Cry, Little Dove

1. Cain

She doesn’t wake up as the tip of my hard cock drags over her plump lips, my pre-cum painting them like pearlescent gloss.

Her tongue darts out, flicking wet against it, and I groan.

Fuck, I shouldn’t be here .

Not because it was difficult to pick the lock.

Hell naw.

All these shitty roadside motels are the same.

Not because I’m afraid of getting caught, either.

Sleeping Beauty is out cold, lying between empty beer bottles and caramel chocolate wrappers strewn across the bed.

To be fair, she doesn’t look much like Sleeping Beauty.

More like Snow White with her long, black hair and almost porcelain-pale skin.

What a fuckin’ smoke show.

She’s lithe and has perky tits, nipples hardened to points beneath a black t-shirt.

Her right arm is tucked under her head, a tattoo of a skull with smoky wisps peeking out.

She’s lying on her side, legs folded over.

The position accentuates her tight waist and makes her ass stick out, red panties caught between those round cheeks.

I wonder what hides between her tattooed thighs.

Roses, thorny vines, and gems connected with delicate pearl chains cover the right one, the left bearing the image of two skeletons embracing like lovers, framed by lilies.

By far, she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

Pity to think a pretty lil thing like her is gonna get gutted on my operating table tomorrow night.

I stroke myself while I press my nose into the crook of her neck.

The scent of her perfume fills my nostrils and my head spins.

Vanilla and cinnamon with a darker, floral note.

Spicy and sweet and seductive.

She writhes, turning on her back.

I flinch as her mouth brushes mine in an accidental kiss, and I lick her bottom lip, tasting drops of myself, beer, and chocolate.

Her change in position has pushed up her shirt, revealing a tattoo beneath her breasts.

The dark, geometric mandala with swooping arches and downward-pointing spires reminds me of a gothic church.

A large black widow with a skull on its carapace is inked beneath her belly button, sitting on a web of V-shaped, delicate lace patterns.

They disappear under her panties like an arrow pointing to her pussy.

Her tattoos are all black and white.

No colors.

Mine are the same.

Damn, she’s so perfect it hurts, but she’s not my target.

Not originally.

I’ve never taken an innocent before.

When I started out killing years ago, I laid ground rules for myself to keep the beast inside me in check and stop me from going off the deep end.

The most important rule is an eye for an eye.

That means I only harvest scumbags, cherry-picked from classified police reports and court transcripts I buy off the dark web.

Assholes who were acquitted under strange circumstances or found not guilty despite overwhelming evidence.

My actual victim lives another hundred miles from here.

This motel was supposed to be a quick stop to get a few hours of rest, but then I saw her .

She walked into the gas station across the street while I was getting a snack for the road and my brain went haywire.

I knew she was my next.

It felt like fuckin’ fate, and no man should try to defy destiny.

I pulled my hat into my face and crouched behind the newspaper stand, pretending to read the headlines.

It wasn’t easy for a tall guy like me to hide under the bright store lights, but she was too preoccupied with choosing a drink from the fridge to notice me.

Even in sweatpants she was an apparition.

A sliver of her stomach showed beneath a cropped, tight top with a demon girl on it.

Her hair was in a messy bun, eyes rimmed with smudged black, and I watched her chew on those full lips until she settled on two packs of the cheapest beer.

She bought some chocolate bars, a few bags of BBQ potato chips, and cup noodles, too.

Boot laces dragging in the dust, she stomped across the street to the motel, a brown paper bag in her arms.

She walked with her head down, eyes shifting like she was running from something or somebody.

There was an irresistible duplicity to her.

A mix of innocence and damaged intensity, like a white dove with a broken wing.

It intrigued me.

That was days ago and I was supposed to leave.

But here I am, watching my little dove sleep, touching myself over her unconscious body.

My cock throbs.

I stroke faster, my other hand pulling up her top, and I palm her breast, twisting her nipple between two fingers.

She squirms, a tiny moan slipping from her lips.

I grit my teeth so hard I think I feel a molar crack, but I don’t stop pumping my dick.

Something is fuckin’ wrong with me.

Well, beyond the usual murderous urges.

Since I laid eyes on this woman, I can’t stop thinking about her, blood rushing in my ears and my skin prickling like a current of electricity runs under it.

Sleep eludes me almost entirely.

All I want is to rip every last shred of purity from her heart, excise every scrap of virtue from her flesh like a tumor and bathe her in my crimson shadows.

I spend too many hours sitting in my pickup truck down the street, looking into her room with binoculars.

She often forgets to close the curtains just like she did tonight, though I closed them when I broke in.

I need privacy for what I’m about to do to her.

But I’m not attracted to my victims.

Never.

They are meat.

Lambs to the slaughter.

Prey.

She’s still prey and nothing more , I tell myself.

But the kind I wanna sink my teeth into before a blade .

My fingers encircle her throat, and she’s so fragile in my grasp I could effortlessly snap her neck.

She whimpers when I tighten my grip.

I wonder what she’s dreaming about.

In her dream, is she seeing a stranger with his hand around her neck and his cock against her lips?

A tingle races along my spine.

I shudder with determination.

It has to be her.

My fingers itch as I imagine cutting into her unblemished skin.

Drawing red lines and purple bruises across her body.

I could probably fuck her immediately.

Right now.

Drunk as she is, she won’t wake up.

My balls jerk at the thought of burying myself to the hilt in her pussy.

But my height isn’t the only large thing about me, and she’ll feel it tomorrow if I split her with my dick tonight.

She’ll know she was violated in her sleep, but I need her clueless for the next part of my plan.

Technically, I could take her home immediately, too.

The loaded syringe is in the glove compartment of my pickup, ready to be used, but a part of me recoils at the thought.

I can’t abduct her like I did the others.

Not my little dove.

She’s special.

I’ll never find fuckin’ peace until I make her mine— first with my cock, then with my scalpel.

It’s a risk worth taking, even if I have to be patient.

I climb onto the creaking bed.

The mattress dips as I push her legs apart, settling between them, and my eyes go wide.

There’s a wet spot on her panties.

A grin twists my lips.

The slut is soaked from me fondling her in her sleep.

My dick pulses, but I need both hands free to run them along her body.

Her skin is soft like velvet, and I savor her heat seeping into my palms, tracing her ribs and her waist.

I trail along her hips when my fingers brush something hard underneath her.

I pull out a phone.

It’s unlocked.

She must’ve fallen asleep with it in her hands and it slipped between the blankets.

The notes app is open.

I stifle a laugh at the title “ SEX BUCKET LIST.”

For a second, I consider that reading her notes is an invasion of her privacy, but then I remember my leaking cock hovering above her pussy.

I shrug.

Too late to care about morals now.

My brows jump up to my fuckin’ hair line when I read the bullet points beneath the creative title.

A thrill coils through me.

Damn, my instincts were spot on, cause she’s naming some of my favorite things on her list.

I picked the right woman.

She’s a fuckin’ freak.

Somnophilia, huh ?

What a coincidence .

I lock her phone and put it on the nightstand.

I hook a finger into her panties, sliding them off, and my eyes land on her slick, swollen pussy lips.

My breath catches.

She’s practically begging me to fuck her while she’s lying there, asleep and helpless.

I notch my tip at her center, dragging upward, coating myself in her wetness.

Trembling with restraint, I come to a rest against her clit.

She sighs, hips shifting.

Her head lolls to the side as I draw circles on the little nub, and I almost explode from the hushed moans leaving her lips.

I give a few firm, short tugs on my cock while I sink two digits into her tight cunt.

Her inner muscles clench and pressure gathers in my balls.

How I wish it was my dick inside her, but that’s outta the question—for now.

The bed shakes as I fuck her with my fingers, rubbing against her g-spot.

With each thrust of my hand I stroke myself at the same time.

“Yeah, you like that, darlin’?” I grit out even though she can’t hear me.

“Your pussy is gripping my fingers so hard. It’s like you were made for me. You’re my dirty little whore.”

A strangled moan rises in my chest and I lean forward.

I lick over her clit before sucking it into my mouth, circling it with my tongue.

She tastes sweet.

Salty.

I’m instantly addicted.

Her pussy spasms and she unravels against my mouth, her hips bucking.

Feeling her come around my fingers is too much for me.

I can’t hold back any longer.

I manage to aim at her chest before my own orgasm hits me like a strike of thunder.

Black dots float in my vision.

I think I’m gonna pass out and collapse on top of her as pressure shoots up my length, and I close my eyes while my cock swells.

Full body shivers course through me.

I erupt.

When I open my eyes again, she’s covered in my cum.

It’s on her thighs and stomach, glazing her tits and her throat.

She looks marvelous.

I take my phone from my jeans, tap the camera icon and center her in the frame.

The flash is bright as lightning.

When I’m sure the picture is clear, I wipe my cock on the thin sheets before zipping up.

I put the panties on her again, straighten her top, and get up to open the curtains.

I have to leave everything as it was or she’ll get suspicious.

After I turn off the light on the nightstand, I hesitate by the bed.

She’s so heart-achingly pretty bathed in the colorful neon lights from the sign outside.

My hand finds her flushed face.

I brush the straight fringe from her forehead and trail along her temple to her ear.

She’s got lots of piercings there, from the lobe to the top.

Multiple rings, a tiny skull, a black butterfly, and a heart with a dark gem.

Cute .

She can’t hear my promise, but the words come out like I’m gonna choke if I don’t say them.

“You’re already mine, darlin’, even if you don’t know it yet.” I kiss the spot between her brows.

“I’ll see you again real soon, little dove. And next time, I’m taking you home.”