12. Vito
Vito
“Y ou’re sure about this?” I keep my voice low while Stella splashes in the water on this sunny morning, her fear about to come to an end tonight.
“Yeah, man. Got a confession from Reggie and everything. I’ll hand him over to the police in a few days.
For now, he’s right at home in the dungeon.
” Bishop’s tone holds a hint of glee he just can’t mask.
Thank god that he’s normally kept away from the general public.
“A messenger is delivering the address to you this afternoon.”
“A messenger?” My brows rise in question even though he can’t see me.
“Didn’t think it was wise to leave a trail. I’ve got to go. If you need help, give me a call.” He’s gone before I can thank him.
For five days, Stella has been living with me. She’s chaotic, impulsive, and every fucking morning, she’s out of bed before me. I dislike that most. I prefer her right where I can fuck her as soon as my eyes open.
The thing about Stella, though, is that she hates sitting around.
Which is sort of what I’ve made her do since the shooting.
Martha, Chet, and Tanner have been released from the hospital, but Blue Heights won’t open for a while longer still.
The funerals for Leslie and Taylor were yesterday.
Stella and Karma stayed by their gravesides for hours, crying and holding each other while I kept watch to make sure they were given the peace they deserved.
While I didn’t know the two women well, I’d gotten to enjoy their camaraderie over the months of Stella avoiding me.
They were good girls who deserved longer lives.
Witnessing my sweet sugar mourn her friends and carry that sadness home to live with has been hard.
I spent most of the night soothing her pain as she cried and screamed about the loss.
She woke up this morning with a renewed light in her eyes.
After we fucked relentlessly in the shower, she made me promise not to let her dwell in her grief and instead, inspire her to remember their light.
Her solution for that was sex on every surface, begging me to breed her every chance she could.
The filthy things flowing from her mouth when I’m balls deep inside her pussy should be criminal.
She matches me in the purest ways possible.
“Eeekk!” Her excited screech brings a huge smile to my face as she’s splashed by a wave that hits a sand dune and shoots up at her. “A starfish!” Waving me over, I don’t hesitate to do her bidding.
“Never seen one?” I ask, and she shoots me a look like I’m dense.
“Of course I have. It’s just been a long time.” She squats to get a better look, and when it moves an arm, a tiny crab crawls out from under it, making her laugh so light-heartedly that I’m a little jealous of the joy she gets from sea creatures.
Stroking a hand over her head, her soft hair tickling my palm, she glances up to see me watching her. “You’re jealous,” she accuses.
“Yeah.” Grumbling the word doesn’t bring me satisfaction.
Standing up, she turns and presses her body into mine, resting her head against my heart and breathing deeply. “I know it’s soon, but you should know, you’re my peace, Daddy.”
She really knows where to hit a man hard.
Tilting her chin up with a finger, I brush my thumb across her plump lower lip and a hand down her spine to grab the back of her bikini bottoms. Tugging them up, I create a thong with the fabric snug between her ass cheeks.
Her sweet gasp when I spank her juicy flesh is a balm to my soul.
“Sugar, get your sweet ass up to those chairs and spread your legs fucking wide.” I’m insatiable when it comes to her. There’s nothing I want more than her pussy cream all over my face, soaking me until she begs me to stop.
“Yes, Daddy.” She thinks she’s sly when her hand grazes across my raging erection and gives a squeeze. Before she gets too far, I reach out and swat her ass so hard, she jumps and glares at me over her shoulder. Typically, I keep that for her spanking bench; she’s pushing me, though.
Trailing behind, my eyes feast on her expert submission. She does exactly as directed while chewing her lip and awaiting her punishment. The thing is, I don’t want to punish her because nothing gives me greater pleasure than making her feel good.
“Show me my pussy, sugar.” She hesitates for a brief second, and a growl rolls through my chest. “Good girl.” She preens at the praise when she complies.
Pushing the gusset of her bottoms to the side, her pussy is bared to me.
Showing off the curls that match the strawberry locks on her head and the exquisite way she leaks for me.
“Fucking beautiful,” I murmur as I drop to my knees in front of her.
Stella yelps as I drag her forward, her ass hanging off the edge of the chair, and I lift her to my face. Taking a long inhale before swiping my tongue up the middle of her tasty cunt. “Addicting,” I growl. “Delicious.”
She moans, digging her hands into my hair and scraping her nails along my scalp before she yanks me closer.
And if there’s one thing I’ve discovered over the last few days, it’s that my woman loves having her pussy worshipped.
She craves the bite of pain as I nibble on her clit.
The way I suck her lips into my mouth and the feeling of being four fingers deep as I massage her clenched walls.
“I could live off your cream for the rest of my life and never suffer a single day.” Our eyes clash, and pleasure brightens hers. Not just from the physical, either, but the emotional as well. Satisfying all her needs is the best job I’ll ever have.
Suckling her clit into my mouth, I massage it slowly with my tongue, forcing her body to rocket to an epic release, which just might trigger someone to call for help with how loud she’s about to scream.
“Come on, sugar, scream for Daddy.” Her head shakes, and I swat the side of her ass.
Sucking harder on the bundle of nerves, her hand covers her mouth, but she releases the scream building in her throat as she shatters apart for me.
“Fuck, that’s good.” Lapping up all her sweetness, she pants and gyrates against my mouth while she descends from her high.
Climbing up the chair, I pull her into my lap and soothe her until she’s calmed down and able to think clearly again. “That was something.” Her warm breath against my neck is like the sea breeze, and I crave more of her.
“I have to go out tonight,” I finally share.
“There’s something I need to take care of, and I need you to stay inside with the doors locked and the alarm set until I return.
” Staring down at her, the concern in her eyes almost convinces me to stay.
I’ve never had anyone care about me quite like my little sugar candy.
“Is everything okay?” Of course, she’d pick up on the importance.
“It will be once I’m home.”
Offering her a smile, Stella nods and then falls asleep in my embrace for a short nap before I take her for a late lunch and dessert.
As luck would have it, the two lowlifes who shot up Blue Heights live in the middle of nowhere with a swamp in their backyard.
The two brothers are amateur meth cookers, and apparently, Reggie took some product he thought he was owed, and they figured robbing the diner was their way of recouping the money.
Problem is, Reggie was fired, so they couldn’t kill him in their attempt, and the fucking morons forgot to raid the register for the limited cash available.
The worst mistake, of course, was terrifying my girl.
I’ll never forgive the amount of pain they’ve caused my sweet angel.
Lights shine in their rundown shack of a house, but there isn’t much noise beyond a TV playing.
I’m thinking they’re likely drunk or stoned.
The boathouse they use to cook their meth in is falling apart nearly as badly as their home, but as soon as I’m done with them, they’ll be in there with their drugs, all lit up in flames, before I leave the property.
Watching my step, I sidle up close to a window and peek around the edge. One of them is out cold on the couch, and I notice shadows moving beyond the wall; it’s likely the kitchen.
Creeping up the porch steps, I half expect them to fall apart and announce my arrival. Surprisingly, they’re sturdy, though. Testing the doorknob, the idiots left it unlocked, so I’m able to slide right into the dusty house.
Glancing into the kitchen, I see the one in there seated at a table, readying to inject his drug of choice into his arm, so I leave him for now and enter the living room.
I pull out my garrote, secure a good grip, and quickly wrap it around my victim’s neck.
By the time he wakes up, he’s already weak from lack of oxygen and barely puts up a fight.
Once he’s dead, I move around the wall to the back of the kitchen.
The fucking idiot’s still trying to find a vein.
Doing him the same way I did his brother, I quickly wrap the wire around his throat and tighten until I hear a pop.
His neck snapped; he never stood a chance. Neither of them did, if I’m honest.
Noticing the time, I have to hustle. Stella goes back to class in the morning, and she’s nervous enough without me missing for hours at a time. I didn’t tell her outright what I was doing, but she’s smart as hell and likely has figured it out.
Dragging the bodies to the boathouse, I use their own chemicals to light the place up before doing the same to their home. Sure, police will likely identify it as a hit, but they shouldn’t suspect me; I’m simply the loving fiancé who just wants my woman to have peace.
Covering my tracks and ensuring there’s no way to connect this to me, I head home by a different route than the one I came. By the time I pull into our driveway, it’s late into the night, and rain started falling halfway home, cleaning away most evidence that might linger on my truck.
In the morning, I’ll take a trip to Destin and get it washed up better while running some errands. All I want to do now is sink deep inside of Stella.