Razing Grace: Razing Grace Part 1 (5 page)

His tongue darts out of his mouth slowly as he flicks the tip of it over my clit. A loud muffled scream rips out of me before I can stop it and it wasn’t a lady-like scream; it was downright embarrassing, but the deep roar that quivers over my heat turns off all thoughts. This feels good. He swirls my clit with his tongue, and my eyes shut out, blocking out everything in view. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as my mind attempts to fight off the very thing my body wants. One finger presses inside of me as he continues to lick, suck, and ravish me. It’s all too much. A build begins to climb deep inside, my hips lifting to meet his mouth involuntarily and a growl vibrating against my clit. His licking pauses as his finger continues to stroke inside of my walls. Every time his finger rubs, it hits a soft cushion that sends bolts of pleasure flashing through my veins.

“Look at me, pet.”

I want to scream in frustration as sweat beads on my forehead. I want this. I need to have more. No, you don’t. Tears descend from my eyes as the climb my body is experiencing deepens. A sharp pinch clamps my inner thigh and I yelp out in surprise, yet his strokes continue.

“Did you bite me?” I ask breathlessly, my eyes rolling to the back of my head and my hips rising to meet his fingers desperately. I need his mouth back down there, and I need it now.

“This is nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you come my day,” his stroking continues. “I’m going to make you come until you’re within an inch of your life, and then, when you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t possibly take any more, I’ll have you gushing down my throat once more. I’ll rub my cock all over your wet slit until you fucking beg me to fuck you filthy, pet. And I will. I will fuck you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t know what fucking life you’re living. I’ll fuck the damn holy out of you and make you fucking scream to the angels as you enjoy it.” Pausing, he brings his mouth back down to my clit, blowing softly over my now swollen and pleading nub until I buck off the ground shamelessly. “I’ll fucking ruin you, pet. I’ll fuck every single inch of your flawless skin and corrupt it.” His mouth drops to my clit and I scream out again at finally feeling what I’ve wanted, what I’ve craved. Chains shatter behind my shut lids as my limbs jolt and my entire body convulses from the euphoric rapture which has exploded throughout me.

He stands to his feet as I lay there with my back to the cold concrete floor. He points to the bucket as I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling and the waves of the aftershock of whatever just happened come through me. “That… is what it’s like to come, pet. Don’t fucking lie to me again.” He walks back out of the barred cell and I bring my legs up to my chest, clutching them protectively around myself. What just happened? What’s happening? What’s going on? Why am I slowly losing myself to these people? I’m weak.

I’ve sinned. I’m bad. I’ve let the darkness penetrate my existence and I’ve relished in it.

TRIPP

“Day 3”

My knee jiggles under the heavy wooden table. To the left, I catch Joker watching me carefully. “Why are you jittery?” His eyes narrow in a way that’s suspicious and I instantly begin to imagine what it would be like if I tore them from their sockets.

“I’m not.” My jaw clenches as my face tilts to the side and I drag my eyes over his body, causing him to shuffle in his seat. Pulling out a cigarette from his hoodie pocket, he places it into his mouth while keeping his eyes on me. The flame flicks from his zippo as I watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke.

“Angel has her today. What’s your take on her, man? You’ve said nothing about her while everyone else is raving about her.” He flicks the ash from his cigarette and I absently watch as it slowly free falls through the air before landing on the concrete floor.

“Have I ever raved about any girl that has walked through these doors?” I reply, my tone bored. “She’s just another case we have to work, J. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.”

The door that leads down to the dungeon opens and closes from the other side of the room as Soulless walks through towards the kitchen, taking his mask off his face and placing it on top of the table. We’re from different walks of life. Joker, who wears the red ghost mask, is agent 306. He was born here, like me, but just in a different rank. Soulless, who wears the black mask, is agent 166. A recruit. He was blacklisted at age twelve after Kurr read his medical report after his parents checked him into a psych ward. He’s not all there in the head, but he’s a fucking great asset to have. White mask is Angel. His agent number is 246, and he has family history with The Army. Blue mask is Viking, or just King. He’s agent 222. And then there’s Royal who wears the gold mask. He’s agent 211. Again, in for family. This is who we are, all of us, but the majority of our time is spent outside of these walls. It’s why we wear the masks. Kurr knew a long time ago that this was how he wanted to play it. But the names we go by are the only names we’re allowed to know of each other. It’s kind of like a nine-to-five job except for Joker, who lives here. We all have our own cabins that sit at the back of the main house for when we are around just to keep all the shit we need.

“She fucking purrs,” Soulless chuckles, running his fingers through his dark hair.

“Purrs?” Joker teases, leaning back in his chair. “Man, no. You ain’t hitting it right. She fucking roared for me.”

My eyes shot back to Joker as I stifle back a growl.

Pushing my chair back, I stand to all my six foot five inches. “Where’s Angel?”

Their smiles pause as they both bring their eyes up to mine. Joker sucks on his cancer stick and Soulless smirks at me.

“He’s warming up. He has some fucking games planned for that girl.”

Amateurs, they’re all fucking amateurs. Joker is the youngest out of us all. Kurr had us strategically picked to be young and fit. We all have a strict workout and food intake schedule as well. King is the oldest at thirty-six. I walk to the metal door and slide it open before walking out to find Kurr.

MILLIE

The cell door opens with a jolt and I scoot towards the concrete wall, pulling my knees up to my chest while the little hairs on my arms come to life. It’s day three. Who was day three?

A shadow crosses the room covered in a white cloak and my hand flies up to my mouth to stifle my sob. He places something onto the old stained mattress that lays in the corner and then turns to face me, his expression remaining stoic, covered by the rim of his white hood, but the glow from his white mask blinding. His mask is all white, except for a single red tear drop which sits under his eye.

He points to the pile of clothes he just placed on the mattress. “Get dressed.” His voice is dominating, yet it isn’t rough like Tripp’s. It isn’t playful like Joker, either. It somehow falls in the middle.

I push up to my feet, clutching the blanket in my hand, and walk towards the mattress. His chest rises and falls under the thick cotton of his white cloak-like-jersey as his body stands quiet, waiting, watching like a predator studying his prey. I avert my eyes down to the bed and collect the fish net stockings, tight black underwear—which, I’m guessing, go over the top of the stockings—and a little black lace bra. When I think I have everything that I’ll be needing, a white bundle catches my eye that is sitting under the bra. Skimming my fingertips over the prickling silk of feathers, my eyes close softly.

“Wings?” I ask, gently picking them up and slipping my arms through the loops.

His silence is deafening and uncomfortable, so I decide to quickly get changed. After being naked for almost twenty-four hours, I’ll welcome anything that passes as clothing. Even if they don’t.

He doesn’t answer. The only sound that breaks through is the zipping of him undoing his hoodie. Swallowing, I step into the stockings, one foot at a time, before getting into the little black lace underwear. I shuffle on the bra just as his hoodie drops to the ground and I’m awarded with a body any model would worship. His loose dark denim jeans hang off him, displaying the rim of his Calvin Klein briefs which are strapped around his waist.

“Take your hair out.” He unhooks his belt buckle and drops it to the floor.

“What are you going to do with me?” My whisper sounds defeated, weak.

He walks towards me, wearing nothing but his low cut jeans and his white mask. Every muscle moves when he does, flexing under each flicker of motion. His hand traces over the back of my neck before he pulls me into him. His touch is soft, but not enough that I would say he himself is. Running the tip of his nose down my jaw line, up under my ear, he inhales deeply. “Anything I want.”

My bottom lip begins to tremble before I catch it in my teeth. His warm breath trickles over my cheek, leaving the scent of mint behind, and warm lips glide over the thin flesh of my neck, sending goosebumps to break out everywhere. “You want it, give up now.”

My eyes drift closed as I tilt my head, before realizing that I had shown an inkling that I liked it. His deep chuckle vibrates against my chest. I swallow. “You want what you want, Millie.” His hands float over my nipples, down my tensed torso, and over my clit. His fingers slip between my folds before sinking one inside of me. “You wanna be fucked by an angel?”

My eyes slowly open and find his instantly, deep blue depths, the color of the Atlantic Ocean, and just like the Atlantic Ocean, there’s ice in his stare. Up close, I notice that it isn’t a teardrop which sits under his eye, but a red cross sitting upside down. It’s the sign of the Antichrist, and my skin crawls at the proximity of him.

“I’ll tell you something, nun, the devil doesn’t come as himself.” He steps towards me until my back collides with the wall. His hands wrap around my thighs, picking me up from the ground and wrapping my legs around his waist. Dropping his head into the crook of my neck, the slick tip of his tongue snakes over my prominent collarbone. “He comes as an angel.” Grinding his groin into me, the soft feathers of the angel wings thrust over my back. “Mmmm,” he growls deep in the crook of my neck. “There’s one hundred different ways I can make you feel thoroughly fucked without actually fucking you.”

He drops me back to my feet and I swallow, my palms pressing against the cold dead concrete wall. Gripping onto my wrists, he spins me around so my chest is now pressing against the wall and my back is to his front. His foot slips between my legs, kicking each of them wide, and stretching me out. Wrapping my hair around his fist, he jolts my head back until my scalp stings from my hair being ripped from their roots. I clench my eyes closed.

“I can make you feel as dirty on the inside as you look on the outside.” Spinning me around to face him again, his hands wrap around the back of my thighs as he lifts me off the ground. Dropping my hands to his shoulders, my chest contracts and my limbs feel as though they’re falling apart. I can feel myself slowly lose grip on my sanity. Slowly, each and every single part of who I was and what I knew, would soon mean nothing.

“Let me see you,” I manage to squeeze out in the middle of my fear.

He laughs, dropping me back to the ground. “Tsk tsk, that’s never been done.” He begins stepping backwards until he’s directly under the string that hangs from the light. Reaching up, he pulls. My vision is cut and darkness fills the cell.

“What’re you doing?” I whisper into the inky obscurity, shuffling in my spot. I feel his body press against mine again with nothing in our silence but the soft whispering of our breaths. His warm lips cascade over mine softly, sending tingles under my skin. He took his mask off. His skin is smooth and his lips feel pouty.

“This, me, you…” he begins, his groin pressing into me. “Is about you… nothing else, no one else.” He pauses, the softness of his cheeks sliding over mine ever so gently.

Smooth, his skin is so damn smooth. He takes my hand in his and presses my palm against his hard chest before sliding it down his front gently. Inch by inch, the muscles sitting under his skin lumps over my palm. My hand glides down his chest and a sob escapes me again. I’m at a crossroads inside my head, and I don’t know which way is right. I’m losing touch with what is good and what is evil. I feel as though I’m standing in front of a furnace as it slowly heats my skin, and if I stand there too long, I’ll burst into flames—but I can’t move and I don’t think I want to.

He continues his torture, placing me on the ground where his fingers grip around the outside of my thighs and his warm tongue slithers over my most sensitive part. My back arches at the invasion as my mind screams with falling tears and my body throbs with need. His tongue presses against me, licking my clit with not just the tip, but with his whole tongue. My fingers grip onto the cold cement floor.