by B. B. Hamel
“Why then?”
He walks toward me, smirking now. I back up, eyes a little wide, moving away from him. The look on his face is almost terrifying.
The backs of my legs run up against his bed and it’s too late as I stumble back against it. I end up on my ass and he doesn’t stop as he crawls on top of me, pinning me back, pinning me down against the comforter.
“Maybe I just wanted to fuck you in my bed,” he whispers and kisses me hard.
I can’t help but let the thrill run through me as I kiss him back. This is what I wanted, I know, but still. To hear him say it out loud…
Well, it’s still scary. His body, his cock, it drives me wild. I know he’s dangerous, I know there’s a reason I should run away, I just don’t really care.
We kiss like that for what feels like a long time, although it’s maybe a minute or two. I lose myself in him so easily, and that’s the most terrifying thing of all.
He runs his fingers through my hair, kissing me softly, almost reverentially. I didn’t know he could be so gentle and sweet, and I don’t know where it’s coming from.
But the passion is starting to build. I know he’s not going to stay gentle for very long. He gave me gentle once already.
He pulls back, kneeling on the floor. He helps me pull my top off, unhooks my bra, and kisses my neck as I slide my bra onto the floor. He kisses my chest, teases my nipples, and pins me back down on the bed while he unbuttons my jeans.
I groan as he tugs them off. He pulls his shirt up over his head, tossing it onto the pile of clothes, and kisses my stomach, my chest, my inner thighs. His mouth finds my pussy and I groan as he kisses me over my panties before sliding them slide to tease my soaked pussy.
I groan and run my hands through his hair. His mouth feels incredible as he sucks and licks my clit, slow at first, but getting faster. He slides two fingers inside my pussy and I roll my hips in response, wanting everything, every feeling, every emotion.
I groan as his tongue and teeth and lips suck and lick my clit. I’m losing it now and I know I can’t hold back, but he’s moving me so masterfully, so easily.
He slides my panties off and I sit up as he finishes undressing. I watch his belt come off, his jeans slide down, his boxer briefs drop to the floor. I reach out for his huge cock and take him in both hands, stroking his length and looking up to kiss him as he bends down.
He pushes me back onto the bed and spreads my legs wide. I bite my lips as he moves between me, his cock teasing my pussy slowly, his lips on my neck before he plunges himself deep inside.
I groan as the pleasure and pain lance through my spine. I dig my nails into his back and he seems to like it, grunting softly in my ear. He starts to move, rolling his hips, sliding his cock around my tight pussy before sliding out and thrusting back in.
I bite onto his shoulder as he starts to fuck me. He leans back, grunting again, eyes flashing passion and pain and desire. I throw my head back, hair spilling all around me, as he starts to fuck me faster.
I was right, he’s not being as gentle this time. I don’t want him to be gentle. I want him to fuck me, take me rough, show me what he wants and how he wants it.
He sits up on his knees and grabs my hips as he fucks me harder. I groan and roll my hips, pushing back against him, not afraid to take him even harder. It feels good and it hurts and he looks so incredible, his body muscular and tense and perfect, his eyes so full of passion that I can barely stand to meet them.
“God damn, girl,” he whispers in my ear. “Your fucking pussy is still just as tight and delicious. You know how beautiful you are, getting fucked like this?”
“I love it,” I whisper to him.
“I know you do. I know you love it. You want me to make you sweat, fill you up, fuck you deep and rough and make you moan my name. That’s what you need, my Emma.”
“Yes, Rhett,” I moan. “Fuck me. Go ahead. Take what you want.”
That seems to drive him wild. He thrusts into me harder, my breasts bouncing and he teases my nipple with his teeth. I groan, gripping the sheets, grabbing his hair, digging my fingers into his back.
We’re sweating and working. He rolls me over and makes me straddle him, my back arching as I slide down his thick cock. I felt self-conscious the first time I rode him like this but for some reason, I don’t even think twice as I roll my hips and let him thrust up inside of me to my rhythm.
I feel so free and wild and I keep moving up and down, riding his thick cock, letting him fill me up and stretch me out past my limits. It feels so incredible to be taken by a man like this, his body so muscular and strong.
He spanks my ass hard and grabs my hair, grunting in my ear. “You’re all mine, Emma,” he whispers. “This tight little cunt is all mine. This sweet ass is all mine. These pink perky nipples are all mine. Every inch of you is mine.”
He fucks me harder, pulling me tight against him. He spanks my ass again, again, and it feels so good and hurts so sweet. I roll my back and buck against him, moaning the whole time, sweat rolling down my pale skin.
He rolls me off him suddenly, practically with a roar. He pushes me onto all fours, spreading my legs wide. He grabs my hips and mounts me from behind, sliding himself nice and deep into my tight pussy. I gasp, gripping the sheets, and he slaps my ass hard as he thrusts up inside of me.
He fucks me hard and doesn’t hold back. I moan, head thrown back as he grabs my hair and pulls it. My breasts get pushed together and I can feel him, thrusting deeper and fucking me rough, pleasure and pain and intense desire all mingling inside of me, threatening to spill over into everything else.
I start to work my hips back against him, desperate and greedy for his big cock. I want every inch, every sensation. “Don’t stop,” I beg him, although I know he won’t. He slaps my ass nice and hard in response, like he’s punishing me for suggesting he might hold back.
I groan as he reaches around my hip to roll his fingers along my clit. He grinds his cock deep inside of me and fucks me. Our bodies writhe together, moans escaping my lips in loud crescendos and I know I can’t take much more of this.
He keeps going, though. I know he won’t show me any mercy and I don’t want any. He keeps going, thrusting hard, deep, and I can feel the orgasm starting to well up inside of me.
“Rhett,” I gasp. “Please.”
He groans, slaps my ass, and I come.
It rolls over me in rushes, in explosions.
I twist and gasp, clenching down, clutching the covers. His cock keeps thrusting, filling me, fucking me. I’m his, all his, mounted and dominated.
I come hard on his big dick as he roars his delight. I feel him thrusting faster and I can tell he’s close. I roll my hips back along him, moaning along with him, in a fever pitch of excitement and desire.
His cum bursts inside of me. I can feel him fill me, spurting deep and hard into my tight little pussy. I groan and need every single drop from his enormous cock as I roll my hips, begging him to fill me up, fill me nice and deep.
We finish in a heap of sweaty sheets, his arms wrapped around my body, his lips up against my throat.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, holding me tight. “That’s my Emma.”
I kiss him softly. I’m ringing like a bell, my whole body buzzing with need for him.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers again, and I know I’m not going anywhere.
12
Rhett
I wake up in the middle of the night and I can still see her next to me, slowly breathing deep. I watch her sleep, more curious than anything else.
She could’ve gotten away. She could’ve killed me in my sleep, or at least she could’ve tried.
But there she is, still here in my bed, sleeping like this is all totally normal.
God damn. What’s happening to me?
I want a girl in my bed, when she should be locked down in a cage. I want her sleeping with me, where I’m most vulnerable.
I never let them up. I
never, ever let them see me vulnerable.
She’s the first.
God damn, she’s the first, and the best.
Fucking shit. I don’t know what’s happening to me.
I let myself fall back on my pillow, staring up at the ceiling. I let myself think about her, about how she makes me feel, and I drift off to sleep again, dreaming about all the girls that have come before her, all the girls that I never let escape.
* * *
I finish cooking her pancakes, flipping them onto a plate, just as she comes padding into the kitchen wearing just my button-down from yesterday.
“Morning,” she says, like it’s totally normal.
“Morning.” I smile at her and put a plate down. She sits at the table and I serve her some coffee.
She eats like it’s something we always do.
I sit across from her, sipping my coffee, watching her closely.
I don’t know what she’s thinking. I thought for sure that she’d run last night, but here she is, still in my house of her own free will. No locks, no cameras. It’s hard to understand, but I refuse to let myself ruin it by overthinking everything.
“We have an errand to run today,” I tell her.
She looks at me. “Really?”
“We’re going to talk to the man you pointed out.”
Her eyes get wide and I can see the fear in her face. “Is that smart?”
“No,” I admit. “It’s not, but we’re doing it anyway. Will you help?”
She hesitates. I can tell she didn’t expect this. She watched him murder a man and I’m positive she’s still terrified of him.
But finally she nods. “I’ll help.”
“Good girl,” I say, smiling. “Go get dressed. Your clothes are all still downstairs.”
She nods and slowly stands. “Will you lock the door behind me?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
She smiles, comes around the table, kisses me, and heads downstairs.
I sit there and sigh.
God damn, what is wrong with me? I should just get rid of her, like all the others, instead of trying to solve this case. That would be a lot easier, at least.
She comes back up a few minutes later wearing tight jeans and a loose sweater. She looks gorgeous as she pulls her hair up into a messy bun.
“So, what’s the plan?”
I take a breath and slowly let it out. “Mitch isn’t the kind of guy to get up early.” I check my watch, and it’s just after seven in the morning. The sun is still weak and the birds are still chirping. “I think we can get to his place in a half hour if we leave soon.”
“Okay,” she says. “And then what?”
“Then we break in, tie him up, and beat him until he confesses.”
She stares at me for a second, but she doesn’t look surprised. I don’t know what I expected, but after a few seconds, she nods as if making a decision.
“Okay,” she says. “Let’s go.”
I smirk to her and walk over. She doesn’t back away as I step close, take her hair, and kiss her gently.
“Are you sure, little Emma?” I whisper. “It’s going to be dangerous, and we might hurt this guy.”
“I’m sure,” she says. “I’m tired of sitting around and letting things happen around me. I want… I want to do something.”
“Good,” I whisper, grinning huge. I kiss her one more time, savoring her lips, before letting her go.
I walk back into my room and grab my belt. I slip a gun from my top drawer into the back of my waistband then strap my belt on with a little knife in a sheath attached to the back. Once I’m armed, I put a shirt on and button it down to hide the weapons.
Not perfect, but good enough.
I meet Emma back out front and we head down the steps. We go past the cruiser and around to the side of the house where I have an old truck. We get in, I start the engine, and we pull out.
Mitch lives in a small house on the edge of town, around the corner from Hammy’s Bar. The guy’s practically a regular there, or at least he used to be.
We pull up out front. I know he lives here only because I’ve been here once before. He had a little domestic dispute with an old girlfriend a year back, beat the shit out of her pretty bad, but Dean made that all go away. Mitch never served time, but I did get a nice tour of this place back when we did our investigation.
I look over at Emma and she doesn’t seem nervous. She should be terrified right now, since we’re about to confront a straight-up killer, but she seems completely calm.
“What do you think?” I ask her. “Should we go the easy way or the hard way?”
She shrugs. “Is there a difference?”
“Probably not.” I open my door and step out. “Stay close.”
She follows me up the short walk and onto Mitch’s porch. I bang on the door and ring the bell, but there’s no response. I glance at Emma and gesture for her to step back from the door.
I bang harder. “Mitch Ware, open up.”
There’s still silence inside. I bang one more time and I hear something, footsteps somewhere inside, stomping down steps.
“Hold the fuck on.” That’s his voice inside, coming closer. “Fucking Christ, I’m coming.”
I glance back at Emma as I pull the gun from my waistband.
He opens the inner door and looks out at me, a little surprised. I keep the gun in my hand behind my back.
“Hi, Mitch,” I say. “Can we talk?”
“Chief?” He grunts, clears his throat. His hair is a mess and he looks like he just woke up, which is what I was hoping for. “You want to talk?”
“Let’s talk inside, Mitch.”
He stares at me and opens the door. As I step forward, he spots Emma over my shoulder.
And his eyes go wide. “Aw, shit,” he says, and turns to run.
I press the gun up against the back of his skull before he can book it out of there.
“Don’t move, asshole,” I say calmly. “I don’t want to have to do the paperwork for killing you.”
He looks at me, wild-eyed and afraid. “What the fuck, Chief?”
“Inside.” I push him with the gun, shoving him in the door. Emma follows and she shuts the door behind us.
Mitch’s place is a mess. There are empty pizza boxes, empty alcohol bottles. His couch is stained and the easy chair has a cat in it, dozing and bored looking. The whole place reeks of cat and booze.
“Kitchen,” I say, not moving the gun.
“What the hell is going on here, Chief?” he asks, pretending to be innocent. “I mean, we can talk, but you don’t need the gun.”
I don’t reply. We head into the kitchen and I push him into a chair. The sink is full of dirty dishes and there’s a litterbox in the corner.
Mitch stares between me and Emma as she slips into the kitchen and leans against the wall.
“Who’s the girl?” he asks innocently.
“Cut the shit.” I press the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “Let’s talk.”
“Fucking shit, Chief. Put the gun down and we’ll talk, okay? Fucking Christ.”
Slowly I lower the weapon but I don’t put it down.
“We need to talk, Ware. And I need you to be very, very honest with me.”
“Of course, of course.” His eyes dart over to Emma. “What can I do for you?”
“Do you know this girl?” I glance over at Emma and back at Ware.
He shakes his head. “No. Never seen her before.”
I sigh. “Emma, you know him, right?”
She nods once.
I reach behind me and slide the knife from its sheath. “Okay then. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, but it’s too late. I slash him across the face, catching his cheek in a clean slice.
He screams, clutching the wound. It’s bleeding, but not too bad. I meant to go deeper, but oh, well.
“Tell me how you know her,” I say.
“Fuck you, aren’t you supposed to be police? You can’t do this.”
“I’m not doing this as the fucking police, Ware.” I press the knife against his gut. “How do you know her?”
“I saw her the other night, okay?” His eyes are wide with fear.
I smile at him. “Good, good. And where were you when you saw her?”
“The fucking Fast Fresh.” His eyes are downcast and his voice is defeated, almost sulking like a child.
“What were you doing there?”
He doesn’t say anything.
“Mitch.” I press the knife harder. “What were you doing there?”
“Go to hell.”
I sigh and slice along his thigh. He groans and lashes out at me, but I slash his hand before it can get close to me. He gasps and falls over, hitting the floor.
He rolls to the side and suddenly the cat from the other room comes running in. The cat jumps on Ware and claws at him, hissing like it’s possessed.
“Fuck!” he screams. “Missy, fuck!”
Emma stares, wild with shock. I watch the cat scratch its owner, not totally surprised. The poor thing probably hates living with this asshole.
Eventually though, I walk over and scare the cat away. It’s not happy but it retreats into the other room again, leaving Ware on the ground, writhing with pain.
I walk back over to him and kick him in the gut before rolling him onto his back.
“Why’d you kill him, Mitch?”
He groans. “Don’t make me.”
“Come on. Just tell me the truth. You want this to be over? You want to move on with your life? Tell me the truth.”
He glares at me. “The dumb fuck owed Dean Fish money. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
I sigh and shake my head sadly. “No, it’s not, but it’s what I figured.”
I raise the gun, pointing it at Mitch’s face.
“No.”
I frown. Emma steps toward me, eyes wide.
“What?” I ask her.
“No,” she says. “You can’t just kill him.”
“Why not?”
“Because… that’s murder.”
I snort. “This fuck would’ve killed you if given the chance. What do you care?”
“You’re a cop,” she says. “We can’t… we can’t be like him.”
