She bit her lip and stared at him. Her hands slid up his sides and landed on the short orange and black wig. She pulled it off. “I should have left you at home,” she whispered into his ear, biting it and purring. “You’re a terrible distraction.”
He took off her wig and kissed her again. “Tell me to stop, then.” He nibbled into her neck and kissed it.
“May it never be.” She kissed him again and they opened the door and got into the back seat.
He slid her pants down just enough in a soft caressing motion, pushing her knees up. He pulled his down a little and slid in. She whimpered, her body folded up underneath his. He kissed her hard and thrusted into her, staring into her eyes. She bit her lip and cried out, as he leaned in close and pressed his cheek against hers and they came together in sweet harmony.
They kissed again. He held her face in his hands. “Come now, enough; we gotta go murder,” she whispered into his ear and he giggled.
“Mmmm, never enough of that.” He slid his pants back up and playfully smacked her bare ass.
“Yes. Yes, never enough.” She giggled at him and slid her jeans up. Soon she was driving out toward the lake, looking for Russell. Lucas held the little tracking computer on his lap. He kept staring over at her, her short hair, her determined eyes, and he kept thinking how she needed to be loved. She needed it. He didn’t even care about being captive anymore. He wanted her. Her and nothing else.
Chapter 23
Chance was singing in the shower. He washed his body and sang boisterously. He had been having the best day ever. He washed the wound on his arm. It was amazing to him how little it was bothering him. He thought about Jaspierre’s big titties and how her green shirt stretched tight into them. Damn she was fine. It was a shame she never gave him a Chance. He thought about the man he had tied to the table leg. Obviously she was into seriously fucking great stuff. His toes were gone, his arm was broken. It was a beautiful thing to find a woman so into this. He thought about how kinky she had been on their first time. How her hot gasping noises whimpered in his ear while he pulled on the necklace. Kinky little slut. She put it all out, but then she had been a close-legged bitch the rest of the time.
Russell woke up to loud, drunken singing. He kept his eyes closed; he didn’t particularly want to know what would happen next. Just kill me. Just kill me. His bleeding stubs throbbed and he opened his eyes. There was blood everywhere; it was all over the floor. He was sitting in it. His scrubs were coated with blood. His feet were dripping. He made a horrified little squeal, and then closed his eyes.
This is it. I’ve bled to death. No wonder I feel so weak, he thought to himself. Tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked them back and realized he could still move a little. How can I move with all my blood outside my body? Shouldn’t I be dead? He stood, his hands still tied to the table leg. On the table was a dead woman. She was beautiful, and old. He stared at her face, and he looked at her broken arm, and her naked breasts, and her severed toes. Her blood. The realization hit him. He stared at her, and he was overcome with guilt. If he hadn’t tried to run, she would still be fine.
He sat back down in the blood. Too miserable and weak to even care. He sat down and he heard the tiniest clunking noise. The singing in the shower continued as Russell felt his scrubs. The metal ring was still tied to the string on his waist. His keys were still tied up too. But the wallet was missing. And the panties, although he didn’t know what they would have been for anyway. He sat there depressed, and wondered if trying to escape was even worth the effort. Things could always get worse, he had been learning. How the hell could life have done this? A short week or two ago, he was bagging groceries and going home to look at porn and play with his Xbox. Now he was a broken man. His arm was useless, his toes were gone.
He sat in drying blood and closed his eyes again. Death would be best. Then he heard the singing and wondered how long until the cop came back. He wanted to live, to escape. He did. He pulled out his keys and tried to snap the zip-ties. He snickered when he realized he could lift the table leg a little and slide them off the leg. They weren’t tight at all with the table leg gone, and Russell slipped them off his hands.
This was too damn easy. But he didn’t care. Where the hell could he go? He wished to himself that he hadn’t left the antibiotic pills in his room.
He was weak. This might not be all his blood, but some of it was. He went into the pantry and sat down and waited. There were mostly chips and granola bars. He opened a box, munching quietly. If nothing else, he might be able to gain energy.
Chance came out of the shower and put on clean clothes. He trimmed his nose hairs and took his time putting on lotion and deodorants. Smell his best for work. He picked up his keys and hollered, “Have a nice day, honey,” before he left, clicking the door shut. He locked it up. He knew Russell was still tied to the table without even looking. That man was so weak and disoriented, it hardly even mattered where he left him. He wished the lady had made it a little longer. She was a lot of fun. Now he had two corpses to screw. One was simply, slightly warmer than the other.
Russell heard the front door shut, and he froze and waited. His mouth was full of granola and he sat and waited; he dared not chew or swallow. After ten agonizing minutes he finished his bite. Then he finished his granola bar. He was thirsty. He stood up and walked back into the kitchen. Her dead, naked body greeted him. It was hard not to look. As she lay there, he felt like he was watching a morbid porno for a moment. He was thirsty. But he couldn’t seem to find a cup. He opened the fridge. There was a lot of beer, but he thought being fuzzier would not be a smart move. A small Gatorade sat in the door; who knew how old it was. He sipped and tried to figure out what to do next. He was so foggy and lost.
He wanted an omelet and looked for a pan. A sawed-off rifle greeted him from a large metal pot. Russell couldn’t hold back his excitement. He picked up the rifle and checked if it was loaded. It was. He pressed it under his chin and smiled brightly. Freedom. He stopped. What if he shot that cop first? A good idea. Yes. A great idea.
He sat back into the pantry with his Gatorade and ate another granola bar. He fiddled with the metal ring while he sat. He slid it up and down the gun. Up and down his arm. Up and down the other arm. “You, my friend, have seen it all. My toes, my capture. You broke my arm.” He sipped the Gatorade. “I’d try to escape but it won’t work, and I’m too damn tired for it anyway.” He looked up and saw vanilla wafers. Could you get those for me?” He Frisbee-tossed the ring at the cookies and the ring bounced off the box and fell back on his lap. The box teetered, back and forth and flipped forward down through the air and onto his legs. “I can’t believe that worked.” Russell kissed the ring and tied it back to his pants. He rested before he opened the cookies.
“My arm is ruined. My feet are ruined. I’m never gonna be the same. And I don’t even think I can escape. I’ll get out of here, and then they will find me again.”
He took a few cookies out. His scrubs were dirty red. Pus was oozing in his arm and leaking off the back of it. His temperature was around 102. If he had known he might have tried to do something about it. But he didn’t know, and he felt terrible, his brain muddled with fever and infection. He ate more and rested.
Chance drove in his cop car, meandering down the road to work. All he could think of was her. Lovely Jaspierre, his childhood sweetheart. She always made him be his best, truest self. She made him feel like the man he had always known he should be. He thought about the necklace he had given her. Mine Forever. He wondered if she still had it; what a silly thought. Of course she did. She loved him; he knew it. She was a little fucked up since her mother left her. That kind of shit would fuck anyone up.
Chance puttered down the road when he saw her. She was in the car coming up the other lane. She had her hair short, and a boy in the seat next to her.
What was she doing way out here? He didn’t know, but he knew he was about to find out.
Chapter 24
&
nbsp; Jaspierre looked over at Lucas. He had found a faint signal from Russell. They were driving farther into the middle of nowhere, and that did not feel promising. Lucas pointed out the window. “I think he is that way.”
She slowed the car down and they looked for a road on the right. So far it was trees. She didn’t like this one bit. “He’s got to be with Chance.”
Lucas nodded, even though he didn’t know what that meant. Chance to him, at this point, was a description, nothing more. “We’ve got to be getting close.”
Jaspierre turned the car into the small dirt road. It was probably more like a driveway than a road. She slowed down. There was a small wooden cabin up ahead. No garages. No cars either. She stared at the building. Everything in her body cried out this was a bad idea.
“Lucas, I want you to stay here. I’m gonna go peek in the window.” Jaspierre climbed out of the driver’s seat and snuck up to the window. The scent of rotting flesh mixed with chips and beer was strong. She held back a gag and peered inside the window. The lights were off. The house was littered with trash and porn.
No people, though. She scooted around the corner of the building to the next window. She saw feet with no toes. Small, feminine feet. Sadness filled Jaspierre. It had to be the poor old lady. Jaspierre had never imagined she would have ended up with Chance. She wouldn’t have left her in the car if she had realized.
But she hadn’t. That woman’s death was squarely on her shoulders. The amount of blood loss surely killed her. With any luck, it did… Jaspierre didn’t like to imagine the woman would have survived it. This was her fault. Corpses, but no life. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. She heard the click of a gun being cocked.
She listened quietly and didn’t hear anything else. She turned to go back to Lucas, and her heart stopped. There he stood, his eyes wild with fear and his arms behind his back. He had a hand pressed over his mouth and nose. A gun was pressed to his temple. Chance.
The cop stood there with a leering smile. “So you thought you’d come to my house? I can’t wait to give you the grand tour.” He stared at her breasts and licked his lips.
Chance’s eyes burned into her, but she couldn’t think of a thing to do. She stared helplessly at Lucas. The sweet man who had made love to her. Who had stolen her heart. The man she loved. She cringed. She knew she would do literally anything to save him. Anything. And what she would have to do would be horrible.
She held her hands up and surrendered. “Toss your weapons.” She did, tossing all but one small knife still in the holster.
Chance smiled and opened the door, ushering them inside. The three walked into the living room and the two were forced to sit on the couch. Chance was practically skipping. Jasp was here, in his house. Shit. He should have cleaned up a little. Chance glanced around his house at the littered chip bags, porno magazines, and the blood on the floor of the kitchen. The blood was smeared into streaks and swirls and he realized Russell was gone.
“Shit.” Chance spit on the ground. “Dammit, and I was ready to have so much fun.” He tied Jaspierre’s hands behind her back. He pressed his crotch into her face while he tied her. He held back the desire to fuck her like a bunny; that man on the loose could be causing all sorts of problems. He wanted to take his time with her, not be worrying the dumb, toeless fuck would jump out of a closet and shoot him.
“Dammit. You get me so hard.” He held her chin with his fingers, lifting her mouth toward him. “Remember when we were kids? That first time. God, it was so perfect. You were so coy and shy.” He ran his hands into her short hair. “Shame you cut your hair. That’s okay. It’ll grow.”
She sat there and didn’t move; no reaction. She would be raped. It wasn’t a shock. She was prepared for this, she was ready. All she needed was to get her knife out so she could give it to him when he gave it to her. She was waiting for her moment to shine. This was her time. This was when she would turn the tide; she would become someone newer, stronger, better. She wasn’t one bit scared.
Chance went into the kitchen and stared at the old naked woman. She seemed like such a pointless thing to fuck around with. He had Jaspierre.
Heh, damn, he was easily distracted. Stop thinking about fuck and cock and dick dipping, and instead think about that toeless man. Where the hell would he have gone? Chance flipped up the cellar and looked down inside. He didn’t see him. He looked at the blood and it looked like he might be in the pantry. Well, easy enough. He opened the door and stuck his head in. He remembered his earlier fear he’d get shot from the fucker in a closet. Chance clicked on the light, ready to jump back.
Well, two things were obvious. One, the guy had been sitting in his pantry a long damn time. The blood was pooled and smeared, there were granola wrappers everywhere, and his Gatorade bottle was sitting empty.
It was also obvious he was gone. He was mother fucking gone. How far could he even walk with his feet mangled? Chance stepped outside into the cool air. He saw blood and started to follow it.
Jaspierre and Lucas sat quietly on the couch. Terror washed over Lucas. This, this he didn’t deserve. It wasn’t his fault; this wasn’t captivity he could learn to endure. It was a nightmare. The love of his life would be raped and tortured in front of him. He could not bear it. He had to save her.
“Jasp, we have got to get you out of here.”
“What? No, I’m so close! I’ve got a knife. I’m gonna kill him. God, I can hardly wait. That sick fuck.” Her soft, whispering voice sounded so confident and excited, she squirmed, trying to reach the knife with the tip of her fingers.
“No, babe, no. He’s gonna rape you.” Lucas choked on the words. “You… please. We have to get out of here. We can kill him later.”
“Lucas.” Her soft voice sounded so calm and firm. “I’m going to kill him. I can’t stop now.” She turned her body toward him. Mother would be delighted. Her first real, guiltless kill. “It’s gonna be okay.”
It wasn’t going to be okay. But he couldn’t help but believe her. She was beautiful and strong. She was terrifying and sweet. She was almost all-powerful. A mastermind of her own making. “Jaspierre, my sweet love,” he said staring into her eyes as she stared back. She was working her blade through the zip-ties.
Chance dejected he couldn’t find Russell, stepped back into the kitchen.
Lucas kissed her nose. “Please marry me. Please. When this is over, please be my wife.”
Chance’s hairs on his neck rose in fury.
Both men stared at Jaspierre. Her pale skin flushed a sweet red. She kissed Lucas and, as they parted, she whispered, “Absolutely, I will marry you.”
And for a split second, Jaspierre was the happiest she had ever been in her entire life. Her nemesis was about to die. She was about to be married. Her life felt complete right before the bullet leapt out of the gun and into Lucas’s face. His head seemed to explode. Brains and blood splattered out where his eyeball used to exist.
Chance’s voice rang out like a second round of gun-fire. “That sick fuck wanted to marry you!?” His voice shuddered with horror and rage. His body was still trembling. “You said yes? You said fucking yes?” His voice was building louder and louder. His heart was pounding.
Jaspierre was dazed. She stared at the only person in the world who had ever given her love. His mangled bleeding mess of a face. She reached her untied hand out and touched him. She felt it. In that moment, the tiniest touch of his body. Snapping inside her. She knew she would never recover. Never be the same. She was newer, stronger, better. She stood up and stretched, cracking her neck.
Then she turned around and stared at Chance.
Chance was still screaming with rage. “Why the fuck would you say yes?! We just got back together. We just got fucking back together!” His words rang out, and his body was so full of rage he could not stop shaking.
She planted her right foot on the couch and stepped up, launching herself into a flying leap at Chance. He dropped his gun when she stabbed the smal
l knife into his stomach. She hissed and drove it in deep. He barely knew the pain, fury still surged within him. Her hot body pressed against him made him want to fuck her and kill her and fuck her all over again. He licked her face and shoved her body between him and the wall. She pulled out the knife and stabbed him again in the side. He slammed her harder into the wall, crashing her skull against it.
He gripped her hand with one of his and held it up above her head. His hips pressed tight into her body, holding her against the wall as he pulled out his cock with his other hand. Jaspierre was dazed. Her head was aching, but her heart was aching more. She kneed him. His grip on her hand weakened at the blow and she had a Chance. She stabbed him again hard in the shoulder. He shuddered with the pain and she threw her weight into the knife. He fell backwards, slamming his head into the wall.
Out cold.
Jaspierre kicked him in the balls for good measure.
Then she turned and looked around. The cellar door in the kitchen was open. She figured there was booze down there. She walked down the tiny steps and came up with four large bottles. She dumped one on Chance. He lay there, still unconscious. She chugged from the next bottle and smashed it in the kitchen.
She avoided looking at Lucas and shattered another bottle towards him. Drinking from the last bottle, she then poured it to the back door. She didn’t want to walk past Lucas. A match. Fucking shit. She went back into the kitchen and rummaged in the drawers. She found a box of matches and walked out back. It took her a few tries but she got it lit, and the flames ran through the alcohol and tore into the house.
Jaspierre (Jaspierre Trilogy Book 1) Page 14