by Kim Jones
“Shut up,” I say disgustedly. “You know I don’t actually believe I have another personality, right? I’m very aware that Whitney is just a title I use when I’m not being the Maddie everyone expects.”
“Babe.” His voice is soft, but there’s urgency in his tone. “I just killed a man and his body is in the trunk of your car. We’re less than a hundred yards from a place filled with his friends that have seen your face and mine. I don’t give a shit if you have a hundred personalities. Right now, my focus is on getting the hell outta here.”
Why does he have to sound so sexy when he talks?
“Maddie,” he snaps, and I shake my head in an effort to clear my vulgar mind. “Where do you take them?”
“Take who? I’ve never killed anybody.”
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shake my head. “No. Are you mad?”
“Why would that make me mad?” He gives me an incredulous look that’s … well, for lack of a better word—sexy.
“Well you sound mad.”
“You telling me this is the first time you’ve ever done anything like this?” I’m still slightly confused at his tone—if he’s not mad.
“No…” I look away, fidgeting with my hands. “I mean … I’ve done … stuff.”
“Tell me you’re joking.” Yep. He’s mad.
“What? So I’ve just never actually killed someone.”
He straightens, running his hands down his face before crossing them behind his head. For some reason, I find it funny. Maybe I’m just going crazy. Is this what happens when someone’s in shock?
“You should see the look on your face.” I laugh when his expression changes again. “I’ve never seen anyone who can look confused, angry, sexy and compassionate all at the same time. You, sir, are a master of emotions.” My laughter dies slowly as all the expressions on his face fade except for one—anger. Pure fucking anger.
“I killed that man, Maddie. For you. Because I thought you were going to kill him.”
I nod my head vigorously. “I was. I swear. He was gonna be my first.” A sound that’s a mixture between a growl and a bark begins to build behind his lips that are pressed into a thin line. Then, he kicks at the gravel before putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head.
“Just,” he starts, pausing like he’s not sure what to say. “Get in the car, Maddie. Just … get in the fucking car.” He rapes my name with a furious tone that has me shivering. His anger should be a turnoff, but it just makes me want him more. “Follow me and stay close,” he huffs before stomping off toward his bike.
I hurriedly make it to the other side of the car, nearly tripping over my feet as I look over my shoulder at his retreating back. I slide behind the wheel. My body is flushed with heat, but without him so close, I begin to feel the frigid air seeping into my skin and chilling me to the bone. Putting the heat on full blast, I rub my hands together and wait for him to pull out before falling in behind him.
He leads us onto the highway—keeping to the speed limit. The further we drive, the more I become less aware of my need for him and more aware of the danger we’re in. “Please Lord,” I beg, calling in a favor to the big guy, “I know I have a dead man in my trunk, but please don’t let me go to jail.”
I make deals and promises with the Alpha and Omega, knowing good and well I’ll never follow through. But I’m sure he knows it to. I’m so scared of getting pulled over, that my senses are heightened and I’m aware of everything around me. My eyes are wide, my heart beating out of my chest. If I get pulled over, no doubt Marty will do something stupid just to prevent the possibility of me getting caught.
We’ve been on the highway all of ten minutes when Marty’s signal light comes on. A sign sits off the shoulder of the road that reads “Big Hill Pond State Park.” At some point during our short ride, we’d crossed over the state line and entered Tennessee.
The winding road leads us to an entrance blocked by a metal pole with a large stop sign centered on it. Pushing his kickstand with the heel of his boot, Marty leaves his bike running as he fidgets with a box near the end of the gate. Moments later, it swings up to allow us access inside the closed park. I ride slowly behind him around the curvy, narrow road filled with speed bumps. With each one my car crosses, I can hear the thump of the dead body as it lifts then falls inside my trunk.
“Well, he deserved it,” I mutter to myself in an attempt to keep the feeling of panic from sweeping over me. But the truth is, I don’t feel anything right now. Probably because my adrenaline is at an all-time high.
The water comes into view and Marty continues toward a pier on the back side of the lake. Pulling his bike off the road and into the scattered pines, I follow the trail and park beside him. Looking back, I notice our vehicles are hidden from view—not that anyone is here to see us.
I hear a banging on the trunk that has me nearly jumping out of my skin, then realize Marty has already un-mounted his bike. Asshole. He could have warned me. I cut the engine and pop the trunk, taking a deep breath before I finally get out of the car.
The moon shines bright in the sky, reflecting off the water and casting an eerie glow on everything around us. The silence mixed with the cold and the night is the perfect setting for a horror movie. Just to be sure, I look over my shoulder toward the woods to see if Freddy or Jason or Michael have found us.
I hurriedly make my way to the back of the car and near Marty. He’s leaning over the trunk, wrapping the body in plastic. His silence is scarier than the possibility of getting caught. I can handle anything at this point, I’ve discovered. But what I can’t handle is him being mad at me.
“Marty,” I start, but what can I say? Sorry you had to kill this man for me, but thanks for the help…
Straightening back up, he looks over at me and I nearly whimper at the sight of him.
When I continue to just stand and gawk at him instead of continuing, he reaches inside the trunk and hoists the dead body that is now tightly wrapped in plastic and secured with bungee cords over his shoulder. He gives me one last look before turning and walking out on the pier. Not wanting to be alone, I follow.
This part of the lake looks abandoned. The wooden picnic tables, pier and bathroom house are old and worn. My steps are cautious as I walk out to the end of the shaky pier. Thick cobwebs and bird droppings cover the sides and rails. I shiver at the thought of a spider somehow winding up in my hair.
I look up just as Marty stops at the edge where he drops the body carelessly onto the wooden planks. I step out of his way when he walks back toward the bank, meeting my eyes as he passes.
I watch in confusion as he drops to his stomach and reaches beneath the pier where the water meets the bank. After a few moments of fumbling, he pulls out a length of rope and lays it next to him before reaching down again. Scooting closer to the edge, he leans the front part of his body over the side. I feel the rickety pier sway with his movements as he uses both arms to pull at something that must be buried in the mud.
Just when the pier is shaking so violently that I’m afraid it’s going to send me in the water, it stops. With what looks like a friggin’ boulder in his hand, Marty walks back to the end of the pier, his breath even more ragged than before. Again, his eyes are on me. I don’t know if he’s gauging my reaction, trying to read my mind or reassuring me that everything is okay.
He drops to one knee and I look over his shoulder—watching as he makes quick work of tying the rope around the man’s ankles. Pulling his knife from his pocket, he cuts another length of the rope before making a ‘t’ and centering the rock inside it. While he’s busy expertly preparing the body for disposal, a very important, unanswered question suddenly hits me.
“How did you know where to find that stuff?” Even though his back is to me, I motion with my hands toward the rope and the rock.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, babe.” His voice is raspy and guarded.
“Tell me,” I demand, but my voice is weak. Do I really want to know? Don’t I already know?
With a heavy sigh, he stands and my eyes fall to the finished product at my feet. I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t pull my gaze away from the body and large rock tied around his ankles. Bending again, Marty places the heavy rock on top of the man’s legs before giving him a push.
I watch as the body slowly sinks into the dark water. With some of the plastic still in view, I demand the truth again. Even though I’m positive I know the answer. “Tell me, Marty. How did you know?” I look up to find his eyes hard and intense and focused solely on me.
“Because I used to kill people.” He’s not proud. He’s not regretful. He speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that’s not laced in bullshit or wrapped in a pretty bow. It’s just the truth—as real and raw as it comes. “Say something,” he whispers, but still there is no emotion in his voice.
I can’t find my voice. Even if I could, there’s nothing to say. So I do what I’ve been wanting to do since I first laid eyes on him tonight. With that need creeping back up inside me, I launch myself at him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Marty
Ten minutes ago, I sunk the body of a man I killed to the bottom of a lake while Maddie watched. Ten seconds ago, I asked her to say something. She didn’t. Instead, she launched herself at me knowing I’d uphold my promise—I’d catch her. And I did.
I don’t even budge from the impact. I grip her ass in my hands and hoist her higher around my waist. Her arms circle my neck at the same moment her mouth crashes against mine. Her kiss is demanding and dominant. She’s so turned on right now I swear I can feel the heat of her pussy even through our jeans.
There’re a lot of feelings that can come from killing a man. Sometimes it’s regret. Sometimes it’s justice. But there’s one in particular that I get every time—power. It’s wrong … fuck it’s wrong. But I can’t deny it. Judging by the way Maddie is reacting, she can’t deny it either.
I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m halfway to the car, pushing her against the side of it so I can let my hands roam freely over her body. I keep her pinned against the door with my hips, while her legs stay wrapped tight around me as I slide my hands beneath her top and across her full tits, that I love so much.
Her nipples are so hard I can feel them perfectly through the fabric of her bra. But I want more. I want all of her. I’ll process the shit that happened tonight later. Right now, I just want her. With a flick of my fingers, the snap on the back of her bra is loosened and two perfect tits break free. They feel heavy in my hand, soft as satin and when I dip my head to taste them, my tongue welcomes the flavor of everything that is Maddie—sweet like honey and intoxicating.
I hear her moans. I feel the grind of her hips. She’s so fucking desperate for that adrenaline fueled sex that she’s whimpering and begging me for it. I’ve seen it in her eyes all night. The feral passion she desires shines through those cornflower blues, burns right into my soul and straight to my cock.
Lifting her with one hand, I keep the other on the side of her neck as I keep my mouth on hers and move us to the front of the car. Setting her on the hood, I pull her shirt over her head, taking her bra with it. She sits in front of me naked from the waist up, shivering from either the cold or the anticipation.
Untangling her legs from around me, I don’t wait for her feet to hit solid ground before I’m wrapping my arms around her waist and spinning her so she’s face down on the hood of the car. I hear her breath hitch in her throat at the feel of the cold metal against her bare tits. The thought makes my dick swell impossibly bigger.
We’ve never been the kind to make love. I like to fuck. So does she. This moment is no different. She wiggles her perfectly fat ass against me and I bring my hand down on it hard, letting out a groan. She moans so loud it echoes through the trees. She cuts herself off, probably remembering where we are and what we’ve just done.
“Scream as loud as you want, sweetheart. No one around here for miles.” Just to make sure she’s listening, I pump my hips hard against her ass before pulling back and bringing my hand down on it again. This time when she lets out a scream of pleasure, I swear I hear the fucking windshield crack.
Reaching around, I unbutton her pants, push the zipper down and drag them roughly down her legs. Kneeling I free one foot from her jeans—tossing her heel over my shoulder before dragging my tongue up the center of her ass and all the way up her spine until I’m standing again. Nudging her feet with my boot, I give her the dirty commands I know she’s expecting. “Open that pussy up for me, baby.”
“Oh, fuckkkk.” I smile as she drags out the words on a low moan. She fucking loves it.
I shove my own jeans to my knees, stroking my cock once it’s free and taking a moment just to look at her. She’s perfect. I didn’t think she could get any better. But time has been good to this woman. She’s filled out in the sexiest way in all of my favorite places.
The full lips of her pussy quiver in the cold night air, eager to have me between them. The long, thick and, of course, tanned legs of Maddie have me growing hungrier as I rake my eyes down them. She balances on her one heel that accentuates her calf muscles and adds just the right amount of height for my cock to align perfectly with her pussy that I know is hot, wet and ready for me.
I position the head of my dick right at her entrance and stop. She knows what I want and when she turns her head to look over her shoulder, she gives it to me. “Fuck me.” The words have never sounded more alluring or beautiful on anyone’s lips.
Keeping my cock just inside her, I place my hands on the cheeks of her ass and spread her open. My lips part, my eyes widen and my nostrils flare with the beautiful vision that is Maddie Pittman—being claimed, taken and fucked by me.
One slow thrust of my hips has both of us closing our eyes and getting temporarily lost in that sea of ecstasy that only happens with me and her. When I force my eyes back open, they lock with hers. Her mouth is slightly open, her eyebrows are drawn together and just like I know when she’s sick or sad or hurting, I know what she’s feeling in this moment. Cause I’m fucking feeling it too.
I move inside her, fucking her at a deliberately slow pace so she can feel every inch of me. The velvety walls of her pussy close around my cock in a tight grip that sucks me back in the moment she feels like I’m too far away. And from where I’m standing, I don’t only get to feel it, I get to watch it too. The sight of my cock that glistens with her arousal has me throwing my control to the wind and giving it to my girl just the way she loves it.
My hips collide with her ass with a smacking sound that joins her screams of pleasure and sing out across the lake. Sliding my hands up, I grip her hips and start fucking the lady like she deserves. She begs, screams and moans consistently—her voice breaking every time my thighs collide with her ass that’s now pink from the impact.
Her fingernails claw at the hood of her car. The wig she still wears bounces with every thrust. And every time she finds the energy to look over her shoulder at me, something in my eyes has her pussy contracting around me as she comes. The only thing that’s keeping me going is seeing how much she enjoys this. I’ll fuck her all night just to see that look on her face.
But I know when she’s had enough. When that adrenaline high she’s been on starts to wear off. Her moans become quieter. Her hands become limp. She lacks the energy to look at me. All she can do is lay there and come, over and over—each orgasm draining her a little more. Right now, I’ve already fucked her past the point of walking. And still, she begs for more.
“Look at me, Maddie.”
She whimpers at the command, fighting against her fatigued body to give me what I ask for. I slow my pace and the next whimper I hear is a disappointed one. I raise her leg until her knee is pushed up against the hood—opening her up further and allowing me to hit a different spot that suddenly gives her the energy she’s been looking for. I’m smir
king when she looks at me.
“I fucking miss you, baby. I miss us.”
Pushing back against me, she silently insists I move faster inside her. But I hold back, loving the way she grunts in frustration. She’s too weak to fight me and too stubborn not to try. “Please,” she begs, so pitifully that I almost give in to her. She looks at me over her shoulder and I know she’s fighting the urge to roll her eyes.
“I fucking miss us too.” She huffs out and I nearly laugh. It’s not what I was really wanting, but it damn sure doesn’t hurt to hear it.
Dragging my fingers from her knee, to the inside of her thigh, I continue the slow torturous pace with my cock. Rubbing the tip of my finger in circles over her clit, she relaxes and lets out a guttural moan that would probably embarrass her if she heard it any other time. “Is this what you want?”
I don’t give her time to answer. With her leg still partially lying on the hood, one hand on her pussy and the other on her hip, I fuck her hard and fast. My balls are so tight they hurt. I’m ready to roar her fucking name as I fill her with my cum. But I refuse to let go until I’ve milked that one final, earth shattering orgasm from her. When she stills for a split second, I know I’m gonna get it.
I come so hard I have to fight the weakness in my knees to keep from falling. And the whole time I’m coming, the only thing I’m thinking about is her. The way she looks at me. The way she talks. The sway of her hips when she walks and the touch of her hand.
I live out my greatest fantasy in my head to prolong the sublime moment that is my rapture. And there is no greater fantasy to me than the reality of this moment—me and Maddie.
My Maddie.
“Babe…” I’m dressed, have gathered Maddie’s strewn clothes and even checked out the situation at the end of the pier to make sure everything was good. Still, she’s lying across the hood of the car completely spent and shaking like a leaf.
