Menace (Scarlet Scars #1)

by J.M. Darhower

“If you give the monster a name, it takes away its power, because we’re really just afraid of what we don’t know. If you name it, if you know what it is, you can be stronger than it. So face your fears and wipe your tears, remember? Face your fears and wipe your tears.”

Someone once told me that evil can sense itself inside of others, our hearts beating in a different rhythm than most, playing a morbid song that only other evil knows.

You burn a little witch at the stake and she’ll laugh in your face.

Death doesn’t always come with a scream and a bang, no… death, when premature, usually comes like a whisper on the wind, quietly stalking you until it can rob you of your last breath.

Genova

“But you think I’m broken,” I say. “You asked me who broke me, like I’m made of glass and someone can just shatter me and scatter my pieces, like I’m that fragile. I might be hurt, I might be beat down, but I’ll be goddamn if a man will ever break me, Lorenzo. But the world can’t comprehend a woman being that strong. We’re supposed to buckle and break, like the only time we can possibly have any strength is if there’s someone with a dick standing by our side. It’s like a penis is a prerequisite for an opinion, so if I don’t have one myself, I’ve got to be utilizing someone else’s in order to have any say-so in my own fucking life.”

There’s a reason girls yell ‘fire’ instead of ‘rape’, why we lie and say we have boyfriends instead of just saying ‘no’ when we’re not interested. Because a lot of men respect another man’s property more than they respect a woman’s right to her own body.

“Regardless, you are. You’re slick, Scarlet, and I don’t mean that in the wet pussy kind of way, although, well…” He pauses as he looks me over, like he’s lost his train of thought, before he shakes it off, letting go of my wrist. “I’m just saying sex isn’t all you’re good for. You don’t want to fuck me? That’s fine. Under no circumstances is fucking me a requirement. But I’ve seen what you’re capable of. So maybe you’re right, about being a woman. I don’t know, because I’m not one. Maybe, to make it on these streets, you need someone in your corner. In that case, you need to reassess who that someone is, because if they’re not taking you seriously, Scarlet? If they don’t see you for the threat you are? They’re doing you no goddamn good, because when trouble comes, they buckle, baby. They’re the ones who aren’t strong.”

Moments are pieces, formed together and built upon, creating the bigger picture within the border

of your world. My puzzle is full of deformed shapes and jagged edges, but it still all fits together in its own twisted way, making a hideous fucking picture of my reality.

“Oh.” I laugh. I did, didn’t I? Huh. Didn’t expect him to actually relay that message. Amello still let him live after that? “And what did your boss have to say?”

“I’m not gay.” “Neither am I,” I say, “and neither is Seven, for that matter, but he’d suck it if I asked him. Wouldn’t you, Seven?” “Absolutely,” Seven says. “Anything you ask.”

admit it, yeah, the woman is delectable, but I’m the big bad wolf in these woods, and he’s going to leave my Red Riding Hood alone.

I shake my head, shoving the gun at Seven, who takes it without question. White smoke surrounds us from the lube I use in the tube of the suppressor. I know there’s one hell of a sex joke in there somewhere, just begging to be made,

“As long as you don’t talk down to me because I’m a woman. You pull some misogynistic shit and I’ll kill you. We got a deal?” Those words, they do something to me, hearing that threat come from her lips, so at odds with that low, sultry voice. It makes me hard in an instant. “Depends,” I say. “Is telling you that I’d really like to fuck your throat right now misogynistic?” She blinks a few times, like she didn’t expect me to say that. “Would you say that to your men?” “If something they said turned me on, I would.”

His lips are the softest things about him, warm and gentle, like a slice of heaven wrapped in hell, so worth battling the flames to feel his fire.

serious. “I’m about to fuck you with my mouth like you’ve never been fucked before, and you’re going to keep telling me that story. You got me?”

“You zone out, I choke you. Whether or not I let go is anybody’s guess. You still okay with this?”

The hand on my throat shifts up a bit, fingers pressing into the skin, not cutting off the air to my lungs, but it makes me lightheaded. He increases his pace, pounding into me, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping,

“I know you’ve got one. I used to change your diapers, remember?” “No, I don’t remember,” Leo says, “but you certainly remind me enough.” “That’s because it earns me the right to do whatever I damn well please,” Lorenzo says. “I wiped your ass, made your lunches, taught you how to treat a woman, and I let your girlfriend eat my groceries. Let me air my balls out without jumping my ass about it.”

“I’ve got clothes on, don’t worry,” I say, looking down at myself—black pants, black boots, white shirt, black coat. Exciting, I know. “I only rock out with my cock out when it’s dark out.”

I think it’s a kink. Some people like spanking. Others like voyeurism.

My brother likes to fuck his girlfriend as she sobs over fictional characters.

Me? I like a little bit of everything… with the exception of that last one. Stick a finger in my ass all you want, but the sec...

Look, before you go thinking I’m incompetent, remember my world is two-dimensional. I’ve adapted to that, for the most part, but sometimes objects are assholes. I misjudge distances, can’t catch a fucking thing, spill drinks and bump into door frames. I also can’t seem to ever get a straw in a hole, which, as I’m sure you can imagine,

“I don’t know why you keep buying those,” Leo says. “They give you trouble every time.” “I like them,” I say. “Besides, no bitch ass little juice pouch is going to best me, Pretty Boy.”

“You can work on that mouth of yours.” “What’s wrong with it?” “It’s running a little rough. Nothing a face-fucking can’t fix, though.” Her eyes widen. “Big words for a guy who drinks Capri Sun.” I try to keep a straight face, but I crack at that, letting out a laugh. “Got me there.”

“You have to be careful who you give pieces of yourself to, because even a little bit here and there adds up to a hell of a lot eventually, and it’s not worth it, losing yourself to them, giving yourself to people who don’t give a fuck about you. You keep pouring yourself into other people and you’ll just wind up empty.”

“Aw, look at that…” Amello’s slumped in his chair with a hole in his face, damn near right between his eyes. Couldn’t have been more perfect if I tried. “Bullseye.”

“Once upon a time, there was a woman—a woman with a gorgeous little body and a mouth made of sin. The only thing sweeter than this woman’s pussy was the thirst she had inside of her, a thirst for fucking and fighting, for tempting fate,”

“This woman, she tempted fate so much it was a goddamn miracle she wasn’t dead, but she was lucky, I think, because fate brought her a man, one who would kill for a sip of the thirst inside of her, who would start a war over that sweet, sweet pussy.”

His words send a chill through me as I close my eyes. He fucks and threatens, kisses and caresses, grabs and bites, over and over and over again, until my body starts to give out. Groaning, he pulls away from me, shoving my legs further apart as he pulls out. Opening my eyes, I watch in the darkness, breathing heavily, as he strokes himself, coming right there, between my thighs. He rubs it in then, gently stroking my clit with his fingertips, before leaning down, kissing along my stomach, his tongue circling my belly button, before moving down even further, his mouth on my pussy.

“I swear to God, if you throw yourself off this roof, I’m jumping after you, and I’m going to catch you.”