Death Layer (The Depraved Club) (13 page)

Chapter Fourteen

There is no drumbeat; the soundtrack to this fight will be
the wild pounding of my heart in my ears. Sure, the crowd is chanting their
hungry song for death. In my periphery I see spittle flinging from their
twisted lips and their fists pounding in the air, but I can’t hear anything
over the thundering beat of my heart and a high white noise in my ears—the same
ringing that I hear when I wake from a dream. Only this is no dream. It’s not
even a nightmare. It’s worse.

They’ve just opened the gate and shoved Bane into the caged
ring. I can’t take my eyes off him as he steps forward, all two hundred pounds
of him pissed off and unwavering. They’ve stripped his shirt and jeans and he’s
standing in his boxers, his tattoos and bulging muscles shimmering with sweat
under the floodlights. His brow furrows as he faces the enemy gate and waits,
hands swinging loose at his sides.

Oh my god. His hands are empty! They’ve not given him any
weapon.

I’m vaguely aware that Judge Jefferson is still holding me
up on my feet and we are standing at the edge of the ring between the fighter
gates, a sort of backstage area with no seats. This is where the Death Layer
officers have come to watch. My fingers are twined through the chain link that
domes over the ring, as if by sneaking one tiny part of my body through the
fence I can break its barrier and set Bane free. But it’s a useless fantasy.
He’s in there, and I am out here, and there is nothing I can do about it.

As I stare, Bane’s body goes completely still and he bursts
out laughing, his eyes narrowing. Following the trajectory of his gaze, I see
why: his opponent has entered the ring, and we’ve stepped into a lethal joke.

My mouth falls open in dread. Just like the winner of the
death match I witnessed before, this new guy could be Schwarzenegger’s body
double. He is pale, missing teeth, missing an ear. He looks like those deep-sea
creatures with external jaws and filmy eyes that spend their lives in the
lowest cracks of the ocean floor blasted by lava and chewed by leviathans. He
is
a leviathan, fully a head taller than and twice as wide as Bane. His broad
chest and back are stenciled with tattoos of what looks like the Moscow
skyline, all puffy towers and crosses and alien alphabet letters. Clearly, this
is not his first death rodeo. He has probably been down here fighting death
matches all his life. It certainly looks like he’s never seen the sun.

Where do they find these guys? Do they fucking clone them?

My attention rivets on the punch line of the joke, the
reason Bane is laughing: his opponent’s meaty fist is closed around an 8-inch
bowie knife. A fucking bowie knife. Bane is unarmed, and Jack has thrown him
against Vladimir Putin’s steroid-popping evil twin with a bowie knife. A hollow
thrill shoots down my legs, a sense of foregone conclusion.

There’s no way out. It’s happening, happening now.

Putin throws his knife-wielding arm forward in a heavy jab
and Bane’s body compacts into a capoeira ginga step, feinting away from the
strike. The two men dance around each other slowly in the center of the ring,
Bane’s forearms raised like a shield under his chin.

Putin moves like a Mack truck, seemingly slower because of
his size but dangerously powerful. When his knife flashes out again, I realize
his speed is just as potent as his girth. He’s just saving it. Waiting.
Circling like a shark.

Bane manages to duck under the next jab and quickly lands a
punch on Putin’s chin before dancing away again. Putin’s head wobbles a little
but keeps advancing toward Bane, herding him toward the cage.

Switching tactics, Bane changes his feet around and pops up
on Putin’s side behind the knife, quickly volleying a roundhouse kick and
kidney punch before the giant can react. It doesn’t seem to faze him, though,
and Bane retreats.

Putin’s knife flashes, and they are backing toward the
fence. Bane kicks at Putin’s knees and shins, stalling, and I feel each impact,
root for every flash of his feet to bring the man down. Putin pushes through
it, though, deliberately following Bane’s movement like a locked-on missile. As
hard as Bane is working to wear down Putin with jabs and kicks, it seems their
trajectory toward the edge is inevitable.

Putin swings again and Bane ducks, kicking at his ankles and
making contact. As he does so, his arm-guard lowers for a split second. Putin
two-steps but doesn’t trip, instead taking advantage of Bane’s lowered guard
and barreling forward like a bulldozer.

Their bodies crash together and I groan, terrified, as the
knife swings toward Bane’s hip. He catches it, though, a rough hand closing
around Putin’s wrist just in the nick of time. Bane digs in his heels and the
two men’s revved up bodies gravitate and lock into each other, their opposed
strengths bringing things to a grinding halt in the center of the ring like a
couple of dancing bears.

Bane’s arms clench around Putin’s side and knife-arm,
holding it at bay, while Putin’s massive body is straining to push to the wall.
Neither seems able to break out of the grizzly grip. I can see Bane’s arm
muscles trembling with stress and my solar plexus trembles with him. Both men’s
faces are concentrated, their breathing labored. Veins are standing out in
Putin’s neck and his eyes dart toward the fence.

The standstill is short-lived. Bane brings his knees up to
Putin’s groin, fast and furious. In response, Putin’s free hand flies out and
in, battering Bane’s ribs. Bane’s face is stoic, registering no pain, but the
Russian’s blows take a toll, and his grip slips.

Putin’s knife-arm is moving again.

Like kids arm wrestling, both men transfer their entire
attention to grapple around the knife. Putin gains enough freedom with his arm
to draw it back a few inches, moving into position to stab Bane. With
tremendous effort, Putin lashes the knife forward.

Bane uses the momentum and pulls Putin’s arm beyond its
intended path until Putin is stumbling forward, his head at Bane’s waist.
Lightning quick, Bane twists the knife-arm up behind Putin’s back at a
withering angle. Putin’s fingers loosen and the knife drops to the sandy floor.

“Yes! Bane! Grab it!” I scream.

Bane can’t hold the angle on Putin’s arm for long, though,
and tries to climb up on his back. But Putin spins like a crazy bull, throwing
Bane off. He rolls on the ground and speed-crawls toward the knife, but before
he can snatch it, Putin lunges.
Bane jumps out of the way, skirting toward the knife. Putin is right behind
him, aiming his shoulders at Bane’s waist like a battering ram knocking him
sideways. On impact, Bane bends forward over Putin’s torso. Their bodies ram
into the fence a few feet down from me, and the whole structure shakes.

So do my knees.

Lightning quick, Bane shoots his left arm out and loops it
around Putin’s neck, making a lock with his other fist and squeezing both
elbows up. It’s a guillotine, and Putin is choking. Bane threads Putin’s head
under his armpit, his bicep pushing into the other man’s air pipe.
 Putin’s arms flail into Bane’s sides, but Bane will not let go of his
stranglehold. Bane uses the hold to force them both down to their knees.

Bane’s face is crinkled with strain as he squeezes his arm
tighter and tighter around Putin’s neck. The big man’s arms slow down as his
air supply shortens. Bane pulls him forward and down, wrapping his legs around
Putin’s ribs and locking his ankles behind. Bane’s wrapped around him like
alligator jaws, cutting off air and blood flow.

Putin’s head goes red, then purple, and blue. Finally, he
stops moving altogether, his massive body draping over Bane like a bearskin
rug. Still, Bane holds on. I count to a hundred in my head before two bouncers
enter the ring and manage to pry Putin’s dead body out of Bane’s lethal
embrace.

My adrenaline pump slows to a normal speed, and I become
more aware of my surroundings. The crowd is mostly cheering, seemingly pleased
with the unlikely surprise of Bane’s victory. They start to chant, “Beast,
Beast, Beast!”

One of the bouncers lifts Bane to his feet and forces him to
hold a fist in the air, a stance of triumph. Bane spits on the ground, still
breathing hard, and squints into the lights.

Jack, who is standing a few feet down from me, takes a sweeping
look at the flushed, worshipful, delirious faces of the audience. It’s mostly
well dressed, drunk or tripped-out men, clients; a few hard-faced women who
look like clients too, a few naked women who look like slaves. Jack’s
avaricious eyes pretty much turn into cartoon dollar signs as he studies them
all, rubbing his chin. A group of impeccably-dressed men sitting in a row of
roped-off seats nod at Jack from across the arena.

“They love him,” he admits to the Sergeant at Arms beside
him. “I’ll be damned. Guess that’ll have to be all the blood we get for today.”

Jack signals to the bouncers to release Bane.

He’s free!

“Bane,” I whisper. “Bane! You’ve won!”

I rip myself out of Judge Jefferson’s hands and bolt for the
gate to the ring. It’s open, and Bane and the bouncer have just turned towards
it. I’m racing through before I let myself think about it, the sand crunching
under my bare feet as I hurl myself into Bane.

 Colliding with his bare, hard body, I feel my legs
spring up off the ground and wrap around his waist like a vine. His arms
reflexively wrap around my hips, clutching me to him. I dig my fingers in his
hair, pulling his head down, and for the first time I bury my lips into his. I
taste his mouth, his sweat. His scent almost drowns me, the sensation of his
kiss filling my entire body.

The seal is broken. The sweet taste of his mouth makes my
heart hammer, and when his lips part and his tongue launches under mine I feel
an explosion of fire between my legs. He wraps around me, our tongues heavy and
sensuous, and I forget the noise of the cheering crowd and the heat of the
floodlights.

Too soon, Bane pulls his head back. His pupils are dilated,
his breath jagged. He laughs softly under his breath.

“So Ava,” he says, “How ‘bout you and me take this
upstairs?”

Chapter Fifteen

Jenny is soundly asleep on the floor next to Bane’s bed,
breathing steadily, and Meat Grinder is long gone. Locking his bedroom door
behind us, Bane lifts me off my feet and sweeps me into the bathroom. He shuts
and locks that door too, for good measure, before setting me down.

He presses a burning kiss on my neck, another on my throat.
His fingers slide over the small of my back, pressing me into him as he rounds
his hands over my ass. His fingers flex and clutch at my flesh, hard, rolling
it in his hands. A guttural groan escapes from his lips.  

“God, Ava,” he says, “It feels like I’ve wanted you for
forever.”

His hands on my ass shove my pelvis firmly against his, and
I feel his hips straining toward me. He’s already got a healthy erection that I
can feel growing every second. My eyes widen and he chuckles.

“Feel what you do to me?” he whispers. “I’m gonna have to
get you back for that.”

He smiles as he gives his hips a little roll, rubbing the
length of his shaft against my pubic bone. Even through our clothes I can feel
the friction and heat working over my clit, and have to dig my fingers into
Bane’s arms to keep my legs from buckling.

“Oh my god,” I moan, “Yes, please do.”

“I’m gonna fuck you, baby.”

“Yes.”

Old Ava would say this is foolish, reckless, and insane. But
Old Ava doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Old Ava was never trafficked,
protected, or saved from certain death. Old Ava never had a man fight for her,
kill for her, risk his life for her.

“God, Bane,” I moan, “I need you.”

He presses his erection against me even harder, the pressure
building to a nuclear reaction between us. He closes his mouth over mine,
biting gently on my lips with his teeth before his tongue digs urgently under
mine. One of his hands slides up my back and cradles my head, holding me steady
while his tongue plunders my mouth. It’s so intense and I can’t pull back; his
arms hold me hostage.

The heat builds up on our lips as the kiss deepens and grows
more sensual. I’m having trouble breathing as my nerve endings scream all the
way to the tips of my nipples and down to my toes. An uncontrollable groan
escapes my throat. Bane grunts in answer and breaks the kiss enough to move his
hand from the nape of my neck to my breast.

His fingers singe me through my clothes. Holding my hips
against his, Bane rushes me back until we slam against the tile wall of the
shower. His hands impatiently push up under my dress until his thumbs are
rolling over my nipples, the rough touch of his callused hands rubbing them
into sensitive peaks. I can feel wetness spreading between my legs, and crazed
pleasure building up. Bane pinches almost painfully on my nipples and rolls his
tongue deep in my mouth.

“Oh god…” I moan.

The pleasurable pain, his hot lips, and the crushing
pressure of his erection against my clit make me writhe in ecstasy.

“Wow,” he breathes, pulling back. “You’re fucking fire.
Better than I pictured. And I pictured this a lot. A lot, a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, Bane, I did too. I wanted you before,
but now I need you.”

I lean in to kiss him again but he shoves me against the
wall, away from him. His grin takes on a predatory quirk.

“I know what you need.”

Gripping my hips on either side with his hands, Bane presses
me against the shower wall and sinks to his knees in front of me. My dress is
already bunched up around my waist, and I remember belatedly that I’m not
wearing any underwear.

His mouth is on my inner thigh, tracing a path of kisses to
my clit.

“Mmmm…” I moan.

The tip of his tongue spreads my tender flesh apart, fire
sears through my body and I almost jump out of my skin as he licks firmly at my
clit. He moans into me, wrestling my hips still again and relentlessly running
his tongue slowly up and down, forward and back over my clit. The wet sounds of
his mouth against my pussy driving me wild.

“Holy shit,” I groan. “That feels so fucking good…don’t
stop…”

He works up to a steady rhythm, each lap of his tongue
intensifying the violent pleasure and desperate need building inside me. He’s
taking his time, like he’s drinking me. My eyes roll closed and my breath comes
in jagged gasps. I’m lost in every movement of his tongue, curling my fingers
in his hair and moaning with each lick as warmth spreads from my clit and melts
through my legs. His tongue starts moving in circles, teasing me, and I laugh
as I look down at him. He’s watching me, eyes twinkling mischievously.

“You taste like heaven,” he says.

“That feels so good, Bane—” I moan.

I can hardly finish saying his name, though, before he moves
one hand between my legs and starts to stroke me intimately, sliding his
fingers along the wet lips of my pussy. His tongue increases speed just as he
pushes inside me with his fingers, finger-fucking me and eating me out at the
same time. The combined pressure and stroking spiral through me like fireworks.

“Oh god!” I wail.

He never lets up, accelerating his speed and increasing the
pressure of his fingers and tongue until I lose myself. I’m moaning and
grabbing at the walls for balance as a slow-rolling orgasm builds and builds
through me, tingling through my limbs and intensifying to a fever pitch until I
erupt like a volcano.

“Bane! Right there, baby! Right there!”

He pushes his finger further up, covering me with his tongue
as I buck and gasp into him, my mind and body fragmenting into tiny pieces of
passionate frenzy. My vision goes white and my body feels weightless. When I
come back to earth I’m still sizzling, and I can still feel Bane’s strong hands
caressing me.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he moans, pushing up to his feet.
“I could lick your pussy all day, you turn me on so much. Feel.”

He grabs my hand and wraps it around his cock, guiding me to
rub him as his other hand continues to stroke the throbbing, wet slit between
my legs.

“Once I get you to Canada, maybe I will…” he whispers.
“Maybe I’ll just handcuff you to my bed and eat you out to my heart’s content.
I want days and weeks alone with you, Ava.”

He takes a step back, lancing me with his intense eyes. His
eyes tell me everything he’s thinking, everything I want to know, and a shiver
of fresh anticipation and desire works through my body from spine to skin.

“Let’s just worry about right now,” I say. “I want to make
you cum.”

“Is that all you want?” He grins at me wickedly.

My heart is still pounding from my orgasm, and something
more; thing is, I still can’t say that I’m not afraid of him. I’ve seen him
with other women. He’s an outlaw biker. I’ve just watched him kill two men with
his bare hands. I know he’s being sweet to me and I know I am crazy about him,
but deep down I’m frightened by him.

Bane licks his lips and traces his eyes along my figure.

“Take off that dress,” he orders. “I want to see you.”

I hesitate for a fraction of a second, suddenly insecure. My
hands tremble as I reach for the lacy hem that’s now bunched up around my
waist.

“Hey beautiful.” Bane’s fingers cup my chin and tilt my eyes
back into his. As he stares me down, I feel his hand slip between my legs again
and he drives his fingers up inside me. My breath hitches. “Don’t be shy with
me. I want all of this,” he murmurs. “All of you. Is that alright?”
“Yes.”

“Ava, look me in the eye and tell me. Please, baby. I need
to know you want me.”

“I do, Bane.”

I see something new in his eyes, something I recognize
because I feel it too: uncertainty. He’s really asking me. He kisses me now,
deep and yearning. His free hand closes around my breast again, cupping and
squeezing me. It’s almost more than I can take.

“Yes,” I moan.

I place my palms on his cheeks and pull his face closer to
mine, holding him so our lips just barely brush against each other. Feeling his
fingers inside me, his breath on my face, I whisper, “I want all of you, Bane.
I want to be with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I moan. “Yes, Bane, for fuck’s sake…shut up and fuck
me.”

A free, open grin darts wickedly across his face. “Yes
ma’am! That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He takes a step back from me and slips his boxers off,
stepping out of them and kicking them away. He’s naked, just like the first time
we met. Only this time, it’s all mine: the killer and the lover, the tattoos
and the testosterone. He’s big and cut and fucking sexier than anyone I’ve ever
seen in my entire life.

“Take it off,” he repeats.

Trembling under his lascivious gaze, I obey. He’s enjoying
watching me, which turns me on all over again. Bane sucks his breath in as my
breasts bounce free of my dress. Biting his lip, he raises a hand to his cock
and begins to stroke himself until he hardens even more. I can’t believe the
size of him, the confident hedonism in the way he moves and watches me. His
smile is broad as I finally lift the dress overhead and toss it away over the
edge of the shower.

I’m totally naked. I can almost feel his gaze like a
physical touch as he slowly rakes his eyes up from my ankles, along my calves
and thighs. Bane grabs a condom out of his jeans and rolls the rubber down over
his cock. He groans as his eyes travel over my bikini line and up my belly to
my breasts, finally locking eyes with me.

“You’re my kind of woman,” he murmurs. “Soft and sexy and
curvy and wet and fucking exactly my type.”
“Wet?”

With a devilish chuckle, he flicks the faucet and sends a
warm stream of water cascading over us from the showerhead. I splutter and open
my mouth to laugh but before I can make a sound, I feel Bane’s mouth closing
over mine. His smooth, hard body wraps around me, pulling me into his arms. Our
skin melds together, slickened and cleaned by the water. He kisses me
passionately, deeply, leaning me against the tile wall and opening my legs.

Suddenly I feel his cock sliding between my legs, until the
head presses into my opening. He pauses, drawing his hands down over my
breasts. The water is steaming up the glass shower door and I can feel the
sensation of heat and mist and water and Bane on every pore of my skin.

“I want you to be mine, Ava. Say you’re mine.”

“Does that make you mine too?”

“Don’t toy with me.”

Tilting his head back, he cups my face. His eyes bore into
me again, flickering with meaning as he thrusts slowly, entering me for the
first time.

“Holy shit!” I cry, panting, arcing my back into him. He’s
big. It’s not that it hurts, but I have seriously never fathomed feeling this
full and thoroughly fucked—so fast. He sighs as he reaches his limit inside me
and we stare at each other.

“Yes,” he says, kissing my temple. “It makes me yours, too.
If you’ll have me.”

He pulls out, leaving the head in, and then thrusts back a
little faster.

“Jesus,” I moan.

“You ok baby?”

“Yes, Bane, I’m—oh god!”

He’s building up to a steady rocking, in and out, and I feel
each movement of his hips and his cock inside me with hypersensitivity. Water
is trickling between our slick naked bodies, lubricating each thrust. It’s like
every cell of my body is awake for the first time, and horny as hell.

“You like that?” Bane grunts, jamming into me harder.
“Yeah?”

I can feel his cock ramming up my inner walls and pressuring
my g-spot. His hand is still on my breast, squeezing, and the other holds my
hip as a guide, angling our bodies together. He begins to move his hips
rapidly, thrust after thrust slamming into me and building a fire in my core.

“Yes…” I moan. “You feel so good.”

“Oh yeah, baby.” His eyes close as if in a trance. He pushes
harder, his cock taking over my body and driving me over the edge of euphoria
again. I’m onto my second orgasm, and I almost feel like he’s fucking me up all
the way into my ribcage, through my brain, right into my soul. My body has come
apart, my world has come apart, and Bane’s putting it all back together again
in a new shape.

“Oh, god!” I moan. My scalp and fingers are tingling. “Yes!”

“Oh, Ava!”

“Bane! Harder! Right there.”

“Yeah. Fuck. Yes.”

“Yes!”

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum.”

His voice breaks off in a stifled moan and he arcs his neck
down so that he can kiss my mouth. His thrusts reach a frenzied climax until
his body tenses and contracts. I feel his cock shudder inside me, and glowing
warmth of his cum. With a gasp, he rips me away from the wall and crushes me to
him in a powerful hold. His pulse is thundering through his body so intensely
that I can feel it in my cheek against his chest. His arms are trembling around
me.

“Ava,” he groans. “Oh my god, Ava.”

I feel his lips brush my forehead and turn my face up to
his. His kisses cover my eyelids. We stand there in the shower, holding each
other, as our breathing slows to a more normal rate.

“Fuck,” I murmur. “Bane, that was…I…”

I swallow, catching myself. I can’t give myself away too
much.

Bane squeezes me reassuringly, gently pulling his cock out.

“I would have died for you, baby,” he murmurs. “But I’m
awful glad I lived long enough to fuck you.”

I laugh out loud until I snort, covering my mouth in an
attempt at dignity. But I snort again, which starts Bane chuckling too.

“What?” He grunts

I’m having trouble catching my breath. “Nothing,” I manage,
before cracking up again. “It’s just—” I catch a puzzled look on his face which
makes me lose it again. “Sorry, it’s just that’s actually the most romantic
thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He gives me a level, serious look. “Really? That’s
pathetic.”

“I know.” And we burst out laughing.