by Zoe Blake
The card inside is covered in rhinestone hearts, flashy and special. I open it, eager to see what sweet sentiment David has chosen just for me.
Sarah,
I couldn’t find a jewel as beautiful as you are.
I hope this diamond will do.
Happy Valentine’s Day,
David
I stare at the words. The first time I peruse them, my mind skips over the greeting. I read them again and again, but the growing weight in my gut compels me to acknowledge her name.
Sarah
Sarah
Sarah
Stupid fucking cunt.
How could I ever think this necklace is for me? I’m far too plain to deserve something so beautiful. Sarah is stunning, perfect. No matter how much I diet or how enthusiastically I suck David’s cock, I’ll never be good enough for him. I’ll never be worthy.
The card drops from my numb fingers, and I walk into the living room in a daze. I plop down in David’s chair by the fire. It smells like leather and like him, that sexy, purely masculine scent I can never quite define.
I draw my knees up to my chest, curling into the fetal position as tears track down my cheeks. I hold the necklace, rubbing the expensive gemstone between my thumb and forefinger.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the familiar, self-loathing litany runs through my mind, overtaking all my thoughts. It fills my head in a shrill scream: stupid fucking cunt!
The latch on the front door disengages, shocking me out of my despondent state. I never turned on the lights, but I recognize David’s dark silhouette in the foyer. He’s alone.
“Gwen?” he calls out into the darkness.
“In here,” I croak.
He turns toward me, crossing into the living room and flipping on the light. My too-pale skin is illuminated, shining blinding white.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demands, gesturing at my huddled, naked body. “You have mascara all over your face,” he sneers. “You look like shit.”
“Why don’t you love me?” The question rushes out on a sob.
He barks out a cold laugh and walks toward me. “You’re so insecure,” he accuses. “It’s a very unattractive quality.”
He stops when he’s looming over me, his blue eyes glinting and his pretty lips curved. He reaches for his belt. The tinkling sound of the buckle makes me shudder, and heat pools between my legs.
My nerves are raw and my face is a mess, but I still want him.
“I love you more than anything,” I confess. “I couldn’t live without you, David.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act so needy. You’re killing my hard-on.”
“Sorry,” I whisper as he begins to stroke himself. I unfurl my legs from where they’ve been drawn up to my chest. Before I can get on my knees, he grabs my elbow, yanking me to my feet. His fingers dig into my flesh, hard enough to bruise. Wetness drips between my labia, my desire coating my sex, preparing my body for him.
He glowers at my throat. “What the fuck, Gwen?” he demands. His fingers close around the diamond pendant, and he rips it from my neck. The delicate gold chain bites into my skin before it snaps.
A soft cry of loss knifes from my chest.
He holds his fist up to my face, a threat and a taunt; the glittering gemstone dangles between his fingers.
“This isn’t for you,” he growls. “Why do you always ruin everything?”
“I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I love you.” My eyes fix on the diamond. It swings back and forth like a pendulum, entrancing me. “Don’t you… Don’t you love me?” The beseeching question leaves me on the barest whisper.
He chuckles, a cruel sound devoid of any warmth. “Love you? How could I ever love you? You’re just a stupid fucking cunt. How many times do I have to tell you?”
“Don’t say that,” I beg. “Please, don’t.”
He laughs. “You can pretend for everyone else all you like, but I know what you are. You’re nothing, Gwen. Of course you can’t live without me. You couldn’t function by yourself, because you’re just a stupid fucking cunt. Isn’t that right? Tell me.”
I cringe. He’s never made me say the words aloud before. “Please, David.”
His grip firms on my arm, hurting me. Just like I deserve.
“Say it,” he hisses.
“I’m a…I’m a stupid fucking cunt.”
“Louder.”
“I’m a stupid fucking cunt,” I say clearly, meeting him square in the eye. Something breaks open in my chest, a dam I’ve constructed in my soul to hold in all the dark things. Every cruel word, every strike of his hand—I swallowed it all down, burying it deep and internalizing it.
But now, David has set me free.
I don’t have to pretend I’m worthy anymore. I don’t have to practice and preen and pray for scraps of affection.
There’s no point. I can’t change what I am.
A delighted giggle bubbles from my chest. “I’m a stupid fucking cunt.”
I’ll never be worthy of David’s love. Why have I been trying for so long when I’ll never be good enough?
I can’t be with David. The very idea is laughable.
I reach behind me and find the cool, iron handle of the fire poker. I have half a second to register David’s gorgeous eyes widening with surprise before I swing it at his head. The prong drives into his brain. His full lips part, his mouth dropping open. His eyes go blank. I rip the poker out of his skull. His muscular body drops to the floor with a dull thud. I draw back the iron bar again and swing it in a downward arc.
“Stupid fucking cunt! Stupid fucking cunt!” I shriek the words with each blow, his skull crunching beneath the weight of the metal prongs. His beautiful face is ruined, a gory mess.
Finally, I stop pulverizing his brain. I stare down at the lump of flesh that used to be David.
“Stupid fucking cunt,” I breathe, the words leaving me for the last time. They’re purged from my soul, along with all the dark things I’ve kept locked in my heart.
I’m just Gwen now, and I am enough.
About Julia Sykes
USA Today bestselling author of dark
and dirty romance.
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She has always kept dark stories tucked away in her mind, so she was thrilled when she discovered that other people actually want to read them. Her books blend romance, suspense, and BDSM.
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Also by Julia Sykes
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She'll learn that captivity can be liberating
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Stealing Beauty
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Dark Lessons
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Chilling Seduction
By Jane Henry
They say women swoon for men in uniform, but hell, give me a white lab coat. Power. Prestige. The ability to manipulate life and death. I always thought I’d look damn good a white lab coat and I have to admit, I do. The stolen name badge is the finishing touch.
I stand a little too long admiring how I look in this, and give my vision a half-smile.
Paige will lose her mind. She has a bit of a medical fetish. Tonight, I’ll fuck her with the white lab coat on.
After I do what I came here to do.
She doesn’t know what I’m planning.
I step into the hall and keep my eyes cast down. With my coat and name badge, I’ll fit in here, but I can’t make eye contact with anyone who might see through the thin disguise.
“Hello, doctor.” Paige’s low, seductive voice comes to my left and my pulse spikes. I turn to her and gather her in my arms, pulling her to my chest before I give her a kiss that makes her eyes flutter shut.
“Bradley,” she murmurs against my ear.
I lift up the hem of her scr
ub top and graze the underside of her full breast, the silky feel of her bra making my dick go hard.
“You’re too good to me,” I say, playing the hand I need to. She comes unhinged a tad too easily for my personal tastes, but I know how to handle her. “I hope that doctor you were talking earlier didn’t get too friendly with you, did he?”
“No,” she breathes, when my thumb traces her nipple, grinding her hips against my leg. Wanton little slut. “Never. I wouldn’t let him.”
Paige can be a ruthless bitch when she needs to be, but for me, she’s putty in my hands.
“Good,” I approve, giving her what she wants. “I’d hate to have to break his scrawny neck.”
She practically giggles.
“Such a good girl,” I croon in her ear. I take her lobe between my teeth and bite, eliciting a moan. “Now go finish your shift, and meet me at my place when you’re through. Understood?”
She nods, breathless, her eyes half-lidded.
Dropping my voice, I issue a command in her ear, just the way she likes it. “Be on time tonight, Paige. If you’re late, I may have to punish you.” I tug a strand of her hair. “You remember last time what happened when you were a bad girl.”
“Yes, doctor,” she says with a breathy laugh, before she pulls away. I send her off with a teasing slap to her ass that makes her bite her lip.
It’s almost too easy. She’s already wet for me and I hardly even tried.
I watch her leave, then wait until she’s gone before I make my move.
Turning back to the elevator, I push the button, and when it opens, quickly step in and press the button to the ground floor. I slide the access card she stole for me through the security slot. My pulse races when the green strip of light granting me permission to access the floor lights up. The elevator door swings shut and the carriage swoops downward. I stand erect. Should anyone see me, I belong here. But no one does.
The doors to the elevator swing open. I’m alone here. It’s almost as if it were meant to be. The halls are vacant, and the woman I’m after waits for me. Quietly. Silently. Like the patient lover that she is, with none of the heated fucking passion I get from Paige.
The hall is stifling hot, and I run my finger along my collar to give me some relief. I always hated the heat. I’m suffocating under it, my lungs constricted as if I’m descending into hell itself.
But where she lies in wait is cool. Refreshing. Like lemonade on a summer day. Ice floating in a glass of whiskey.
I always liked the cold.
I walk noiselessly down the hall when I arrive at the right door.
Her door.
I’ve been here so many times, I’ve memorized it. The little nick on the bottom left corner. The scratch just below the doorknob. The sound it makes when the lock unlatches. Anticipation curls in my gut like smoke rising from embers.
I take out my access card and glide it through the security slot again. The green light makes my cock harden like goddamn fucking foreplay. My hands shake on the knob. It’s been too long. I’ve been jacking off in the shower just thinking about this, and now my time has come.
When I open the door, the blissfully cool air washes over me like balm, and I fill my lungs with a contented sigh. She lies in wait like I knew she would. My gorgeous, perfect angel for the night.
I go to her, and shut out every other detail in the room but her faultless, beautiful body waiting for me. She almost looks like she’s asleep, but for her open eyes.
“You look lovely tonight,” I tell her, bending down to stroke her silken red hair, so striking against her pale skin. I love when they’re like this. Their bodies perfectly molded to mine while I touch every curve and dip of their skin, uninhibited by silly protests and useless chatter. The essence of eternity hangs between us as I run my thumb down the side of her cheek and cup her jaw. I drop a kiss to her temple and savor this moment.
Utter flawlessness.
I take my time smoothing my hand over her arms, loving the way her cool skin molds to my touch.
I whisper in her ear, telling her what a good girl she is and how I can’t wait to fuck her, to mark her.
No other man will ever touch her after me.
She’s mine for tonight.
Forever.
Removing my jacket, I toss it to the side, shivering when the cool hair hits my skin. I fucking live for this. Adrenaline courses through my veins like I’m about to step into the boxing ring. My fingers shake with the urgency of the moment, as I remove my clothes. My cock, hard as steel, springs free from my boxers and I fist it, groaning while I take in her gorgeous form. Waiting for me. She’ll wait forever, and hell if that doesn’t make my balls ache to fuck her.
My cock swells in my hand as I remember what it was like with her before. Such a pretty girl, she almost looked wholesome, with her pale skin and wide eyes, wearing simple yet beautiful clothes. No one knew how much she begged to wrap her lips around my cock and swallow every drop of my come down the perfect column of her throat. How she bent over and begged me to fuck her ass, but not until I’d made her cry by hurting her. She was as fucked up as I am, and I’ll miss that about her.
I sigh, closing my eyes, remembering the beautiful way she gave head like I was a god she worshipped. I pump my cock harder, faster, reveling in the memory of warm lips and wicked tongue, how she licked and teased and I’d choke her with my cock until her eyes watered. She loved when I did that.
I throw my head back, imagining her sweet cunt, soaked and primed for my cock. I can’t stop my fist from pumping at the beautiful, erotic memory.
In my mind’s eye, we’re together again in tangled sheets. Touching. Grazing. Licking. Worshipping. I pay homage to her memory before I touch her.
How I used to straddle her and palm her wrists, so small and helpless in my hands. Everything about her was so fragile, so helpless, I groan out loud and tug my cock harder, my hips jerking involuntarily.
It’s quiet. So quiet, I easily fall into the memory of my cock between her thighs, while I groaned in her ear. Somehow, knowing that her life would end so soon made the way I fucked her poignant and memorable. I drag this out, fully intending on fucking her gorgeous body one last time, but I’m so ready to come, I can’t stop the frantic jerking.
I need to remember every fucking detail of this before I take her this one last time.
Lips parted just so, as if holding her breath in anticipation. Light glinting off her porcelain, unblemished skin. Full breasts begging for my palm. She used to love her nipples suckled. I swallow hard, slowing the jerky movements so I can savor this blissful moment.
I need to fuck her, need to the feel of her cool body sculpted to mine. My eyes go half lidded, the silent room filled with the sound of my rasping groans moments before I come, splashing on the cool, clean floor.
When I come down for the momentary loss of control, I get my shit together. I can go all fucking night, and it won’t take long before I’m ready to mount her.
Some women say they want to be used and taken. Degraded. Abused. Owned.
They lie.
Degradation comes with a price. They want to…cuddle and shit. Talk. Share my bed. There’s a price tag that comes with fucking any woman.
But not with her.
I walk to her slowly, anticipation making my cock swell again with need, but my glee is tinged with sadness. Our perfect night will end with finality.
There will be no more late-night trysts. Not with her.
The next time I come, it will be with another woman.
But this one was special.
A noise outside the hall makes me freeze.
Jesus.
I had to jerk myself off like a fucking teenager.
Have I missed my chance?
I brace myself to meet someone in the hall when I open the door, but see no one. I notice the light in the hall is dimmed, though, and I frown.
Has someone come down here? I look, and nearly jump out of my skin when Paige’s v
oice arrests me.
“Bradley,” she says, with chilling calm, like a mother scolding a child caught red-handed, “what were you doing in the morgue?”
She stands to the left of the door with her arms crossed on her chest, her eyes meeting mine with furious accusation. I recognize the glint in her eyes, the same fire she gets before she murders someone.
Paige knows exactly what I was planning on doing in the morgue.
I’ve seen her end the life of seven women I seduced for her, and up until now she’s believed I enjoyed the game of cat and mouse and her undying devotion. She didn’t care what happened to their lifeless bodies after they died.
But to me, it was all I cared about.
It isn’t devotion in life I crave, but in death.
Women are fickle creatures. Impetuous. Flighty.
So much more complacent when the blood lies cold in their veins.
And as Paige looks from me to the door of the morgue, I know.
Paige knows I betrayed her. She knows I’ve used her to fuel my fetish.
The realization hits us both at once. She screams with maniacal fury before she lunges, the momentary fury my only warning.
I sidestep her so her body propels into the hall. Her arms flail just before her head slams into the wall. She howls and crumples to the floor before I make my move.
With almost effortless ease, I lift her body in my arms and hold her to my chest so she faces away from me, one arm restraining her last attempt to escape, my vice-like grip immobilizing her arms. I’m much bigger than she is, and I’m experienced in restraining her.
With one quick tug, I lift the stethoscope that still hangs from her neck, and with my right hand I wrap it tightly. I pull.
“Thank you for all you’ve done,” I whisper in her ear, as she flails and squirms, desperate for air, riddled with panic as I strangle the life out of her. But my hold on her is way too strong. It’s almost laughably easy to strangle her, but I still make sure I do a thorough job of it.