by Dani René
Virulent
Folie á Deux - Book One
Dani René
Yolanda Olson
Copyright © 2018 by Dani René & Yolanda Olson
Published by Dani René & Yolanda Olson
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations. It is intended for adult readers.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Dedication
For our amazing readers who prefer it twisted, taboo, and a whole lot dark.
Contents
ARC
The Window
The Office
The Choice
The Father
The Train Wreck
The Corpse
The Medication
His Concern
Jealous Rage
Long Lost Brother
Bloody Lunch
Do It, Daddy
The Birthday Request
The Graveyard
The Memory
The Factory
Shopping Trip
The Dress
With This Ring
The Bloody Reception
The Letter
Orationis Enim Quod Perierat
About Yolanda
About Dani
ARC
THIS IS AN EARLY REVIEW COPY. PLEASE NOTE, IT WILL BE GOING THROUGH A FINAL PROOF.
THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ AND REVIEW.
The Window
Pike
Sweet Molly.
She’s fast asleep on the bed since I’ve already fucked her five ways to Sunday and the scent of her sweet, wet cunt is lingering in the room. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face as I tug on my dick, watching the couple in their apartment across the alleyway fucking each other like animals. The slickness of her tight hole is still on my hard dick, and I take a deep breath to inhale her further into my lungs as I watch them.
I can still remember the first time I saw her, and even though I knew we weren’t quite strangers, it sure fucking felt that way. I close my eyes for a minute, falling back into the memory of the very moment her dark green, doe eyes locked onto me and let my breath out in a rush.
We were kids; she had fallen and scraped her knee. I fixed a band-aid to the bumps and bruises, thinking of myself as ever the grand hero. I think that’s when she fell in love with me—at least that’s what she’s told me before, but Molls is a fractured person and she can tell me a million different moments we’ve been together that caused her to fall in love with me.
I grunt and open my eyes because I’m so fucking close right now and I need to see what they’re doing to finish. My imagination has always been shit, so when I don’t have Sweet Molls riding my dick, if I want to get off, I’m on Pornhub watching the most brutal fucking thing I can find.
I suck in a breath as my balls begin to tighten and grit my teeth. With a few more strokes, I’ve cum on the windowpane, falling back into the chair that sits just to the right of me. I’m actually kind of disappointed in myself because I know I can outlast that motherfucker, and I would have, too, if I had not been tending to my manly duties earlier.
I let out a chuckle and sigh as I reach for my half-smoked pack of cigarettes and pull one out with my teeth, my eyes stealing a glance at my baby girl. She’s still asleep and more than likely wouldn’t notice if a bomb fell into the fucking room right now.
Turning around, I reach for the mini-blowtorch she bought me on our anniversary a few months ago and use it to light the tip of my smoke. Molls always has a way of giving me the coolest shit and that’s why the next few days will be so damn important to me.
Her birthday is coming up and I promised her some fun.
As much as I know she’s not exactly right in the head, neither am I, and I think that’s why we fit together so goddamn well. I don’t do anything to make her feel less than human because of her little quirks, and in return, she makes me feel like a fucking god.
Taking a long drag from my cigarette, I lean back in the chair and glance at the couple across the way again. They may still be fucking each other, but they’ll never have what we have and that makes me feel better about my lack of stamina right now.
My load has slid down the pane by now, leaving a streak on the glass, and I chuckle quietly. Molls would have licked it from the glass if she were awake right now because she has always told me she never wants to waste a drop of my “glorious and salty seed.” Maybe one day soon I’ll get to plant that seed inside of her and make something beautiful, but for now, I’m just happy to be in her arms whenever I want to be and feel the serenity of her gentle caress.
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
I cut my eyes quickly toward her and grin. She’s still half asleep, propped up on her elbows. Molls has this cute little habit of calling me Daddy instead of Pike whenever she wants something, even though she’s a year and some odd months older than me. I don’t mind it—I think it’s kind of sexy and adds to the little Messiah complex she’s bestowed upon me.
I’m not a total asshole, though. I know when to let it shine and I know when to cut the lights out.
“I was just watching the show,” I reply, nodding toward the window.
I can hear the bed creak as Molly throws her legs over the side, then the muffled sound of her feet moving along quickly on the carpet as she approaches me. She sits down on my leg and I slide an arm around her, resting my head against her soft skin.
“Oh please. We can do way better than that,” she remarks with a scoff after taking in five minutes of their little show.
“I know,” I agree with a laugh.
Molly moves quickly, leaning forward to open the window, then leaning out.
“Hey!” she shouts at them. When she realizes she hasn’t gotten their attention, she moves back into the room toward the bed to retrieve one of her flip-flops, then goes back to the window and hurtles it toward them.
“Christ, Molls!” I say, giving her arm a tug, but she pulls away and climbs onto the windowsill. I get to my feet, wrapping my arms around her as she perches herself on the sill, waiting for them to figure out they have an audience. Once they do, the chick bolts and the guy walks over to the window—obviously pissed off at losing his pussy for the night—then pulls the curtains shut.
“Well, that was rude,” she says with a huff as she leans back against me, looking up at me with a pout. I laugh, the cigarette dangling on my lips. Molly reaches up for it and places it between her teeth, allowing me to bring her back into the room.
“How would you feel if someone was watching us?” I ask with a smirk.
She shrugs indifferently as she inhales deeply, tilting her head to the side. I roll my eyes good-naturedly, reaching past her to pull the window back down, when I feel her hands slowly start to move down my body.
“Here—hold this,” she says with a wicked grin, sliding my cigarette back between my fingers as she moves down to her knees.
I close my eyes again, placing my free hand gently on the back of her head and sigh happily as she pulls my cock out of my shorts. Not a second passes before she’s sliding her soft, full lips up and down my length as I take another drag from my smoke.
Yeah; Molls may be fucking crazy, but she’s mine and I’m hers. Tomorrow, when the sun rises on another day of deviance and a love that never should have been, I’ll let her in on the little surprise I’ve thought up for her birthday.
She may have a shit ton of demons wreaking havoc inside of her, but so do I, and it’s time to let them out to play with each other.
The Office
Molly
The large concrete monstrosity that we’re heading toward is where Pike said we could play next. Whenever he tells me I can bring Gigi, I know we’ll have the best day ever. I allow my gaze to take in the offices before me. Inside is a man we both hate—one with far too much money who uses it for things that he should be punished for.
I can feel the cool steel of my blade against my thigh. There’s nothing like the sleek metal when it comes into contact with flesh. Smiling, I wonder how he’ll beg. Because that’s what I’ll make him do. This asshole loves to do dirty things to women who have no choice and he asserts his power when he knows they cannot fight back.
Blackmail is a dirty game, but I’m about to show him that two can play. What he doesn’t know is, I like to do filthy things too. Lots of them. My brand of crazy has never found it’s match—not even Pike can keep up with me at times, and I find myself wondering how he stays. There are many moments I look over at him, and I let myself remember the first day I saw him. How he became my world, and even though I disappear into the darkness sometimes, Pike is always there to drag me back out.
Strolling through the glass doors, I glance around at the suited men and women that dot the reception area. They’re all dressed in labels—designer names that I wouldn’t want to wear even though I can afford it. Don’t get me wrong, I just choose not to. My black Docs and ripped denim shorts are the only uniform I need. Pike bought me a brand-new white tank top with an Anarchy symbol on the front that’s cut out on the sides, showing off the black lace bra underneath. He said he likes seeing my pretty tits when he’s driving us around in his blood red Camaro.
“Can I help you?” The snippy little bitch working in reception questions us as we near her desk. Big eyes take me in and I can tell from the way her dark brow arches that she doesn’t believe I belong here. When she looks over at Daddy, the interest that flickers in her gaze makes my blood boil. He’s mine. Back off, bitch.
Her bright red lips look like they’ve been filled with Botox and I wonder if I stab them, will it ooze out and stain the crisp white blouse she’s wearing? With make-up so thick, I could probably swipe my credit card through it and still not find her real face. Perhaps I can slowly slice the skin from her skull—gently or brutally—and use it to paint the fucking walls. The yellowish-orange of her foundation looks like baby shit. Gives new meaning to the term shit face. I suppress a giggle because Pike told me to behave until we’re in the office upstairs.
“We’re here to see Mr. Randall, he’s expecting me. Reginald Harrison,” Daddy informs the woman whose eyes widen. His voice is deep, with an air of importance that lingers in every word, reminding me of his own father. Uncle Greg is everything that Pike is not. A vile man with a disgusting penchant for making my skin crawl.
I watch as Pike hands her the fake ID to prove who he is. Thankfully, he wore a suit today, but I don’t care. I’m in my normal black and white. She nods quickly, tapping away at the phone on her desk, punching in the numbers with her fake red nails. The bitch whispers into the speaker, informing whoever is on the other end of the line that we’re here. There’s a glint in her eye each time she looks at Daddy and I don’t like it. There’s a simmering rage boiling just below the surface and just when I’m about to lose it, I feel Pike’s hand on my arm.
His gentle touch soothes me somewhat and I breathe through it. When I go into a rage, I lose all sense of where I am and who I am. It’s as if there’s a dormant animal sleeping inside me. When I’m jealous, or angry, it wakes up and makes the bad people see what they’ve been doing wrong.
Moments later, the fake plastered Barbie is smiling at Pike which only confirms my need to carve her a pretty new face while I peel the flesh from her skull. I smile when I think about how much I want to see her bleeding out all over the fucking floor with her eyes shoved up her cunt for looking at Daddy like that.
“You’re welcome to go through, Mr. Harrison. My apologies for the inconvenience and wait.” Her fake sugary sweet tone makes me gag loudly before Pike tugs me beside him. He doesn’t admonish me, but I know he’s not impressed with my show of jealousy. He told me a long while ago that not everyone is like me and they’ll take me away from him if I act out. But sometimes, I can’t help it. I know that if I misbehave in public, I’ll be in trouble. Sometimes he doesn’t understand. I love when he spanks me, and most times, I act out just so he can pull my panties down and turn my ass a blushing red.
We make our way toward the elevators as the doors slide open, allowing us to step inside. There’s some strange classical shit playing on the speakers, but once the door closes, Pike turns to regard me.
“Sweet Molls,” he says my name in that tone. The one that reminds me I need to behave until we’re free of prying eyes. His icy-blue stare is filled with seriousness as he continues to speak, “We have to be quick. Remember what I told you, don’t play with your food.” His warning to me along with that look makes me wonder if I can do it as fast as I need to. I stare at him for a long while, getting lost in his eyes. They're like the sky, endless and pretty.
The door slides open and we’re spat out on to the plush Claret-color carpet of the CEO’s office. There aren’t any other doors, only one large mahogany door. Pike shoves it open, stepping inside, allowing me to follow.
Upon entering the large open space, I take in each item of furniture. The dark wood and the crimson color with the black makes it seem darker than it really is. The sun is high in the sky, but his office is dull and dreary.
“Who the fuck are you? You’re not—”
“If I were you, I’d shut the fuck up and let Molly here tell you about her story.” Pike tells the asshole behind the large wooden desk. I saunter further into the room, taking in the man who looks at me like I’m nothing but a piece of trash. That’s what I want him to think. I don’t need him to know that I know more about this world, about his business, than he does.
“You both shouldn’t be in here,” the man tells us. His suit is stiff and unrelenting, but I make my move before he even realizes what’s happening. Settling my ass on his desk, I spread my thighs and place each foot on the chair he’s sitting on. Pike is behind me, I feel him, which offers me comfort.
“I should be here. You’re a bad, bad man,” I tell him. His gaze darts between my legs where I knew they would. He’s fucked up and filthy. Not my kind of dirty, though. He’s an asshole who does things you’d rather not know about.
The handle of the knife is smooth, much like the hard-wooden desk he’s sitting behind. His eyes are wide as he watches me near him. My pulse is erratic, similar to the rhythm it beats when I’m riding Daddy’s big donkey dick. Adrenalin courses through my veins, heating my blood, until I’m pulsing between my legs. All because I’m about to drench my hands in the blood of this asshole.
“Who are you?” he questions, pushing away from the desk and rising from his seat. He’s tall, much taller than me at five foot nothing, but I’m faster.
“I’m the little
girl that plays with knives. I’m the little girl that makes you cry,” I recite my rhyme. It’s so pretty, just like me. That’s what Pike tells me. He loves me. I love him.
“Get out of my office before I’ll call the police.” His hand reaches for the phone, but I can’t help giggling at his empty threat. Why do men like to throw around words that mean nothing?
“I’m the little girl that makes you bleed. I’m the little girl that makes you scream.”
I watch his fingers tap nine, then one. Before he has the chance to tap the one again, the sleek blade slices through his hand and blood spurts in every direction.
“Ohh, all the pretty red.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” he hisses, attempting to grab me, but like I said, I’m faster.
“Molly,” my daddy sighs from the doorway. “Stop playing with him and finish it.”
“Awww,” I pout, pulling the knife from his hand, causing him to grunt in agony. Before he has time to think, the knife slides into his chest—in and out, in and out.
He slumps in his chair, gurgling my favorite sound as his body shudders. The crisp white dress shirt is stained with pretty patterns before I straddle his lap and rip the material open. His chest isn’t hairy, which makes me smile. I press the tip of my weapon on the smooth tanned flesh, slicing into him, making a pretty picture for the police to find tomorrow.
A soft hum between my legs makes me smile as Pike steps up behind me. His cock is hard against my back and I rock into it, making him groan in pleasure. The pattern of the uppercase P is deep in his flesh. The rest of the letters, the e, the d, and the o, are clear as day on his chest and I can’t help giggling.
