No. I wasn’t going anywhere yet.
The moment I was free of my clothing, I went for her, taking her by the shoulder, prying her away from Lincoln, to which the man swore and tried to take her back. I wrapped my arms around her back, keeping her planted firmly against my chest as I crashed my mouth to hers, her tongue meeting mine in a hungry display of passion, raw and craving.
“What the fuck,” Lincoln growled, watching as Stella rubbed herself against me.
“Take me,” Stella begged, her chest heaving against mine, breasts round and covered in blood from her embrace with Lincoln. I was smeared with maroon now, too. “Both of you.” It was a request neither of us could deny. Neither of us would dare, because we both wanted our cocks inside that woman, and we wanted it now.
She gave me her back, rubbing her ass against my hard-on, making me groan as she bent over, getting to her knees. We all followed suit, right in the blood that had pooled from Perry’s body. Lincoln’s dick was hard and erect before her, but she waited until I positioned myself at her opening before taking him in. Me in her sweet, wet pussy, and Lincoln in her mouth, all three of us covered in blood.
Her body was ready for me, and I slid inside effortlessly. I had no idea whether she and Lincoln were getting down and dirty beforehand, and I didn’t care. I was too wrapped up in the moment, feeling nothing but her warm walls surrounding my cock, the sound of her slickness as I pumped in and out of her, holding onto her ass.
Across from me, Lincoln had a fist in her hair, his mouth hanging open slightly as she rocked back and forth on his thick member, in sync with my thrusts. Each time I pulled back, so did her mouth, and every time I pushed deeper inside her, she took him further in. It was a sight that might’ve enraged me before, but I was flying high in the moment.
Today, watching her between us, it was fucking sexy. The hottest thing I’d ever seen. Suddenly I knew why Edward and Lincoln were such a team. Having a third person there was not a damper on the sex; it only intensified every sensation, every touch and thrust.
I felt my orgasm come too soon; I suppose it was because this was all new to me, sharing her. Watching her with someone else. Erotic and sensual, to say the least. I didn’t bother to try to stop it from coming. I let it wash over me, grab hold of my body and take charge. My cock tensed inside of her, and I felt the cum shoot out, making her cunt even wetter with my own juices. My thrusting slowed to a stop, and I found Lincoln’s dark eyes watching, waiting.
Lincoln said nothing as he yanked her head away from his dick, saliva coating its length. I sat back, pulling out of her, watching as bits of white dribbled from her pussy. My cum. Stella turned to me the moment he let go of her hair, giving me a sloppy kiss, helping me to a taste of both her and the other man’s dick. Lincoln hadn’t orgasmed, but I could still taste him on her, somehow.
Together, we fell backwards, my back on the floor in the blood. Our mouths never disconnected, but I felt her being jostled, and with a peek of my eyes I saw Lincoln situating himself behind her, helping her ass in the air.
He was going to fuck her right above me.
I was past the point of no return. After this, I wasn’t sure how anything could get back to the way it was. But that was a problem for later. Right now, there was a beautiful woman above me, her tongue in my mouth, and a man behind her, about to ram his rod into her.
I knew the moment Lincoln entered her, because Stella let out a breathy moan, a light, soft sound, almost like a gasp. I’d gasp too, if a thing like that went into me. His dick was like a fucking monster. I wasn’t sure how her tiny body could take it, but she took it well.
Lincoln started thrusting, and it was so very difficult to keep our mouths connected, have our tongues playing with each other’s while he pummeled her pussy with his cock. Eventually I had to settle for toying with her nipples, her breasts looking extra round and pointed with the help of gravity, while the other man fucked her.
Apparently it was true. There was a first time for everything. Usually firsts were awful experiences you never wanted to have again—but this? This was the exact opposite. This was hot, fucking sexy, and felt ridiculously good. This had to be the best sex I’d ever had, and that was saying something, because the time in the car with Stella had been amazing.
And the time above the freezer in the basement…
And our first time when she’d asked me to the wedding…
Okay, so every time with Stella was amazing. It just got better and better. There would never be another woman for me. Never be anyone who could ever complete me, fit me so well. She was it; she would always be it.
Lincoln’s pounding grew rougher, and Stella let out a cry, her eyes squeezing shut. She nearly collapsed on top of me, but Lincoln wasn’t done quite yet. His fingers dug into her sides, and he grunted hard, pushing as far inside of her as he could go before his body trembled and he let himself go. His orgasm was a violent one, sweat dotting his wide chest and a scowl of determination on his face. He must’ve had a big load too, for it took him a long time to pull out of her, nearly slipping on the blood on the floor behind him.
We took things into the shower next, rinsing off the blood and fucking more. My body was tired, but I wanted to keep going, for everyone’s sake. Shower sex was not the easiest thing to do, especially when three people were crammed into a normal-sized shower, but we managed. We managed just fine.
It was only after we were clean and all tired, when we laid in her bed together, Lincoln and I surrounding her, that she fell asleep. I wanted to sleep too, but I knew we had things to do.
Dealing with the bodies first and foremost.
Lincoln was the first to roll out of bed. “I’m calling Ed.”
I nodded, watching him go. I had no idea what Edward would add to this, but I knew four heads thinking on it was better than three. Perry was a federal agent, and I was sure he’d told others where he was going. It wouldn’t be long before they realized he was off the radar, not answering his phone or the radio in his car, and other agents would follow.
I knew one thing for sure: with how bloody and spontaneous that kill had been, there was too much evidence to cover up.
We couldn’t stay here.
Chapter Twenty-Four - Edward
I always miss the fun. I blamed the job. When I got a call from Lincoln, a bit earlier than I expected, I’d just strolled into our house, was about to change and shower, when he told me to come to Stella’s. He didn’t want to get into the details over the phone, which could only mean it was something he didn’t want listened to. You could never be too careful when you were a murderer these days. Someone was always watching, always listening.
Instead of showering, I just settled for changing before hopping back into my car and driving over. The front door was locked, oddly enough, and I had to knock. The day was mostly dark by now, the sun setting in the distant horizon. I thought Lincoln would want Stella to himself for a while longer, but that couldn’t be what this was about. His voice had sounded too urgent, too worried.
There were also far too many cars parked in front of Stella’s house.
Killian answered, pulling me inside before I had the chance to say anything. What I saw I did not expect. Not one bit.
Not only was there a dead man on the floor, but also a dead woman on the couch. Two bodies, one bloody, the other not so bloody.
Stella leaned on the counter in the kitchen, her brown hair pulled back into a messy bun. Lincoln was beside her, sipping on some water. “My mother,” Stella introduced us, pointing to the woman on the couch. “And Perry, the lovely FBI agent. Apparently they found John’s body in a field. He wanted to talk to Callie.” She shot Killian a look, to which he just shrugged.
“Yes, I made a mistake. Sue me,” Killian muttered, crossing his arms. I noticed he hardly looked at Lincoln, even when the other man spoke to him.
“You never even told us how you came here. How you knew Perry was here,” Lincoln said.
“I was
locking up at the Tribune and happened to see him drive by. If I would’ve been a minute later leaving, I wouldn’t have,” Killian eventually spoke, glancing at me. “Though I’m sure Lincoln’s about to say he could’ve handled the man himself.”
“I could have,” Lincoln growled.
I tried piecing it all together. “And your mother?”
Stella looked guilty. “She came to try to get me to move back in with her and my dad. They talked, I guess, and they wanted me to quit my job and go back home so they could watch me. She also said some really mean things about Callie.”
I didn’t need her to justify the murder to me. I was the last person here who would judge her, who would judge any of the killers before me. We all did what we had to do for reasons known only to us.
The thing I did need to think about was the how we were going to get through this. A dead FBI agent and a dead mother. Things definitely had looked better around here.
This…there was no cleaning this up. The three people before me knew it; they just wanted me to be the bad guy. They wanted me to tell them what we had to do, even though they already knew. I would play the villain; I would tell them what we had to do in order to get through this.
“Killian,” I spoke after a while, lost in my own mind, “go get Callie. Bring her here.”
“But—” The other man started to say, and I hushed him with a glare. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” Killian was out the door the next moment.
I looked at Lincoln. The man who was like a brother to me had looked better, and asking him to do what I was about to would only further increase his worries, but I didn’t see any other options. Honestly, I didn’t see any other way out of this.
There was only one way. One way we could all stick together. One way we would avoid going to jail…federal prison most likely.
“Call Markus back,” I said. “Tell him there’s going to be a few extra tagalongs, but we’re willing to be put to work.”
Lincoln’s back straightened. “No, no, I won’t—”
Just like with Killian, I gave him a glare. He would not argue with me on this. He knew his family was the only way we’d be protected. They had money, they had the means, the connections. We needed them.
“Fine,” he grumbled, getting his phone out and walking away to make the call.
“And you,” I said, giving Stella a dimpled smile, “go pack what you need. Only what you need. Clothes and all that other stuff, the family will take care of.”
Stella moved closer to me, one of her arms snaking around my back. She gazed up at me, her mismatched eyes brighter than they were before. Killing set her off, made her feel things nothing else could. I knew the feeling myself well enough, and I couldn’t blame her for it. Plus, from what it sounded like, her mother was a grade-A bitch.
“I don’t have anything I need to take. Everything would just remind me of this place.” Her voice grew quiet, and she bit her bottom lip. “I don’t want to remember this place. The only good thing about it is you guys, and if we’re all going, there’s no point in taking anything.”
I ran a hand over her cheek. “Whatever you want,” I said, leaning down to her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
Lincoln finished up his call and joined us in the kitchen. “It’s done,” he said, not sounding happy about it. “There will be rooms ready for us.” His brown gaze fell on Stella, who still clung to me. “Once Killian comes, I’ll give you guys the rundown on the family. Who to avoid, who you can trust. Here’s a hint: avoid pretty much everyone and trust no one.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
There was one thing that needed to be done once Killian got here, and it wasn’t talking about Lincoln’s family. It was putting the bodies how we wanted them. How Stella wanted them, pretty much, though Killian took control of how he positioned Perry.
While I helped Stella arrange Callie on her bed, laying her rotting body, still cold from her time in the freezer, on the bed as if she was sleeping, Lincoln helped Killian. I could tell Stella wanted to be alone with Callie, so I meandered into the living room, watching Killian do the finishing touches on Perry.
Tying his hands together with his own intestines. Making him pray, although he hadn’t been dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in, so his fingers would not stay straight. Perry was looking pretty pale, though.
“One last victim of the Angel Maker,” Killian spoke almost lovingly as he stepped back. He and Lincoln had moved Perry onto the couch beside Margaret. “It’s fitting for him, I think.”
“Even though I technically was the one who killed him,” Lincoln spoke, earning himself a quick scowl from Killian. “Where’s Stella?”
“With Callie,” I said. “Let her say her goodbyes, then we’re out of here.” Out of here for good. We’d spend the night at our house, wake up in the early morning hours before dawn and go. Hopefully no one would come looking for us. As long as we kept away from this house and from Killian’s, I think we’ll be fine, at least until morning. It would be a while before panic set in, anyway.
This was not how I anticipated my Friday night going.
Chapter Twenty-Five - Stella
I hated leaving Callie like this. She deserved a better send-off than the one she was getting, but we didn’t have time to figure something else out. This was the only way. Get rid of all the bodies that were in our closets, cast off the net so we could finally be free.
“I’m sorry,” I spoke to her, my eyes running over her rotting flesh, her holey skin. She was already starting to smell. Edward and I had arranged her body like she was asleep on top of the sheets, her arms folded over her chest. Granted, I think she was like that in the hole I dug. Her limbs were only flimsily attached to the rest of her. She’d definitely looked better. “My mom shouldn’t have said those things about you. I don’t think you rubbed off on me. I don’t think you rubbed off on me enough. I’m…I was the one who wasn’t good for you. If you would’ve roomed with someone else, you’d still be alive. I’m sorry.”
Heaving a sigh, I got up, about to leave the room when I spotted her laptop. I’d have to leave mine, as I was sure they could track it if they had to, and once the feds found this house and the three bodies in it, they’d be looking for me.
I tilted my head, my fingers itching. I went to her desk, slowly sitting in her seat. The room smelled of rot and dust, and I hated it, hated that I was the cause. I lifted the laptop screen after moving aside her phone, pressing the power button and booting it up. Fortunately, no password was necessary to go into it. I opened a word document and started writing.
Readers, I have no idea whether or not you’ll ever see this message. I don’t know whether the FBI or the police will release it. It might be evidence; I’m not sure. These days, I’m not sure about a lot of things.
I’ve missed talking to you, telling you all how killers are. What they’re like and what their mindsets have to be in order to kill someone. Ritualistic, animalistic, immoral and depraved. You’d call serial killers all these words and more—to which I suppose I would agree with you.
I know, because it’s true. I know, because I am a killer myself. Yes, this is my official confession. I have killed before. The body in this room, the one stinking up this place, is dead because of me. Because I took a knife to her throat and slit her tender flesh. As accidental as it was, it was still murder.
I am a murderer. I am immoral and depraved, and it is not because of my diagnosis. I’m sure the feds can look it up, see what I have. I’m sure when they go to my family and discuss me with my father, they’ll put pieces together that should never be put together. Not everything is connected. The accident could’ve happened whether I’d been on my meds or not, whether my brain was normal or not.
You see, we’re all capable of violence. We’re all able to think up ways we would kill our enemies, our bosses, our rivals. The thought of murder is nothing new to humankind. We have been murdering each other in wars for millennia. Eons. Since we sp
routed and started walking on two feet.
Humans are animals. We might have laws, most of us might follow them, but inside each and every one of us, we are nothing but animals trying to live in a shared society. Serial killers are just those people who shed the burden of society and decided to do what they want. What they like. What they need to do.
Yes, because sometimes the urge to kill is not a want; it is a need. And it is a need that I have felt before.
Do I deserve to die because I have ended the life of another? That I’ll leave up to you.
You might not know me, but you know my story well enough. I am your sister. Your daughter. Your girlfriend. Your wife. I am just a face, a name among many. I am but one, and we are out there, whether you know we’re there or not.
The darkness is my friend, and the monsters are my lovers. I’ve found where I belong, and no matter what happens, I will never leave them, and they will never leave me.
This is goodbye, to everything I’ve ever known. I’m about to start a new journey in my life, and I cannot wait to start it with those I love the most. They shall remain nameless, because it is me you want.
I killed Callie Woods. I killed Margaret Wilson. I killed agent Perry.
Try as you might to find me, you won’t. I will be gone by the time you read this, so it won’t matter what evidence you gather in this house. I will be gone, the trail will be cold and nonexistent, but good luck anyways. I like to think I’m a good sport. Good luck, because where I’m going, you’ll need it if you ever find me. There are more beasts in this world, more animals hiding in the darkness and in the light. Me, my monsters, we are not alone.
In this world, even the worst of us are never truly alone.
I reread it once for typos before smiling. I left the laptop open and running as I left the room, soon leaving the house entirely. A new chapter in my life awaited me, and I was as ready as I would ever be for it.
Sick Twisted Minds (Cruel Black Hearts Book 3) Page 17