Prologue #2
While I’m watching her, something unexpected happens. It’s not often that I feel one way or the other about anyone in particular, and I’m not saying it’s any different with this girl, but it’s also not the same.
Back on Salem Street, I’d fucked her like it was my job. Not because I liked it. I rarely like anything.
But I did like having my dick inside of her, which made me come quicker than I typically do.
And I’d like to have it in her again, though I’m not sure how that would work out. I’ve never gotten a boner without torturing or killing someone first, and I have no desire to fuck her corpse.
I could conjure memories of my kills, but for some reason, with Fiona, I don’t want to.
Perhaps there are other things I could try.
My eyes rove over her body, searching for something. A feeling it might conjure.
She’s a pretty girl. Beautiful, even. Not that it matters.
There’s a slight stirring in my cock, alerting me to hope. I just have to fan the flame.
“I’d like to lick your cunt.”
Her eyes dart to mine as she slowly chews the processed meat. Apparently, I’m not the only one startled by my suggestion.
She swallows, licks her lips, and says, “Right now?”
“Do you need more food?”
She pushes her plate away, shaking her head from side to side.
I go to my knees as she slides her pants and panties down, casting them aside.
“I’ve never done this before,” I confess. “Will you tell me what you like?”
“I’ve never done this before, either,” she whispers.
I was counting on her being more experienced, but I suppose I’ll have to improvise.
“Spread your legs for me.”
She complies, and I get to see her pink, hairless slit for the first time, because when I was at the brothel, my eyes were on Madam Levy.
I pull her puffy lips apart and look at her anatomy. I don’t watch porn, but I’ve analyzed it when trying to understand my victims, and Fiona’s cunt is easily the prettiest I’ve seen.
After a moment, she shivers, shifting ever so slightly.
“Is something wrong?” she asks.
“No.”
I press my face to her seam and give it a long lick, hole to clit. The sensation makes her body tense, which isn’t particularly arousing for me. Maybe this isn’t the way to go about things.
Still, I continue licking, familiarizing myself with her sex.
At first, she’s nervous, shaking, and stiff, but as I continue, her body softens, and her shakes turn from fearful to aroused.
I’ve never been so close to a pussy before and I’m shocked by how obscenely wet she’s getting, and with the wetness brings the potent, musky odor men go so wild over.
“Oh, God…it feels so good…don’t stop…” Fiona pants, grinding her pussy against my face.
I’d decided to try this in an effort to arouse myself, but it had the unintended consequence of turning her on.
And yes, that is a consequence. She’s not my Kept woman, and I have no desire to make this enjoyable for her.
Still, I continue licking her pussy, swirling my tongue around her clit, sucking it into my mouth.
And just as I’m about to pull away, thinking it a wasted effort, she screams her release, grabbing my hair and bucking wildly against me.
I let her finish, though I don’t know why. It does nothing for me.
When she’s finally done, I pull away, annoyed.
Until I look down and see that my cock is standing at full mast.
I rise to a stand and hold out my hand to her. “I’m going to fuck you now.”
She practically leads me to the bed, which I find amusing. Even if she feels safer with me than she did on Salem Street, she shouldn’t want me. Not like this.
Her red hair is striking against the white bedding, so vibrant, it’s like she’s been photoshopped. I wonder what she was like before the dead rose. Was she in college? Did she have a boyfriend? I doubt she’ll find our coupling as satisfying as it was with past lovers, but I won’t hurt her.
I mount her, taking the missionary position. I’ll have to look at her when we fuck, which I’ve never done before. I enjoy admiring my work as I release, so I take my partners either seated or doggy style.
“Is this position okay for you?” I ask, deciding it would be better if she was comfortable, because her complaining would only distract me.
“Hurry!” she utters, her chest rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm.
Her enthusiasm is…interesting. Something about this turns her on. Back on Salem, she let me take her, but I’d figured it was more of a thank you for the service I’d provided for her. The absolute torture of her tormentor.
Her smooth thighs brush against my waist, urging me to hasten. Am I annoyed by this? Perhaps. I can’t tell.
Her arms lock around my neck, and she pulls me to her. Does she want me to kiss her? I won’t do that.
“Why do you want this?” I ask, confused.
“You’re courteous.”
My brow pinches together.
“Every other man has taken what they wanted from me, often hurting me as they do. You’re…different.”
“You’re different too,” I confess.
“Do you like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you hurry?”
“Why?”
“I’m still horny from what you did to me.”
I line my cock up with her center and surge into her tightness. She gives a small yelp but digs into my ass with her heels.
Nothing about this is at all normal for me. For one, I’m not staring at someone suffering in a corner, but also, my partners have never been enthusiastic. Merely relieved.
Fiona keeps making sounds. Guttural and choking. It’s distracting and I consider clamping my hand over her mouth, but decide to trudge on.
Beneath me, she jerks. Hands claw my shoulders as her sounds turn to mewls. All at once, her cunt constricts, becoming impossibly tight. It takes me a moment to realize she’s releasing.
My balls pull up, and inexplicably, I come too.
It’s never happened like this before.
Fiona’s limbs go limp and fall to the bed.
She’s not like other women. She doesn’t look at me like the others, and she’s seemingly okay with what I’ve done.
Perhaps she does belong in the Keep. I’d have to convince her not to tell them what I’ve done, but fear and hope are great motivators.
But first, there are some scores to settle.
I wash up, retrieve my notebook, and return to the bed.
“Give me the names of the people who’d harmed you.”
“Huh?”
“On Salem Street. I want names.”
“Are you going to kill them, too?” she whispers.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
“Deal. Now I need names.”
“Um, there’s Lady Violet. She beats girls when they don’t comply. Frank runs a club. Sammy drugs girls and sells them to clients. Agatha lies to girls about what’s expected of them. Ellen sells them…young…”
For the better part of an hour, I take notes, asking details like hair and eye color. I have a lot of work ahead of me, but thankfully, I have more than enough time.
She falls asleep as I’m planning, which is good because I don’t need her distracting me. The work I do is flawless, because I care a lot about the details.
Before she wakes, I radio the Keep to tell them I have a woman who needs to be picked up. Caspian says they are a little busy and it might take a few days before they can come.
The thought of being alone with Fiona for several days has me anxious. I try to busy myself as she sleeps, but I’m forever drawn to her.
Watching her sleep is messing with my head, so I put on my gear, grab my sword, and head out to take down a bunch of ragers. Which is highly therapeutic.
Bringing her in doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like I’m claiming her. She can be some other man’s Kept woman because that life isn’t meant for me.
I’m a hunter in search of prey. I’ll never have a happily ever after, and this girl doesn’t change that.
And if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay the hell away.