The Horror of our Love: A Twisted Tales Anthology

by Nikita Slater

  Now, none of them appealed. Not once since I set eyes on my Nola. With each passing day my self-control slipped a little more. My ability to hold back slowly disintegrated. I wasn’t being noble. If I could somehow have Nola in my current state I would have done it by now. But I didn’t want to hurt her, my only love, and bitter experience had taught me that I couldn’t share myself with women beyond a quick fuck in the dark. One particularly stupid whore had made the fatal mistake of turning a light on while we were in the middle of fucking. The experience had proved stimulating for me, deadly for her.

  As I watched her serve the dining room with smiling ease, a fire raged in my veins. A fire that sparked and flared to life only for her. Nola helped to convince me I was human, despite my odd condition. Her existence gave me hope, made me feel. I wanted to keep her on this pedestal I’d built for her for as long as possible. But the problem with that is I also wanted to hold her, touch her, suck and fuck her. And I couldn’t hold out for much longer.

  “Boss?”

  I turned my head to look at Benny. The short, balding man acted as my second-in-command in most situations. He looked innocuous, like the guy next door, or somebody’s aging uncle. But he would be the first to push grandma down the stairs for a big enough payoff. He was also loyal and knew when to keep his mouth shut. He was a good guard dog and took well to orders. Benny was also dumb as a sack of doorknobs. In almost eight years of service the guy had never noticed his boss was invisible and hadn’t once commented on my tendency to overdress, even in the summer.

  “What’s up, Benny?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from my pretty prey with some effort.

  “We have that job tonight, boss,” he said, settling on a stool nearby. He knew better than to sit too close to me. I’d made my preference for space and solitude violently clear years ago. I found it only took a few examples and the rest usually fell into place. These days it took little effort on my part to keep my empire in line.

  My gaze flickered back to Nola. Now it just needed a queen and life would be perfect.

  I searched my brain and finally came up with the thing Benny was going on about. “What about the job?” I grunted.

  “Was just curious if you wanted some help this time,” Benny said, shifting on the stool nervously and glancing at me sideways. “It’s just… you only get us to drive the car. Usually just do the jobs yourself. Thought maybe you’d want some help this time…”

  I stared at him, my gaze penetrating. Of course, he couldn’t see my eyes, I’d never even seen my own eyes, but I imagined if he could they would be spelling death in that moment. No one questioned me, no one questioned my methods. I worked alone. I gave my men their orders and they followed them. No questions. I didn’t bother speaking as Benny shifted around on his stool, playing with his beer.

  “Ah, gotcha,” he mumbled. “We’ll just stay in the car. Same place, same time as you said when we was planning.”

  I didn’t answer, instead I followed Nola’s path as she left the dining room with an empty tray and walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen. I wanted to follow her but forced myself to remain at the bar. I hadn’t stepped foot in the kitchen since losing control that first day I saw her. I didn’t need to see her flirting with my male staff.

  Without glancing at Benny, I pushed away from the bar and left, heading back to my office. I would spend the rest of her shift watching through the cameras and working on the details of an upcoming heist. It was better that way. Somehow Nola could sense my presence, even when I wasn’t wearing my costume. She always knew when I was close, even if she shrugged the feeling off. I found her awareness of my presence extremely gratifying.

  A few hours later her shift ended and I stepped away from my desk. I began disrobing as I watched her count out her tips while chattering with Mikey, the bartender. I was reaching for the belt on my pants when Mikey stepped closer to her and tugged her ponytail flirtatiously. My fingers froze and I stepped closer to the camera, an angry growl on my lips. I watched the video feed like a hawk, ready to strike if he took things any further. Lucky for his health, he moved away from her, wiping the counter behind the bar. Nola untied her apron and folded it. She put her jacket on and said something to Mikey over her shoulder, presumably good-bye.

  I left my office, careful to check the hall for people before closing and locking the door. I’d made that mistake in my early days, startling others by making too much noise or closing a door while someone was close enough to observe the phenomenon. It’d been amusing to watch them try to figure it out, but I didn’t need anyone speculating. I ran to catch up with Nola, skirting tables and the cleaning staff who were closing the restaurant down for the night.

  She was already in her spot, standing next to the bus stop down the street waiting for the 12:15am bus. She usually timed it so she was only waiting for a few minutes. Still, I despised the idea of a woman like Nola taking public transportation at any time of day, let alone in the middle of the night. At least I’d cleared this section of the city of petty criminals. No one dared operate in my turf, right down the block from my place of business.

  I stopped next to her, towering over her in the pouring rain. When the rain had started seven days ago I’d wondered why Nola didn’t carry an umbrella like everyone else. Then I started watching her, every evening after her shift. She stood in the rain, at the bus stop, stock still, with her arms spread slightly away from her body, her face tilted up. I’m tall enough that I can stand over her and see her face, tipped up to the skies, eyes closed. The water drops hit her face, splashing on her perfect skin and dripping down into her collar. She didn’t seem to either notice or care. The slight smile on her lips told me she loves the rain.

  Unable to help myself, I lifted a hand and brushed it ever so softly down her cheek, gliding it through the droplets. Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared straight up at me, her beautiful dark brown eyes curious. I touched the finger to my tongue and tasted her, the wet sweetness of Nola. I heard rather than saw the bus pull up behind me and had only seconds to step to the side before Nola stepped into me.

  I followed her on the bus, a habit that had become a nightly ritual each time she worked. Instead of taking the seat next to her I stood over her, watching, waiting. Humans were creatures of habit and Nola was no exception. The exception with Nola was that her habits were absurdly appealing to me. The way she reached back to squeeze excess water from the tips of her hair so the drops wouldn’t run into her already soaked blouse. The way she searched first her right pocket and then her left for a tube of lipstick, only to find it in the front pocket of her purse, where she always returned it. She pulled the tube apart and then used the tiny mirror on the side of the lipstick to apply the light peach colour to her perfectly bowed lips, pressing them together when she finished.

  I stared, helpless to turn away, glad that almost no one else ever got on the bus between this stop and the stop where Nola got off. Because I, a now hardened criminal, was too stupefied by this young woman to tear my eyes away long enough to get out of the way of oncoming passengers. A blast of heat hit my backside as the doors closed and the bus started moving toward the next stop. I could feel temperature, heat, cold, rain, sleet, as much as the next guy, but I’d trained myself over my years of running around barefoot and naked, not to react.

  Nola’s lips curved up. Knowing what would come next, I held my breath and leaned over the seat, getting as close to her as I dared, inches away from her gorgeous face. She began mouthing the words to whatever song she was listening to in her head, wiggling her butt in the seat as she danced to the imaginary music. She was so adorable, I couldn’t believe the world hadn’t fallen in love with this woman and swept her off her feet long before I ever came along.

  Twelve blocks later her stop arrived. She pulled her tired body out of the seat, waved at the driver and pushed the back door open, descending into the wet street. She never noticed the extra seconds the door stayed open while I exited behind her
or the splash of a large, invisible foot in the puddle next to the curb.

  I followed Nola into her dilapidated building, cursing under my breath at the broken lock on the front door and the poorly lit hallways. Each time I entered the building with Nola, the thought of her living in such a shit-hole made my blood boil. I trailed her right up to her door. Now this was the tricky part. Most people, especially single women, didn’t leave their doors open for very long, an almost subconscious gesture of safety. The moment she swung the door open, I brushed past her, squeezing as quickly to the side as possible. Unfortunately, I’m a large guy and Nola was standing right in the middle of the threshold. I gave her a slight bump on my way past. She looked up sharply, staring around.

  Though she saw nothing it was clear she was feeling jittery. She slammed the door and locked it as fast as she could. She slung her purse on the couch and muttered something about a draft in the hall. I smirked. My hands itched to show her just how much of a draft I was not.

  Nola walked to the cupboard, purpose in her steps, and poured herself a large glass of red wine. She kicked off her shoes while gulping back several long swallows, a throaty moan of satisfaction leaving her lovely lips. I watched her hungrily. Soon I would get what I came for, soon she would give me the things I craved, the things that convinced me to have more patience. Because Nola was worth the wait.

  I sprawled out on her cheap couch, imagining that one day I would take her to my home, share my fine expensive couch and everything else I owned with her. I waited, watching like a man starved as she set her wine glass on the counter and began unbuttoning her blouse, fingers starting at the top and wandering right down the middle until she reached the bottom. Without knowing I was there, she teased me with unbearable slowness, peeling the halves of her shirt to the side with agonizing slowness until she finally allowed the fabric to drop, revealing a swath of smooth, pale skin.

  She reached back to unhook her bra, thrusting her breasts out. Saliva pooled in my mouth as I imagined suckling on those perfectly formed, pert brown peaks, revealed to me when she dropped the bra next to her blouse. She reached for her skirt, unzipping it down the side. She shimmied it down her hips and thighs, leaving only a pair of black panties. She hooked her forefingers in the sides, looked right at me and whispered, “Can I get you your usual drink, Mr. Shy?” before bending over and sweeping the panties down her legs.

  I froze in place, my heart pounding in my chest, waiting for her to say something else. When she did nothing except pick the clothes up off the floor and sashay past the couch toward the bedroom I realized she still had no idea I was there. She was simply fantasizing about me, about her boss. My already hard cock flooded with another rush of blood, standing to savage attention. If I’d had thoughts of letting the woman get away from me, they were now obliterated. Murmuring my adopted name in a moment of shared privacy made her more mine than ever before.

  I stood, naked and feeling gloriously refreshed. I turned toward the bedroom, ecstatic for what would now follow. Usually some part of me balked at watching this secret moment, a moment that would horrify Nola if she knew she was being observed. No more. Now I would watch without reservation. Nola belonged to me and no one else, including herself.

  When I entered the bedroom, I paused in the doorway. She was already spread out on her double bed. So sure that she was alone that she didn’t bother turning the light off or covering her nudity with a blanket. She propped herself up with a couple of pillows and an arm bent behind her head. She slid the other languidly down her front, drifting long, elegant fingers between her breasts.

  I gripped the door so hard, the cheap wood bit into my hand and started to disintegrate under my crushing hold. She widened her knees, looked straight toward me and grinned dreamily, knowingly, before sliding those naughty little fingers right into her snatch. I could see the slippery wetness from where I was standing, she had no problem sliding her hand from top to bottom. Even lifted her hips a little so she could reach all the way down.

  “Ooooh,” she breathed, in high feminine vocals.

  Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to let go of the door before I accidentally moved it and startled her away from the best show of my life. I lurched forward one step toward the bed, then another and another until I was standing over her, staring down between her bent legs. I watched with worshipful eagerness as she pleasured herself, her moans of satisfaction filling the air around us. Her eyelashes fluttered open and closed as her fingers went gliding through her beautiful damp folds, separating, playing, teasing and tormenting until she was hurtling toward her peak.

  She sank two long fingers deep into her pussy, pumping them hard before sliding them out to rub her clit with solid, circular strokes. Her hips lifted off the bed as she panted and moaned her pleasure. She brought her fingers up to her face, licking them, then trailing them back down her body, leaving a little wet path along the way, to slam them back into her vagina. Fuck, she was stunning. I wanted to pick her up and show her what I could do for her, fuck her until she could do nothing but hang on for the ride. She’d love every second.

  But first, I wanted to see what she could do for herself. There was nothing more beautiful than my woman seeking her own pleasure, oblivious to everything else around her. I hovered over top of her, leaning in as far as I dared, and blew a stream of air across her slippery cunt. She cried out, her back bowing on the bed, her fingers working furious circles across her clit.

  I couldn’t help myself, the spicy, sweet scent of her permeating the air around me, the sounds of her cries filling my head… I had to taste. I’d never allowed myself that forbidden extreme with this woman. It would be too easy for her to catch me, for lust to turn to fear. But I was overwhelmed, I couldn’t help it. I braced myself, hands gripping either side of the bed, and did a push-up over top of her, avoiding those furiously working fingers, I flicked my tongue through her pussy, gathering as much of her glorious taste as I could.

  She screamed as she came, bucking so hard she flung a knee into the side of my head. I saw stars at the same time she saw them for an entirely different reason. Chuckling under my breath, I straightened and stepped away from the bed, glancing down at Nola. She was laying spread eagle, completely sated, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. After a few moments she sighed sleepily, smiled and rolled onto her side, reaching back to catch a blanket. She only managed to half cover her nudity, mostly just wrapping the pink patchwork quilt around her neck and shoulders. As she drifted off to sleep I gently tugged the corner down until it covered her hips, thighs and feet as well.

  I bent and just barely brushed the top of her head with my lips before turning to leave. I let myself out and locked the door with the key I kept hidden for these visits. I knew I would be back soon. Something was shifting between us. Something big.

  For now? I had business to attend.

  Chapter 4

  “You owe me money, Rockwell.”

  Elton Rockwell’s head swung around and he lost his grip on the tumbler he’d been holding. Shards splintered and scattered across the floor and liquor sprayed over the fine linen of Rockwell’s trousers. He squinted into the shadows of his study trying to see the intruder.

  “Who’s there?” he asked, pushing unsteadily to his feet. He took a hesitant step, glass crunching under his feet.

  “Who do you think, Elton?” I growled, leaning against a wall of books. I watched dispassionately as he whipped around, staring in my direction, still unable to see. “I’m here for my money, and my late fee.”

  “Mr… Mr. Shy?” he breathed, struggling to keep the terror from twisting his features.

  “You owe someone else money in this town, judge?”

  “I’ll get it for you!” he replied quickly, rushing around his desk and dropping to his knees in front of a safe. “It’s been a rough few months. I’m sorry about the missed payments. Meant to get them to you.”

  “An interesting lie,” I drawled stepping away from the sh
elf. I carefully sidestepped the glass and wandered around the couch toward the door. “You’ve been consolidating assets. Set up an account in the Bahamas. Got yourself three plane tickets there for you, your wife and your pretty little daughter.”

  He stopped pulling bills from the safe and lifted his head above the side of the desk, guilt written all over his red-flushed face. He used the back of his sleeve to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Shy. I didn’t know what else to do. M-my wife, she’s been overspending. Then we had to put Arabelle in rehab a couple of times this year, which cost an arm and a leg. I didn’t have enough to make the last few payments. I… I knew eventually you’d show up on my doorstep.”

  “And here I am,” I drawled, staring down at the sweating pig of a man. Hard to imagine him behind a judge’s bench, wearing the officious robe, commanding a courtroom. “Perhaps if you manned up and came to me yourself, the outcome might’ve been different.”

  “B-but the rumours say you never give a guy a second chance.”

  “No, I don’t,” I agreed with him. “But I might have spared your family. Now that you’ve fucked with what belongs to me and made a plan to run with your only collateral, I will fuck with what belongs to you. After I fuck them first, of course. Your old lady isn’t really my type, too much surgery, but I can fuck her with the lights off. Now your daughter, she’s young, but ripe. Seventeen, correct?”

  He rocked back on his heels and let out a howl of pain and rage. He leapt to his feet and lunged for the door. I corralled him around the neck and slammed him into the wall. Shelves shook and a few books fell to the floor. The judge gasped, his face turning purple, and clutched at his chest. I let him go and stepped back. He slid to the floor, landing on his hands and knees. He gasped and choked, trying to catch his breath.

  I crouched next to him and spoke in his ear. “Are you having a heart attack, Rockwell? I don’t want you to die too soon.”