Chapter 17
Present
By some miracle, I make it home in one piece. I slam my thumb against the biometric screen, and the gate creaks open. Restlessness coils in my gut. I skid to a stop in the driveway, ditch my bike, and shove through the front door.
“Stay!” I shout before my beloved Dobermans can pounce on me.
I take the stairs two at a time, heading straight for my room.
My determined strides carry me to my en suite bathroom.
I pull open the cabinet, my gaze quickly landing on the bodywash on the top shelf.
The golden liquid in the clear bottle beckons me.
I reverently wrap my hand around the bottle and flick open the top, inhaling the flowery fragrance.
An electric pulse rips through my brain, sharp and sudden.
I latch onto the wooden cabinet for support.
I bound into my bedroom and stretch out across the bed. Two depraved images hit me simultaneously. One: pounding my cock into her dripping wet pussy until she’s swollen and delirious with pain. Two: slicing my blade through her velvet-smooth skin.
I unfasten my jeans and release my engorged length, hissing as the sensitive head brushes against the worn denim.
I squeeze several drops of the gold liquid onto my calloused palm before gripping the base of my cock and sliding my hand along the rigid planes.
I close my eyes and let my dark imagination take control.
I’m kneeling between her spread legs, pounding into her sweet pussy while slashing her beautiful brown flesh with my favorite Bowie knife. Her blood-curdling screams pulsate through my dick, intensifying my need to make her hurt more.
“Please stop!” she sobs hysterically.
Zilphia’s pleas for leniency spur me on, having the opposite effect she desired. My hand lashes out repeatedly, decorating her breasts, shoulders, and belly with long, deep cuts. Her warm, sticky blood splatters across my face and chest, snapping the last thread of my control.
I slice the honed edge across her throat, severing muscle and tendons. Zilphia’s dark-brown gaze bulges in horror as she grasps the gaping wound. Thick, crimson liquid oozes between her trembling fingers. I watch in complete awe as she exhales her last breath, and the life fades from her eyes.
“Fuck yes!” I bellow as my milky load shoots across the room.
If Zilphia knew the storm that was coming for her, she’d run far away from Kent. She broke me, so it’s only fair that I break her too.