A feeling of nostalgia came over her and she rooted around in her wardrobe until she found her diary. She flicked through it aimlessly, stopping at a random page. The entry read:
Jason has been following me. I saw him on the playground and he kept coming up to me and telling me he liked me and he says he was sorry and won’t be like that again. I said no but he kept following me. It is very annoying and I want him to go away. He is crazy and I don’t like it!
She closed the diary with a smile — children could be so melodramatic.
#
Chapter 4
Jason stood in front of the mirror. His face was concentrated, calculating, and yet somehow calm — these expressions etched themselves into his features, his eyebrows set low, his mouth stern, hard, and his cheeks sharp. He was wearing a polo shirt and a pair of upmarket jeans he had bought last week, and his hair was freshly cut — he had shaved, too. All in all, he looked very good, very presentable.
“Do you think this will work?” he said.
He watched in the mirror as his entire face changed, becoming happier — his eyebrows lifted and his mouth opened into a smile. “Of course,” the voice said — only now it was using his mouth.
“Do we look — do we look normal?”
“We are normal.”
“Well — that’s up for debate, I’d say.”
He laughed — no, the voice laughed, the other half of himself laughed. “Yes — I suppose it is.”
“I can’t wait to see her.”
“Neither can I.”
“You have to stay hidden, remember.”
“Yes — I would never ruin this for you.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
#
Chapter 5
The coffee shop was crowded. Molly was surprised to find that she was nervous — her heart was beating oddly quickly and her palms were sweaty. The coffee shop had a beautiful view of a river — the only thing that spoiled it was the wall, which was falling to pieces. She had ordered a coffee, and was sipping from it eagerly — that probably wasn’t the best idea, as all it did was make her more nervous and hyperactive. Jason was late, but she couldn’t exactly get angry — even if he didn’t show, she couldn’t really complain. Not showing is not as bad as showing and then disappearing.
Finally he turned up. Molly gasped — he looked incredible. He moved with a confidence he had not had before. His polo shirt fit him tightly, displaying muscles she hadn’t known he had, and his jeans were sharp and tight fitting too. His shoes reflected the night. Normally she didn’t like black shoes and jeans, but somehow he pulled it off. He nodded at her with a smile and then walked over the counter, ordering his drink before coming to sit down with her. She would have found that insulting, if not for that smile — it was so full of confidence and reassurance.
When he sat down he flashed it again — his lips parted, showing shiny white teeth, and then closed again almost as quickly, like a brief look in treasure chest full of jewels. “Hey,” he said. “Did you get here alright?”
She smiled — this was what she had wanted, normal conversation. “Yes,” she said. “I had a bit of trouble with the buses, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“You can handle a lot, I bet,” he said, staring into her eyes.
She blushed. She hadn’t had sex — hadn’t even masturbated — since that day with Damien. She hadn’t realized how horny she was, but she couldn’t exactly have sex with this boy after only speaking to him for thirty seconds. She would have — if he had initiated it, she knew that she would have done it.
“You know what I think would be a good idea,” he said.
“What?”
“If we finish these and then go get a real drink. What do you think?”
She nodded. “That sounds good.”
#
Chapter 6
They were drunk, but not horribly so. She could still move, and walk, and speak — and so could he. It was better than last time — she imagined so at least, seeing as she couldn’t remember much of last time. They had had a great time, talking and laughing about when they had ‘been together’ as children — she told him about the diary entry she had read the other night, and he laughed like she had never seen him laugh before. She was glad — she was glad that he could laugh at himself. That was one thing Damien had never been able to do — he always took himself seriously. He always — no, she wouldn’t think of him.
She stumbled into his bedroom, walked over to the chair, and fell-sat on it. He came in after her, laughing at something she had said — if she was being honest, she couldn’t even remember what it was. Things were a little blurry, and if she closed her eyes she felt like she was going to be sick.
He sat on the bed and smiled at her, his teeth almost shining luminous in the dark .He switched on a lamp, and again she got a look at him. He was beautiful. No — not beautiful. He was handsome. He looked older than he really was — he looked like a man.
“So,” he said, with a knowing smile. “What shall we do?”
She smiled back — but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She wasn’t sure if she should. Would he get the wrong impression, if she had sex with him the first time they met up? She didn’t want to get a reputation as a slut. For an absurd moment she wished she was a man — then she wouldn’t be a slut, but a ‘stud’, if she were to have sex with someone on the first date. Then the moment passed. Women had much more, she thought, with a sly smile — multiple orgasms and multitasking among them.
He was staring into her eyes and smiling, as if he could read her dirty thoughts. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he said — and that was it.
He was too sweet, and she wanted him.
She stood up and walked across the room and fell on top of him — he fell backwards, and pulled her body close to his. It felt good to lie with a man again. She remembered a time — not that long ago, now that she thought about it — when she had been indifferent to men. Now she savored the human-on-human touch liked she savored nothing else. He kissed her passionately, like something deep and primal had just awoken in him.
He rolled over so that he was on top and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing tight muscles. She grabbed them and moaned out — they were so hard, and tense, and hairless. That was the strangest, and most amazing, thing. Damien had been covered in hair. To touch someone that wasn’t was amazing. He reached down and rubbed her pussy over the top of her trousers, moving his finger side to side. She opened her legs and let him. She wanted to be wet now — she wanted to have sex with him now.
She reached down and put her hand down his trousers, finding his cock. It was hard — and it wasn’t too big. She was glad of that — she didn’t want any pain, just pleasure. She jerked it up and down, and tugged at his trousers. He turned over and pulled them off quickly, and his socks and underwear, so he was naked. She did the same. Then they lay side by side, totally naked, staring at each other’s bodies. She was felt so small next to him — and she liked it.
He pulled her close to him, his hard cock brushing her inner thigh, titillating close to her aching pussy. He kissed her neck, moving his lips over her soft skin and moaning as he caressed it with his lips, and she ran her hands all over his body, savoring the hardness of it. Then she rolled over, so she was on top of him, propping her feet either side of him, and leaning down on his chest. He let her, looking up at her with wide, hungry eyes. She lowered herself onto him slowly, and almost screamed as he slid inside of her.
She bounced up and down on him, moving her hips as she did so, coming down on him hard so he went deep inside of her. His cock hit her sweet-spit perfectly, not too big and not too small, and she felt an electric pulsation buzz through her each time. He was moaning softly — low, passionate moans that were full of euphoria and ecstasy.
He stared into her eyes, and she stared back — she felt so close to him, closer than she thought she would. She thought that this was just a physical attrac
tion, a manifestation of lust — could it be something more? She leaned down and kissed him on the lips. He pulled her forward, so her knees were either side of him, and fucked her hard — he thrust upwards over and over again, pounding into her. She let out a stifled moan — they were kissing each other greedily, all mashed teeth — and then rested her hand on his chest. It was so hard, so sweaty. It reminded her of — no, not now.
Then, something changed in Jason — he broke off the kiss and pushed her away, and fucked her even harder. His eyes, which had been bright and loving, darkened and narrowed. He spanked her hard — so he wanted to do it rough. She didn’t have a problem with that. He spanked her again, and again — and then again. She bit down. It was getting painful, but it was also pleasurable.
He grabbed her ass-cheeks, digging his nails in a little harder than she would have liked, and used them to thrust into her relentlessly — his cock didn’t hit her sweet-spot, but just went in and out of her. It still felt good — but not as good as it had felt before. She closed her eyes and let the pleasure take hold of her — there was no point over-thinking things. She should just enjoy what she was doing while she was doing it.
Suddenly and violently, he flipped her over. She was on her front — he grabbed her legs and pulled at them, maneuvering her so she was bent over. She looked back at him — his eyes were wide as he stared down at her ass. She poked her ass out — she just wanted him back inside of her. He licked his hand and rubbed it up and down his cock, and then slid inside of her. He grabbed her hair, yanking it as he fucked her.
She tried to push back in time with his thrusts but couldn’t — he was too fast. He was fucking her harder than she had ever been fucked, harder than even Damien fucked her. She bent her back and rested her head on the bed, using her now-free hand to rub her clit. She moved her finger around it, focusing on the pleasure and half-ignoring the pain-pleasure of Jason’s cock.
He let go of her hair and grabbed her legs — hard, so hard it hurt — and stood up. He angled his cock down, hitting her sweet-spot with prodigious precision. She bit down on her lip and stopped rubbing her clit — she didn’t need to now. This pleasure was all she needed. She closed her eyes and focused on the red heat that was building inside of her, blinding her to everything but that moment — blinding her to everything but Jason’s body, his ability to pleasure her, giving herself to him.
Suddenly, though — just as she was about to come — he pulled out of her. She looked back. He was rubbing his cock, up and down. “Get on your knees,” he said — and his voice sounded oddly sinister.
She did as she was told — she liked to be dominated, after all — and got on her knees in front of him. Within seconds he came. Then he turned and walked to the door, grabbing the handle to make sure it was locked.
He turned back with a glinting sneer. “Now — let the real fun commence.”
#
Chapter 7
Jason felt like he was in a cage, trapped in his own body. He was watching himself — rather than controlling himself. Somewhere along the lines, when he and Molly had been making love, he had taken over — whoever or whatever the hell he was. It was like watching a point-of-view film — he was vaguely aware that it was through his eyes he was seeing everything, but that was all. He had no control.
Molly was on the bed, wiping come from her face.
“What do you mean?” she said.
Jason felt himself — he had no control, but he could still feel himself moving — pick up his knife and hold it to the light. It was sparklingly clean, although he didn’t remember cleaning it. Molly cringed away and her eyes went wide with fear. “I think you can guess where this is going.”
“What the —”
“Shut up!” Jason heard himself roar. “You abandoned us, you fucking bitch! You said you were going to be with us and you fucking abandoned us!”
The knife-handle was cold, and the knife glinted as Jason moved forward. Molly screamed and jumped across the room, getting as far away from him as she could. “Help! Help!” she wailed — but no one was coming. Jason was screaming, too — inside his head, he was screaming at whatever monster had taken over his body.
He didn’t want to be doing this — this wasn’t him. He loved Molly — he wanted to be with Molly. He would never hurt her. “Stop,” he tried to say — but no words came out. If the hijacker heard him he gave no indication. He sprang across the room and grabbed Molly by the neck. Jason could feel her pulse, the soft skin of her neck — the cold sweat.
He held the knife to her mouth. She went stiff with fear, staring up at him through teary eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He held the knife up, staring at it as if mesmerized, perhaps contemplating what he was about to do — that’s when he saw it. The door swung open, shown clearly in the reflection of the knife, and he walked in — him, Jason would have preferred anyone to him.
Jason — Jason’s body, whoever was controlling it — didn’t have time to turn around. The blade went clean through his spine, and out through his stomach — a long butcher-style blade, made for killing animals.
In those last few moments — as the man in the suit with the black gloves grabbed Molly by the arm and dragged her from the room — Jason regained control of his body. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
He rolled over and crawled across the room, blooding pulsing out of him with alarmingly rapidity. It was just there — just one more foot. He stretched out, the coin the only thing that wasn’t going dark. His fingers were so close, but he couldn’t reach it.
He closed his eyes and smiled. He envied the old man who had given him that coin — no one was going to give him a medal for this. Oh well, he thought as his eyes closed for the last time — at least he had tried.
#
Chapter 8
Molly’s heart was hammering in her chest. Damien was racing around the room, shoving random things into a suitcase. She was paralyzed, staring blankly at her bedroom wall and barely hearing a word Damien said.
“We’ll have to run . . . you need to . . . I can’t believe he was going to . . . I shouldn’t have been following . . . I’m sorry.”
She heard the words, but they might as well have been the barks of a dog — they were just as meaningless to her. All she could think about was what had just happened — who the hell was that boy? That was what she kept thinking. Who was he? He wasn’t the same boy that she had had so much fun with, was he? She broke down — she was utterly taken over by violent, gut-wrenching sobs.
She didn’t know him. That was the thing. She had been an idiot and trusted this boy she didn’t even know, and he had tried to kill her — why? That was what she didn’t understand — one of the many things she didn’t understand. Why would he try to kill her? What had she ever done to him? What was it he said? “You abandoned us . . .” No — that couldn’t be it. That was silly, ludicrous — she had stood him up, yes, but that could not have been it. No one was that crazy — no one she had ever met, anyway. But, then, you did read about people like that, she thought.
She didn’t know. She fell back on her bed, burying her face in her hands. Damien was still moving around — her hero, she thought sardonically. She had to go away with him, even if she didn’t want to — and she did want to, she realized with a start. Damien said that his people who were taking care of everything — he didn’t say, but she knew ‘everything’ meant Jason’s body and any evidence — right now, but they still had to run away. They couldn’t take the risk, and she was glad of it. She couldn’t live here now. She couldn’t. She had to get away. She had to be with Damien again.
“Molly,” Damien said, staring intently into her eyes. “I am sorry.”
“For what?” she managed to whisper.
“Following you — but it turned out okay.”
“How long?”
“Ever since we broke up.”
“Why?”
“Why do
you think?”
“I don’t know.”
“I still love you — do you love me?”
She closed her eyes and searched deep within herself. She wouldn’t let her mind get in the way of this — she would think with her heart, with her unbound feelings. “Yes,” she said. “Yes — I couldn’t stop loving you so quickly, Damien. Now, take me away.”
“Okay,” he said. “I have a car waiting.”
#
Epilogue
One Year Later
The sun shone down a bright white, glistening atop the pure blue surface of the ocean. The waves rolled over each other, coming together and then drifting inexorably apart. The boat was big, and the staff walked around with expert precision — never lingering too long, and never in the way.
Dad, Mom, and Damien were talking by the edge — Damien was talking business with Dad, whatever that meant. They were able to be civil to each other now. Damien had asked Molly if he should offer Dad a job — she’d said no. He was happy in his new job, and didn’t need to be insulted. He probably felt a bit awkward holidaying on Damien’s yacht, but he seemed content enough. She hoped that one day they could form a proper relationship — but this would do for now.
She walked over and took the drink from Damien’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.
He smiled back, his blue-green eyes sparkling. “No problem, my love.”
‘My love’ — such a simple phrase, and yet so full of implications. It meant they would always be there for each other, would never leave each other, that they were happy, that they had found, and would nurture, and would treasure, something beautiful, something worth finding, nurturing, and treasuring.
My Billionaire (Trilogy)(Erotic Romance Stories) Page 9