So many days and nights, she was close, but not enough to touch, to really feel her skin against mine. But now, I have her in my hands, her lips pressed against mine, her tongue tasting me.
When I break the kiss, she touches her fingers to her lips. Concern wrinkles her brow.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. She can’t be afraid what we’re doing is wrong. Nothing has been so right.
“Beardman,” she whispers, and I’m drawn out of the luxury Dolly’s touch. “He hurt you too. You should do it.” She pulls the knife from Bossman’s throat and presses it into my hand.
“He hurt us both.” I wrap her fingers around mine on the handle. “We’ll do it together. From now on, we do everything together.”
She stares at me for a long beat, hope entering her bright eyes. Her lips tug into a smile. “Together.” She nods, and we turn to Beardman, who’s starting to come back around.
“Look who’s back. Just in time.” I grab his arm and pull him closer to us. He snaps his eyes open and turns to us, his gaze landing on the knife. Panic erupts. His lips move faster than sound can come out.
“No! No! Please!” He attempts to scramble to his feet.
In one motion, we plunge the knife into his throat, and then his chest, and his stomach. Fresh droplets of blood splatter over Dolly’s cheeks and chest. Red blotches cover her arms, her knees still steeped in a thick pool of blood. We work as one, and all too soon, he stops crying and wiggling.
He’s dead.
Lying on the floor, blood pouring out of his wounds.
We drop the knife, letting it clamber to the ground as Dolly leans into my chest, and I wrap my bloody arms around her. Covered in the filth of those two degenerate fucks, we get to our feet.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
The sounds rapid fire from the computer.
“Stay here,” I direct Abigail before making my way to the camera. The viewers have typed in cheers and congratulations and requests for better ways to end Bossman and Beardman.
“Queenhearts, I hope you enjoyed your special request this evening. I promise you, you’ll enjoy it much better live. We’ll be seeing you real soon.”
The ellipses dances in the chat box as my thumb finds the power button on the camera.
“Bye, bye.”
Thirteen
DOLLY
“Let’s find you something to wear.” Ken wraps his hand around mine and helps me to my feet. The room is chilled. Blood runs cold over my feet as I stand in the pools we created, but his touch warms me. I follow the trail from our joined hands, fingers braided, up his arm to his chin.
“You need to shave.” I reach up to touch the thick stubble covering his strong jaw. It’s coarse and dirty. I run my fingers over it, feeling him, touching him after so long of being out of reach.
He laughs lightly.
“We can both get cleaned up, but first, we have to get out of here.”
“What about…them?” I wave my hand over the bodies without breaking eye contact with him. There’s no need to look at them. I know what I’ll see. Blood, flesh torn open, eyes locked in despair staring up at me.
“I’ll deal with that later.” He glances at the laptop. Even with the cameras off, people still blow up the chatroom.
He tugs on my hand and leads me out of the room. Bossman never suspected he’d need to keep us locked in the playroom, so it’s open when Ken turns the knob.
Forced heat wraps around our naked bodies as we step into a plush carpeted hallway.
“We’re not in the warehouse.” He lets go of my hand and surveys our surroundings. There are three other doors in the short hallway.
“That’s the bathroom.” I point to the last room on the left. “The stairs are around the corner.”
His brow wrinkles.
“You were always asleep when they brought you up here,” I explain. “They didn’t need to drug me. I came up—” Pain wraps around my heart, squeezing gently. “I came willingly.” Tears flood my eyes and fall before I can force them back. Even my tears aren’t mine to control.
“Dolly.” His hands grip my shoulders. “Nothing they did to you is your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I hear his words and they make sense. They’re in the right order, and I understand them, but my brain won’t let them soak in.
“I didn’t fight them. Not like you.” I lower my gaze. Not for one minute did Ken stop pushing toward escape. He didn’t accept his lot in life the way I had. He was strong. So much stronger than I could ever be.
“You did everything you could to survive.” His voice dips, the bossy part of him starting to invade. “We have to get cleaned up and get you into something warm. We’ve been cold for too fucking long.” He pushes open the door to the bathroom. It’s no different than any other. Shower, toilet, sink. It’s all here. Normal.
“What’s in the other rooms?” He reaches into the shower to turn on the water. Steam builds immediately, and I can’t wait to get under the water.
“Two bedrooms. Not playrooms. Just regular rooms,” I tell him as he searches beneath the sink. Finding a new bar of soap, he tears into the package and hands it to me. “Okay, get in.” He gestures to the water.
“Are you going to stay here with me?” I ask. He’s free. He can run away, he can go back home, go far away from all this.
“Absolutely.” He nods with a grim smile. “Everything we do from now on is together, remember?” He pulls the shower curtain back. “In you go.”
I climb into the tub and dunk my head beneath the hot spray. I could purr, it’s so wonderful. The curtain sweeps to the side, and Ken steps in behind me. He takes up a lot of space, but I don’t mind. It’s better this way, being close to him.
“Is this okay?” he asks me. If I said no, if I asked him to go, he would. He wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.
“Yes.” I nod, folding my arms over my chest. He’s seen me completely naked, seen the horrible marks they left on me, there’s no reason to be shy now. The water and soap clean away the dirt and blood, but my hair is matted to my scalp and the paint they put on my face has to be smearing down my cheeks.
“You don’t have to hide from me.” He brushes my arms away. “I’m going to check your nipple. He bit—” He stops, his eyes meeting mine. “I want to be sure it’s all right.”
I nod and move forward, out of the stream. With his large hand, he cups both my breasts, cradling them in his palms.
“A small cut.” He runs his thumb over the spot he’s looking at. “It will heal by tomorrow.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. His warm breath washes over my pert nipples.
He stands upright again, still holding my breasts. “I want to be honest with you. Of all things, we must always be honest. Do you agree?”
“Yes.” I can’t lie to him. The sight of disappointment in his eyes would shatter me.
“I want to kiss you. I want to kiss away all your marks and scars.” The porcelain squeaks as his feet shift closer, the water rinsing him of the evil of the past.