Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 44

44

IICYIFY

Ivory

I’ll never admit to Rio that some days I think he was right, that I should have moved in with him and that I definitely should have let him handle Benedikt. By the time Halloween rolls around, we have a routine, and it’s exhausting.

Well, for me it is.

I wake up at his place , head to the bakery, then rush to my apartment after, repack a bag, and go back to the penthouse. Over and over again, every single day. I’m ready to just be, to not have to worry about Benedikt, and my father, and this ridiculous arrangement. For us to be able to go out and live rather than be holed up in Rio’s castle in the sky.

Two more weeks. Just two more weeks.

Clicking on Rio’s name, I set the phone to my ear and lock the door to my apartment. He answers on the second ring.

“Petal.”

“Sooo, I left the candy bowl outside my door with a note to take one. You think some little asshole is gonna grab all the candy?”

“Why would you do that?” He snorts a laugh. “And the answer to your question is yes. I was that little asshole once upon a time, remember?”

“Terror. You were an absolute terror,” I correct him, hustling down two flights of stairs. “I’m on my way, by the way. Just leaving now.”

“I’ll be here, baby girl. I need a cold shower after that video you sent me. Which by the way, I was with my brothers when it came in. Thanks for the audio warning…”

My halo clatters to the ground as shiny red horns pierce through my scalp. I’m not wearing a costume, per se, but it’s very Morticia Addams if her dress was shorter. Black fishnets, chunky pumps, my normally waved hair pin straight. The video I sent him was me in front of the mirror, knees spread, in only the fishnets.

No panties.

No bra.

Nothing.

Doing very inappropriate things.

If we can’t go out in the world to do spooky season shit, I’m still making the most out of one of my favorite holidays.

“You need anything while I’m still on the road?” I purr, purposely forgoing a reply about the video .

“Nope, just you. Hurry up. I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs huskily, curling my lips in excitement.

“Say less, baby. I’ll be there soon.”

When I let myself into the penthouse twenty minutes later, I’m greeted by silence and only the kitchen light to illuminate the way. Dropping my bags by the door, I head for the light source, fully expecting to find Rio leaned up against one of the dark marble counters, but it’s empty. The only things that stand out are the two empty glasses sitting beside a bottle of wine and two boxes of pizza. One from my spot and the other from Papa Gino’s.

“Crow!” I call out around a smirk, pouring myself a generous amount of the Sauvignon. “I’m here!”

No response.

Not a verbal one anyway.

Deliberate steps reverberate from the hallway, widening my smirk around the rim of my glass. Tonight is gonna be good. Riling Rio up throughout the day always ensures the beast will come out to play at night. Throw in a picture or a quick video? I’m dead— in all the best ways possible. He’s gonna wreck me, then tell me I’m pretty and feed me pizza, and I’m here for it.

Ready, on the other hand, not so much. I thought I was, but what I find upon cranking my head toward the shadow filling my distant peripheral, leaves me an instant mess. My lungs fill to capacity as my heart rate skyrockets, and my knees threaten to buckle. The BookTok baddies would melt right along with me…

Masked man.

In the house .

Shirtless? Check.

Tattooed? Check, check.

A chain, maybe a few rings. Triple check.

Every step toward me precise and calculated?

Yuuup.

He’s in that damn Ghostface mask again, too, and this time, my stomach flutters with nothing but excitement. Draining the wine, I push the glass away and remain perfectly-fucking-still as he closes in, my pulse wild beneath my neck. I nearly whimper when he slides the biggest blade free from the knife block and towers over me, holding the tip to my neck.

“Surprise…” I can hear that sinister grin of his. “ Wanna play psycho killer?” he rasps—just like he did that night.

I love this man.

“No, please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface…” I quote Scream with a grin of my own, slithering my palms up his chest as my lips stamp their way up his neck. “I wanna be in the sequel.”

Rio chuckles darkly and threads a rough hand in my hair, tugging me to one side as the knife dances along the column of my neck. “You better listen, and you better listen really fucking good, pretty girl… You get a thirty second head start.”

I’m internally freaking out here, thrilled we get a redo of him in this mask, and turned the fuck on that he took notes on what I was reading and seized the opportunity. “Head start for what?”

“To run,” he growls .

“And what happens if you catch me?” I bite into my lip as that visual takes hold…

“If I catch you, I fuck you.” His grasp on my roots tightens, acting as the perfect leverage for him to haul me against him. “And nothing about it will be gentle. Clock starts now.”

Despite the fact he releases me, I don’t move, vibrating in anticipation beneath the hard lines of his body. What I want to do is lift myself onto the counter and let him take me right here, right now, but how often is my masked man fantasy really going to happen?

“You’re down ten seconds. I’d get moving if I was you,” he warns. “Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen…” On fifteen, he digs the knife in a smidge deeper, and I’m transported back to teenage me on the desk, him between my legs telling me how badly he wanted to hear me scream for him.

I want to recreate that.

Just with a more… satisfying ending.

Kicking off my pumps, I push Rio as far back as I can manage and book it for the stairs—hardly an easy task in fishnets. I slip and slide all over the tiles, taking full advantage of the railing before I fall and bust my entire ass. When I reach the landing, I hear him belting out the last five seconds and cut to the right, straight into the darkened corridor. I’ve only come up here a handful of times, but I know exactly where I’m going, sealing a hand around the designated knob just as his thumping steps resound from the staircase.

Knowing he’s seconds away from getting his hands on me is as exhilarating as if I had run out the front door and made him go on a wild goose chase through every floor in the building until he found me. My entire being quakes as I flip the lock in place and rush through the moonlit space, feeling around for chairs and the low lying coffee table in the center.

The sounds of him checking every room filters down the hall. Doors opening, the stomps of his feet, furniture scraping, the deadbolt clicking past the latch plate in each door when he exits.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Silence.

He’s there. He’s right there . The doorknob jiggles seconds later, and the loud thump that follows draws an unceremoniously excited shrill from my throat. The next one slams louder still, sending my heart into overdrive as I press myself to the desk and death-grip the edge. The third comes with a snap, and on the fourth, the door flies open, breaking past the lock.

“Gotcha,” he growls, a flash of light glinting off the blade.

I’m wet, I have to be, trembling more and more with every single pace toward me. And yes, I’m feeling every bit the main character energy right now. Hell, mentally, I’m not even me right now. I’m a girl in a book, and he’s the demented masked man about to fuck me into oblivion before carving his name into my skin.

Maybe even kill me if he has the irredeemable villain arc .

By the time Rio closes what remains of the distance, I’m already hopping onto the desk, spreading my legs for him without hesitation. My dress rides up with the motion like a paid actor, revealing netted thighs—and no panties.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Rio drags the peak of the knife along my thigh, almost ripping my stockings in the process. “Showing up here with no panties? Such a fucking slut for me.” The way he emphasizes that word , confident and so deliciously dirty, combined with the knife and the mask has me out of my right mind.

I spread my legs wider in response and lean back onto my elbows, staring into the soulless eyes of the mask.

“You want to get fucked, don’t you?” he asks gruffly, bending down enough to lift the mask over his lips and and flick his tongue against me.

If it weren’t for the fishnets, he would’ve gone straight through my pussy lips.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Hard.”

Rio does that knowing, appeased hum and eases away, carefully catching the crotch of the stockings onto the blade. A simple flick of his wrist and they tear open, the telling rip loud within the silence of the room. “Hard doesn’t cover what I have planned for you. Don’t fucking move.”

He dives right back in, alternating between expertly lapping at my clit and applying the hoover suck. Out of instinct I reach out to grab his hair but am met with the smooth material of the mask. I whine softly, damn well needing the support while I watch him eat me out, especially when the knife glints just beneath his mouth and the cool, ridged handle finds its way inside me. I should be terrified; there’s a fucking knife inside me and yet…

“Oh fuck… Yes,” I moan, my head lolling back of its own accord as he maneuvers it in and out. “That feels good.”

Rio immediately withdraws and slaps my cunt so hard, a guttural moan breaks through the silence as he replaces the blade’s handle with two intent fingers and slips his mask back in place. “You want the whore treatment tonight, huh? You want me to fuck you like a slut, to spit on this pretty little pussy, abuse it, slap you up while I stuff my cock in every hole and call you a good girl, don’t you?”

Yes.

“Yes, yes to all of it. Have your wicked way with me. Make me scream.”

“Mmm. You know how much I love that,” he coos menacingly, crooking those two digits against that spot. “Go on then, do it now. Scream for me, Ivory. Beg me to fuck you like the dirty little bitch you are.”

“Oh God, Rio. Please.” I’m on pure fire right now, aching to feel him inside me. Clearly, he’s not the only one who’s unhinged. I’ve got a few screws loose myself, drenched and needy under the sacrilegious spell of degradation.

He’s the only man I ever allowed such filth from.

“That’s not loud enough, baby. That’s not even what I wanna hear. I said beg, bitch,” he grits out, the tip of the blade reappearing against my neck .

“Fuck me,” I whimper, scooting myself as close to his hand as possible. “Right here on the desk.”

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it? Can't hear you over how wet this pussy is.”

“Put your cock inside me and fuck me, please.”

“I think I heard cock in there.” That dark chuckle returns, the tempo of his fingers increasing maddeningly. “What was that?”

“Use me,” I moan. “Be the old Rio, the vicious one who didn’t give a fuck. Choke me til I pass out. Fuck me like you hat?—”

One second my dress is there.

The next it’s not.

I don’t even see the blade slice it in half, only hearing the material split apart and feel it give way, leaving me exposed. The knife clanks somewhere beside me, then the jingle of his belt, followed by the zipper. Fisting his cock, he slaps my pussy one, two, three times—and then he’s in.

All the way in.

Stealing every last bit of my breath as the head rams into the deepest part of me. “You’re gonna hear colors, taste visions, and see a rainbow of flavors by the time I’m done with you tonight, you hear me? Hell, you might even meet God…” Slam. “Or the devil—whichever one your incoherent brain conjures first.”

“I… Oh fuck…” I’m done. I’m already done, arching into every single one of his thrusts as he lays me against the desk and sets one of my fishnet-clad legs to his chest.

The leverage is insane .

He goes full gas and aims his spit at my clit, rubbing it in. “God, this pussy feels so good.”

“And it’s so yours,” I remind him—not that he needs the reminder. “All yours.”

“Damn right it’s mine. Mine to use, mine to defile, mine to destroy,” he grunts, roughly grabbing one of my tits, the pinch to my nipple rolling my eyes to the back of my skull. “So wet, so warm, so fucking tight.”

His groans. God, his groans. So deep and muffled from the mask yet somehow still deliciously loud—the soundtrack of every girl’s wet dream. “Keep moaning for me like that and I’m gonna come,” I warn him. “I can’t take it.”

I can’t. It’s too damn sexy, shooting me to the precipice faster than I can brace for impact.

“That’s all right, ’cause I’m about to blow. Get on your knees and open your fucking mouth.” Hand flying to my hair, he whips me off the desk and strokes his cock furiously as I heed his command.

Unfurling my tongue for him, I stare up at him towering above me with nothing but that mask in place, his chain flashing against the sliver of light. He must like his view from up there because with one last tug, he explodes on a hellish roar. The first hot spurt blasts against my lip. The next few on my tongue. The last one, though, spans from my cheek to my forehead.

Swallow it,” he demands.

I do, making a show of showing him my clean tongue after the fact before latching a hand onto his still bobbing cock and locking my lips around him.

Rio hisses on contact, dropping his head back as his fingers strangle the roots of my hair. I think I get three bobs in, maybe four and a swirl of my tongue along the shaft before he’s popping me off and dragging a thick digit down my face to collect his cum and shove it in my mouth.

The salty tang of his release explodes over my taste buds all over again, spreading the inferno already raging inside me. I lick him clean, proudly, moaning when he inserts a second finger. Both slide further and further to the back of my throat until I gag. Or actually, not , because he keeps going. My gag reflex engages again, then a third time before I’m coughing, sputtering, stray tears leaking free as streams of drool drip from the corners of my mouth.

“You filthy fucking whore,” he growls, withdrawing and yanking me into my feet. “So desperate for my cum and then some, aren’t you?”

A nod and a salacious smile is all I can manage, earning me a close-range slap to my pussy that draws a guttural moan from deep within my core . There’s something seriously wrong with me, I know—but I don’t care. I love when he’s rough, when he manhandles me and doesn’t hold back, when he’s messy and dirty and uses my body in all the ways we both crave.

“Face down against the desk, one leg up. I’m nowhere near done yet.” he instructs, pushing me toward the surface.

I do as I’m told and press myself to the polished surface, faintly registering the way he shuffles behind me for several moments. He’s up to something, but before I can glance over my shoulder, he slides his cock between my pussy lips. It feels so damn good I almost line him up myself and push onto it, grinding against him as the thick crown rubs against my clit with every shallow thrust.

“Good-fucking-girl, that’s it. Keep my cock warm.” The snap of a plastic cap rents the air and then a cool glob hits the crack of my ass. “Play with your clit while I work on this tiny little hole.”

Lube.

My eyes bulge.

I have no words, none, snaking a hand between my legs and squeezing my eyes shut in anticipation. Half of me is nervous as all hell, that part of me still unchartered, but as his thumb deftly works the thick liquid into my ass, skimming the rim a few rounds, I fall captive to the heavenly sensation just as he dips inside. Combined with my own ministrations, I’m on the fast track to shattering into thousands of pieces here soon. “Oh, God, that feels too good,” I breathe out.

“Wait til it’s my cock,” he purrs, repeating the same pattern over and over again.

Priming me.

Stretching me.

His fingers I can take… but his dick? This soon? “It won’t fit. There’s no way.” My legs quake just thinking about it.

“I’ll make it fit, don’t worry.” Two digits then replace his thumb, stretching me wider. “Keep playing with that clit, baby girl. Just relax. You’re doing so fucking good for me.”

I do, like my life depends on it, feeding off his praise… An d then without warning, the tip of his cock pushes inside.

I see Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and every shade of the holy trinity. I taste the colors he promised, hear the visions he threatened. “Fuck!” I cry out, both clawing at the desk and bolstering myself against it at the same damn time.

It burns—so fucking badly, but when he slides the rest of the ways in, pushing past the initial resistance, pain morphs into euphoria.

“Jesus fuck, it’s so tight,” he groans, holding me down against the desk with a hand at my cheek as he picks up the pace.

“So tight,” I whine. “So full.”

“Mmm. Full like the nasty little slut you are. Get over here.”

With a slap to my ass, he grabs my throat and arches me back into him like it takes zero effort on his part. Just props me right where he wants me and wails on me. The angle change alone has me yelping out again, bracing my head against his chest.

But his strokes? Wild and brutal, delivered without an ounce of restraint?

I’m screaming.

Clawing at his arms.

Forced into place as he holds me against him and hits the gas again.

“Yes, yes. Take it. Fucking take it.” Every word comes feverishly, growled, his grip on my throat tightening. “Take that fucking cock.”

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t speak. Growing more and more lightheaded with every single thrust. Any harder and I might pass out.

“Look at you smiling. You love this shit, don’t you?”

I do, but I still can’t answer, and all the more now because I’m right there, about to hit the crest of my orgasm and fall apart.

Which is exactly what he wants.

His fingers.

My clit.

It’s over for me. Between that, his dick, breath play, and his filthy mouth—stimulation overload. I’ve never come so hard in my life. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I thought nothing could top coming so hard you squirt.

I was wrong.

This is otherworldly, tearing through my body so violently, I’m sure the penthouse across the hall can hear my screams.

Rio’s right behind me, stilling on a volatile roar as he empties himself deep inside me. “So good, baby. You did so good,” he praises, smooshing me against the desk as he collapses on top of me. “Such a good girl.”

Or at least, I think that’s what he said. Everything’s warbled together at this point. And the last thing I remember before I somehow end up on the couch with a slice of pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, is him saying something about a cream pie being the best treat in his candy bag.