Chapter 17
Quinnly
My eyes never leave his as I slink my way over to him, once close enough, I lift my hands and run them up his arms. “Like this?”
I’m asking Lincoln for permission, but one look at Mr. DirtyBucks sitting with his legs spread it’s evident he thinks I’m talking to him. He grunts and palms his cock over his pants.
Lincoln grips my wrists just before I can touch his chest. Leading my fingers back to his shoulders, he allows me to run them over his arms and tease his waistband.
I can see every ripple of muscle under those latex pants.
Hooking my fingers into the waistband, I pull it back and let it slap back against his belly.
His neck muscles strain under his tattoos, and I smile.
“No teasing Heathhher, I want to see him rrrrruin you, sssoon,” Mr. DirtyBucks is impatient, and so am I. He’s already starting to slur, perfect.
“I think can handle that,” I tease, tugging the blonde wig off and letting it fall to the floor. My split-dyed hair tumbles down to my breasts and I shake off the restricting feeling of the wig.
“Oh, Mr. DirtyBucks?” I sing, popping my brow and looking over my shoulder noticing his eyes close.
Shrugging, I sink to my knees before Lincoln. I can see the outline of his cock and I lick my lips. He’s large, like I knew he would be, and I want to taste him.
“Suckisc–cock—” He gasps. “Heaverrr—wanyoutobeagoodgirllll–get–hi–hard…” Mr. DirtyBucks slurs, clearly trying to fight the drugs I gave him during dinner.
With a sigh, I get to my feet and walk over to where Mr. DirtyBucks is sitting.
His head lolls as the drugs kick in and I straddle him.
There’s a table beside him with an assortment of toys on it, and I reach for one, an idea forming in my head.
Running the penis shaped silicone over his neck and chin, I process what’s about to happen. This is going to be so fun.
“Mhmmmm,” he hums, groping my ass making me rock against him.
“Do you like sucking cock, Mr. DirtyBucks?” I ask, rolling a condom onto the toy. Turning around, I wink at Lincoln and continue my work.
“Open up,” I sweetly say, slowly working the toy inside his mouth.
Twisting the toy, he sucks on the condom encasing it, and slowly I replace the toy with my fingers.
He chokes, gags, and spits, but I continue holding the condom in his throat until he’s weakly thrashing against the couch, pushing at my arms. Finally, the paralytic takes full effect and he stops fighting completely.
Leaning down, I press my lips to the condom and blow out a breath, expanding the latex in his throat. Tying the end off, I sit back and watch as he turns red, then purple.
This is the part that has always been fascinating. Watching them die. Seeing the terror in Mr. DirtyBucks eyes as he slowly suffocates, unable to help himself.
He’s not moving any more, his arms are limp by his sides, and I watch a single tear slip down his face as I untangle myself from him.
Popping in a piece of gum from my bra, I turn to look at Lincoln. His face is void of emotion, but his eyes burn with questions.
“That’s…” Lincoln starts but doesn’t finish.
“Genius? Creative? A masterpiece?” I supply with a bow.
Twirling toward the bar cart, I pour a puddle of whiskey onto the floor. Removing my dress, I throw it over the couch and sit on the arm of the chair Mr. DirtyBucks is in. Then, nodding to my feet, I ask, “Help me out here would ya?”
Lincoln stalls for only a moment, but comes to kneel in front of me. His fingers flutter over my ankle as he helps me out of the heels I’ve worn all night.
“Why do women wear these?” I ask, absentmindedly rubbing my feet. “They’re fucking awful.”
“They make your legs look good,” he rumbles.
“Pff. Men,” locking my legs around his neck I squeeze. “Those shoes are torture devices, and you’ll never catch me wearing them voluntarily.”
Letting him go, I walk to the door and he stops me with a single word.
“Quinnly.”
I turn, look up into his green eyes, so deep and conflicted, and ask, “Yes, Shadow?”
“Are you really going to waltz out of here as if there isn’t a dead body, with your DNA on the murder weapon?” He asks, looking around.
“Mhmm,” I nod, walking out into the red room in only my bra and underwear.
I wanted to jump his bones back there, but I was on a mission, and now that mission has been accomplished. Sneaking out of the orgy basement isn’t hard since Mr. DirtyBucks prematurely dismissed all his security earlier.
Lincoln isn’t far behind me as I grab the long coat Mr. DirtyBucks hung up for me. He helps me pull it on, and his hands linger for a minute before he’s ushering me toward the door.
“A condom,” he finally says, interrupting the silence.
“It’s like a balloon,” blowing a bubble of my gum, I blow until it pops and Lincoln turns to look at me.
We stop walking just shy of the main road and he lifts his hand to my throat where my tattoo, MENACE, is in bold letters.
He can’t see it, because it’s covered in makeup, but he knows it’s there.
With his thumb, he puts light pressure on the space and wipes. “You’re something, Quinnly Sage Adams.”
“You wanna kiss me, don’t cha,” I smile, leaning into his body.
His hand falls away and he turns, marching toward the road. I groan behind him, stomping my foot.
“Well I want to kiss you!” I shout and that gets him to stop. I don’t know how to do feelings, but I know that when I want something, I can either keep wanting it forever, or I can just take it. This may be foolish, and I may end up dead, but I want to feel his body against mine at least once.
His shoulders tense, but he doesn’t turn. Stomping around him so I can look up into his face, I shove his chest. “Don’t ignore me, it’s rude.”
Looking down at me, he grunts and then looks away again.
“That’s better,” I chirp.
He eyes me and starts walking, I follow, though I’m going to have to find shoes soon. Not far past the road that leads to the house, Lincoln steps into a little clearing where a car waits.
“Get in,” he rumbles.
Crossing my arms, I lift my brow and tap my foot. I want a Pop-Tart and a shower.
“Please,” he rolls his eyes and opens the passenger door. Skipping his way, I slide into the seat and wait while he closes the door. He joins me on the drivers side and cranks the car, driving out of the clearing, he guns the engine and heads for… Well I don’t actually know where.
I don’t really plan ahead.
We drive in silence, and my stomach grumbles. This is why I hate fancy restaurants, that dinner was a joke.
“I’m hungry,” I comment, turning to find him reaching into the back seat and pulling my backpack out. “How…”
Thinking better of the question, I rummage through the pack to find the–somewhat crushed–blue box of Pop-Tarts. The silver wrapping crinkles in my hands as I rip into it, and pull out one of the sugary treats.
“Mmmmmm,” moaning and melting into the seat, I close my eyes and enjoy the silence while Lincoln drives wherever he’s going.
After about an hour, and two sleeves of Pop-Tarts later, sleep pulls me under.
There’s a bed under me, it’s soft and warm. Cracking my eyes open, I find Lincoln with my scratch off map between his fingers. He’s sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed.
“This is what you’ve been doing?” He asks, it’s not accusatory, more incredulous.
“A woman has to have goals,” I scoff, throwing back the covers and noticing my clothes have been traded for my sleep shirt and undies. “Did you change my clothes, Shadow?”
He eyes me in a lazy way, as if he’s bored.
“Did you look at my boobs?” I smirk, pushing further. “They’re cute aren’t they?”
He takes a breath, and shakes his head. “I didn’t look.”
Snapping my fingers I shake my head, “A missed opportunity, your loss. Anyway, what’s your plan?”
“My plan?” He asks.
“Yeah, I have no idea where we are, and I don’t really make plans.” Looking around, I start to piece together the room. It’s not a hotel room, but it is a bedroom, blank with only the chair and mattress.
It smells like wood shavings and the walls don’t have paint.
“Where are we?” I ask, stepping out of the bed and walking toward the doorway. The floors aren’t done, and there are no doors.
“It’s a development in Indiana,” he says, picking up my bag and putting it on the bed. “Get dressed, we’ve got a state to scratch off.”
“You’re gonna finish it with me?” I screech, my chest fills with butterflies and I leap at him. His arms come around me, my legs circling his waist, and his body freezes. “Oh come on, you’ve seen my boobs and this is too far for you?”
He puts me down on my feet and walks away, but I felt the way his body responded to me. He may not have wanted it to happen, but I know he wants me, I’ll just have to push harder.
Heading to the area where he left my bag, I change and pop up behind Lincoln with my bag over my shoulder. “Ready!”
Lincoln doesn’t say anything, instead he walks for the door, or where I’m assuming the door is. “Ugghhh,” I grumble. I’m tired of his bitchy attitude, I wanna have fun. “What’s got you down, Shadow?”
His shoulders raise, and he sighs. “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never worked with anyone before, and I shouldn’t want to. You’re… erratic, and like you said you never have a plan.”
“Oh. My. God. You DO talk!”
“Quinnly.”
Backing up I hold one finger to my lips, “Shhhhh, you’re going to run out of words.” I laugh, watching him for a reaction, but he just rolls his eyes.
“I didn’t know you even knew that many words!”
“I do, occasionally, talk.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mumble under my breath.
Ushering me out the door, we climb into a different car than last night, and he drives us into the city of Bloomington and parks the car.
“You read my list,” I eye the coffee shop the next victim frequents.
“I did,” he nods, watching the sidewalk.
“Not the scratch off card. My encrypted list.”
He simply nods again.
“And you know who sent me the list?” Turning in my seat, I stare at him.
He nods, and I smile.
“And you don’t have a problem with that?” I ask, prodding.
“I know you killed my sister and brother-in-law, Quinnly,” he concedes. “You will find that I wasn’t all that fond of them. You did me a favor.”
“Hmm,” twirling a piece of my green hair around my finger, I decide he seems sincere. Unwrapping a piece of gum, I push it between my lips and look out of the windshield. “There he is!”
I want to ask him how he survived my scissors across his throat, but maybe he doesn’t remember.
“Keep your fucking voice down, Menace. Do you want to alert the guy?” He whispers.
Shrugging, I pop open the door and step out, fluff my hair and frown. It needs a refresh, but that’s not why I’m displeased. “Why didn’t you tell me about the makeup still covering everything?”
“Did you think I’d showered you while you were sleeping?” he asks.
“That could’ve been fun for you,” I smirk and walk across the road to the entrance of the coffee house.