Pretty Monster

by Sheridan Anne

I’m not going to be Viper’s little plaything. Good for the hole does not mean good for the soul.

Though, am I really that bad? Sure, murdering women in cold blood is a little frowned upon here and there, but it’s not like I’m going around breaking their hearts and making promises that I’m never going to keep. Who’s the real monster here? An observant guy who just happens to like following a woman home to make sure she’s safe, or a piece of shit boyfriend whose pull-out game is weak?

I’m up-front about what I want, what I’m going to do to her, and hell, I might even give her a screaming orgasm before ending her life. But I draw the line at being a shitty boyfriend. There’s nothing worse than a man who leads a woman on, promises her the world, and then the next minute, he’s fucking her best friend in the bathroom at Whataburger while she’s busy slurping on a shake. Fuck. Men are real fucking bastards sometimes.

She’s fucking dazzling, and I know if she were looking up at me like that, I wouldn’t be able to resist a damn thing she wanted. Hell, if she asked to strap on a fucking ten-inch monster cock and peg me, I’d be straight on my knees telling her which drawer I keep the lube in. But fuck, if she wanted to go in dry . . . shit. I don’t know about that. Ahhh, who am I kidding? I’d still do it with tears in my eyes, only for her though.

I really need to get to the bottom of this whole spontaneous ejaculation while murdering the men in Kyah’s life thing. Perhaps I need to book a therapy session, though I don’t know what I’m supposed to say without getting myself locked up. All I know is that it feels fucking incredible.

What the hell is wrong with me? What kind of self-respecting woman allows her stalker to sneak into her room and eat her pussy in the middle of the night?

“Okay, but really, what kind of tattoo do you want and where?” My lips quirk up into a smirk. “Okay, so you know Pinocchio?” I ask, watching as her brows furrow and she slowly nods her head. “I was thinking of getting the top of his face right in the center of my groin. You know, just up to his eyes, and then the start of his nose would be where my dick is, so every time I got hard—” Kyah’s booming laugh cuts me off. “Holy shit. Why does that image come with sound effects in my head?” she questions, shaking her head. “But for the sake of your sex life, I’m not turning your dick into Pinocchio’s nose.” “Come on, Mace,” I tease. “You’ll be begging me to lie to you.”