He knew I pretended to hate him for Molly’s sake. The truth was, I adored a man I should have despised with every fiber of my being.
“Still trying to pretend you don’t like it when I fuck you?” His voice went low as he pulled completely out of my pussy and slammed back in.
His hand slid lower, and his fingers found their way to my clit. He pounded into me, destroying my resolve with every thrust. My legs began to shake, and my body trembled beneath him. I tossed my head to the side when the climax overcame me, trying to muffle my screams in the bed pillows. I grabbed his forearms and dug my nails into his flesh.
Neither of us was gentle with the other. The tiny string of self-restraint had snapped long ago. Pain and pleasure were an intoxicating drug, and I kept overdosing on him.
“You crazy bitch.” He laughed affectionately, leaning down to capture my mouth.
He bit down on my lower lip until tears burned in my eyes and I tasted blood. When the muscles in his chest tightened and his cock swelled, I reached around and grabbed his perfect ass, pulling him as far into me as I could.
“You’re fucking addictive,” he mumbled against my lips, reluctantly pulling out of me.
My legs no longer felt attached to my body and simply fell back together. Con stood up and stared down at me like he always did. He looked at me like I was worth something. Despite the pain he sometimes caused me, I knew he would never kill me.
Not when he looked at me the way he did. Not when he went out of his way to kill other girls instead. Did it make me selfish for being happy it was them and not me?
Was it wrong to evade and mock death every time it came for me?
Shouldn’t I have opted for that instead of living and loving someone so violent? A man who killed without remorse?
“Come here,” he commanded in a gruff voice, going to stand at the edge of the bed.
I shifted around until I was on my knees and crawled through our crimson mess on the blue sheets to reach him.
“You know how much I love you.” It was a statement, not a question. It was never poised as a question when we both knew how the other felt. He gripped the back of my head and pushed down until his flaccid cock was in my face.
“You’re going to suck until I’m hard again,” he explained.
I slowly opened my mouth and took him all the way in. I grabbed the sticky, blood tinged base, beginning to stroke up and down as I pulled away to suck his balls, gently rolling them with my tongue.
He let me play with them for a few minutes before roughly pulling me away to shove his dick back in my mouth. It didn’t take long before he was pistoning his hips and fucking my face.
“Rosie.” He moaned my name and his leg muscles tensed. His cum coated my tongue, mixing with the taste of me.
He pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me, crushing us together. I could hear his heart beating just as fast as mine was. Nothing else mattered in that moment but us. Not Justin, who was downstairs playing a video game, or Molly, who had thrown up and cried herself to sleep. And not Vicky, wherever the hell she went.
Con was right—no one would get us.
People would label him as a monster that stole a girl in broad daylight.
They just wouldn’t understand.
I wasn’t a bad person. I was just a foolish girl who fell for an unbelievably bad man.
And I was still falling.
Chapter Seventeen
Present
I was rushing around the house, trying to find my misplaced shoe, when Darcy decided to call.
Lauren had called off last minute, and her mother needed someone to open the salon. That text message was received at four-fifty in the morning, which was approximately five hours ago.
I had so much to deal with that it was the last thing I wanted to do, but saying no didn’t seem like the best idea while I was still in the midst of my probationary period. I wanted to show I was responsible. This, admittedly, wasn’t going that well.
After I shut down on Max and he kindly decided to leave, I spent the rest of the night thinking about a blue-eyed devil.
Con had gone silent, and that was never a good thing where he was concerned.
“Hello? Are you even listening to me?” Darcy sang in my ear.
No. “Of course,” I scoffed, spotting my flat at the bottom of the stairs.
She was going on and on about some amazing guy she’d recently met. I owed her more than I was giving her. Our friendship survived because she had no idea what I’d been through. Con made me keep in touch with her and my grandfather after he took me, spinning some elaborate tale about young love and eloping.
She had never fully believed this story, questioning how I could abandon my grandfather after all he did for me. Grandpa on the other hand was unbelievably supportive, always telling me he understood.
When Con and I ‘broke up,’ Darcy didn’t bother trying to hide her excitement.
“Are you okay?” All the enthusiasm in her voice turned to concern.
“I’m fine, just running really behind.”
Was I supposed to spill my guts and tell her that the love of my life was back from the grave? My best friend had no idea what kind of person I was.
“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me that like, an hour ago?” she questioned with a laugh. “Call me later, okay?”
“I’ll text you,” I promised, hanging the phone up and rushing out the door.
The full reality of my situation came crashing down on me the second I turned the key and entered the salon.
Bright sunlight filtered through the front blinds, illuminating what looked like a mangled body. I quickly slipped inside and slammed the door shut, turning the lock. I rested my hands against the frame, trying to calm myself and hoping no one walking by had seen in here.
My phone started to ring. I knew it was him. The timing was too perfect. Hitting the side button to silence his call, I slowly turned around and crept towards the chair, eyeing the back of the woman’s head.
“Oh my god.” I clamped a hand over my mouth, looking down at Lauren’s mom.
There was an infinity symbol carved into her torso—like the one he’d branded on my inner thigh. A single black rose was laid across her lap.
How the fuck did he get her here? When had he done this?
I could see rigor mortis beginning to set on her jaw and neck. He had to have killed her at least six hours ago, which meant he had been the one that sent the text from her phone. When my cell began to ring again, I flinched and fumbled to get it out of my back pocket. With shaking hands, I accepted the call.
“Why?” I demanded to know.
“Well, good morning to you too, Rosie. You really need to work on your social skills.” He clucked his tongue at me.
“Why did you do this?”
“You know how bad I want it to be you instead of them? I keep asking myself why you’re so special and have yet to come up with an answer.”
“I left you for dead,” I pointed out, trying to figure out my next course of action.
I needed to get the hell out of the salon and away from the body before calling it in. If I called it in.
“I deserved it. I broke my promise to you. Do you really believe I didn’t know you were going to run?”
“If you knew then, why did you let me go? None of this had to happen,” I snarled into the phone, jogging through the back parking lot to my car.
“I knew you were going to leave me. I just hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Con,” I swallowed, trying to get myself together. I wasn’t good at handling this shit, which was painfully clear. I felt exhausted—not from lack of sleep, but from life. “You almost killed me. You left me black and blue, and I thought that was love.”
“You don’t love me anymore?” Hearing the distress in his voice should have made me jump for joy, yet it only made me hurt more.
“Loving you is terrible for me. We’re not good for each other. Two sick people can’t get better
together.”
The fact that I was more worried about hurting him than the dead woman who’d given me a job said so much about who I really was. I lacked all empathy when it came to strangers. I picked and chose who was valuable and who wasn’t, based on how much they mattered to me.
“Two sick people are much better for each other than someone who would judge them for who they are. What’s it going to take for you to come back to me? How do I fix it?” His voice took on a determined edge.
I was trying to give him freedom, and he wouldn’t fucking take it. I was running out of options.
“Constantine.” I paused to clear my throat. “I’m never coming back. If you don’t leave town by tonight and disappear…I’m going to the police.”
I pulled my car out of the parking lot when the coast was clear and started back towards my house.
“You’re going to the police?” he laughed. “You mean, you’re going to the man you’ve been letting fuck you in the ass?”
I gritted my teeth, paying no attention to the tears rolling down my face. I wasn’t going to bother responding to that.
“I gave you an ultimatum.” I spoke clearly, letting him know I was serious. And I was. This had to stop. I couldn’t live like this anymore. If I had to go down too, then so be it. I would sing like a goddamn canary—until my lungs turned blue. I’d go in handcuffs or a straitjacket. But if I had to go down, then he was going down with me.
The sins from my past were permanent stains on my dirty soul. These secrets would be the death of me. If Con would simply leave Black Pine, I would take them to the grave with me, like I’d always planned to do.
Suddenly, I was reminded of someone.
“Where the fuck is Lauren?” I almost slammed on the brakes when what her mother had said dawned on me.
“Oh, she’s close,” he yawned in my ear.
“Con—”
“I’m going to keep killing all the girls in this town until you come back to me,” he cut me off.
“Don’t hurt her. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.” I forced the pleading tone out of my voice; begging only made him excited.
“I’ll leave you a love note on her tombstone,” he proclaimed before hanging up on me.
“Motherfucker!” I launched my cell across the car, making it bounce off the passenger window and land on the floor.
I was stupid to think he’d leave. He wasn’t ever going to let me go. I had to stop this, but to do that I needed help.
I jerked my steering wheel to the right, pulling to the side of the road abruptly, giving the finger to the car behind me that honked as it zipped past.
Shoving the gear to park, I reached over and searched the floor for my cell.
Chapter Eighteen
Present
He left Lauren’s butterfly necklace hanging on my front door.
He’d gone from being nowhere to being everywhere. I couldn’t think clearly when it felt like he was watching my every move. I paced back and forth in my kitchen, eyeing the liquor bottle on the table. He left it there on purpose, wanting me to break and consume every drop of it.
Molly wasn’t answering her phone, Max wasn’t answering his door or my calls, Darcy had no idea about the problems in my life, and I’d left Sheriff Reynolds four voicemails and sent six urgent texts. No one was responding to me, and time was not on my side.
Making one last attempt to get in touch with Max, I pulled the browser up on my phone and searched for the local Sheriff’s office number. A woman answered the phone on the fourth ring, sounding every bit as southern as Max did.
“Black Pine Sherriff’s office?”
“Hi, is there a Detective Harrison in by chance?”
“Just a second.” She told me to hold and transferred me to his direct line. I pulled the phone away from my ear when another call started coming in. Seeing Max’s name on the screen, I hovered my thumb over the answer button.
“Sheriff Harrison.”
I furrowed my brows and stared at the phone. Who was this? The voice was unrecognizable.
“Hello?”
“Uh…hello, I was looking for a Detective Maxwell Harrison,” I explained.
“I’m Michael Harrison.”
“Is there a Maxwell in then? It’s just, he told me to call him at the station if I needed anything.”
“Uh, no. There’s no Maxwell here. Are you sure you got the right name? There’s another station a few miles outside of town. He could be with them.”
“You’re right, I dialed the wrong one. Sorry about that,” I enthused, ending the call.
I clutched my cellphone so tightly the plastic casing protested. What the fuck was up with my attraction to toxic men? I thought back to all my interactions with ‘Max’ thus far, a seed of suspicion now in full bloom. There’d been times he seemed too much like Constantine. I chose to ignore it or brush it off, chalking it up to me being fucked-up and delusional.
I dialed his number back and made my way to the front of the house.
Looking out the window, I stared across at his darkened home.
He sent me straight to voicemail, which didn’t surprise me at all.
“Fuck this shit,” I muttered.
I needed to confirm my suspicions, and nobody seemed willing to help me, so clearly, I was on my own. I slipped on a thin black hoodie and made my way across the street. The fallen leaves that had started to change colors blew around my feet.
I knew Max wouldn’t have his front door unlocked, so I circled around the house. Just as I expected, the window above his kitchen sink was still slightly cracked.
Old habits die hard.
Walking up onto the deck, I looked around for something that would help me knock it in. I contemplated going to search in his shed, but the thing looked like it was ready to fall apart.
Spotting an ugly stone toad by the back door, I picked it up and then approached the window. I briefly wondered how bad I was supposed to feel about breaking and entering but then decided I didn’t care.
If he had nothing to hide, then I could embarrassingly explain myself, but I knew for certain that wasn’t the case. The screen fell out of its frame on my second swing, clattering down to the kitchen floor.
I sat the toad down, and then proceeded to pull myself up through the window. I had to lower myself partially in the sink before hopping down off the countertop. After securing the screen’s frame back in the window, I looked around the open floor plan, having no idea where to start.
Downstairs seemed basic and didn’t appear like it held anything that would give me an answer. The upper level was my best bet. I took the stairs two at a time.
I noticed immediately upon coming to the top that the door at the end of the hall was wide open. Based off the rhythmic clinking sound, there was a ceiling fan left on.
Not knowing where Max was or when he was due back, I jogged towards the room, pulling my cell out of my hoodie pocket when the ringtone began to play. Sheriff Reynolds’ name flashed across the screen, and I couldn’t answer fast enough.
“Sherriff?”
“Roselynn. What’s going on?”
“God, I’ve been trying to get hold of you all…day…” My voice trailed off as I entered the room.
My picture was plastered all over a bulletin board.
Me sleeping.
Me and Molly the day we moved in.
My silhouette in the fucking shower.
A feeling of absolute dread formed in the pit of my stomach the more I looked around the room. My pink lace underwear that had mysteriously vanished from the wash was balled up on a desk to my left, the stiffness caused by cum stains evident from where I stood.
“Roselynn!” the Sheriff yelled in my ear, snapping me out of my shocked state.
How long has he been watching me?
“What’s going on? Please tell me you know something,” I stressed to him, running a hand through my hair and going further into the room to get a better look at the desk
.
“I’m so sorry, Rose. I just wanted to protect my family.” He sounded distraught, which did nothing to alleviate my nerves.
His nephew was never going to change, and I’d tried to tell him that multiple times.
“He came to me with a proposition to earn some cash. I needed it at the time. I didn’t know he was going to do any of this. I told him to leave you alone,” he swore.
“And?” I urged him to continue, sitting down in the computer chair and pulling the desk drawers open.
“It’s all a fucking mess and a long story I would rather tell you in person. Just tell me where you are exactly, and where you think he might be. Our main priority needs to be making sure you’re safe.”
“It’s already too late for any of that. Con is already here, and he already started killing again,” I divulged, leaving out all the explicit details. “I can’t get hold of Molly, though, and I think he might—”
“Rose, calm down. I need you to listen to me. You need to get in your car and start driving back towards Ponty-Poole. I’m already in mine. I’ll meet you in between. I can assure you, Constantine won’t hurt his sister,” he interjected.
His sister?
“Molly is Constantine’s sister?” I repeated slowly, making sure I understood him correctly.
“Shit,” he muttered. “She’s his half-sister. His step-momma and dad. I thought you knew. I thought the girl had a change of heart and was really looking out for you the night I told you to get away.”
“Molly is...”
The room tilted.
All this time we were together. All the times I thought I was protecting her. The nights she cried and I comforter her. None of that was real? I considered Molly my sister. I didn’t want to believe that she could—would—do this to me. She was probably telling him everything this whole time.
No wonder he kept the little bitch alive. It was almost funny, really, considering all the secrets we kept from each other.
This was more fucked than I thought. I needed to get my ass in gear and get the fuck out of Black Pine.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
Twelve of Roses: A Dark Standalone Page 9