8. Dahlia
We strolledthe alleys and displays of Pompeii for the rest of the afternoon. Always keeping Marco in our sights but never again getting close enough to be seen or registered by his security team. We walked hand in hand, stealing kisses in the shadows, touching, laughing. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I was in one of those romanticized relationships you see in the movies. A man who loved me for me, and who treated me like a princess. A princess who got off on gutting scumbags, yes, but a princess nonetheless.
Could I stay with Drake forever, I wondered as we perused the Stabian Baths and the ruined artwork of its walls.
The thought, one that came and went the whole time we’d been together reared its head again. Nothing about Drake was normal. None of it. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I’d proven over and over again that I wasn’t normal. Who was to say that a life with Drake wasn’t something that could be fulfilling and glorious? As though he read my thoughts, he slid a hand up my back and began to gently massage my neck as we listened to the tour guide explain what the building had been used for.
On the far side of the room, Marco listened inattentively, looking bored. His wife, however, had a rapt and intrigued expression on her face. If I had to guess, and from the inquisitive gleam in her eyes, she’d been the one who actually wanted to come here.
A sensation of unease fell across me like a heavy wet blanket. The hairs on my forearms stood on end, and my guts twisted slightly. I turned, glancing back behind us. All I could see were other tourists. Americans with their goofy stars and stripes hats on, Asian tourists moving about in small clumps, children running from yelling parents. Everything seemed as it should be. But, if that were the case, why did I feel like I was being watched?
“All good?” Drake whispered into my ear.
“Hmm? Uh, yeah. Good. Just checking things out,” I said.
There were hundreds of people here. There could be any reason I felt what I did. Some horny college guy could be checking me out. Fuck, some horny college guy could be checking Drake out for that matter. I was being silly.
Late in the afternoon, Marco and his small entourage departed the ruins, walking toward the parking lot. A moment of panic settled in my stomach as they moved further away.
“Are we going to follow?” I asked, yanking on Drake’s shirt.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry. I have his address. Also, I accessed his recent text messages. His wife is going to dinner with some friends this evening. That will be our window. She’s done nothing wrong. No need for her to get caught up in all this. Those bodyguards, however?” He nodded toward the men. “They’ve chosen to protect an awful person. As they say, money is the root of all evil. They’ll need to be dealt with, but I think you’ve got it in you.”
The words made me smile. The trust he had in me was like nothing anyone had ever shown me before. After everything we’d been through, I saw no difference in this and someone telling me I’d done well on a test in school or a shift at work.
Drake led me to the parking lot and our new car, also bought with cash. The entire walk, that same nagging sense that we were being watched or followed persisted. Even as Drake climbed into the driver seat, I continued to scan the parking lot, wondering if someone might be watching. Could Sam have found us here? How? We’d been so careful to throw him off our trail. How could he possibly have figured out we were here? No. I shook the thought off and did my best to act normal. There was a lot I needed to prepare for. I couldn’t be worrying about something that wasn’t possible.
After a quick dinner together, Drake and I went back home and put on clothes that he’d bought without my knowledge. Sweatsuits almost identical to what we’d worn in the playhouse—except, instead of light gray, they were solid black. He handed me a pair of generic black sneakers as well.
A strange intensity came over us both as we drove to Marco’s rental house. Like the intimate and undeniable energy two people had before fucking. This was our foreplay. We both knew it, and we both loved it. My fingers itched to kill this fucker. Marco had no clue what kind of hell was coming for him.
We arrived a bit early, parking a block away where we could still see the house in the darkness that had now descended over the town. Marco lived in what appeared to be an old hotel or apartment complex, with a gate that led to an interior courtyard.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“Used to be a youth hostel. Marco purchased it when he moved and had it renovated,” Drake whispered.
A few minutes later, a black sedan carrying Marco’s young wife pulled out, driven by one of his two bodyguards. It pulled away, and the gate, powered by an electric motor, slowly rumbled closed behind it.
“Now’s our chance,” he said.
“Do you have a plan to get it?”
“I do. Grab the bag.”
The baghe spoke of was filled with some delectable toys. Knives, zip ties, and a host of other items to make Marco pay for all he’d done. Drake opened the glove box and pulled out a pair of wire cutters.
“What are those for? His cock?” I asked.
“You have a way with words, Dahlia Belrose. No, they are how we’ll be getting in.”
We donned black leather gloves, and even ski masks, which I thought was a bit overkill. Overkill, and slightly ridiculous. I felt like a person in a movie getting ready to rob a bank. After getting out of the car, we stayed in the shadows, and made our way to the rear of Marco’s little compound. Drake found a small fuse box leading from the main fuse box to a set of wires that ran around to the front of the building.
“What is this?” I hissed, keeping my voice low.
“The schematics for this house are available online for anyone who has the means to look. The electrical system had an addition put on when Marco bought the house. This little branch that runs the gate out front. If I”—he reached forward and snipped the wire with his cutters—”do that, then the gate is no longer operable. We can simply push it open.”
“You know you’re like a secret agent or something, right? How the fuck did you learn all this?”
“Lots of practice, lots of study, and of course, lots of money. Come on.”
The surrounding area was silent, everyone was inside enjoying dinner, or maybe even sleeping. None of Marco’s neighbors knew the shit storm that was about to happen. They’d have a hell of a story to tell later on, depending on how we decided to leave the scene.
We stopped at the edge of the gate, still hidden in the inky black shadows. I leaned around the corner and peered into the cobblestoned courtyard. The other bodyguard strode by, smoking a cigarette, a shoulder holster holding a pistol under his left arm. He seemed completely absorbed by whatever he was looking at on his phone. His head was bent, eyes locked on the screen.
“What do we do about him?” I asked.
Drake put his lips to my ear. “He’s aligned himself with a monster, that makes him a monster by association.”
Good enough for me. One less piece of shit on this earth to fuck with innocent people.
Drake stood, moving so silently that he was almost like a living shadow. The guard turned, still looking at his phone, and headed up a pair of steps leading to the second floor. Once he stepped through the door, Drake pulled the gate forward by about a foot and slipped through. I followed, pushing the backpack through fast before joining him. He led me to the dark alcove beneath the stairs, and we settled into the darkness only a few seconds before the door above us reopened.
Now that we were closer, I could hear what the man was watching on his phone. The muffled moans and groans of a woman, plus the wet slapping sounds of sex. He was supposed to be protecting his employer, but instead, he was walking around in the dark watching porn. Drake lifted his shirt and pulled a hunting knife from his waistband, holding a hand up for me to stay where I was.
The bodyguard reached the bottom of the stairs and turned right, only to find the dark muscular shadow of Drake in his way. The man flinched, dropped his phone, and opened his mouth to scream, and at the same time reached for his gun. With one swift movement, Drake swept the knife across the man’s throat.
Gun forgotten, the man clamped his hands on his throat as blood spurted from the gaping wound in his neck. He dropped to his knees, making almost soundless groaning noises. Blood spurted out his nose as he tried to scream. Drake, standing above him, clutched the knife in both hands, blade pointing down, raised the knife high above his head. Drake gave a grunt of exertion as he brought the knife down as hard as he could onto the crown of the man’s head.
Pock. The sound of the blade burning into the skull sounded like a hammer tapping on wood. The knife was up to the hilt. The bodyguard’s eyes rolled back, and several spasms shook his limbs as he fell over. The twitching continued for two or three seconds before he finally went still.
Staring at the carnage, I could feel my pussy growing wet at the sight. I slipped out from under the stairs and reached for Drake, running my hand down his stomach to his crotch, and felt his cock, hard as iron under his pants. He was excited too.
“Looks like you’ve got another weapon here,” I whispered. “Do you want to stab me with that?” I squeezed his crotch.
Drake let out a trembling sigh. “Soon. We still have work to do.”
He and I dragged the body into the shadows on the off chance anyone walking or driving by looked over. The blood puddle remained, but it would look like nothing more than oil in the dark light of night. Drake had to put a foot on the dead man’s shoulder in order to pull the knife free of his skull. A weird high pitched skree sounded as the blade scraped against bone when it slid out.
Leaving the body to rot, he crept up the outdoor stairs to the door the guard had come from. Drake crouched low, pressing his ear to the door for several seconds before inching it open. Inside, we found what looked like a small kitchen with a tiny table and two chairs. Upon going deeper, it turned out to be more of a modest apartment with a common area taken up by a couch, bed, a coffee table and a small TV on the wall, along with an incredibly tiny bathroom with a stall shower. The bodyguard quarters? That had to be what this was. A place for Marco’s men to sleep and live while watching out for him and his wife.
Drake slid his phone from his pocket and scanned through the blueprints he’d downloaded.
“We need to get to the third floor. That’s where the master bedroom should be located.”
“I’ll follow you,” I said, readjusting the backpack.
Another door in the living/sleeping area took us to a hallway. The efficiency apartment had been decorated in the sparse nature of a prison or school, this was much more opulent. The rest of the compound reminded me of the playhouse. Thick carpets, heavy and ornate wood paneling, intricate chandeliers and wall sconces, and expensive looking furniture.
As Drake led us, slowly, toward another set of stairs, the hair at the back of my neck rose, and I turned, snapping my head around to check behind us. Nothing. My heart hammered in my chest. It felt like we were being watched. The same feeling I’d had before.
“Are you all right?” Drake whispered, his voice barely audible.
There was a moment of hesitation on my part, but I eventually shrugged it off. “Uh, yeah. All good.”
“Are you sure?” He eyed me, a spark of worry in his gaze.
“Yeah. Freaking myself out. Thought I heard another guard or something,” I lied.
Drake shook his head. “His financials show payments to two men. He’s only got those guys and no one else. I’m sure.”
“I believe you.” I nudged him. “Let’s go.”
Tiptoeing through the house gave me the sensation of being a hunter. Stalking my prey to take them down. There was something much more visceral about this than having them tied up nice and neat for me to deal with. Like when I’d been back at the house, and Sam had sent us out into the woods. The excitement was building, like an orgasm ready to explode the moment I captured my quarry.
Eventually, we found him. Deep in the bowels of the house, the muffled sounds of music led us to a room that looked like it had been designed to be some sort of lounge. A small bar sat in the corner with shelves laden with bottles of liquor along with a tiny wine cooler. In the opposite corner, a huge armchair of green velvet held Marco. His head tilted to the side, light snores rumbling from his chest, an empty glass still in his hand, resting on his stomach.
I could almost feel my eyes dilate at the sight of him. Knowing what was about to happen, I grew even more sexually excited than I’d been outside when Drake killed the guard. It was all I could do not to press a hand between my legs to relieve the ache building there.
Wordlessly, Drake motioned me forward, and he unzipped the backpack as soundlessly as he could. From within, he pulled a nylon rope that he’d pre-tied into a noose, and handed me a handful of zip ties. He pointed to the wooden legs of the chair, then to Marco’s ankles, and I nodded in understanding.
Marco’s drunken snores continued as Drake and I both got into position. A greasy anxious sweat coated my body as I looped the ties around the wooden leg and the ankle, keeping them loose for now to ensure he didn’t wake up, letting the thin strips of plastic rest on his foot, ready to be pulled tight on Drake’s signal. When I had them both in place, I nodded to Drake.
Through the holes of the ski mask, I saw Drake’s eyes flare with excitement as he gently lowered the noose over Marco’s head. The angle of the man’s head made it hard to get the rope around his chin. That problem was solved an instant later as Marco’s eyes fluttered open.
“What?” His voice slurred as his alcohol hazed eyes locked on mine.
Confusion slowly faded to fear and understanding as his brain struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. A black clad figure in a mask and gloves kneeling before you in your home when it was supposed to be empty had to be one hell of a shock. His eyes widened in fear and he opened his mouth to scream, but before he could, Drake pushed the rest of the rope over his chin and cinched it tight.
Marco’s eyes widened even more, and his hands snapped to the rope now digging into the soft flesh of his throat. Before he could begin thrashing, I reached forward, grabbed the tails of both zip ties, and yanked them tight. The zippery zit-zit sound of both ties tightening around his legs was drowned out by the gasping grunts of Marco as he clawed at the rope Drake held. Marco was a big man, but his strength was nothing compared to that of Drake, who held him in place.
“Dahlia,” Drake said in a remarkably calm and conversational voice. “More ties in the bag. Get them and do his hands.”
Doing as he asked, I pulled the items out and went to Marco. The man’s eyes were rolling wildly as he began to realize he couldn’t fight Drake. Even as he tried to slap himself forward to break the hold on the rope, he only caused the noose to tighten even more. His face was purple with strain and oxygen loss. I managed to grab his left hand and get it tied to the wooden cross piece below the padded armrest, but when I reached for his right hand, he lashed out in panic, striking me in the face. The blow was more surprising than painful, but I still rocked back, tumbling to the floor.
Drake hissed in anger and pulled the rope even tighter. Marco’s tongue lolled out as all oxygen was cut off. His strength ebbing, I scrambled up and tied his other hand down, pulling the tie so tight his fingers started turning red almost immediately.
Marco let out a gagging, retching gasp when Drake released the noose’s tension, allowing air to again slide down his windpipe into his lungs. I sat back on my heels, catching my own breath and allowing my heartrate to come back down.
“Holy shit,” I muttered and touched my chin where Marco had hit me. “Fucker’s gonna pay for that.”
“Are you hurt?” Drake asked, kneeling next to me, touching my masked face with his gloved hands.
“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
“Qui es-tu putain?” Marco hissed in French.
“English, if you please,” Drake said, and gestured to me. “I speak French, but my friend does not.”
“Who…the fuck…are you people,” Marco gasped in a thick accent, leveling his angry eyes on us. “Do you have any clue who I am? My men will be here any second to blow your fucking brains out.”
“Not likely,” Drake said as he stood. “One of your men is with your wife on her dinner out with friends. The other, sorry to say, is resting eternally out in your courtyard. We have you all alone, my dear friend.”
Marco, face sheened in sweat, stared at Drake for several seconds. Options flipping through his mind as he contemplated whether or not we were telling the truth.
Before he could respond, Drake continued. “As for the first question? We know exactly who you are. Marco Sevantes, otherwise known as Marco Laurent. Born and raised in Lyon, France. You murdered your first wife before grooming a child to be your new bride, which you accomplished after paying her family thousands of dollars from the right to her underage body. How am I doing so far?”
“These are lies,” Marco barked. “You have no proof I killed Camille. I loved her.”
“We aren’t discussing your guilt or innocence here, Marco. All we are here to do is give you the punishment you deserve. The punishment a murdering pedophile deserves.” Drake leaned down so his eyes were level with Marco’s. “How many times did you fuck Amina before she came of age? Hmm? Is that why you had to pay? Her father and brothers found out she’d been taken advantage of?”
Marco spat at Drake, spittle hitting the mask. “Fuck you.”
“As I thought.” Drake turned to look at me. “He’s all yours, my dear. Make me proud.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. I’d have assumed he’d want to take the lead.
“Absolutely,” Drake said, stepping out the side.
A grin was already forming on my lips. I dug into the back, pulled out a pair of scissors, and went to work cutting away Marco’s clothes.
“Get off of me, you stupid bitch,” Marco grunted as I tore his pants away in strips. “Filthy whore.”
“I’ve been called worse,” I said as I cut and ripped away his underwear. I glanced down, and frowned. “Oh, goodness. Your soul might be small, but at least you have a big cock,” I said.
The massive appendage sat like a snake between his legs.
“Yes,” Marco hissed, spit flying from his lips. “I’ll rape you with it, huh? Fuck you until you beg me to stop? Make your asshole bleed? Would you like that, you psycho cunt?”
“I’ll get to that soon,” I said, nodding toward his crotch. “I may save that for last.”
Within minutes, I had him nearly naked, and he continued thrashing around. It was funny how they all did the same thing. Every person I punished always thought they could get away. If only they fought a little harder, then maybe god would somehow give them a little extra fight. A bit more oomph. Pathetic.
“This is not going to be fun for you?” I said, leaning close to Marco’s face. “But it will be for me.”
To start things off on the right foot, I jammed the scissors between the flesh of his index and middle fingers and brought the blades together. Snip. blood pooled between his fingers.
“God damn it,” Marco grunted.
I’d only used the very tip, just enough to slice the skin. The blood beaded up, crimson, wet, and thick. A drop like a perfectly carved and polished ruby. It was sexual in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe. Like the glimmering droplet of precum at the tip of a cock before it slid home. I was hornier than I thought I’d ever been in my life. Desperate for both pain and agony, along with pleasure.
“Take your clothes off, Drake,” I said.
“What?” A hint of confusion in his voice. “I’m not sure that’s?—”
“I said take them off, god damn it,” I repeated, already pulling my own off.
“As you say,” Drake said, kicking away his shoes.
Within minutes, Drake and I stood, naked. Even the gloves and masks had been discarded. From the backpack, I’d retrieved a metal pair of pliers.
Looking Drake in the eyes, I said, “I’m going to break his fingers. I want you to pleasure me while I do.”
A slow smile spread across his lips. “Done.”
“You’re crazy,” Marco said, his head snapping back and forth between the two of us. “You’re out of your fucking mind. Help!” he screeched the last word, looking toward the door.
“None of that,” Drake said, and he picked up his shirt and tied it around Marco’s mouth, cinching it tight, limiting him to only vague grunts rather than shouts for help.
Bending forward, I took Marco’s hand in mine and pinched his right index finger between the jaws of the pliers. Drake kneeled down behind me, clutched my ass, and buried his face in my pussy. My eyes rolled back in pleasure as his tongue slipped inside me.
“Oh god,” I moaned. Marco stared back at me in shocked and confused silence.
As he ate me, Drake brought a hand down, slapping my ass with a loud crack, and I nearly came right then. I clenched my fingers around the handle and yanked upward. Another crack sounded, but this time, it was Marco’s finger.
He jerked and shook, the gag preventing him from screaming, but the sounds that did come out, sounded like the squeals of a pig. The bone of the finger protruded from the skin, more blood oozing out. Drake flicked his tongue across my clit, sending electric tingles all along my back and into my stomach. I pressed my hips back against him as I put the pliers on the next finger, and bent it back, this time going slow instead of fast.
Marco’s eyes were wild as he stared at what I was doing. The middle finger bent further and further, the skin stretching taut and white. His legs thrummed against the bindings. Drake slid a finger into me, and I pushed the final inch. The bone broke in what felt and sounded like two different places. Drake fucked me with his hand while Marco cried out in agony. Tears leaked from his eyes.
I steadied myself, hands on the wingbacks of the chair, as Drake continued using his hands and tongue on me, alternating fucking me with his tongue and fingers. An orgasm was already beginning, boiling up from deep within me, but I wasn’t ready yet. I still had too much to do.
I rose, pulling my ass away from him. Drake looked up and winked at me. I hurried to the bag, while Marco sobbed, staring at his two ruined fingers.
His sobs stopped when he saw the scalpel in my hand as I turned back to him. His eyes locked on the tool, a keen sound of panic issuing from his gagged mouth. Without hesitating, I walked back to him, leaned forward and drew the blade across his collar bone, pressing deep enough that the metal grated against the bone beneath.
For a single moment, the wound was nothing but a steadily widening gash. Then, as though startled by the situation and finally coming to its senses, his body released the torrent of blood that sheeted down his chest. Marco sobbed as I made another cut on the opposite collar bone.
Behind me, Drake’s hands grasped my hips, and a moment later his thick cock slipped into me. He buried himself to his balls, filling me and making me gasp in delight.
“Do you like the show?” I whispered to Marco.
My small breasts jolted back and forth as Drake began to ram himself into me, thrusting over and over. Each time he slid into me, I poked Marco with the scalpel, making tiny slices and cuts in his chest, stomach, arms, none big enough to kill, just enough to elicit a yelp or squeal of pain. It was glorious, the pleasure of Drake fucking me while making this disgusting pig writhe in pain. My mind swirled and thundered with a million thoughts and ideas. As Drake crashed into me, I could feel my mind sliding sideways, deeper into the dark and unspeakable depths that I never knew it held.
Blood coated my fingers and hands, making them slippery. I reached back and rubbed at my clit, using the crimson liquid as lubricant to pleasure myself, steadying myself on the chair with a free hand, the scalpel on the floor forgotten. I stared into Marco’s eyes as Drake fucked me, enjoying the fear and pain I saw in them, hoping his dead wife was watching from above, and approving. A sudden and nightmarish thought occurred to me. Something that would have made me gag or go mad if I’d thought of it a few months ago. Now? The idea brought a thin smile to my lips and made me wet beyond belief.
“Stop,” I moaned, the words coming thick from my overexcited throat.
“What’s wrong?” Drake gasped. “I was almost there.”
I pulled away, a sudden ache as he slipped out of me, like I’d lost something dear to me. Hollow and empty. Turning around, I grasped him in my blood hand and stroked his length, smearing blood along the shaft of his dick.
Looking into Drake’s eyes, I grinned and leaned toward him, still moving my hand up and down his cock.
“Marco never gets to fuck anyone again. Not his wife, not his child bride, no one.”
“Uh huh,” Drake grunted, eyes half lidded with pleasure as I stroked him.
“But… I have an idea for something fun. The last thing he’ll ever see. Do you trust me?”
Drake nodded, leaning forward to kiss me, lifting one hand to pinch my left nipple. The pain jolted through me, drawing a gasp of pleasure from my lips, muffled by the kiss. Bending over, I lifted Drake’s knife from his pile of clothes, and wielded it in front of Marco’s bloodshot eyes.
“Now you see what you get. Understand?” I said, and reached for him.
My left hand wrapped around his cock, still long and thick even though he was injured and terrified. He let out a surprised yelp, as I pulled, stretching the appendage out, and then he screamed as I began sawing through the base. Blood spurted around the blade, and Marco’s screams became wild; even through the gag, he was loud. He slammed his head back and forth, knocking the wingbacks, and continued to jerk and spasm even as the last of his dick came off beneath the blade.
Standing before him, I held the piece of meat up to him, making sure he saw it. His face had gone a sickly pale color, and he shivered with what had to be the initial stages of shock. Blood oozed from the stump where his penis used to be.
“I’ll give the old girl one last ride. What do you say?” I asked.
Marco’s eyes, glazed with pain, stared back at me, almost incomprehensible.
Drake stood beside me, his cock still rock hard and rigid. I looked at him. “Don’t move.”
He let out a gasp of surprise as I shoved a finger into the severed dick, and stretched the hole, the skin and tissue tearing slightly as I did. A moan of surprise accompanied my next move. Using the blood as lubricant, I stretched the piece of flesh around Drake’s own cock. The skin stretched tight and then tore as I slipped the entire thing down. The head of Drake’s dick peaked out from the slit head of Marco’s. Drake stood, staring down, gaping at what I’d done. I’d slid the other man’s severed cock onto his like a penis sleeve.
Without speaking, I started sliding the bloody piece of flesh up and down Drake’s shaft, jerking him off with it. He tilted his head back and moaned as I did. Marco, already near death and in agony, still had enough wits to stare in horrified disgust at what I was doing.
Drake reached behind me, slipping a finger into my pussy as I stroked him. The feel of his finger inside me sent me into a frenzy. I slid the chunk of flesh on his dick twice as fast, the skin tearing even more.
“Dahlia,” Drake groaned. “I’m gonna come.”
Urging him forward by pressing my hand into his back, I jerked him even faster, my fingers sinking into the dead flesh as I stroked. Finally, with a loud moan that almost turned into a scream, Drake orgasmed. I smiled as thick white ropes of fluid shot from his dick, splattering on Marco’s face.
Marco flinched back in disgust, still aware of what was happening. I slid the ruined dick off of Drake and shoved it into Marco’s mouth. His eyes went wide in shock, and I used my index finger to shove it to the back of his throat. Involuntarily, he tried to swallow, and pulled the meat an inch or so down into his windpipe. He jerked, going rigid as he realized he was choking. With the heel of my hand, I pressed his lower jaw up, with my other hand, I dug a thumb into his eyeball, digging at the orb inside the socket. I was overcome with bloodlust, and needed his pain.
The eye popped, sending snot-like viscous fluid across my thumb, his lips turned purple as the oxygen starved body thrashed around, trying to free its throat of the obstruction.
A hard cock slammed into my pussy from behind, I almost screamed in surprise, looking back, only to find Drake, already hard again, gritting his teeth as he slammed his blood-soaked dick into me. Nothing in my life had ever felt so good. I cursed under my breath as he took me.
Wanting to prolong the agony, I yanked Marco’s jaw down and tore the cock from his throat. He gagged and panted, retching as he sucked in a breath, and each breath was punctuated by a scream, the anguish of his ruined eye and missing dick almost enough to drive him mad. Drake fucked me harder, his body slamming into mine. All while I stared into Marco’s face. His cheeks and forehead sheened with sweet blood and Drake’s cum; the fear I saw in his eyes was all I needed. The climax came like a freight train, rocking me to my core, and sending me to my knees shuddering in bliss as wave upon wave of pleasure washed over me.
My body was smeared with every conceivable bodily fluid when I stood and grabbed the scalpel again. Reached a hand toward Marco.
“Please,” he rasped, his voice a raspy whisper. “Please, no.”
“Please this, you fuck,” I hissed at him, lips pulled back to reveal a sneer as I slid the blade across his throat.
His lone remaining eye snapped open, going wide as his blood spurted out across his ruined body. In a second, his head tilted forward, lifeless.
I spat on him and turned to face Drake. He stood, naked and smeared with blood just like I was, a weird smile on his lips.
“That was amazing,” he said, whispering like a lover in the night.
The bloodlust fading, I suddenly felt embarrassed, dropping my eyes. “I, uh, kind of got into it.”
“That’s one fucking way of putting it. You are an astounding creature, Dahlia. I thought I was going to teach you things, but perhaps you have something to teach me instead.”
My cheeks grew warm as I looked up at him. “You think so?”
He nodded slowly and wiped blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. “I do, but now that the fun’s over, we need to hurry. The wife’s dinner reservation started about thirty minutes ago. At best, we have another two hours, at worst, an hour. It depends on how talkative her friends are. Let’s go.”
We quickly shoved the tools, used rope, and cut zip ties back into the backpack then found Marco’s bedroom where we both showered and redressed, moving faster than ever. At the back of my mind, a strange tick-tick-tick kept chiming. The clock was running down. Back in the lounge, Marco looked like the scraps left from a butchered animal. Drake reached into the backpack and pulled four water bottles out. Each was filled with gasoline.
“We cover our tracks with this.” He used a second scalpel to poke a hole in the plastic lid and began to squirt gas all around the room and across Marco’s body.
After that bottle was empty he used a second on the room, and made a trail to the hall. The third was used to soak the carpet leading to the bodyguard’s apartment, and before exiting, Drake poured the remains out all over the wooden table and furniture of the living area.
He went to the small stove set in the kitchen and pulled it back.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Without answering, he found the gas line leading to the stove and tore it from the wall.
He turned and grinned at me. “Making sure.”
The last thing he extracted from the backpack was a road flare. He dragged the cap across the top, lighting the flare and tossing it toward the gasoline-soaked table.
“Run,” he said, and hurried me out the door, closing it behind us.
Even before we were down the stairs, I could hear the roar of the fire behind us. I had time to glance at the dead bodyguard as we rushed toward the gate before the windows of the man’s former room burst out with a whoosh.
Drake and I sprinted out the gate and hurried back to our car, getting in and sitting, watching the flames take over the house. We didn’t pull away until the orange flickers of fire were visible through the tile roof. The inferno was too heavily involved for anyone to have any hope of extinguishing it. We pulled away, and already people were coming out of nearby houses to watch the blaze. In the distance, the strange sound of sirens began to wail and echo.
Drake looked at me from the driver seat and grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry again. It’s only ten. How about it?”
Rolling my window down, I stuck my hand out, feeling the wind twist through my fingers. “I did work up an appetite. I could eat.”