I woke up with this in my head- already completed before I even committed it to word. No beta (my first error) and little thought. The more I think, the more I think I shouldn't post.
Major character death, possibly graphic scenes, (depending on your defintion of graphic) and some violence thrown in for good measure. Consider yourself warned.
Jarod awoke abruptly, the morning sun filtering into the room. Nightmare. Parker, himself, and the chase between. Stiletto on hardwood had been just a figment of his-
In the air, the scent of Chanel.
He swallowed back the fear, features hardened, eyes darkened.
"Miss Parker." He began condescendingly, angry that she was even capable of evoking such intense fear. "To what do I owe this... pleasure?"
Parker advanced in silence. Jarod stood from the bed, met her halfway.
"Why are you here?" He yelled.
A fluid movement, on the tips of her toes, she leaned forward, pressed her lips to his and heard his breath catch in his throat as her tongue traced his bottom lip. He closed his eyes and simply savored the moment.
She tasted- she tasted like life. Life. And like spring, like roadside lemonade stands and picnics on the grass, sultry summer nights, fireflies, clear mountain lakes, first kisses, like innocence. Freedom.
She stepped back.
"Why are you here?" He demanded.
"To set you free." She explained, her tone suggesting that he should already know the answer. He was a genius after all.
Jarod scoffed, gasped, nearly choked and then his arms slipped around her, tightened. And then she was roughly flung to the bed and he was on her. His hands grappled with the too-short skirt as she kicked at him and slammed her fists against his chest and face.
He pulled back, just enough to see the tears in her eyes. He smiled down at her and she shuddered.
And then his lips were on hers again.
She tasted... God. So familiar. Lipstick. Blood red. Like sin. She tasted like blood. Sweet, innocent. She tasted ...tantalizing, coppery tinged, innocence lost.. like sin.
Stifling her cries with his mouth, he attempted to pry her legs apart with a knee while one strong hand held both of hers over her head.
Heaven was a mere sin away.
Jarod gasped again and again, and tightened his grip, transferred his weight. His hand slipped between her legs, fingers tore at delicate fabric.
He smothered her cry with his mouth, crushed, bruised her lips with the kiss, glanced down at her eyes. Closed. Squeezed tightly shut.
Jarod released her hands, felt them instantly move to his chest. She pushed at him, fought.
He rolled off of her, stood. "I don't know how to hurt you!" He cried.
Leisurely, without a tear on her face, she collected herself and smoothed down the skirt, but his trained eye didn't miss the tremble of her hands.
Parker strolled across the floor- all control, head held high, eyes on the exit.
And then he was there, a vice-like grip on her wrist.
He gazed into her eyes, caught a fading glimpse of fear, softness, of the girl that he hardly even recognized at all these days.
His fingertips tenderly tracing her jaw, Jarod leaned in, slowly, softly and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue slipped past her lips.
Parker shuddered and instantly, her features hardened, blood turned to ice, tears froze in her eyes, never again to fall.
Jarod closed his eyes, was still committing the taste to memory when he heard the door slam.
He stumbled to his knees. Gasped. Coughed.
He fell onto his side, gasped for another breath and then brought his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes.
She tasted- Fuck. She tasted salty. Like Blood. Earthy. Innocence shattered. She tasted ...she tasted like... death. She tasted just like death..
Just a little bit...