Filthy 6: A Dark Erotic Serial

by Megan D. Martin

  Somehow I managed to make it outside without combusting. His hand stayed on my elbow, his strong fingers unwavering. The warm night air brushed against my skin, making me shiver.

  “Where’s your car?” His voice was emotionless, dead.

  My heart ached in my chest. This was it. It was over. After all those years, those moments when I imagined what it would be like to see him again. Rhett. The only man I’d truly and willingly let inside my heart. The anger multiplied underneath my skin.

  I pointed at the Toyota, my sweet little blue car that I’d saved up for, forever. Seeing it calmed me.

  My heels clacked on the pavement as we moved forward. It echoed in the space around us. The space where his hand was still on my elbow, my skin tingling from his touch.

  We stopped at the driver’s side, but he still didn’t drop his hand. I glanced up at him. The parking lights illuminated him, glinting off his dark blond hair.

  “So this is it,” I said, and turned toward him. He dropped his hand away, running it through his hair. He ruffled the smooth strands, giving it a disheveled look that made him look more like the Rhett who sat at his kitchen table pouring over bank statements.

  “Faye—”

  “No.” I shook my head, running my hands up and down my arms. “You don’t get to do that.” I could hear it in his voice, that twist, that turn away from anger to something else. Something bitter that burned me.

  He looked at me for the first time since inside the restaurant, but the anger wasn’t gone. It was there, blazing from those green eyes making me boil over. “I don’t get to do what, Faye?” He took a step toward me, backing me up against the side of my car. “I don’t get to be fucking pissed off at hearing you talk about fucking someone else?”

  “What difference does it make—who I’ve fucked.”

  He bit down on his lips, his jaw popping audibly. I shivered.

  “You don’t get it,” he said through clenched teeth.

  I wanted those teeth to bite me, to tear into me, to destroy me until I was unrecognizable. I knew it was wrong. I shouldn’t want him. He was the one man I couldn’t bring to my bed. The one man I couldn’t keep separate from all the things that made me fucked up. He was a part of those things.

  Why can’t you? Why can’t you fuck him and discard him like you do everyone else?

  The thought made my skin hotter. Could I do it?

  “So show me, Rhett.” I leaned forward until my breasts rubbed against his chest. “Make me see.”

  He stared down at me, his breath coming out in pants. My nipples pebbled brushing against his chest. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  I bit down on my plump bottom lip, staring into his eyes. “Don’t I?”

  He stood stock still. His angry eyes tracing over my face, running over every inch as if he was memorizing me.

  “Fine.” I leaned back against the car, pulling my chest away from his. “I guess I’ll just tell you about those men. You seem to want to hear.”

  “Shut up.” His words sliced through the air like a bloody knife.

  “There was Rick.” I ignored him. “He was good, his—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” He took a step back running his hands through his hair again, making some of the silky pieces stand on end.

  “His dick wasn’t huge, just av—”

  Rhett’s lips slammed into mine, stopping the words in my throat with the clanging of our teeth. The door handle of my car dug into my back, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. This was what I wanted. This vicious desire that was all-consuming. He buried a hand in my hair, pressing me hard against the car.

  His mouth was ravenous on mine, our tongues twisting, dueling. Goosebumps tingled across my body as I clutched him to me, digging my hands into his dress shirt, desperate to bury my nails into his skin.

  He pressed his thigh between my legs, my dress split high on one hip letting his thigh slide right in. A moan rushed from my lips at the pressure of him on my cunt. In that moment I throbbed with something venomous. I knew what I was doing. I was tasting that poison. The one that could kill me. The one that would seep into every inch of me until I was sluggish. But I didn’t care. It felt too good.

  Rhett.

  It was too right. I bucked my hips against his thigh, feeling the thickness of his cock between his legs. I wanted him in my mouth. That big cock. I hadn’t had him inside me. Not there. Memories of what happened between us before threatened to blanket my mind, but I pushed all of that away.

  I would have this. I would have Rhett—on my terms.

  I pulled back and looked up at him. His eyes were glazed with lust, those dark blonde strands ruffled and so fucking sexy. My cunt throbbed at the sight of him. I had a choice. Right there. I could have ended it. I could have gone home and called Casey or some other guy to fuck. But sometimes it was poison that made someone feel alive. I knew that better than anyone. There were some things that were bad for me, but I wanted them anyway. Things that would kill me eventually if I didn’t let them go. But I could give them up. I’d given up drugs—and him.

  I can do it again.

  My lips parted, my teeth sinking into the plump flesh of my bottom one. I watched him suck in a breath, as if he were mesmerized. “Come home with me, Rhett.”

  SEVEN

  Faye.

  His hands were on me. His fingers skimming up and down my thighs as I pulled out the key to get into my apartment. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, as if he was as desperate as me. I fumbled with the keys, the metal objects slipping through my shaky fingers. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like this. Like I would die if I didn’t have someone inside me. Not just anyone. Him.

  “Fuck.” I pressed back into him.

  “Unlock the door.” His words were stern, controlled. For a simple moment I wished for control—if I had any, then we wouldn’t be here right now. But that was only for a moment before it was gone. The key slipped into the lock, the door was open and we were inside.

  I expected him to follow me in and take me there on my yellow tile floor. That’s what I wanted. I wanted him to fuck me into oblivion. But he didn’t. He let me go once we crossed the threshold. I blinked at him, watching him close the front door with slowly. He didn’t seem rushed or desperate like he had moments before.

  I frowned, squeezing my hands together nervously. He didn’t move, but stood feet away, his eyes roving over me from head to toe. Instantly I wished that I could run to the bathroom and check my hair. I could only imagine how it looked after he’d run his fingers through it up against the car. The drive over hadn’t been much better. I’d been a bundle of throbbing nerves, running my fingers through my hair over and over to keep from putting them on him as he drove me home.

  It appeared we had come to something. I hadn’t felt it in the parking lot or in the car, but it was in his gaze now—what, I didn’t know exactly. I couldn’t put my finger on it. But I could see the smolder in his green eyes. The same smolder that set my skin on fire, now it brought something hot to the backs of my eyes. I blinked, confused.

  He was here. Rhett was here in my apartment surrounded by all of my things. He stood in my kitchen now, my pots and pans hanging on a rack behind him. Just simple, non-stick pans with red on the bottom. I’d saved up and spent a lot of money on them because I was tired of everything sticking to the shitty ones I bought at the thrift store. But now they hung behind him, illuminated by the soft stove light. My pans and Rhett. I didn’t think it would matter. That I would care what he looked like next to my things, but suddenly I did. He hadn’t even been inside for two minutes and something inside me was clogging up, choking me from the inside. The poison.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  My eyes jumped up to meet his, the rumble of his voice making me shiver. “You have?”

  He nodded slowly, his gaze lingering on my lips. He looked like a jungle cat ready to spring, his posture reflected casualty, but his voice was
filled with promise, with anticipation. My cunt throbbed. My heart ached.

  No.

  I wouldn’t let myself be wrapped up in this. In him. In the way he looked next to my fucking pans.

  I took a step forward, pressing my chest against his. A rush of air hissed between his lips and I inhaled it. The air, him. I sucked him into my lungs. “I don’t want to stand around.” I ran my hands up his chest, feeling the tight muscles jump beneath my fingertips.

  “What do you want?”

  “Your cock in my mouth.” I gripped him through the fabric of his pants. His dick, long and thick, pressed hard against my hand.

  His lips parted, astonishment blanketing his features. I didn’t wait for his approval before I fell to my knees. The cool tile bit into my skin and I welcomed it, the twinge of pain that made everything real, and not dream-like. The zipper slid down, silent and smooth and the same went for the black boxer-briefs that covered him. His dick sprung forth, long and thick, bigger than I remembered. I didn’t look up at him as I took him into my mouth. It was better that I didn’t. That I didn’t feel more than what this really was. Fucking. I was going to fuck him with my mouth and then I was going to bend over and let him fuck my pussy.

  The smooth tip slid past my lips like butter and we moaned in unison when he hit the back of my throat. I’d given a lot of blow jobs to the guys I hate-fucked. This wasn’t any different.

  His hand slid into my hair. “Faye…” My name was a moan on his lips that made me try to take more of him until I was bobbing my head and gagging on him. He tried to step back, but I followed him, swallowing his cock. The desperation from minutes before came back with a sudden vengeance. I needed all of him inside me. Every inch. I wanted it all the way down my throat until I couldn’t taste anything but him.

  A rough hand in my hair stopped me, forcing my head back until I was looking up at him. Those eyes, they looked down at me in my dim kitchen, they trapped me.

  No. I didn’t want to look at him. I just wanted his dick. It didn’t matter that he was Rhett. That he was the man who ripped me apart all those years ago. His eyes were filled with more than the hateful lust I always craved.

  “I have rules,” I heard myself say.

  “Rules?” He panted. His dick bobbed just inches away from my face. I pulled back from him, he released me, and I stood.

  “I fuck. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

  His gaze hardened and I smiled.

  “Is that what you tell all the men you bring home from dinner?”

  The words were a jab, but I didn’t let my smile falter. I didn’t let him see how desperate I was to have him. “Yes.”

  He flexed his fists at his sides. The movement made me bite the inside of my lip. He looked good enough to eat with his pants around his thighs, his tie loose, and his dick bobbing there between us.

  “Follow me.” I turned away from him and moved to the bedroom. His gaze was on me, like in the restaurant, but I wasn’t nervous or self conscious now.

  I was ready.

  I was in my territory. My room. My life. My space where I had dirty hateful sex and slept like a baby. Rhett couldn’t change that.

  I kept my back to him while I stripped out of my dress, wiggling my ass as it slithered to the floor. I heard a growl from behind me, a sound so animalistic, I fought the urge to clench my thighs together. I turned around, but I didn’t have time to take him in, to drink in his body or the way he looked at me because he was right in front of me. His lips pressing into mine his hands all over me. I don’t know how he did it, but he seemed to be touching every inch of my skin all at once. His lips were rough on mine, but not callous, not brutal. They were hungry lips. My nipples pearled into tight buds scraping against his shirt.

  He pushed me back on the bed, my soft, flower-print blanket pressed against my naked flesh. The moon illuminated Rhett through the window while he tore his shirt off. His muscles rippled in light. I watched in awe. He didn’t pause to take me in, not this time. And I was glad, relieved, when his body covered mine. He was hard all over, but nothing was harder than the cock that had been in my mouth.

  “You want me to fuck you, huh?” He hovered his mouth just over mine, a whisper away. I chewed the inside of my lip and nodded. “Say it,” he grated the words, punctuated by the thrust of his hips. His cock speared my naked belly. Wetness smeared from the tip.

  I sat up on my elbows and flipped over beneath him, putting my ass right in his crotch. “I only fuck like this,” I said, ignoring his demand. I expected him to growl, and shove into me, to give me the fucking I needed, like most men, but he didn’t. He was silent, still, for a moment too long. I glanced over my shoulder and caught his gaze in the glint of light from the window. He seemed uncertain, afraid almost. The indecision was there on his face, almost as if he didn’t know if he really wanted to be here, in my bedroom with his dick pressed against my ass.

  “Fuck me, Rhett. You know you want to.”

  He didn’t look me in the eye when his hands gripped my waist, even though I was still peering over my shoulder at him. He didn’t say anything either as he positioned his raging cock against the sopping entrance of my pussy. He didn’t moan when he plunged into me. I was the one who did that. The sound was ripped from somewhere deep inside me.

  I dug my fingers into the mattress when he started pumping into me. His hands slid up and down my waist as he fucked me. And it was fucking. His pace was relentless, smooth, but rough. He pistoned his hips into me, his thickness filling me up over and over. I wanted to relate him to the men I fucked, the men I used. But with each movement I couldn’t. I couldn’t make him one of them. I wanted him to be. I wanted him to be another cock I got off on, but with each thrust I couldn’t deny that it was different.

  That it was Rhett, and not some faceless man.

  I could feel the orgasm, the burst of pleasure just waiting to explode deep inside me. “Tell me you hate me,” I said on the end of a moan. I clutched the bed so hard I thought I would rip the sheets with his relentless pace.

  “What?” The word exploded from his chest, the first thing he said since he put his dick inside me.

  “Tell me you fucking hate me. Do it. Now!” I demanded. I needed that hate. I needed it from him more than I had ever needed it from anyone else. I couldn’t cum without it. The hate completed me, it validated me. He had to give it to me.

  “No.”

  I wrenched my head back and looked over my shoulder again. “Say the words, Rhett!” I shouted. The orgasm was coming, it was climbing the wall inside me, clawing desperate, ready to burst forth. My legs started to shake under me, feeling like they would give out.

  “No.” He spoke softer this time. His word a whisper fluttering over my skin, seeming louder than the slapping of our flesh.

  “You have to say it.” I choked the words out, they were bitter and tasteless, clinging to the inside of my mouth.

  He leaned in, still thrusting his hips, and pressed his lips to my temple. The kiss was soft, chaste, simple. But there was something there. It gutted me, it destroyed me as my world splintered apart, the orgasm ratcheting through me, stealing the breath from my lungs. Watercolors burst behind my eyes, painting my world in bitter ecstasy. I was lost somewhere in that pleasure, burning up in the flames where no one could save me.

  When I came back to myself I was on my back looking up at him. At Rhett painted in those colors, glowing in the moonlight. He painted me though, with his cum, with the sticky sweetness that spurt from the end of his cock onto my belly. I was covered in him. Marked, and in that moment I realized something had happened. I had cum. Rhett had made me cum without the hate. The catalyst that led to every orgasm I’d had since he had me pressed up against his car all those years ago.

  Pain erupted in my chest as I watched him above me. He can never be one of them. One of those faceless men. And right then I knew—I was in terrible horrible trouble.

  EIGHT

  Rhett.

&n
bsp; The sun was bright through green curtains in Faye’s bedroom. I’d been awake for at least thirty minutes. I’d awoken just as the sun was peeking through the windows with my front pressed against a warm body. Faye’s body. Her slender back was against me. Faye. I’d lain completely still staring at the dark curls of her long hair. The tendrils splayed across my chest.

  This was real. She was real.

  It seemed impossible that last night had happened. That I had taken Faye to dinner—that I’d driven her back to her apartment and fucked her, here in her bed.

  I thought she would kick me out afterwards, after she begged me to fuck her with my hate, after I didn’t give in, after I watched her splinter apart beneath me. I closed my eyes as the image passed across them. I would never forget. Never. I wouldn’t forget the way she looked up at me, torn pleasure rippling across her face as her body convulsed. My cock hardened at the thought.

  She hadn’t made me leave though, even after I climbed out of bed and got a towel to clean the cum off her belly. She had just looked at me dazedly, something between wonder and fear painted on her face. She didn’t say anything when I climbed back into bed with her, or when I wrapped my arm around her middle and pulled her back against my front. She was silent and I was thankful. I was scared, I wasn’t afraid to admit that. I was afraid of what she would say now. Of what it would do to me.

  She flexed her hips and pressed back against me in her sleep. My cock prodded her right back. I didn’t want to wake her, not yet. I climbed out of bed as quietly as I could and snatched my boxer-briefs off the floor, slipping them on. I paused at the doorway and looked back at her. Her back was to me, her dark hair draped across the sheets now that I was gone. The smooth pale flesh of her back, darker than the white sheets.

  Something in my chest twinged. I would have said it was my heart that emitted the strange feeling, but I knew better. I didn’t have one of those anymore. I’d stomped on the stupid organ years ago when I let her go. When I ran her away. I hadn’t looked at a woman lying in bed in years. Sarah had been the last one—the last woman I had gazed at in ruffled, tangled covers. But that had been more than six years ago, and it hadn’t made me feel like this. The women I’d fucked in the last six years had never made it past the back seat of my car. Hookers. Prostitutes. Those were the women I’d been inside since I’d had Faye. Since I’d fucked Sarah that same night in our bed. None of the women Cayden and Katie set me up with had even sparked my interest. They couldn’t give me what I needed. Those were the nights, the ones where I went home after a failed date with a brainless women, that I would find a prostitute and shell out a lot of money for what I needed.