AX | CABARET OF WHISPERS | #1

By TheAnnoyingBitch All Rights Reserved ©

Erotica / Action

CHAPTER 20

The road to hell is truly paved with good intentions.

Ax’s good intentions were purely selfish and he had no desire whatsoever to lie about the fact. And so, he needed to do everything in his power to ensure that he would get what he longed for, even if that meant striking deals with the Devil himself.

He longed for ignorance. He longed to remain carefree and keep his mind away from the terrors that haunted him whether they lived in his past or if they resided in his future.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

A type of bliss he could never possess.

Their month was up.

Xavier had contacted Mick a few days ago, telling him that the shipment was being placed on the aeroplanes. He assured him that everything would work out fine.

The next phone call came a day later or it would be much more appropriate to say twenty five hours later.

It had arrived exactly on time.

He hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned that they liked to be punctual.

Ax had spent the whole month repairing Eros’ Jaguar, not giving himself time to doubt any part of their plan or time to think about who was behind Eros’ ‘accident’.

That time would come much later.

When Bruce was no more and he didn’t offend the planet with his presence anymore.


Celia was curled up in his bed, a sheet draped over her naked form. Ax’s fingers traced her tattooed flesh and his touch felt as light as a feather’s.

His gaze scrutinised her raven black hair and how it framed her face. He traced his fingers over her lush lips, bending his head down to capture them with his.

He couldn’t help himself when it came to her.

He wanted to fall on his knees and show her exactly how she should be worshipped but even that wouldn’t be enough.

She quivered beneath his touch. Even in the state of dreaming her breath hitched and soft moans rose from her vocal cords. Ax was enthralled, completely in awe of her response to him.

She would purr like a kitten each time his fingers brushed the column of her neck and reached her carotid. She melted into him. Her felt her pulse pounding against his finger as he traced her artery. There was something beautiful about that particular spot on the human body.

It only took one small cut and death was inevitable. Blood would escape from the body as if it had been caged for so many years. As if it was Billy Hayes in the Midnight Express.

Something beautiful lied in the gore a river of crimson offered.

The macabre could be fascinating if one was able to look beyond the external layer of pain. Edgar Allan Poe had given the lyrical tools for people to appreciate it.

However, not many did.

Only the innocent and the fainthearted for they were the only ones who would never dare to actually cause any damage and even if they did they would look at the blood like it was nothing more than a work of art.

Celia wasn’t innocent.

She hadn’t been innocent in a very long while.

She had reached a certain point in which blood was a trigger for memories.

Even the smallest nick managed to bring back images she longed to burry.

“Hey.” She whispered, a small smile breaking on her striking face.

“Hmm.” He groaned against her skin. He gave her another kiss, this time hitting her collarbones with his lips. Her skin was tingling where he touched her, her body awakening and needing more. The ache between her thighs would not settle, leaving her restless and sexually frustrated.

Ax lifted his gaze and stared directly into her eyes. “Tell me.” He commanded, somehow managing to look beyond the facade she, usually, put on.

“Tell you what?” She inquired feigning innocence.

“What you want from me, little dove. Anything you want, just tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“What do you want?”

“I want a great deal of things, baby.” He replied vaguely, his fingers tracing patterns on the thighs, dangerously close to her aching core. “I want the whole fucking world. I want to look directly at the Sun without losing my sight, but most of all, Celia, I want to make you beg. I want you to beg me to fuck you, to make you lose sense of time. I want you to forget your own name. I want to be the only thing on your mind.” Her lips parted but no sound escaped. Her breathing turned rugged as she felt his hard cock against her stomach.

“I’ll give you what you need.” He promised before hungrily pressing his lips to hers. He bit her plump lower lip hard, his teeth sinking on the soft flesh. A gasp was all it took for him to gain entrance. Meanwhile, his skilled fingers tore the sheets from her body, leaving her completely exposed. His skilled fingers were on her the moment her body had been freed. They grazed her soft flesh of her cleavage but did nothing to relieve her growing ache.

“Ax if you don’t stop teasing me, I’ll...” A moan was elicited from her, cutting her threat sort.

“What will you do?” He whispered hotly. He took on of her immobile hands in his possession and pressed it on his growing erection. He felt scorching hot under her touch. “What more can you do beside take responsibility for this?” Her body’s response was immediate.

Wetness pooled between her shapely thighs, making her want to cross her legs so that she could be offered some friction. A smile broke on his carved face.

Celia wet her lips teasingly, her tongue darting out to swipe across her bottom lip. Ax’s sharp eyes followed the movement.

There was no blue left in them.

She smiled mischievously at him, snatching her hand from his hold but not before she had given him one last parting present. Her nails dug in the inner part of his thigh. A sharp jolt passed through his veins. “Fucking Hell, Celia.”

“You know, Alexander, I’m really tired of playing your games. I need you to fuck me really bad but I can finish the job myself, if you want to play around.” Without another word she got down to business.

His eyes followed her, dark and intrigued as he saw her play with her curvy body just for him. Just like the time at the amphitheatre. Her body was still draped around him so every time she made even a slight movement his cock throbbed. Fuck.

Kittish mewls left her mouth as her hand pressed against her clit.

At the same time, she pressed her right thigh on his shaft, eliciting a moan from his full lips.

Ax looked like he was being tortured.

The fact that he was watching her every movement only ignited the fire inside her. Her fingers worked feverishly, the triumph she felt manifesting to pure liquid desire.

Somehow, it felt naughty, putting on a show for him.

“You’re killing me, little dove.” He groaned, drawing her closer to his body. “But this stops now.” Celia closed her eyes for one second, too focused on the feeling to care about her surroundings and when she opened them again she saw that he had somehow dropped her on the bed and he was on his knees before her.

He lived to make her moan and collapse from pleasure.

He lowered his body gradually, cherishing her expression as she began to realise what he was going to do. He started laying soft, teasing kisses on her calves, moving upward to her trembling from the anticipation knees and finally he had found his target.

His face was in front of her parted thighs. His lips teased every inch of the creamy flesh, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat on her soft skin. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you, little dove?” His fingers danced across her thighs, briefly touching her folds, making her inhale sharply in response. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Ax.” She confessed. “Only for you.” He smiled wolfishly at her.

Then out of nowhere, he laid a brief, gentle kiss on her clit.

He would never learn.

“Stop playing.” She repeated. Celia lifted her hips, telling him exactly what she wanted. Ax was carnivorous. He didn’t waste a second. He denied her the pleasure she sought by removing his face from her sex only to replace it with his shaft. He was directly above her, his elbows supporting his weight. Her back arched the moment he entered her, drawing a long groan from her mouth.

In the room existed only the sound of their bodies colliding.

There was only one word that could describe the feeling that erupted between them: euphoria, but even that was not good enough as a characterisation.

Her pussy clenched around him as he tried to drown in her like a madman. Her nails were on his ass, doing their best to make her cling to him. His groans were animalistic, he was more beast than man in that moment. All he wanted to do was bury himself in her cunt and remain there, make her forget they were two separate beings. “Beg.” The command was harsh, just how she liked it. “Beg me and I might let you come.”

“Fuck.” That’s not a beg, little dove. In reply to her small act of defiance, Ax slowed up his thrusts. “Beg.” He repeated, giving her a good hard reminder of what he could give her if she obeyed.

“Alexander please let me come.” She whispered. Her skin was glistening with sweat but it looked like a million goddamn diamonds every time the sun fell directly on it. “Beg like you mean it.” Her painted nails dug inside his skin in warning. Celia raised her head and came into direct contact with a vein pulsing in his neck. “I’m not going to beg.” She sucked on the skin surrounding his carotid, tasting his sweat on her lips.

“Fucking brat.” He chuckled lightly. He would sooner or later get what he had asked for but he let her believe she had won that round. His cock slammed into her repeatedly, picking up the pace, giving her a taste of how bad he could be. “You feel so fucking good, I could do this all damn day.” He hissed, impaling her harder.

He wanted to torture her.

“I’m coming.” She mewled, a few moments later. He drove into her relentlessly, groaning at how her tight pussy clenched around his cock. Her whole body was shaking, writhing under him. “Fuck, Ax.” The tension kept on building up in her small body. Celia shuddered as she felt Ax’s rock his lean hips up and down. “Fuck.” His shaft twitched and all the mechanic could do was prolong the wave of pleasure that had stabbed both of them. Celia began to shake and tremble as the orgasm ripped through her.

In the end she was all hazy eyes and trembling knees.

They laid on the bed afterward, panting, in a tangled mess and it was a beautiful picture. “Do you want me to put you over my knee and teach you a fucking lesson? Is that what this is about?” Was that supposed to be a threat?

She shivered in anticipation. “Give me your worst.”

Drowning himself in her was the best kind of drug.

After all, drugs are addictive substances. If you taste them once you will most likely do it over and over, again and again, until you can’t remember your fucking name and the only thing you know for certain is that she is bloody yours.

Ax moved towards the edge of the bed, his legs touching the floor. He patted his thigh, motioning her over. “Come here.”


“So, this Xavier, is going to kill Bruce?”

“No. His father, Salvador, will when the time is right.” He replied, his voice steady, showing no signs of the irrevocable anxiousness he was feeling. His eyes followed her, seeking a small indication that he could relax. But why in the ever-loving Hell did he need her for something like that?

He was waging a war with himself for her sake but she wasn’t looking at him. Instead of giving him what he craved, she gazed at a poster that decorated her wall. She stared at the woman in the picture but he knew he wasn’t looking at her. No, it was apparent that she was looking through her. It was also apparent that she was desperately keeping herself from looking at him.

Ax was having none of that bullshit.

He had already been sitting on the unmade bed next to her when he decided to move even closer to her. “You’re such an idiot. You both are such idiots.”

“Look at me.” He commanded softly. His breath hitched the moment her hazel eyes fell to his darker ocean ones. “I won’t get hurt.” Celia rested her head on his shoulder, avoiding his piercing gaze once more.

“You can’t even convince yourself.” She scoffed. “You’re going to end up regretting this.”

Fury danced across his eyes. He gripped her by the shoulders, tearing her away from his body. “Can’t you see how important this is for me? I have been waiting for five fucking years.” He yelled, causing her eyes to widen. “Do you know how it is to sleep with one eye open so that if anyone tried to attack you, you could protect yourself? Do you know how it is to have to have perverts ogling at your ass and your cock every fucking time you tried to shower?” He didn’t give her an opportunity to speak. And what could she possibly say?

“Because I do. I fucking do.” Pity swam across her pools of earthly colour. “Don’t look at me like that, little dove. I don’t fucking want your pity.” He growled the final sentence, not caring that she was trying to free herself from his grip. “I don’t need your pity, that’s not why you’re here for.” He hissed, his pupils dilating.

The beast was out.

“Maybe the only thing you’re good for is fucking.” Celia was so shocked at his response. She glared at the creature in front of her, the one she believed she had managed to get to know, but she saw no familiarity. Alexander Vidal had departed and all that was left was a vessel, cold and emotionless or perhaps, that was the real Alexander Vidal. “The sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever tasted.” He mumbled to himself.

She never thought he could be pretending.

But then again, who does?

It should have come as no surprise when he threw her on the mattress face down, the sheets preventing her nostrils from taking deep breaths. She felt him straddle her thighs, pinning her down with his weight. Her breath quickened, her body excited and shamefully willing. Even though it knew he wanted to hurt her by talking to her as if she was nothing but his pet.

He entered her without any vocal warning, not giving her time to adjust or even remember to breathe. However, she knew his body so well, that she could feel whatever he was doing. Feel his next move before he even did it. Brutally and ceaselessly he pounced into her warm, soft body. Celia was too stunned to speak and simply released sounds when they were summoned by his brutality.

Was it wrong to admit that she met his fury and played along, hurting him worse than he hurt her? Was it wrong to admit that she enjoyed the feeling of his broken skin beneath her fingertips? Was it wrong to admit that she could almost taste the blood that escaped?

His virility brought her close to the edge in seconds. He went deeper and harder not giving a damn if she had managed to acclimate. His rage had thrown a cloud over his vision. If you asked him hours later what the hell had happened, he wouldn’t know what to reply. He didn’t know.

The fleeting feeling of the high left them both void.

Ax groaned as he pulled out from her, finally coming back to his senses. What had he done?

She wrapped a sheet around her form, needing to hide from his unwavering gaze. Her backside was stinging, the cool sheet was doing nothing to relieve her. Unleashed tears stung her eyes. “Shit, Celia...” He trailed off, not knowing what more to say.

He had used her like she was another faceless woman from the past.

All because he was angry.

She wiped her hazel eyes with a one quick movement, a bitter chuckle managing to cross the threshold of her lush lips. “Get out.” She whispered the words at first, but when she chose to repeat them, she yelled. She wretched her body away from him and curled up in herself like a wounded animal that has to protect itself from further injuries.

She was a lioness ready to strike.

The tears were a product of her disgust at herself, at how she found herself needing to hurt him just to show him how his distrust hurt her.

They were both so fucked up

“Get out, Ax.” A sob found its way to the surface, no matter how hard she tried to hold it back. His body sought only to comfort her but she didn’t let him. She pushed him away, screaming at him to leave.

And so, he left.

But he had no intention of letting her slip away from him again.


Mick heard a groan come from the creature that was draped across his chest. His eyes opened and all he could see was a mass of long mousy brown hair.

His fingers stroked the tendrils, loving how soft they felt.

“Morning.” He greeted gruffly, his voice still rough from sleep.

Aurelia managed to groan in return, the light stabbing her eyes. She pressed her head harder against Mick’s neck, trying to conceal her eyes from coming into direct contact with the sunlight. “It’s time to get up, little mouse.” It’s time to finally let go, little mouse.

“Fuck off.” The words came out muffled but were still coherent. Mick laughed but his chest moved painfully, oxygen seemed to be stabbing his most vital organ. He rolled away from her, moving towards the edge of the bed. The sunlight kissed his skin, causing to glow. Nothing had ever been more beautiful nor would ever be.

He got up from the bed, stretching his limbs, feeling his muscles awaken under his skin. It was a wonderful day to hear his father announce that the shipment had vanished into thin air. It was a damn beautiful day to see his eyes turn colder as defeat settled over his features.

Hate the thing you love the most and you’ll be free.

It might as well have been raining.

He put on his clothes hastily and for the first time since he had met her he dug out his cut from the very back of his Rosewood closet. He shrugged it on, the smell of old, broken leather engulfing his entire being. It was a sign of his freedom.

He belonged to no one but himself when he was on his bike. He had no home, no name. He didn’t exist.

He was a ghost wandering around.

He caught her looking at his jacket in distaste. She didn’t know who Mick truly was, what he had done or what he was going to do. “What is this?” Her brows furrowed suspiciously. It felt like she was interrogating him.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” Mick replied smoothly, not bothering to show any true emotion. She got up from the bed, following his previous movements.

“Yes, you bloody do.” Aurelia argued and flames danced across her dark brown eyes. “You’re one of them?” The last word held so much venom, he found himself flinching away from her.

“Who are them? The outlaws? The junkies? The liars?” He leaned in as if to whisper a secret. “The killers? Why, yes, dear, I am.” It was time she knew the truth. “You see that little patch next to the left side of the upper pocket? Apparently, I’m really high up their hierarchy.”

Her eyes widened but she didn’t want to offer him the satisfaction of seeing her as shaken up as she truly was. “You’re lying. You can’t be in that gang, you’re not like those guys.”

He stepped in a bit closer to her, his knuckles brushing against her cheek. “What are those guys like?”

“I don’t know. Cruel, menacing, nothing like you.”

Well, baby, you did just describe my father. So, at least in part, you described me.

Something kept him from uttering those words. Perhaps, he knew they weren’t true. Perhaps, he realised he would have gone too far if he were to utter them. He was nothing like Bruce, not just appearance and certainly not in character. He was like his mother. Rosa had been kind hearted and soft spoken, somebody you could only find in books. She had been a true angel but she had been taken away from him before he could learn more about her. All the information Mick had acquired over the years had come from kind club whores and older members. People who had known her far better than her own son ever would.

“Are you sure about that?” He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. A big menacing grin fell on his face the moment he heard her breath hitch and her body stiffen. She was beginning to see what he wanted her to.

She was beginning to fear the animal he could become. She gulped harshly. “Yes.”

“You don’t know me nearly enough to be so sure.” He contradicted, slipping easily into his skin of preference. “I could have planned this whole thing. Us meeting, I mean.”

“No, you couldn’t have. You didn’t know Brian.”

“Or, at least, that is what you believe.” So many lies, Mick, so many lies.

“I could have this whole thing up. Wasn’t it rather convenient that I happened to be at the pub and that I convinced my friend to come with me, so that I could take you away from that guy?”

“Coincidence.” Aurelia muttered smoothly, her fingers shaking, needing to grab a tendril of dark hair and place it on her mouth, chewing anxiously, just like she did when she had been a child.

“You can’t be naive enough to believe in coincidences.” He scolded at her like she was nothing more than an insolent child. “Wasn’t it very heroic of me? Saving the damsel in distress. I was a real fucking prince charming.” He gave a small mocking laugh, laughing at her expression most likely.

Aurelia said nothing. The itch had been growing but she remained stiffly motionless. She was beginning to believe him. She was being hand fed lies from one of the most cunning men the world had ever known, of course she was beginning to believe him. “No.” She gazed at his dark haunting eyes and came in contact with pure nothingness. His eyes were void, they were the eyes of a well trained killer, not the eyes of the man who had held her in his arms just a few short hours ago.

“Yes.” He smiled. “I took care of you, explained everything that had happened and you believed me. Not just that, but you even fell for me. Terrible decision, really. Never trust strangers, even if they have faces like mine.” He was a damn good liar. So good, in fact, that he could almost convince himself if he wanted to. “Unfortunately, little mouse, I have grown rather tired of this silly, little game.”

Aurelia remained unmoving.

Statues would never accomplice such stillness.

“What do you mean?” She inquired but it was pointless. He had led her mind right where he wanted it. She knew exactly what he meant because there was nobody who knew him like her. Even when he was lying.

“This ends today.” Mick told her softly, his facade breaking at the corners. “You will leave this house today and you will never return. Never and for no reason. I’m done with you.” The words were harsh, painful. They slashed through her soft skin manically, but not a drop of blood fell.

“I don’t believe you.” She told him in defiance, taking her first step forward and almost colliding with his form. “You love me.”

Mick raised an eyebrow at the small creature. “Do I?” He was laughing right at her face but holy fucking Hell it was tearing him apart. “I’m sorry princess, I lied.”

“No, you didn’t. I know you didn’t.” If she had been a few inches taller she would have been able to to whisper the words in his ear. Thank God she wasn’t, she would have ended that charade in seconds.

“Oh, but I did. I tell all kinds of pretty things to pretty girls who I want to fuck. You thought you were special, little mouse, is that it? I’m sorry to ruin this illusion for you. You’re just like any other female with a functioning pussy.” The sound of her palm colliding with his cheek was deafening. Mick froze. Aurelia froze.

Time stopped existing.

He had succeeded but it was the worst feeling in the world. She moved away from him. “I’m done fighting for you. You’re clearly lying but have it your way, maybe one day you’ll realise what you just did.” Tears ran hastily from her eyes to her cheeks, following the path down to her chin. She didn’t wipe them off. She threw on one of his band t-shirts, not caring to see which band it depicted and went to the bag she had brought with her the previous night.

It had been, perhaps, the greatest night of her life and she would never get to experience anything like that again.

She rampaged through her bag before throwing something at his chest. Mick made no move to pick it up. “I hate you.” It was a lie and they both knew it but the words still managed to knock the air right out of Mick’s lungs.

Hate the thing you love the most and you’ll be free.

“The thing is, you don’t. You love me and I love you.” He whispered with a broken smile painted on his face. He watched her walk away, not even looking back to catch one last look at him.

Perhaps, it was for the best.

Anyone could see that life herself was a stage at a cabaret. You performed for an unseen audience but you mainly performed for your self. You took pages off the script and tore them up before setting the whole thing into flames, deciding that life shouldn’t be programmed, your performance ought to be genuine. You ought to act with desperate firmness, like you’re Leonardo DiCaprio chasing after that damned golden statue.

However, sometimes you lose yourself in the dance between acting and living. You lose sight of who you were before you realized that everyone wore a mask, that even before the Greeks and the Romans had used masks in their performances they existed deep within the people, they were in their DNA. Sometimes, you see your mask for what it has become and that is the part where you see what you have become.

Mick realized it was too late to make an effort.

He had lost.

The curtain had been closed, the actors had taken a bow and the lights had been turned off.

That was their end.

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