Sinner
S o, what does a man with an obsession and desire for a pretty little sinner do when he can’t scratch the itch one way? Find another. Rolling my neck, I continue to walk. To my convenience, my little sinner’s house isn’t as far as her father’s church. Thankfully, her father is a narcissist, and Victor likes to live near the town, wanting to be seen for what he’s not. A widower, a devoted father, a religious man. But he’s none of the above. A sinner wearing the mask of a saint.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing, preying on the weak and innocent under his disguise. I know this because we share the same obsession, the same dark need to possess and control. Which leads me here, back to his house… his window, watching his daughter. His precious dove. To my surprise, the house is relatively quiet, with minimal movement. None of the cult is hanging around. Just my little Dove and me.
It isn’t too late, but I expect Victor to be home at least, which makes me curious as to what he can be doing. But all that fades away the moment she comes into view, caramel skin wet and glistening. White silk robe falling off her shoulders as she rummages through her closet. I wonder what she’s looking for. With a smile on her face, she pulls out a book. Given the fact that she’s hiding it, I can guarantee it’s one of those dark romance novels. Naughty little sinner.
I watch as she sits in the gray recliner. The room is dark now, except for the light illuminating her. She opens the book and begins to read. It takes her a couple of pages until she hits what she’s looking for. Her caramel skin becomes flushed, her breathing becomes heavier, and her fingers trace over the words printed on the page. My heart begins to pound in my chest, every nerve on edge as I’m held captive by the sight of her. I can’t help but imagine what got her so worked up, what sinful desires those words ignited in her. I see a blush crawl up her lovely neck, painting her cheeks an enticing shade of pink that makes my pulse quicken. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth in a tantalizing gesture of innocence shattered by the dark glow in her wide eyes .
A soft sigh escapes her lips as she closes the book, her legs falling open, resting on the armrest of the recliner. Undoing the white ribbon from her robe, she allows it to fall from her body, and I thank the heavens that the mirror gives me a direct view of what she does next.
Her fingers trace her skin as she creeps lower and lower, making her way between her legs. Her beautiful black coils fall to the side of the recliner as she leans back and parts her folds. Glistening. Holy.
The sight is ethereal, an angel fallen into the throes of something beautifully wicked. Her fingers deftly move as her back arches slightly off the chair, a small gasp escaping her lips. My cock springs to life at the sight of that beautiful, sinful creature, the way her fingers circle her center, the way her brown eyes flutter closed.
I watch with bated breath as her hips rotate in time with her hand, a symphony of pleasure that I can only imagine. Her breath hitches and her entire body shudders, shaking from the orgasm ripping through her body. Fuck, I want it to be my tongue instead of her fingers. Her chest rises and falls heavily, a sheen of sweat glistening on the bare mounds of her breasts. She lies there, succumbing to languid bliss after the storm of her climax.
The sight is so fucking erotic, and every fiber in me strums with yearning for something I’ve never had. Suddenly, she opens her eyes and looks straight at me. There’s no shock on her face, no embarrassment. Instead, there’s a sense of victory; as if she knew all along that I was watching her. Her lips curve into a predatory smile as she traces her middle finger along her bottom lip, wet with the taste of herself. There’s a teasing glint in her eyes that shoots straight through me, branding her onto my very soul. There’s no escape now; I am under her spell.
Slowly, she rises from the recliner, naked, her coils falling down her bare chest, covering her brown, hard nipples. That know-it-all grin never leaves her face, and I’m left there, rooted to the spot, just as exposed as she was moments ago. My heart races in my chest, and my cock thumps painfully, echoing the rhythm of my desire. I shift uncomfortably; my pants are suddenly too tight. The garment is now a torture device holding me captive under her knowing gaze.
Her footsteps are soft, padding towards me as her grin widens with each passing moment. Damn woman knows what she’s doing to me. She’s toying with me, but before we can see where this leads, we are interrupted by the sounds of tires screeching on the gravel outside. We both freeze, her predatory smile slipping and my heart slamming into my ribcage.
Daddy’s home.
The sudden noise snaps us both back to reality. Instinctively, she grabs the discarded silk robe that lays forgotten on her chair, pulling it over her exposed form. Her eyes glance at me, amusement evident at my frustrated sigh. I retreat into the shadows and watch as Victor and two of his men walk back into the house. They seem to be celebrating; one grabs his cock as he talks about some woman he fucked. Sick bastards . It’s their blood my little sinner should be bathed in. That would be true God’s work, not whatever the fuck her sick father makes her do. But soon I will free her and be the very God she craves.
I watch as they move into the den, their raucous laughter echoing through the house. Victor throws his head back, a loud guffaw escaping his lips. He’s drunk off his high of power and money. My gaze drifts back to her window. She’s dressed now in a white cotton nightgown that covers her skin.
She moves to the mirror and stares at her reflection, the ghost of her predatory smile playing on her lips. She looks like an angel in that gown, pure and innocent, but I know the devil that lurks beneath. I crave that devil. She turns her gaze towards the window as if she knows I’m there, watching.
Turning off the lights, she walks over to her bed and slips under the covers, but I don’t leave. I’ve had my fix, and now duty calls. Not even five minutes later, my little sinner’s door creaks open, and Daddy dearest appears from behind the door. He steps inside, belt unbuckled, his button-down shirt open, and my heart drops when he walks over to her bed.
I feel a knot of rage twist in my gut. I grit my teeth, fists clenched as I watch that monster walk closer to her bed. My blood roars in my ears, but I do nothing and say nothing. The temptation to storm into the house and end him is overwhelming, but it would expose me, and I know it’s not the right time. Not yet. Not when I have demons to exorcize. Victor and his cult are a sickness in need of a cure, and I vow to be the one to administer it.
I watch helplessly as Victor sits on the edge of her bed, leering down at my sinner with pure malevolence in his eyes. She pretends to sleep as he moves the covers down, and a sickening grin lights up in the darkness, his eyes hungry as they devour my sinner. He palms his cock through his pants, then reaches towards her, his fingers grazing the thin material of her gown. She flinches at his touch but doesn’t resist. My gaze drills into his back, praying fervently he’d feel the weight of my hatred.
Victor shifts closer to her, and my restraint snaps. I can’t sit here and allow him to continue to touch what’s mine. Grabbing a rock from the ground, I hurl it towards the window in sheer rage, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces. Victor jumps in surprise and alarm, spinning to face the broken window. His eyes widen in fear as he scans the darkness outside for signs of intrusion.
But he can’t see me, not from this angle. Using this momentary distraction, I navigate my way around the house. I expect to find one of his goons—oh, I’m killing somebody tonight.
My heart pounds in my chest - not from fear, but anticipation. The moon is my only source of light, and it’s enough for me to find exactly what I’m looking for: a sinner. I creep behind him as he looks through the trees. My hand goes into my pocket, and I retrieve my switchblade I’ve had since I was a kid. Cupping his mouth with one hand, I use the other to dig the knife into his throat, pulling him into me.
“I am hungry for sin. Now bleed, demon. You will be cleansed,” I say before slashing his throat wide open. He flails in my grasp, shock and fear overtaking him as blood pours down his front. I let him drop to the cold ground, watching as life quickly drains from his eyes until there’s nothing but a vacant stare. A rush of satisfaction floods me; one less demon to corrupt the innocent.
“Ramon,” another sinner calls out, the pervert who was cupping his cock. Tonight, no one will be fucking. Victor will be too worried about me to worry about his needs. And this fucker is as good as dead; at least he got a nut in before dying. The idiot doesn’t even feel me behind him, not even as I pick up speed and now stand beside him. I inhale deeply, the blood rushing straight into my already hardened cock as I plunge the knife right into his chest. He turns to me finally.
“I’m not Ramon, demon. I’m liberation.”
His eyes widen in surprise and terror as he sinks to the ground, clutching at the wound in his chest. His fingers scrabble uselessly against the blood-drenched fabric, scrambling for a hold on his fleeting life. I crouch in front of him and withdraw the switchblade from his chest. Blood pours out like a waterfall. The shock prevents him from screaming, and the last thing he sees is my smirk before darkness claims him.
I hear Victor yelling for his goons, but they are dead. Truthfully, I could end him… I should, but I want more. I want to destroy them all, one by one, until only he remains, until he knows the depth of his sins. I want him to feel the sting of his failures, his corruption eating away at him. The fear. The guilt. Then, and only then, will I relieve him of his misery.
I sneak back into the shadows of the house, my heart pounding with adrenaline. Victor is still shouting, his voice echoing around the empty halls, the fear evident in his tone. I let out a quiet chuckle and circle back to my little sinner’s window. She stands there waiting, her brown eyes wide and filled with fear or anticipation. I can’t tell, but I need to see her, even if she can’t see me here.