by Celia Crown
“I feel uneasy at home by myself,” she cries with a hand on her cheek. “I need a strong man to escort me home, could you?”
The diamond ring on her finger glares into my eyes as the beautiful sunlight cut through the windows.
The deputy smiles tightly. “Yes, of course, ma’am.”
She shrieks her name, pressuring him to call her that as she grins happily. “I will wait in your car, don’t be late. I fear for my life every day because the criminal is not caught.”
He didn’t offer to take her home, but she took it upon herself to take the initiative. She pops her ass towards him as she leans on the counter, muttering about the delicacy of her wedding that requires perfection from my side.
The man turns away with an uncomfortable curl of his lips. She’s the mayor’s daughter; it’s unwise to offend the woman. He stands to the side and scans the flowers, dawdling on the lilies with a small smile.
The woman finishes her signature and puts down the final payment. She puts her fountain pen back in her purse, zipping it up and smoothing down her short skirt.
“I’m ready, deputy,” she purrs salaciously.
I secure the check as I ignore the thick air of lust around her. The deputy’s weak laugh fills the room, and he is clearing his throat by the time I look up.
“Police matters come first, ma’am.” He tips his chin towards me.
She shrugs and drags a pedicured nail along the shiny badge by his belt. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t take your time.”
He nods again, firmly. His body language emits irritation as she sways her hips. The door closes behind her, and he’s able to breathe easily.
“Sorry about that,” he says and chuckles.
I give a crooked smile and wave my hand. “No problem. What can I do for you this time?”
“We have a witness to the crime and want to see if the sketch of the perpetrator is someone you know,” he remarks bluntly.
He takes me by surprise. I didn’t expect him to come at me with that information. Maybe that’s what he wanted, to see my first reaction and gauge the truth.
“I’m sorry, officer, but what does that have to do with me?” I ask with wrinkled brows.
I don’t know people around town personally, and I doubt others wouldn’t recognize the person in the sketch.
Unless it’s not someone from here.
“It’s probably nothing, but I’d like to chase down every lead,” he mentions as he drags his eyes over my head and stares at the backroom.
“Who’s the witness?” I inquire curiously.
Sergei doesn’t seem like the type to leave loose ends that could put him in prison. I think he’d go out of his way to wipe away all evidence of his crime, but the witness could be a stroke of luck for the police.
“Can’t tell you that,” he says with a light smile. “I want to show you the sketch, and maybe you’ll recognize him.”
“I’m not the best one for this, sir,” I object. “Mrs. Hudson has a better eye; she’s always outside and could’ve seen something.”
He shakes his head. “This is something only you can do.”
I lack experience in many areas. However, I’m not stupid; I do pick up on hints.
The deputy had come to me under the assumption that Dakota was one of the deceased teenagers. He wasn’t, so it’s not a far-fetched assumption that he’s the witness. He’s part of the group, so it makes sense he was near that area where the party took place.
He’s the witness, and the sketch could resemble Sergei. I hope the sketch artist isn’t good at their job, and I pray Dakota has a bad memory.
“I will come to escort you to the station later,” he utters.
“When?” I question with incredulity.
“When we’re ready,” he quips elusively.
I get the sense that he’s suspicious of me, but he doesn’t know why. It doesn’t take a genius to see his plan, he wants to ambush me and hope to get a good arrest.
It would be an amazing arrest. It’s Sergei, after all. An escaped convict and a mass murderer. The deputy would have smooth sailing in his career after that.
“Oh, deputy!” the woman in his car screams.
Her voice jangles the open windows. We wince at the volume as she impatiently calls his name, screaming that she must be on time for her spa appointment to look more beautiful.
He sighs heavily. “Good day, ma’am.”
“Could you flip the sign on your way out? I’m going to lunch.” I motion to the sign hanging on the door.
After the deputy leaves with his tires squealing, the shop wraps me in suffocating silence. Inhaling deeply, I rub the back of my neck to soothe the jumpy nerves.
He’s intuitive. He knows something is going on, and I’m scared he will find Sergei. It’s bizarre that an escaped convict would stay in one place for so long. However, Sergei has never given any indication he’s leaving.
He could be thinking about it, planning, and executing it when the time is right.
Dismay colors my face as I frown sullenly.
He’s going to leave. Some part of me didn’t take that into account when we’re spending time together. I didn’t want to think about it because that would make it true. My heart was already set on having Sergei.
“Don’t frown, Nia,” Sergei murmurs from behind as he pulls my waist to his hardened body.
He heard the conversation. Sergei always knows what is going on, he even knows the details that I miss.
I ask tentatively, “What’re you going to do next?”
“Oh? Am I overstaying my welcome?” he teases with a hushed hum.
“That’s not what I mean.” I hesitate to lay a hand over his bulging forearm around my waist.
I begin awkwardly, “It’s just that… with the mayor’s daughter getting married, the mayor has issued a reward for the person who catches you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “I’m capable of fending for myself.”
“You say that, but you’ve no idea who she’s marrying.” I sigh and lean back, absorbing his warmth as a breeze wash over us.
“Enlighten me,” he whispers lightly, unperturbed, and at ease.
“She’s marrying the owner of Forma Axis. They make carbon black, and they are one of the richest families around here.”
I bite my lip, pursing into a thin white line as I tap my head on his broad chest. “Also, he’s the third cousin of her father.”
I’m unfamiliar with the laws on marriage, but it does raise a lot of eyebrows about the ethics. It’s a political move that benefits both sides, and it keeps their family bloodline somewhat free of outside genes.
The mayor’s family has old beliefs, but no one dares to point out how weird it is for him to marry his daughter off to his third cousin.
“They’re a powerful family, and if his daughter wants the perfect wedding, the mayor will make it happen.” I pause, swallowing dryly as I shudder.
I say with an uneased laugh, “You did take the spotlight away from her special day.”
His chest vibrates as the laugh travels down between my thighs. The tingling sensation nips my pussy, drips of wetness smearing my panties as he curls his fingers around my waist. My dress hikes up my thigh when he holds me tighter, nudging my ass against the hard bulge.
We slept beside each other last night. Nothing scandalous, just a night of feeling his big cock against me. He didn’t say anything, so I didn’t point it out either. I refused to turn our interaction into an awkward standoff.
“Her special day,” he murmurs hollowly. “What about you?”
I hum in confusion as I tilt my head to his sharp jawline. Sergei cocks his head, his blue eyes gleaming with optimistic fervor.
“Have you thought about marriage?”
His question scares me. I’m not frightened to be tied down, I’m more concerned about the seething hostility behind his blue hues.
My voice quivers pitifully as I admit, “I don’t
know.”
I often say that as a default answer. The less I knew, the easier it was for me to survive in this town when those teenagers were alive. Turning a blind eye on their crimes was a cowardly move, but I couldn’t overpower them by myself.
Sergei provokes, “What do you know about yourself, little girl?”
There’s no answer to that. I just don’t know what I want. Before Sergei, no one made me question what I want to do with my life. The mere presence in his powerful stance is different from the power the mayor or the sheriff hold, it’s a silent command to yield to his icy blue eyes.
He advises reservedly, “Don’t waste your youth in this town, Nia.”
“I have nowhere to go.” The admission hurts as my heart twists painfully.
“Your parents?” he asks with his lips touching the top of my head.
I shrug droopily to brush off the misery. “Passed away.”
“You’ve been on your own,” he notes nonchalantly as he presses the weight of his chest against my back to take another layer of freedom away from my stilled frame.
He adds, “I’d wager that you’ve been fending for yourself for some time now.”
“It’s not too bad. I’m learning things as I go,” I confess as I lick my lip, wetting the dry skin.
Wheezing from shock, my eyes tilt with sickened queasiness when he spins me around to face the disapproving frown on his handsome face.
“That’s not good,” he murmurs as he splays his hands possessively over the curve of my hips.
He hoists me up, forcing my thighs to cling to his hips while my panties rub snugly against the twitching bulge. Sergei kisses my cheek as he climbs the stairs to the second floor.
“When do you have time to yourself?” he asks after moments of silence.
I shudder anxiously. “What do you mean? I always have time.”
“To be you, a young girl with much potential to exploit,” he utters.
He supports me with one arm and opens the bedroom door. It closes with a small click while the fluttering of the curtains takes over; the window allows fresh air to push out the floral aroma.
“Exploit?” I choke through my confusion. “That’s something a human trafficker would say.”
The ugly implication goes over his head, or he doesn’t care that I insulted him. The strength in his fingertips still burns through the thin dress.
“Pardon me, Nia. I often misconstrue translations.” He throws me on the bed and stands intimidatingly still as he drags his eyes down to my exposed panties.
“You know more than one language,” I comment shyly as I pull down my dress.
“Yes,” he says. “Russian.”
“Yeah, I got that from your accent.”
His lips widen with a smirk. “I haven’t noticed.”
I climb up on my elbows. “It’s not too obvious. It slipped once when you were angry.”
Sergei kneels over me, digging his knees into the bed and capturing my lips with a smooth transition.
He mutters curtly, “Then, I must work on that.”
“You’re from Russia? What’s it like there?” I question, breathing on his lips.
“You wouldn’t survive there,” he reckons with a hum as he pecks my cheek before ghosting his breath down my neck.
I fall on my back, and he takes the distance as an offense; his chest resonates with a deep growl.
I laugh as he flicks his tongue over my erratic pulse, and it prances down to my aching clit. “I heard that Russia is cold, but I didn’t think it’s that bad.”
He stops with a contemplating scoff. “It’s a dog-eat-dog country. I believe that is the correct expression.”
What am I supposed to say to that?
“Oh,” I mumble slowly.
“Although,” he muses throatily. “It would not be difficult to make arrangements for you to travel there if you wish.”
Going to Russia is not a wish to hold onto. He’s indulging my desire to leave this desolate town and the corruption in everyone’s heart.
“How? You’re still…wanted.” I grimace at the unwelcome truth.
He strokes the faintest touch on my bottom lip as he holds my jaw, his palm bringing a shudder to my spine.
“Prison was a vacation, little girl. Never underestimate a man’s need.”
“What do you need that made you escaped from prison?” My brows curl in confusion, but a tremor breaks my concentration.
“What I needed before is of no importance to you, but for now and the foreseeable future, I want you.”
I squeak in uncertainty. “What? That’s—”
His calloused hand dances over my bare shoulders, toying with the thin straps and muttering faintly about permission. Mindlessly, I nod in approval of the little things he wants to do. He tugs on the straps, and his hot mouth brings wet kisses to the skin.
“I need you to be a good girl for me,” he coos sternly.
His teeth find my pulse, biting and scraping his tongue across the sore spot. My panties scratch my little clit, yanking at the quivering pleasure as my virgin hole leaks messily.
His hips prevent my thighs from closing. I want to use the friction of my thighs to stop the aching, but he insists on pressing his cock snugly against the damp fabric.
“It’d break my heart to see disobedience mar your beautiful skin, little girl.”
That’s something to sleep on. A heart; Sergei has a heart. A criminal with no regard for human life. That’s not what scares me the most. I can’t help the sparks of a burning desire for this man when his hand slowly wraps around my neck.
A grip so gentle, yet uncannily throttling.
He hums with an empty chuckle. “Can you do that for me, be a good girl?”
Sergei purrs into the side of my head. “I won’t be angry if you don’t.”
He would. He certainly would be festering in a silent rage with the same aloof cerulean gaze that contradicts the disarming smile.
It occurs to me, albeit too late, that he sees me as prey. He wants to bring me to submission, to force me to choose between wavering morals and my poisonous desire for him.
“I’ll be good,” I mutter.
He smiles in approval. He swiftly pulls my thin dress off, discarding it over his shoulder without taking his eyes from me. Embarrassment soars over my heaving chest and crashes into my cheeks. I gather my trembling arms over my chest and clutch my thighs.
Sergei grinds his thick cock into my soaked pussy, rocking the coarse fabric of my panties and his pants over the sensitive little bud. My back arches and he unclip my bra too efficiently.
“We shouldn’t—” I peep pitifully. “The door isn’t locked!”
“It’s lunchtime,” he reminds.
I want to protest, but he silences me with a passionate kiss that wipes my thoughts away. His hand reaches down, grazing a big finger over the stretched panties and fiddling with the swollen bud.
A moan parts my lips as tears gather at the corners of my eyes, frustrated at the sensation I have no control over.
“I’ll be gentle,” he comforts.
Ripping my flimsy panties is not a comforting gesture when it comes to the sheer strength of his hands. The more reluctant part grates on my delicate folds, sending chilled sparks into my clit and to my spine.
“Sergei,” I call desperately. “I’ve never… this is new to me.”
He only smiles, almost as if he knew already. My face flushes with mortification; I was that obvious about my inexperience.
His back ripples as the black shirt cling to his massive body, and he inches down with wicked intent shining in his blue eyes.
I shake my head frantically and hide my sodden pussy from him. “N-no! It’s dirty!”
His lips twist, snarling deafeningly. He snaps his tatted hand on top of mine and curls two thick fingers, my tiny hole yielding to the commanding gesture when his fingers stretch my unused hole.
My fingers graze the quivering muscles, but he reaches dee
per and spreads me wider. He bends the digits more firmly and hits something so sensitive that the spongy spot spasms at the roughness.
Electric sparks snap under my skin, shattering the structure of his features as black dots dash across my vision.
Gushes of sordid cum pour out of my pussy, soaking my quivering folds and dripping down to the bed.
Sergei brings his fingers out and deliberately darts his tongue over the glistening digits with a flare of dark iniquity in his smile.
“I will forgive you this time,” he whispers dangerously. “Never deny me the eating of your filthy little pussy, Nia.”
My name is a sin on his tongue.
Chapter Eight
Sergei
Such a greedy little pussy.
The swollen hole pulses, clenching emptily as I prod the tip of my cock on the tight ring of muscle. She’s pink, soft with those pretty folds spreading to show me that twitching little bud.
I had lost control a mere minutes ago. I had made a promise to myself that I would not let anything breach her delicate cunt, but my fingers had a different agenda.
I had planned to drink her sweetness, play with her pussy, and get her drenching to ensure she’s ready for my fat cock.
She had denied me that. I am angry; I was an awful man, and I’m going to make it up to her.
Although my actions resulted in her tight pussy coating my fingers with her cum, it’s not enough to erase the mistake I made.
Every time I pull my cock back, the bulbous tip gets another glistening sheen of cum from her drippy cunt. It is cursing my willpower to break and take her tiny cherry with a mean thrust.
Two fingers twist her rosy nipple, plucking and fondling the bud with a distracting hum. I’d love to shove my face between those creamy tits, but I would risk burying my thick cock in her virgin hole.
It’s a battle between the two sides of me: hurt her like a crude businessman or love her like a man obsessed.
“Sergei?” she whispers daintily as she grips my wrist with one hand while the other grabs onto the thin bedspread.