Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
Just my luck, he’d win.
He pulls out, yanks me up off the counter, and spins me around, where he pushes me to my knees. I look up at him, mouth already open, and he places the tip of his cock between my lips while he jacks himself off onto my tongue.
I look up at him through heavy eyes as he closes his, and his warm cum fills my mouth. I swallow the best I can, and he pulls out. “Leave it open,” he orders, and I do as I’m told. He runs his hand along his shaft once more, squeezing what’s left out of the tip and onto my tongue. I wait until he pulls away before I close my mouth and swallow.
I can taste the stranger’s cum from earlier. It was all over James’s cock. It makes me wonder how many times James has fucked another woman before he fucked me, and I wasn’t aware. I’ve never been the jealous type with James. I’d actually be glad to catch him cheating. I’d make a big deal out of it and use it as an excuse to kick him out.
Maybe I’ll pay someone to come on to him, here in my house, and fuck him in my bed. I’d plan it so I walk in on him and kick them both out. I’d pay her of course. An actress deserves money for her time and performance.
But Saint? I’ll kill a bitch just for thinking she could have him. That man made me a psychotic fool. A sick and twisted part of me hopes I killed him because I couldn’t imagine him with anyone else other than me. The thought still makes me sick to my stomach. Most Lords don’t have social media accounts, and I sure as fuck don’t have one. When I do get on, I use another account from a girl at work. So there is no way for me to know if he survived or what he’s doing today. But whatever it is, I’m sure he’s got a wife. Lords aren’t expected to stay single for long. They have to reproduce. They are all required to produce an heir sooner rather than later.
“Fuck, babe.” James sighs, taking a step back. Reaching down, he grabs my hand and helps me to stand. He gently kisses my lips, and I don’t pull away although I want to.
He exits the bathroom to crawl into my bed and pass the fuck out. I finish getting undressed and start the shower, needing to wash the night off, ignoring the toothbrush on the floor.
I dig my cell out of my pocket, connect it to the Bluetooth speaker that I had installed in my shower, and pull up my Spotify playlist. “I hope ur miserable until ur dead” by Nessa Barrett fills the bathroom, and I remove the wedding ring on my finger. I place it in the glass dish on the counter before I step in the shower. Getting under the sprayer, I hiss in a breath at the sting of the hot water burning my cool skin. It feels so good. I close my eyes, reach up, and run my hands over my hair, pushing it back from my face.
My mind wanders to him. Saint is always on my mind. He has been ever since I left him lying in the hallway down in the morgue covered in his own blood. It haunts me more than any nightmare ever could.
Did I sell my soul for freedom? Of course, I did. Isn’t that how it works? In order to be free, a sacrifice must be made. I gave up my one true love and my only chance at happiness. I might have been his whore, but I never doubted that he loved me. Not many would ever understand what we had. How badly I burned for him and how much he loved me. Saint taught me that love is a sickness with no cure. It slowly kills you, but the only thing is that you don’t die. Not really. You can numb the pain, try to erase the memories, but no matter what, your body never forgets the way he touched you. The way he kissed you. The way he looked at you.
That guy tonight reminded me of Saint in the best way. He just knew what I wanted and took it. Do I put too much trust in men sexually? Yes. My mother’s therapist once told me that if I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself dead in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. That possibility didn’t stop me.
Tonight just proves how far I allow myself to go. Maybe I have a death wish. I don’t believe we live on in the afterlife. That doesn’t exist where I come from. There’s a living hell and an actual hell. Sins in our world aren’t forgiven, no matter how much time you spend on your knees.
The song comes to an end, and before it can switch to the next on my playlist, I hear glass breaking. “James?” I call out, staring at the white tiled wall ahead of me. Nothing. “James? You okay?” Silence. Sighing, I shut off the water and step out. Grabbing the towel, I turn off the music on my phone and put it back down so I can wrap the towel around myself.
I open the bathroom door and see he’s not in the bedroom. “What the fuck are you doing, James?” I bark, starting to get pissy. It’s almost four in the morning. I’m not in the mood for his shit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s invited friends over at a late hour and got so fucked up, they broke shit in my house.
I exit the bedroom and march down the hallway to the living room. I gasp when I find him lying on the floor, covered in blood. “James?” I fall to my knees beside him. The glass coffee table is shattered as if he fell on top of it.
He groans, but his eyes remain closed.
“Hang on,” I tell him. “I’ll call 911.” Getting to my feet, I spin around to get my cell out of the bathroom but halt when I see a figure step out of the dimly lit corner. My pulse races, and my eyes widen when he steps closer to me.
I take a step back but scream in surprise when I hit a body. An arm comes out and wraps around my neck, holding my back to his front. I kick out my legs, trying to twist out of his grip, but the arm just tightens its hold, restricting my air.
The man comes to a stop as he steps into me. Reaching into his pocket, he removes a syringe. I try to scream for help, but nothing comes out. My fingers dig into the skin of the arm wrapped around my neck, but it does no good because he’s wearing something thick that covers his arms. I’m unable to get a good grip. My towel falls to the floor during my struggle, and I don’t even care that I’m still wet and naked.
The arm around my neck releases me, and I gasp in a breath. I try to run away, but his hands grip my arms, bringing them behind my back and holding me in place while the other one grabs my chin, holding my face as he shoves a needle into my neck.
The last thing I see are those red eyes on the devil mask before mine fall closed, and my body goes limp.
THIRTY-SIX
ASHTYN
My heavy eyes open to fall shut quickly. I try again, but all I see are my lashes with my blurry vision. I close them once more. An ache fills the back of my head, and my body is sore, muscles tight.
My head falls from side to side, unable to control it. I go to roll over, but I can’t. Something rough and thick rubs against my skin. I lick my numbing lips, noticing my mouth is dry.
A shiver runs through my body, goose bumps covering my skin, and I realize I’m naked and freezing.
I begin to shake, my teeth chattering. “He-llo?” I call out, heavy eyes opening once more and my voice cracks. “Hello?” I ask again, trying to get up, but I can’t move. That dull ache in the back of my head intensifies into a pounding sensation. My breathing comes quicker, making my chest tight.
I start to pull on my limbs, trying to figure out why I can’t move. How much did I take? I should have slept off the pills by now. How long have I been asleep?
Turning my head to the left, I blink rapidly until my sight clears, and I see a concrete wall with black cabinets running along the bottom of a metal-looking countertop. A few boxes on top of the counter are taped closed.
My heavy eyes blink once more as I turn back to look up at the ceiling, and I feel something on my neck? It’s rough and rubs tightly against my skin. I try to lift my hands to feel what it is, but I still have no control over my body.
Lifting my heavy head, I suck in a deep breath, as the thing around my neck chokes me. Looking down over my naked body as my chest heaves, I see straps pinning me down to a black table. One is high across my chest. I feel another one across my waist as I twist side to side and another over my hips. More on my legs. My wrists are also secured by my sides. They look like thick belts, buckled tightly in place with small locks that require a key to remove.
Blood rushes in my ears. “HELLO?” I scream, my body thrashing on the table in the cold and silent room. My breathing is so heavy that it feels like the restraints tighten, making it harder to get in a breath. “He-llo?” My voice cracks. “Anyone…?” Tears sting my eyes. “What the fuck?” I grind out, yanking on the leather. But it’s useless. Even if they weren’t buckled, I’m still too weak to get out of them.
A lock sounds over to my left, and I try to see, but I don’t have a clear view from where I’m at. The door creaking open makes my pulse race, and I’m hyperventilating. “Who…are you?” I demand, trying to yank free. “What do you want?” I scream so loud my throat burns when no one answers. “Where’s James?” Was he dead? Had they killed him? My memory is foggy, but I remember him lying on my living room floor covered in glass and blood. Had he fucked someone over for drugs? It wouldn’t be the first time he owed someone money for the shit he put in his body, and I had to bail him out.
Why can’t I remember anything after that? Is it the pills I took? Or something they gave me? How long have I been like this? There’s no window in here, so it could have been days since I found James on the living room floor.
Cold air blows on my shaking and naked body. My hands fist, and I arch my neck, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
Sagging in the restraints, the tears start to fall from the corner of my eyes while I try to calm my racing heart. It’s about to leap out of my chest. My breathing comes in short, rapid pants, and the room seems to spin. I think I’m going to be sick.
A bright light is turned on above me as if I’m strapped to an operating table and they’re about to perform surgery on me. It makes me flinch. It’s so blinding, and my body trembles at that thought.
My eyes are tightly closed, trying to block out the light when it’s moved to no longer shine down on my face. A hand grips my cheeks, and I start thrashing around to try to knock it off, but my arms are tied down by my sides, and the one around my neck makes it hard to move my head. The fingers dig into my cheeks, prying a whimper out of me, and my eyes spring open.
I look up into a set of red eyes, framed with a devil mask and two red horns. Fresh tears run down the sides of my face, and I sniff. “Pl-ease.”
Trying to catch my breath, I arch my neck, but his grip just tightens, smashing my cheeks into my teeth. He lets go, and I sag into the sticky leather. He reaches out and a clear mask is placed into his hand that has a long tube attached to it. He places the rubber mask over my mouth and nose. His tatted hand holds it in place, pressed into my face. I try to lift my hips off the table, but all it does is dig the straps into my skin.
My eyes go to the guy who had handed it to him, but all I see is the back of him. Jeans, black hoodie, and mask…the same as him.
“Please-” I sob. “Let me go.” My voice is muffled by the mask. Cold air covers my face, and I hold my breath, afraid to breathe it in. His free hand comes up, and I flinch when he touches my forehead, running it down over my hair. His touch is soft, almost lovingly compared to the way he gripped my cheeks.
My lungs start to burn, and my chest heaves as I continue to hold my breath. Tears fall from my eyes as I open my mouth and gasp in a deep breath, unable to hold it in any longer. Crying, I take another deep breath, and a calmness comes over me. A tingling sensation runs through my body to the tips of my fingers and toes. My body relaxes on the table. It’s as close to a high as I’ve ever experienced.
His hand continues to brush through my hair while I breathe in whatever is coming from the mask. My eyes grow heavy, my mind foggy. My vision goes in and out, and I blink several times before the devil mask becomes nothing more than a blur of white and black with red eyes and horns.
Is this what hell looks like?
I swear I hear a voice say “That’s my good girl” as everything fades away, and my tightly fisted hands unclench. But that’s just my mind playing tricks on me. I haven’t heard that in years. And the man who used to call me that is dead.
THIRTY-SEVEN
ASHTYN
I wake up, a moan escaping my lips. Rolling over onto my side, my hands come up to my face, and I cover my sensitive eyes to block out the bright light. When it doesn’t work, I grab the soft fluffy blanket, pull it up and over my face, and relax into the comfortable mattress.
My eyes instantly spring open, and I sit up gasping, shoving the covers off when everything comes rushing back to me.
I was awake, tied to a table, and the mask…he placed something over my face. My hands come up to my face once more, and my fingers quickly run over my skin, feeling for cuts or pain of any kind that will tell me if anything is broken.
My hands drop to my sides, and I let out a deep breath, but my ease quickly turns to panic when I feel something on my stomach.
I shove off the covers to see I’m naked. My 666 brand covering my pelvic bone is on full display. I always keep it covered with makeup when at work and washed it off when I take a shower back at home.