Chapter 30 Fink
Fink
There was something about the pained cries of a man condemned to death that got Fink’s dick hard.
With each whimper, hollow threat, and hollered obscenity, his manhood pulsed.
With his cock threatening to burst from his trousers, he coached Sydney on the best way to scoop out and preserve an eyeball.
He’d already physically shown her on the left eye; now it was her turn on the right.
He cautioned her to go slowly. The sole point wasn’t to cause pain. While that was a bonus, they needed to keep the organ suitable for someone else.
Burke wailed in agony as he begged. Such an annoying toddler. He should just accept his fate at this point.
He offered money, power, and prestige. None of which appealed to Fink. Sydney, if possible, seemed even less interested in what Burke had to give in exchange for allowing him to live.
Instead, she squealed and did little dances with each step of the process.
When Fink murdered someone, he was meticulous and mechanical.
He had a job to do and wanted to accomplish it quickly and efficiently.
Even with something like this, he would set to his task, ignore the victim, and get it done—almost like a robot.
He never stopped to appreciate the moment.
Not that the joy was lost on him; it was mostly an afterthought.
With Sydney, he got to revel in the glee that was killing. Working with her may have rekindled his love for his job. Experiencing it through her eyes gave him a fresh perspective.
This was a learning experience for her, so he had to take his time and allow her to have fun. While she made a few mistakes, and a couple of their incisions hadn’t been as clean as he would like, they were functional.
“Would you mind shutting your face hole?” Sydney chastised Burke. “I’m trying to concentrate, and your blubbering is distracting.”
While Burke had ceased speaking words, he hadn’t stopped screaming. This guy could endure a lot of pain. His threshold was impressive. Most of his other victims would’ve passed out by now. With two fewer eyes and his skin pulled open, his vocal cords remained strong.
That could be changed.
“Is he bothering you?” Fink asked.
She cocked her head to the side as she fetched the large saw to cut into Burke’s sternum. “I mean, I’ll probably have a headache later, but I like hearing him beg. It’s like setting the mood.”
Fink took the tool from her. “I have the best cure for headaches.” He winked.
Flirting while murdering should be wrong. However, when Sydney hopped from one foot to the other and twirled, squealing in excitement, it made Fink never want to be right. This was a hell of a lot more fun with a partner.
Not just anyone, though. This was his murder buddy. Sydney made this experience infinitely better.
“I was going to suggest we slice his windpipe before his diaphragm, but if you’re okay with the yelling…”
“No!” She shook her head. “Let’s do it the proper way. I don’t want to mess anything up.”
Thankfully, cutting through bone was too much for their good friend Burke.
After a few more high-pitched wailings, the man passed out, plunging Sydney and Fink into blissful silence.
How peaceful. The lack of sound helped her concentrate on murdering him effectively.
Once they got his chest spread open, he wouldn’t be able to breathe because his diaphragm was next.
“Wow.” Sydney’s eyes glittered at the sight of the man’s innards. Reaching out, her index finger hovered near his beating heart.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Fink asked as he stepped away and admired the view as well.
“It’s beautiful.”
“We could keep it,” he suggested.
“Really?” She turned toward him with her face lit up like a Christmas tree. He’d do whatever it took to keep that expression decorating her features. It was downright magical.
Fink considered the logistics. “Heart disease. It’s too damaged to give to someone else.”
She nodded as she shifted her attention to the soon-to-be dead man.
“My heart’s pretty busted too,” Fink said.
All black and definitely corroded. Not that he had medical issues or anything.
“I figured, since I’m still using mine, you can have this one,” he said.
She whirled with wide eyes and her mouth agape. This wasn’t a look of horror or fear or anything. Her eyes glittered and her lips were upturned ever so slightly—it was safe to assume she was happy.
“You’re the most romantic person on the planet,” she murmured.
His cheeks heated, and he ducked his chin. A blush? Since when did Fink blush?
Damn. He couldn’t deny it anymore. Fink had it bad.
He would’ve run his hand through his hair, but it was caked in temporary hair dye, and his glove was soaked in another man’s blood. Another time, he could play the bashful dude doing an over-the-top sweet gesture for his woman.
He kicked at an imaginary rock.
To his surprise, Sydney flung herself toward him. Stumbling, he barely caught her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and peppered him with kisses. He returned her affections hungrily, turning what was a sweet moment into something much more carnal.
Once he had her feet planted back on the floor and one hand on her hip, he guided her backward toward the table of tools, careful not to slip in the spilled bodily fluids.
As he passed the dying man, Fink ran his gloved hand along Burke’s face, ensuring he got a fresh batch of blood soaked into his glove.
Pushing the untouched tools aside, he made a space for Sydney before lifting her and plopping her onto the table. The plastic beneath her crinkled slightly and immediately stuck to her skin. She licked her bottom lip, and his cock twitched at the sight. Lust filled her eyes.
“I don’t know what fucked-up shit had to happen for you to cross my path, but I’m sorry; I wouldn’t change a damn thing,” he declared.
While not the nicest words to say, it was honest. Had one event in either of their pasts not occurred, they could be different people. That whole butterfly effect theory. He should probably say something better.
“Thoughts of you consume me,” he said as he dragged his finger down her cheek, leaving a line of Burke’s blood on her skin.
Grinning, he painted a heart on the opposite side of her face.
“That’s better,” she whispered as she slid her gloved hands along his sides toward the belt.
He claimed her mouth with a forceful kiss.
The wait was over.
He gripped the joined edges of her shirt and yanked. Buttons flew as the fabric gave way, revealing her bra and bare skin.
Greed pumped through his veins, making his dick throb painfully as she undid his fly. While he bit into her bottom lip, cool air breezed over his skin, and his pants dropped to pool at his ankles.
She whimpered a delightful cry as she leaned back and pulled her knees up on either side of his hips. With her heels planted on the edge of the table, she undid the snaps of her suspenders.
Fink busied himself with fondling her breasts, still constrained by the bra, as he sucked at her neck. She panted as he flicked his tongue against the thick, pulsing vein in her neck.
Skimming his hand down her body, he found the front of her shorts and flicked his fingers to slide the button through the loop. Quickly, he dragged the zipper down enough to yank her shorts, stockings, and panties.
Once off, he discarded them on the ground.
“I want to feast,” he growled with his gaze locked on her glistening, swollen sex.
“We don’t have time,” she whined as she dug her fingers into his arms. “Later. When it’s done.”
Without further hesitation, he gripped his dick, pointed it at her opening, and drove inside her. Buried to the hilt, his balls swayed as her glorious heat squeezed his length. Once again, Sydney brought him to the brink of ecstasy.
She was right. They had to rush through this. Which chapped Fink’s ass in the worst way. Quick and dirty fucking was fine and all, but he would much rather go slow and worship her properly.
Sydney was an exquisite specimen of a woman. Unfortunately, worshipping her to the full extent of his capabilities would have to wait until they were back at the motel.
Maybe in the shower.
Then on the bed.
For now, he’d pound her into next week. While teasing her cum button, he made her scream his name, and it sent him over the edge into the abyss of orgasmic bliss.