by Ker Dukey
She’s leaving him right now? So why the hell is she over here? I hope she doesn’t want to crash here. That would be a huge assumption on her part.
“Okay?” I frown, unclear of my role here. “What about your sons?”
“I need to get on my feet, then I’ll come back for them.”
Before I can say anything else, she rushes toward me and throws her arms around my neck, catching me off guard and making me teeter on my feet as I’m forced to catch her. It’s odd, and I don’t know how to respond.
I pat her back, then detach her from me. She looks down at her feet.
“Thank you for always being kind to me,” she murmurs. “I wish Eric was more like you.”
Once again, I don’t understand what she’s referring to. I’ve never treated her with favor, just tried to be polite to keep up appearances. Maybe she’s crazy and that’s why Eric fucks anything with a pulse. When I don’t speak, she appears to take this as an invitation. She advances on me, lifting on her tiptoes and planting her lips to mine.
What the hell is happening?
Her kiss is frantic and starved as her fake breasts smash against me. She’s an attractive woman, sure, but she’s been worn down by a selfish husband and is famished for affection.
Eric’s smirky, cocky face flashes in my mind, and satisfaction settles in my bones. His little wife has left him and she’s here with me. I pull her away and look at her smudged lipstick as she pants for air.
So fucking eager.
She’s here begging for scraps of affection. Affection she’s conjured up in her own mind thinking I’d be willing to give to her. It makes me wonder if she has ever fucked Eric’s friends and partners. Levi, maybe not. And Mateo seems happily married. But Trevor? Nixon and his likeness isn’t just a coincidence. Julia has been hungry for attention her whole marriage, and Trevor offered it to her at some point. There’s no doubt in my mind.
“Please, Jax,” she begs.
All I can think about is how smug Eric is about his seemingly perfect life. Yet, look how pathetic his wife is—how eager and needy her cunt is for me. No wonder he finds me so threatening. I bet she moans my name while she touches herself.
Dirty Mrs. Pearson.
She’s hungry for me. I’ll feed her, then send her back to him, knowing at every party he throws and invites me to, I fucked his deprived wife. It’s ammo to store and use against him if the need arises.
I’m not usually a petty man…
Oh, who am I kidding?
Of course I fucking am.
All men are, and I’m no exception.
I swipe the tools from the table I use, causing her eyes to widen with anticipation as they clatter loudly to the floor. She moves to hop on, but I stop her with a hand to her shoulder and a shake of my head. I spin her body around so her back is to me and push her shoulders forward with a heavy palm until she’s laying her torso flat against the wood surface. Lifting her little flower emblazoned dress, I stroke over the little scars of stretched skin made only by carrying four children, and fist her expensive underwear, tearing them away with a grunt. She’s panting and trembling, so desperate for human contact. To have someone want her, desire her—give her an inkling of attention and prove she’s still a woman, not just a mother and wife.
When I kick her legs apart, her cunt opens, and her arousal is pungent. It’s been a hot day, and her fuck hole stinks of sweat, so my cock won’t harden. I’ve never been with a woman of her age or who has birthed so many children. I’m learning I don’t find her one bit arousing. That’s problematic. The idea of Eric jabbing away at her over the years is a turn off and her making those eager noises makes my cock want to disappear inside itself like a second belly button.
I want her to shut up.
Force her to be still.
To do as she’s told.
My hand twitches, and I notice I’m still holding the screwdriver in my palm. The handle is made of rubber and shaped like the fat sausages Eric served tonight.
Perfect.
I turn it in my hand so I’m fisting the metal end, then thrust the rubber end of it inside her desperate cunt. There’s no barrier. No resistance. It just slides right in, making her scream at the intrusion. Her body becomes rigid compared to the compellability from seconds ago.
She loves it, though. I’m giving her what she needs and she’s grateful.
“What is that?” she cries out, looking back at me over her shoulder.
Stop fucking talking, woman.
No wonder Eric’s eyes wander. If I had to put my cock inside her every night, I’d want to run away too.
“Shut up,” I bark, holding her down with one hand and using the other to plunder her hole over and over. Juices run down the handle and drip onto my hand. The urge to pull my hand away and swipe it on my slacks is strong, but I grit my teeth and continue my ministrations.
“This is what you want. What you begged for because you don’t like the little sluts who parade their under-age asses around for your husband to fantasize about defiling. He likes their tight cunts and smooth skin. Their delicate moans and innocent doe eyes. And there you are, used up, having birthed his sons. You gave the selfish, ungrateful bastard your youth. He wants to eat new pussy while yours dries up.”
A sob escapes her as my words hit their intended mark.
“I thought you liked me.” She sniffles, grunting.
Why did she think that?
I must be better at this pretending shit than I thought.
“I do,” I lie, using my forearm muscles to speed this shit up. I’m already bored and my mind is on other things.
Why did I bother entertaining her in the first place? To have one over on Eric. I think this actually may be one he has over me. I’m doing him a favor seeing to this chore so he doesn’t have to.
“Look how good to you I’m being,” I croon in a tone I’ve heard men use on women. I’ve learned women are the easiest creatures to manipulate. A few soft words and compliments can usually win over any female.
Her cunt becomes a slippery pit, and gone are the questions. Now she’s clinging to the sides of the table, her nails scraping with every prod. She’s sobbing, her body jerking from the force of her misery. She wanted to be a whore, and now she’s being treated like one.
It’s never as you thought it would be, is it?
I snort and pull the object from her, only to realize it’s not her arousal making her wet but blood. Maybe I was a little rough. I drop the object to the floor and remove my hand from her back.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her with a smirk.
Damn, I wasn’t just including myself in the neighborly functions, I was now doing charity work on top of it.
Shaking, she gathers herself, pushing down her dress and bending to pick up her destroyed panties. She scrubs a hand over her face to remove the tears of elation. I bet she hasn’t been fucked like that before.
She can’t look me in the face, knowing what a whore she’s been.
Her disgusting fluids are making my fingers sticky, so I move to the sink to finally wash my hands. She doesn’t pick her bag up to leave like I hoped, and having her down here in my space is making me fidgety.
Was I supposed to offer her a beverage now or something? Usually this act is played out very differently for me.
She won’t stay. She’ll run home where she belongs because actually leaving Eric means leaving his money.
It’s going to be amusing. Eric will know she’s been up to no good when she limps back to him, and it will be something he always questions. Who, where, with what?
A gasp alerts me to her discovering something she shouldn’t have. I dry my hands and turn to face her.
Goddammit.
Why did she have to come over here?
Her instincts on who to flee to were way off.
She closes the door to the basement fridge and stumbles backwards. Her foot lands on the screwdriver, tilting her at an askew angle, and she falls to he
r ass with a thud. Her face is as white as a sheet as shock washes over her.
“You’re quite the nosey neighbor,” I tisk, shaking my head and stalking toward her.
“I only w-wanted a s-soda,” she defends, her voice cracking. She’s trembling all over so badly, she looks like a character with a computer glitch. “What is that?” she chokes out, pointing to the fridge.
I crowd over her and shake my head in disappointment.
“Something I wish you hadn’t seen.”
Chapter One
Jax
Psychopath red flag
#2
They’re Disciplined
Present (Six years later)
Sweat pours over my forehead and drips from my earlobes. My hair is soaking wet and getting in my eyes. I push it back and gasp at the air to ease the burning in my lungs. I’ve pushed myself this morning to the brink of collapse. I slow my pace and check my heartrate. A hundred and sixty beats per minute. I run every day, sometimes twice, eat clean, and keep my body hydrated. I have the physique of an athlete—my discipline has made sure of that.
The chill in the air gives way to the warming of the sun, the promise of clear skies and blistering heat.
Crouching down, I pretend to tie my shoelace and count in my mind.
One…two…three…
Checking my watch, I sigh with relief when Mary Stubbs leaves on time for work. Her dark hair sashays across her back and the tight skirt she’s wearing shows all her curves. She’s a cock tease.
She works for a commercial company and is the only female in the building. She knows what she’s doing when she squeezes her fat ass into skirts like that. The woman climbed the corporate ladder on sexual harassment claims.
Whore.
Liar.
Cunt.
I watch her struggle to enter her Mini Cooper. She didn’t think about her dress choice limitations. Clearly.
When the car pulls out of the drive, I smile and check my sock to make sure I haven’t lost my little gift to myself. It’s there and brings with it a feeling of empowerment.
Today, I’m God.
A rush of exhilaration floods through me, causing my heart to keep its fast pace. I check the street, already knowing everyone else on this road goes into work later and all are no doubt still sleeping. I’ve spent time on this street, watching and learning, distracting myself from the one girl I couldn’t have right away. Lucy
Her name swirls around in my head, teasing my restraint. I thought my new girl would help wash her away from my thoughts, but she refuses to leave, haunting me persistently.
Moving across the asphalt, I slip through the gate that’s always left ajar for the two cats they have as pets.
Stupid women. Cats can climb. They don’t need coddling
She’s in the kitchen when I enter and doesn’t even notice me as I pass her and go to her room.
I’m here, beautiful Stacy.
She’s a vision to any eyes witnessing her in her morning haze. Hair in disarray. Skin flushed from sleep. I wish I got more time to spend with her, but being a single parent and business owner makes having relationships hard. I’m here now, though, and we will make these moments count.
Stacy is beautiful, talented, and has this shy act going for her. It is an act, though.
I met her at a college day Rowan had dragged me around to. She was the receptionist and although she acted coy, there was this glint in her eye, one that said, “I want you.” And she does. She became just what I needed, and saved me from taking bad risks with…Lucy.
Lucy...Lucy…Lucy, why can’t I let you go? And why does he have to be the one who has her? It would have been different with me.
Anyone could fuck her, but that’s not what I’m into. I like the process, the build-up of getting to know all the intricate details that make up her as a person, until we’re speaking the same language and I can give her what she wants while taking what I need from her.
Stacy’s scent surrounds me, encompassing me, goading me, preparing me. I release Lucy from my mind’s grip and give Stacy my full attention like she deserves.
Rowan has been nagging me about getting a woman. She thinks I’ll be on my own and lonely when she leaves for college, so when I tell her I have been seeing someone, it will placate her.
I kick off my sneakers and strip my clothes, folding them and placing them on the dresser. The sweat has begun to dry, leaving my skin dewy. The need to get clean is like a voice whispering from the corners of my mind.
I wait for her to return to her room, anticipation building, thickening my cock. Her footfalls are soft over the carpet, but her singing out of tune is not.
Pushing the door open, she places a mug on the dresser and frowns as she picks up my sneakers.
I step from behind the door and wrap a hand around her mouth, tugging her body against mine and injecting my gift into a small mole on her neck.
Prick.
Done.
Game over.
So simple. So effective. Such a fucking rush.
She doesn’t have time to fight. Her mouth opens to scream against my palm, but it’s muffled. I slip my other hand around her waist, holding her body firm against my chest.
Her legs weaken from the cocktail of drugs, and she collapses into my torso.
Lifting her, I bring her over to the bed and place her down, straightening out her limbs so she’s spread-eagled across the duvet. A vision. Her eyes are wide, and I know there are a thousand things running through her mind, but none of it matters. She’s mine now. Her body is mine to manipulate. Control. Own.
It’s perfect. She’s perfect. We’re perfect.
Her hair fans out over her pillow, making her look angelic.
Brushing my hand down her cheek, the softness of her young flesh makes me want her more. I can finally taste her. I’ve kept us both waiting for so long. Keeping to the shadows as I got to know her. Learning her routines, her ties to this world. When I first saw her, I knew she would be mine. My perfect distraction. She’s part of my collection, my girls. Worthy of me.
She’s seamless. I need to have her. I’ve waited long enough.
The good ones are always worth the wait.
“I’ve come to give you what you want,” I tell her, a smile tugging at my lips.
Dragging her bed shorts down her legs, I expose the ripe flesh beneath. I bend down to inhale her cunt. I’ve imagined what she’d look like this close up. What scent she would have. It’s honey. She smells like honeysuckle. She keeps hair on her mound, which is a novelty these days. It tickles my nose and top lip, and I decide right here and now I like it.
She’s making little mewling noises, but it’s almost completely muted, her tongue refusing to obey her commands to call out.
What would you say if you could speak right now, my lovely?
“I want you.”
“Take me.”
“Make me yours.”
Her body spasms slightly with her efforts to try to move, but it’s futile.
Little girl, I need you to be still for me.
I unbutton her nightshirt, pull it down her shoulders, and tug it away from her body. Her tits are impeccable, a full handful, the rosy nipples just the right shade of pink. Her stomach is taut, flaring out at her hips. Slender legs toned from running track in high school are spread before me, and the sight of her bare and laid out all for me makes my cock even harder. Goosebumps pebble over her skin, the tiny hairs raising in awareness.
I spread her legs farther, and she opens up like a budding rose. Tears leak from her eyes, causing a rush of adrenaline to course through me. I climb over her body and swipe them away, kissing her eyelids and licking the path of wet tracks up her cheeks.
She’s like a broken faucet. The tears just keep coming. I coat the palm of my hand in her fear and rub it over my throbbing cock.
“Cry for me,” I coax. “Cry, cry, cry.” I inhale the scent of her apple shampoo from her hair, rubbing my cock firmer. “Mmm
m, such a good, good girl.”
Her lip twitches and eyes strain so hard, the tiny red blood vessels splinter over the white like a broken vase.
“What?” I ask, stroking her hair. “You need me?” She’s so desperate to say yes. But she can’t. It’s good I know what she’s thinking.
I place myself at her opening, and without warning, I thrust inside her. She’s warm and tight. Her body is soft and supple, the limbs heavy and incompliant. It’s perfect. I lay my hand over her heart, feeling as it slows beneath my palm.
Thud…thud….thud.....thud……thud…….thud……..
“I gave you medicine that numbs your muscles.” I thrust forward, burying my cock to the hilt. “Your heart will slow, then you’ll have a heart attack.”
I love the sound of skin slapping skin. I lunge harder and harder into her still form. “Can you feel it happening?” I implore, taking all her power with each stab inside her hot, strangling cunt. She’s hungry, taking me inside her and squeezing me tight. Her chest rises and falls as she struggles to breathe.
The medical records I hacked show she has a heart murmur. Her death will be a surprise, but not suspicious considering her condition.
Her breathing has become harsh, ragged gasps. She’s dying, and it’s euphoric to be inside her while she rests on the cusp of life and death.
Let it take you, sweet Stacy.
Her body becomes tense as the drug kicks in to its final stages, she’s teetering this way and that. Heat races up my spine. My balls draw tight. I pull from her body just as her chest stops moving and spurt white ribbons of cum over her stomach, decorating her creamy skin. Seeing the wet patches of my seed on her flesh almost makes me come again.
Damn, she’s better than I thought she’d be.
The wait was more than worth it. I observe her for a few seconds while the wave of pleasure ebbs from my body. I’m going to miss her.
Climbing from her bed, I open her bedside drawer and take out her purple sex toy she keeps there. I know she pleasures herself with it a few times a week. Especially in the mornings after her rude, noisy roommate wakes her up before leaving for work.