily. Moistened by my cum, it penetrates easily into my ass-hole too. As he teases the toughened skin of my button tight anus, threatening every so often to dip his finger inside, and then finally, emphatically doing so, I nearly come.

His cock is thick, and almost impossibly hard. Pre-cum continues to ooze out of a hole big enough for me to push my tongue into. I lean over, rub him against my lips and do just that.

There are noises coming from her that sound like mild panic. Turned away, I could be forgiven for thinking there was a trapped animal in the room with us, wounded and near to death. It's amazing how close panic sounds to excitement. It's incredible the noises we make when we are on the edge of an orgasm.

Christopher could ram himself into my throat, but he doesn't. He's careful with his movements, happy to let me take control. He tastes incredible. His finger in my pussy is unbelievable. I'm on the edge and we've only just begun.

"It's time", Christopher says. "It's time for me to fuck her."

I pull myself off his cock, making sure to give it a damn good suck, just in case I don't get the chance again. With his hand still wrapped around my pussy, he turns to look at me. I see fire in his eyes, like he's been possessed. It's frightening and compelling all at once. It's like looking into the eye of the storm, knowing that in doing so you'll never see anything else, ever again. It'll rip you apart. Tear you from limb to limb. Change you. The most beautiful things in the world always do.

"Guide me", he commands, shuffling himself forwards, closer to her convulsing pussy. She has her eyes closed now. I like to think that if her arms weren't bound, one of them would be resting across her face, hiding them even further. I take Christopher's cock - his bone - and lead it towards her.

It feels like I'm connecting two lives. It feels like I'm the catalyst for this, that I'm greater than the sum of my parts. I tease him and I think he likes it. I rub him into her clitoris, and then I place him at the edge of her pussy hole, holding him back momentarily against the desire, or need, he has to push himself inside.

Then I let go, and I nearly come, watching him disappear inside her. She does her best to scream. I can tell she is tight, but Christopher is much more forceful. Any resistance he feels is quickly dealt with. I put one foot up on the bed and open myself up even further to him. As he stabs her with his swollen meat, I push my pussy down onto his hand, and feel two of his fingers drive themselves inside me.

His fat balls slap against her ass-hole. A sheen of cum sticks to his shaft, while the pink skin of her pussy clings around his pole like a fish's mouth. Every so often I touch him, just to make sure he is real. I grab at his cock, and I make him fuck my closed fist on the way to her hole.

I touch her too. I pull at her nipples, smack her ass and guide cum that drips down from her pussy hole into her tight little anus. With my finger fully inside her I can feel his cock. It encourages him too, because as soon as I've done it, he takes his fingers out of my pussy and jerks them up inside my ass-hole. It hurts a little. I'm tight like that, but I don't want him to stop. The pain just makes it better. I can tell that by the way he fucks her. I can tell by the way she pushes her pussy onto his cock, and the way she screams out for more.

When he's pounded her pussy to his liking, and she's seconds away from coming, he pauses, pulls deliberately out of her hole and stands there regarding her, with his free hand on his hip, his head bent slightly to the side and his cock throbbing so much it's moving up and down all by itself. The only thing he doesn't stop moving is the fat finger that's jammed inside my ass-hole.

"I'm going to fuck your ass-hole", he says. "Are you ready?"

It takes me a moment to realize who the question is directed at. A moment more to realize the question isn't really a question at all.

Christopher climbs off the bed. He moves in behind me, kicks my legs out and pushes me forwards.

I feel a hand on my back slide across the curvature of my spine. I feel his cock prod me insistently.

"Choke her", he says.

My deep breathing is not an adequate response.

"Put your hand around her neck and choke her", Christopher says again.

We are to her side, angled in the right way for me to lean forward and put my hand around her neck. Her throat feels softer than I expect it to. I dig my finger into the soft tissue under her jaw and squeeze. Her eyes pop open, the pupils wide.

A knee buckles into the bed, tilting me towards her slightly. Christopher rights me, spreads my legs as wide as they will go and pushes his thumb against my hole, testing my readiness.

I'm ready. I was ready for him from day one.

There is cum still on his cock from her pussy. I feel it sticky against my anus. When he pushes, I squeeze harder, the tips of my fingers turning white. Fuck I'm tight.

"Fuck you're tight", he says, echoing my thoughts. "Squeeze harder. Squeeze until you see her eyes turn red."

I squeeze. I open and I squeeze.

"Can you feel it?" he says. "The blood pumping. The life inside her. Can you feel the power?"

"Fuck", I say. "Fuck. I can feel it."

"What does it feel like?"

I feel him at the edge, circling. Insistent. Almost inside me now. Open up to him. Let him take you.

"It feels. Oh fuck, it feels so good."

She's choking, but I can't stop myself.

"Look at her", he says. "What do you see?"

"It's beautiful. It's so, beautiful."

I gasp, weak at the knees. I watch her pupils dilate, and feel my ass-hole open fully to him. He's inside me. All of him at once, adrenaline rushing through me. I can't stop. Fuck this feels so good. I'm flying and I can't stop. I can't come down. I feel it bubbling up through my skin, bursting out across me like electricity. I'm on fire. I'm alive in ways I never thought were possible. I'm taking her life. She's mine. Oh fuck, she's mine and I'm his.

His fingers all at once on my tits, on my pussy, on hers. Inside my anus with his cock, brutalizing me. Debasing me. I'm going to. Fuck. I'm going to come. I'm going to kill her.

It happens before I can stop it. It's all over me, tearing through me, ripping me to shreds. It's all I can do to hold on. I'm everywhere and nowhere all at once. I'm alive. I'm so alive.

And then when I look up again, when I come to. When he's come too, there is blood rushing to the floor, swelling into the bed sheets and the sheepskin rug, dripping through the fat slats between the floorboards and I'm sat beside her, watching her eyes go glassy, the bone handled knife in my hand.

Bone is sat next to me, stroking my hair, his cock still hard.

"It's so beautiful", I say again. "So beautiful."

And that's the moment I know the truth.

C
larity is an incredible thing.

I know what you probably think about me. That I’m fucked up, I’m a real freak. That there is no place in society for someone like me. I’m a killer, a murderer, I’m scum, the lowest of the low. I’ve crossed the line no-one should ever cross. I’ve killed someone in cold blood, someone who didn’t ask for it. An innocent girl who could have had her whole life in front of her. Who should have.

I don’t have any answers for you. Any insults you level at me are going to be true. It’s taking me a while to realize what it is I’ve actually done. It still feels strange, unreal, but if I’m being honest with you, the one thing it doesn’t feel is wrong.

I’ve been searching for purpose my whole life and until Christopher came along, I never had anything even remotely close.

I guess you think he’s brainwashed me too. That I wouldn’t have done what I did without him, without Bone. The one thing I can be absolutely certain of is that I wouldn’t have had the opportunity. Bone didn’t make me kill her, I took care of that myself. It’s always been inside me, I just didn’t know where to look before. This obsession that’s been my whole life, this need to surround myself with death and destruction, I’ve just been feeding a hunger, or maybe, what’s really been happening is that I’ve been pretending I’m not really starving at all.

I giggle like a maniac as I watch blood drip from the cut I’ve left in her body, my own still fuzzy and warm where Bone was moments ago.

They were all right.

There is no better feeling than killing, and perhaps I knew that all along.

M
aude is an absolute natural. Bone knew she would be and I have to defer to his expertize in these matters. She could have bolted like a frightened rabbit, but she didn’t. She took the knife, she placed it underneath the poor girls armpit, she listened to instruction in the fog of sexual ecstasy and she dragged that sharpened blade so hard across her skin she nearly cut her arm off completely.

She’s still bouncing about the room while I remove the bone from the dead girl’s wrist, questions flying from her mouth like bubbles from a fresh spring.

I wonder if the first was the same for me. I wonder if I was this excited. I envy her a little. The rawness of that emotion, the preciousness of the first time.

When I have the bone I want, I clean the blade of the knife on the blanket and begin to get dressed.

“When are we doing the next one?” Maude asks, before I’ve even had a chance to pull my trousers up.

She’s watching the dead girl, her eyes thick with emotion, the corpse frigid and cold.

I put my hand on her shoulder, squeeze her neck tightly enough that she places her hand on top of mine.

“When we are both ready.”

She’ll go through a range of emotions. It’s like a drug this business.  Now she’s experiencing a wave of excitement but later she’ll have the come down. She’ll cry, she’ll deny it, she’ll wonder if it happened at all and then she’ll need to do it again. It’s the cycle of addiction. You get your fix but it only lasts a while.

She can’t take her eyes off the girl.

“Fuck me before we leave”, she asks, her breath heavy and slow. “Fuck me while I look at her. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

O
ne year later...

A
fter that first time, after I met Bone and he showed me what he wanted from me, we couldn’t stop. I couldn’t pull myself away from it, even if deep down I knew I shouldn’t be doing what I was.

The beauty of the art became the justification for the killing, and it still is. I can’t deny that. I can’t lie to you and tell you it’s not beautiful and it’s not necessary and people don’t have to die, because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been involved in and in order for it to continue, there have to be sacrifices.

There is no-one that understands that more than Christopher. I have come to understand that Bone isn’t so much a completely different personality as an artistic creation devised by Christopher as a way to justify what it is he does. Bone and Christopher are the same person and I love both of them equally.

We are working hard to complete the project that Bone has set for us. After tonight, if all goes to plan, we will have both entire arms finished and the police still have no fucking clue. They think these are copycat killings because they differ in style to the original twenty seven. Garimund, as a result, is still on death row.