Alena’s Revenge by K.A Knight
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alena
The spare clothes come in handy. When we get back to the car, I rip off my ruined trousers and wipe the cum and blood away as best as I can. Idris drives off into the night as I stretch into the back, my stomach twinging as I grab more clothes and slip into them commando. He hands my knife over as he manoeuvres the vehicle. I wipe it clean and sigh, a smile on my face as he cranks up the heat.
“Who’s next?” I ask.
He smiles and turns the wheel, drifting around a corner. “I’ve already picked. Spider texted me, he’s close.”
I shrug and watch the roads as we speed from the scene. He weaves through the evening traffic, and before long, we pull up into a multistorey parking garage. He takes us nearly all the way to the top to a darkened, closed in floor. The lights flicker overhead, providing hardly any illumination, and the sunlight doesn’t reach this far. This level is mostly empty, filled with a few expensive Mercs.
He stops in the corner and gets out.
I follow, and he heads over to a silver Audi in the corner, checking the reg before pulling a key from his pocket and pushing it. It doesn’t look like a normal key though, and he sees my expression. “I have my tricks.” He smirks and opens the back door. “In.” He gestures.
I crawl in, and he spanks me on the way before following after. He sits low in the back seat, a gun ready in his hand as he shuts the door and gets comfy. His eyes close as he leans his head back against the headrest.
“What now?” I question.
“Now?” he murmurs, turning his head and opening one eye. “We wait. Sleep while you can.”
He relaxes back, and the car is silent. I look around, but I decide fuck it. He’s right, I’m tired, and I may as well nap while we wait. Curling into the seat, I press my cheek to the expensive leather seat and close my eyes.
I’m asleep before I can even count to five.
* * *
I wake warm and comfy.I crack open an eye to find my head pressed against his chest. His arm is around me, and my hands are clutching his shirt.
He’s unmoving and silent, his chest rising and falling slowly. He’s asleep. I take the moment to run my gaze over his face. The old, faded scars make me ache to reach out and touch them. I wouldn’t dare while he was awake, since he would probably throw me from the car or shoot me, but something about the peace, the silence on his face, has me reaching up. Darting my eyes between his closed ones and his cheek, I slowly reach towards it. Before my fingers can even make contact, he grabs my wrist tightly, grinding the bones until I gasp.
His eyes open, and his breathing never changes as his head slowly turns. Idris’s dark eyes lock on me as his lips tilt down. “What are you doing?” he rumbles in warning, his deep, gravelly tone sending a shockwave of lust straight to my pussy.
“I just wanted to touch you,” I murmur. He watches me, unblinking, squeezing tighter and tighter until I think he might break my wrist, but then he suddenly lets go. The shock of it makes my hand drop. Not once does he look away, but his eyes are guarded and his body is tense, like he’s expecting me to try and kill him or hurt him as I inch closer.
Poor man.
If all you know is pain, you begin to expect it from everyone. It becomes easier to be guarded, to never be vulnerable. I see it in his eyes—the lack of trust.
The anticipation for the blow.
Humans are such fragile creatures. Our bodies can withstand damage, but it’s our hearts, our minds that bear the scars, even after the bones have set and the skin has healed. And Boogeyman? His mind is filled with scars, a thousand tiny cuts. All reminders of what humans are capable of.
For some reason, I want to change that, I want to heal one of those wounds to prove we aren’t all bad. To offer even a semblance of peace to this man who helped bring me back from the brink and gave me everything I needed.
Wanted.
I may be damaged. I may be crazy and fucked up. I may never have a normal life again, or find love and happiness, but that doesn’t mean all of the old me is gone. There are hints of her, of the woman who used to volunteer at the dog shelter every weekend, who brought food to the homeless shelter, who would smile and pay for someone’s bill if they were struggling. The darkness they injected into me with each blow, each act of violation and degradation, can only infect so much.
Even the night has glimmers of light, like the stars lighting up the dark.
I move my hand slowly so I don’t spook him, acting as I would with the abused, untrusting dogs they brought in. I always went to the ones who were labelled as biters and broken beyond repair. No animal or human is. You simply have to be patient, kind, and willing to get bit, but when they trust you, when they open up and show you what’s beneath all that anger…
Hate.
Pain.
There is such love, such kindness and devotion, it makes it all worthwhile. I wonder if he’s the same, or is my assassin dark to the core? I don’t think he is, although he’s no saint. His hands are covered in so much blood that I bet he can almost see it, his soul stained from the crimes he’s committed. Yet I see glimpses of something more. Like when he took the pain away from me, or when he let me kill my torturer or saved me from Donald and the doctor. Like now, as he waits silently, unmoving, to give me what I want, even though it might hurt him.
I touch his skin, and he jerks slightly before holding still. I scan his face to make sure he’s okay before running the very tips of my fingers across his cheek, feeling the raised edges of his scars. “They feel like mine,” I whisper as I lower my touch to the edge of his jaw line, noticing one runs completely across it. “What happened?”
“I was captured deep in the jungle and held in a war camp. They tried to skin me,” he murmurs, holding still as I trace my nail across it and then up his chin to his lips. They part slightly, and his warm breath brushes against my skin as I run my fingers across the plump softness. My gaze rises to his to see he’s watching me, his eyes darkening with desire.
I freeze, both of us unmoving, just caught in each other’s gazes.
We burst into movement. My hands clasp his face, and our lips smash together as he groans. I swallow it down before getting to my knees on the expensive leather seats, gripping his cheeks as I kiss him. He grabs my hips and drags me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. My hips roll, rubbing across his hardening cock as I whimper into his talented mouth. His hand reaches for my trousers, yanking them open as his fingers dive inside of them. He cups my wet pussy as I rub against him, back and forth until he pulls away from my mouth.
“You have ten seconds to get naked and on my dick,” he growls out.
My eyes widen, and he smirks.
“Ten.”
Fuck. I leap from his lap, desperately yanking at my pants as he leans back and opens his jeans as he watches me. “Nine.”
I get my trousers down, but I almost fall trying to get them over my boots. “Eight,” he murmurs as he strokes his cock. “Seven.”
I finally get them off and straddle him again. “Six, five, four, three, two, one,” I offer as I grab his cock and slam down on it.
He groans as I hiss, working him into me. I only get a few inches before I have to lift and drop again. I grab the headrest, digging my nails in to gain leverage as I grind and lift. His eyebrow arches. “Are you on my cock, Alena?” he challenges dangerously. I whimper, even as I shake my head.
“I’m trying,” I reply as I drop farther down, getting him halfway in. “I’m not wet enough, and you’re too big,” I defend.
He narrows his eyes, letting me know he’s not pleased with my answer as his hand comes up. I watch with rapt fascination, speared on his cock, as he spits into his palm and then reaches down. I rise, and he covers his cock in his saliva before shoving his fingers inside of me alongside his cock, making me groan in both pain and ecstasy as my eyes close.
He stretches me before pulling his fingers free, and then he grabs my hips and slams me down, making me cry out as he bottoms out. The flash of pain fades when he starts to move, thrusting up and grunting as he does. Our breaths mix as the car starts to steam up, rocking with the force of our movements as he fucks me hard and fast.
I’m oblivious to everything other than him—the feeling of his thick shaft piercing me, his huge hands gripping me harshly, his scent invading my nostrils.
He suddenly pulls me off, spins me, and slams me back down on his cock. My eyes fly open, looking through the partition of the seats and the front window, but he just carries on fucking me leisurely, hard, and fast, like he has all the time in the world.
I relax back, rolling my hips to meet his thrusts, wetter than ever now as pleasure flows through me. Like a circuit, back and forth, making me wild.
Needy.
“Don’t stop,” he orders, even as he grabs his gun and points it over my shoulder. A moment later, the front door unlocks and a man in a suit gets in. The door slams shut as I shiver, still riding Idris’s cock as he slides the safety off and moves the gun over the seat and against his head.
“Don’t fucking move,” Idris snarls as he slaps my hip, urging me on. “Hands on the wheel. We’ll be with you in a minute.”
He keeps the gun against the man’s head as I ride his cock, twisting and groaning. I lean my head back as he flicks my nipples through my shirt before gripping my neck.
I watch as the man’s eyes flicker up to the rearview mirror, his hands still on the wheel. His scared, panicked breathing is loud, even over the wet squelch of our bodies moving together and my moans. I meet his blue orbs and smirk as I grind down hard, impaling myself on Idris’s giant cock. His eyes widen and roam down my body before he quickly looks away.
“Do not fucking look at her,” Idris snaps behind me, leaning forward to slap the gun across the man’s head before sitting back. The change in angle has me groaning and my pussy clenching as I reach for that peak I feel coming. His hold tightens on my neck in warning for encouraging the man.
It’s what sends me over the edge. I gasp my release as his hand flexes on my vulnerable throat, his fingers digging into the sides until I see black. He slams up into me over and over until he grunts, stills, and fills me with his release as I shiver with aftershocks. The pleasure batters me like the waves of the ocean. Slumping back, I run my fingers down to my pussy and just sit there, watching the man.
“Who are you?” the man asks, eventually breaking the silence. He’s not familiar to me, but Idris seems to know who he is.
“You’re the banker for the trafficking operation, correct?” Idris rumbles, unbothered that I’m draped across him as he interviews this guy.
He stays silent, and Idris prods him with the gun.
“Don’t make me prove how serious I am. You are the banker, correct?”
“Yes,” he replies hesitantly. “But they will kill me if—”
“Why does everyone say that? Motherfucker, I’ll kill you and your family too. If you want your two daughters and wife to survive, I suggest you tell me where the money is held.”
He glances back at us before pressing his head against the wheel, shaking. “I can’t,” he sobs.
“123 Winchester Boulevard,” Idris snaps. “That’s your home, isn’t it? What a lovely family you have—”
“Okay, okay!” he yells. “Just don’t hurt them, please, they’re innocent. They think I just work here at the bank, but I couldn’t turn down the money on the side.”
“Nor the drugs and free stolen girls,” Idris snarls. “Location.”
The man reels it off, and Idris, without a second thought, pulls the trigger. The shot is loud, making me jerk. I watch as his head explodes, his blood and brain matter splattering across the wheel and front window, which shatters slightly.
“Get dressed, time to go,” he murmurs to me.
I swallow and nod, pulling myself from his cock with a wince before climbing out of the car. I slip into my trousers as he shuts the door and checks over the car before doing something to the petrol cap. Taking my hand, he leads me back to the SUV and helps me in. He starts the engine, and just as we are pulling away, I hear the Audi explode.
Another one down.
