Cursed Angels

“Archer, fuck me!” Rebekah clamps down on my dick in warning that if I don’t give her what she wants, my male anatomy may go the way of Dr. Hickson’s. It’s a warning I adhere to and fuck her harder. My hips buck against her ass every time I bury myself deep. The papers on her desk are scattered everywhere. Pens, a stapler, and a hole punch clatter to the floor.

I never thought someone’s death would be an aphrodisiac to me, but right now, my skin is itching for release with a need to come. My body is hot, and I feel the ache to fuck.

I’m happy and elated that man is dead, and I don’t know why. Happiness fills my chest that he died in pain. I’m glad his dick was ripped off and his cold, black heart torn from his body. I become lost in a perverse sense of victory over a man that, as far as I’m concerned, has never done anything to wrong me.

My surroundings disappear, feeling only the pleasure cascading through my body. Animalistic grunts are the only sound I make as I rut like a lion into the welcoming vessel. I smell nothing expect . . . jasmine. The perfume that was on the doctor. I falter a second.

“Fuck, Archer. I was close. I’m beginning to worry about your ability to keep your mind on the task at hand.”

I thrust hard back into her, and she screams out in orgasm. I follow her over the edge and empty myself in almost endless jerks into her hot pussy.

“I told you never to worry about coming!”

She tries to get up, but I’m not done. I place my hand on the back of her head and press it into the wood. With the other hand, I pick up the phone and dial the number that happens to still be on the desk in front of me and turn the speaker on.

“What the fuck?” Rebekah tries to kick back.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the phone answers.

“Dr. Chamberland?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Congratulations. You just got promoted to head of The Factory medical team. I’ll have all Dr. Hickson’s files brought to you later.”

“What? What’s happened to Dr. Hickson?” he replies in shock.

“He’s dead.”

The line goes silent.

“The job comes with a ten thousand dollar pay raise on your predecessor’s salary,” I offer. Rebekah squirms beneath me, but I’m holding her down, and my cock is still inside her. The friction is making me hard again, and with my free hand, I push a digit into the pucker of her asshole.

“I’ll go and start clearing out Dr. Hickson’s office and move my stuff in.”

I snort at the doctor’s reply. I was right. Throw money at these bastards, and they’ll do anything. I hang up and pull out of Rebekah before thrusting back in.

“Are you crazy?” She tries to push me off, but I keep fucking her.

“Archer?” she shouts, and I still.

“You wanted the problem solved. I solved it. I’m going to fuck you until I come again, and then I’m going to go out there and find the bastard who killed Dr. Hickson. After that, I’m going to hand him to you, so you can see he never touches one of our team again. Understand?”

Rebekah stops struggling, so I move again.

“I’ve created a monster,” she retorts.

“Don’t ever forget it,” I reply as we both come together.

Chapter 11

Samara

The moon hangs in the sky, silver, shiny, beckoning me to remember. So many nights with Asher were spent under a full moon. Like the night he first kissed me. The moment his lips touched mine, I knew I was no longer just a little girl with a crush. I’d changed. I became a young woman with her first love.

As we spent more time together, I grew. I wanted more than we had in that godforsaken house. He promised me we’d run away together, but then he left without me. With all my training, I still wonder if he saw me today, what would he think? I’m a trained killer. I no longer love life, enjoy the rain on my skin, dance in the downpour from heavy gray clouds.

I’m cold, barren, angry.

Rage consumes me on a daily basis.

But seeing my handiwork on the doctor who took everything from me makes me smile. It’s a satisfaction I never knew I’d find. All these years I waited, I trained, I craved their blood on my hands, and now that I have it, I’m slowly finding peace.

I’m still in two minds about what happened. I killed. But I didn’t just shoot someone. I carved him to pieces.

“Buttercup,” Hunter growls from behind me. When I turn around, I find the man who has been through this with me since he found me at sixteen wandering around. I wanted nothing more than to kill, to find revenge, and Hunter trained me.