Burn Me Right

Chapter 49

Zyler pulled back after slurping on her mouth like a candy cane as a string of saliva connected to their lips. "Now that's the taste I want to taste for the rest of my sinful life," he smiled. Autumn wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

"This will never get old, too," he groaned. The more she pushed him away, the more she acted disgusted. He wanted her more. He doesn't know or care what kind of sick obsession this is. All he cared about was that he wanted her. He wanted her to antagonize him and act disgusted and irritated by him. He craved that from her. Was he a deranged motherfucker? Yes, he was.

Wrapping his hand around her waist, he dragged her closer to his body. "Let's go to your room," he wanted to make out on her bed. The bed she slept in and in her house. That is another sick thought that made him want to bend her over and fuck her.

"No," she pushed at him. His eyes shone with desire.

"Why leave that part of this house holy? Let's make it unholy," he squeezed her waist, and she whimpered. His hands were perpetually rough, a constant reminder of the harshness that consumed him. With every touch, she felt the sting of his unforgiving grip, the calluses scraping against her delicate skin. His touch had no tenderness or gentle caress to offer solace. Yet, as he gazed upon her with a hunger bordering on desperation, she could see the longing in his eyes and the craving for salvation he sought within her.

"No. I would like to keep that part of my life only for myself." she placed her hands on top of his and pushed them away from her body. Zyler felt struck, but he didn't stop her. He didn't want to force her into doing this. Normally, he would, but not now. The way she said that stirred something in him. He watched her leave.

Removing his clothes, he jumped in the shower. She left with another pair of blue balls. Groaning, he let the water fall on his body. They gently caressed his body. Sighing, he laced his hands through his hair and took a relaxed bath. Emerging from the room, a towel loosely draped around his waist, he became shrouded in a veil of swirling steam, lending an ethereal quality to his presence.

The misty tendrils wrapped around him like a cloak, parting gracefully as he walked, as if granting him passage like a deity of the shadows. At that moment, with his commanding presence and the enigmatic aura surrounding him, he bore the resemblance of a god, a dark and captivating figure exuding an undeniable allure.

His phone rang, demanding his attention. Answering it, he walked onto the balcony. "Cole," he grabbed the cigar and lit it.

"I got the man working for Varney, the one in charge of his defense team. Looks like he is working on something," Cole grabbed the man by his collar and put him in the car.

"Did he tell what Varney was working on?" A thin layer of smoke engulfed the area, surrounding him.

"No," Cole closed the trunk and drove to the warehouse. "That is why he is in the back of our trunk," Cole pushed the button and started the engine. "He wouldn't listen to me, and this wasn't easy."

Zyler chuckled, "And that's why I chose you for this."

"What's the plan now?" Cole passed the highway and killed the engine, stopping at their warehouse.

"You keep him there. Cut a tendon or two if he doesn't give you what you want. If he has a family, that would be to our advantage. I will be back tomorrow or the day after," Zyler inhaled deeply.

"Sure. Are you sure he is the one? I mean..." but Zyler cut Cole off.

"If there is a search for him tomorrow on a larger scale or in the underground, under the wraps, then he is our guy," Zyler knew that this was the man when he began enquiring around. He wanted someone closer to the president to get what he wanted.