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“It is really creepy out here,” Kennedy agrees, her nose scrunching as she looks around at the backyard. It's not creepy. It’s just quiet. Isolated. And very different from their townhouse in the small city we've always lived in. I love it.
As I get closer, I could swear I hear the deep rumbling of a man's voice. I pause in front of the door, listening carefully to see if that's where it came from. But there's no noise on the other side.
I wiggle the handle a few times, hoping that maybe it's just jammed. Still, it doesn't give. With a sigh, I start back toward the house, making a mental note to ask the owners where the key to that room is.
A loud, distinctive crack echoes off the walls when my hands jerk to the left, and I watch as life instantly fades from my victim's eyes. This is my favorite part. When I get to witness the flicker behind their eyes disappear into nothingness. My own eyes roll to the back of my head, and I release my hold from his jaw.
It took me a while to learn the perfect force and angle to use for the cracking effect. When their soul exits their body and it's so close, I can feel it—it's an addictive feeling unlike any other. Far better than any drug I've ever consumed. And I've consumed plenty.
Imagine my complete and utter horror when I walked to the back of the house and found a half-naked woman sprawled out on the couch, staring into a computer screen like she owned the place. I still can't decide if I'm disgusted or enamored by her. She made no attempt at hiding herself from view. The wall of windows off the back remained uncovered to avoid any obstruction of the private lake and still she was lying there, completely exposed.
There were never supposed to be this many victims. I wasn't supposed to enjoy it this much.
I’m hoping that, if anything, it’s the former. I suddenly can’t stand the idea of another man having access to her like this now that I've decided she’s my prey. As if I'm magnetized toward her, my feet move on their own accord to take me to the bed, but a floorboard creaks and I’m stopped in my tracks, slinking back into the safety of the shadows.
She gazes up at me—not in horror, but something else entirely. It's like she's looking at me, but doesn't quite see me. Her eyelids stay at half-mast as she grabs my wrist and slides my hand down, over her breast. And then, she shocks me even more by pushing her tit against my palm. Her head falls back to the side, eyes closing as she arches her back, applying more pressure. Another breathy moan escapes her lips as she snakes her hand down her abdomen and beneath the blanket. I'm stunned silent. My eyes track her movements under the blanket while she pushes herself into my hand and I'm
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My own orgasm follows shortly after, with no warning. I was so caught up in hers, I barely noticed until my cum sputtered out onto her sheet. I quickly rip my hand away from her to catch the rest of it before I make an even bigger mess, stifling a moan as my eyes roam over her center and I notice the wet spot on her panties. I decide then that I have to taste her before I kill her.
Toying with the syrups lined against the back wall, I admit, “I got drunk alone and had the weirdest dream last night about a guy in my house.”
“I don't even know. There was a random hot stalker guy in my room, watching me. It felt so real, though.”
I can't stop thinking about the girl in the cottage. My beautiful, deadly little Stardust, as I've decided to call her. A representation of the complicated supernova of feelings I've experienced since first laying eyes on her.
Even serial murderers have fears. Mine just happens to be a five-foot Italian woman from the Bronx.
And I don't wake up until there's a noise in my closet. My eyes find the alarm clock on the bedside table and confirm I’ve only been asleep for a few hours. I might even still be asleep now, because the man is back.
It feels so incredibly real. How can I be asleep? Maybe I’m not. Maybe he’s a ghost. Or maybe there’s really a man standing in my bedroom, watching me sleep. Fuck, I don’t know. This is insane. “Hello, Stardust,” a deep, commanding voice greets, startling me out of my thoughts.
He snickers, stopping at the side of my bed just before his thighs hit the mattress. Every move he makes feels calculated, as if he’s planned this whole thing out. “I'm going to tell you what's about to happen, little Stardust, and you're going to obey,”
“Are you imagining my cock inside you, Stardust? Is that why you're digging your fingers deep into that tight pussy?”
I have no idea where he's come up with this nickname, but the way it flows off his tongue is becoming my newest addiction. “Yes,” I whimper, my hips grinding farther into my hand as my orgasm builds. “Good. Now come with me, baby.”
It’s a sick thought. How can I accuse him of being messed up when I’m just as fucked in the head—if not more, because I’m enabling his behavior? Yet, here we are.
Entering the bar, I'm immediately hit with the pungent smell of stale beer, burning oil, and piss. The fucking things I do for this girl, I swear… She needs a new job.
I round the corner from the doorway of my bedroom and am instantly hit with the sweet, syrupy smell of vanilla. The room is illuminated by the soft, flickering lights coming from the dozens of candles lining the bathroom counter and the sides of the tub that's nestled into the back corner of the room. Water is pouring out of the spout into a sea of bubbles that's nearly full, and a glass of white wine is perched on the ledge. And sitting right beside it is another perfectly ripened fig. I have no idea what to make of this. Stepping into the bathroom, I reach down to turn off the spout, and
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“What are you waiting for? Get in,” that familiar, rough voice startles me from behind.
“You're going to get in that tub and you're going to relax, or else I'm going to rip your clothes off and throw you in there myself.” “Who the hell even are you? What are you?” Those eyes cut over to me. “Me? I'm your worst nightmare, little Stardust.” “Why do you keep calling me that?” “Would you rather I use your real name, Jovie?”
“One answer for every piece of clothing,” I offer, fully expecting him to decline. He surprises me by rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why can't you just let me do this one nice thing for you?” “Is that a yes?”
Once she's fully submerged, I walk around the edge and crouch behind her. “Relax, little lamb. Let me take care of you,” I whisper against her neck, earning a small moan that seems to hit me in all the right places.
I feel guilty for scaring her when all I meant to do was help her unwind. This is all new to me, and I'm just fumbling through it.
My hand moves along her collarbone and stops at the top of her left breast, feeling her heartbeat. She sucks in a breath, subtly pushing her chest forward to move my palm downward the same way she had done in her sleep. I comply, gently closing my fingers around her nipple. “Do you like when I touch you?”
“Yes,” she hisses the admission, and it's like the sound is sent straight to my growing erection pressing against the tub.
Eventually, her hand disappears somewhere beneath the surface of bubbles between her legs and I want to fucking kick myself for adding so much of the useless soap.
wasn't my intention when I started the bath for her this evening. I'd been following her around for three days, watching her bounce from one place to the next—one random job to another. It was exhausting. I wanted to do something nice for her. I can't even begin to explain why.
“I want to touch you so bad,” I admit through a pained breath, my gaze pinned on the cluster of soap between her legs. “Then touch me, Bash,” she urges. Hearing my name on her lips is intoxicating. I almost didn’t tell her, too afraid to give her anything she could dig into and find more information about.
“You should be afraid of me. I could hurt you… In fact, I probably will. I’m not the hero in this story,” I warn, shrugging off my black hoodie to prevent it from getting any wetter.
“I’m not afraid of dying. I've already done that. I’m afraid of not living.”
Once she's satisfied with whatever she was looking for in my face, she lifts her head out of the water and faces forward again. I clear my throat, massaging the shampoo into her scalp before I unintentionally reveal anything else to her. She relaxes into my touch, moving her head around to give me better access. It's somehow the most erotic thing I've ever experienced with a woman. The way she blindly trusts me to care for her, even after I’ve broken into her home and violated her privacy.
My fingers trail down the sides of her neck, and she leans her head against my wrist. Without thinking, I move her hair to the side and lean forward, pulling my mask down far enough to place my lips behind her ear in a gentle kiss. She exhales a breath, turning her head away to allow me better access as I run my mouth down the column of her throat, teeth grazing against her skin. When I make it to her shoulder, I clamp down, earning a squeal.
Still, the thin fabric is the only thing between us, and my resilience is hanging on by a thread until I finish my task, dropping the rag into the water. My eyes lock back onto hers, and I'm moving toward her before my brain can catch up.
“I want you,” he says in a deep, lusty tone as he releases me from his hold and drops me onto my bed.
I gaze up at him, too afraid to let him out of my sight. “So take me,” I dare, and I immediately want to take the words back when his shocked gaze crashes against mine.
“So wet for me,” he muses, bringing his hand back up to rub my clit. “You'll be my undoing.” “I'm already undone,” I admit in a voice soaked in sex, one I don’t even recognize.
He cocks his head to the side. “I don't think you get it, Stardust. The second I coat my tongue with your cum, you're going to be mine. No other man will ever touch you again and live to talk about it. When I eat this pussy”—he glides his finger down my slit again, and I shudder out a breath—“I'm taking ownership of it.”
“Do you understand now?”
“Mm. Good girl.”
“Come for me, baby. Scream my name so everyone in this shitty, Podunk town knows who you belong to.”
I see stars. Balls of fire explode behind my eyes, igniting a whole new wave of ecstasy to course through me. “Holy shit, Bash,” I moan. I can't think straight. Hell, I can't even open my eyes until the shock waves stop reverberating through every limb. And when I finally do, Bash is standing over me with his mask pulled down for the first time. A cocky, unguarded smile graces beautiful, plump lips. He's licking his fingers in a crass show of ownership. My legs are still spread wide open, my breathing inconsistent.
“Tell me… who do you belong to, little Stardust?” I don't even hesitate to answer. “You.” “That's right, baby.”
“This pussy is mine.” His hands move up my body in a long, teasing caress that has me dripping all over again. When he reaches my throat, his fingers wrap around either side. “You're mine.”
Just watching turned into just touching turned into just tasting, and now that I've done all that, I want to consume her. I want all of her in every way I can get it. I showed her my fucking face, for God's sake.
I told her she should be afraid of me, but if I'm being completely honest with myself, the way I feel about her terrifies me.
“No, Eliza. I’m not fucking with you,” I mutter condescendingly. “I need you to look into any open remote position we have. If there isn’t anything, make one up.”
