Chapter 2 #2
The traffickers are always looking for their next pretty young victims. I worry about that for my pet. She may encounter some horrible people, and I would go insane if something happened to her. The outcome for trafficked girls usually never ends well.
My specialty is dealing with some of the most vile criminals all over the world. Although I am a very violent man, I am not out to harm my girl.
I just want to play with her, you know, like a cat plays with a mouse before the kill. Of course, I have no intention of murdering this little beauty. I plan to keep her as my pet. My little plaything, at my disposal 24/7. God, I was getting all worked up just thinking about it.
Yara accompanies me on many of the missions. She is as lethal as I am. She is one crazy bitch, who also is gorgeous. Her looks make her a great target for the traffickers.
She’s about five-foot-nine, with legs that go on forever. She is lithe and built of lean muscle.
Her tits aren’t big, but they are in proportion with her slim build. She wears her blonde hair in a short bob, which looks fantastic and brings out the blue in her eyes. She goes undercover as bait if we have difficulty finding our mark.
Whether collaborating with traffickers or botanists, men are men, and most find her irresistible. They fall into the trap every time. She lures them in, and I kill them. It's that easy. We’re like a dream team.
I hired Yara to work beside me with the CIA's blessing. She knows we work for the government, but that’s about it. I am her boss, and she follows my orders. Although she is stunning, she isn’t close to my type.
I like dark hair, big tits, and women that aren’t too muscular. Yara and I spend much of our time jumping globally, chasing one assignment after another.
I love the adrenaline rush I get from the excitement, plus it feeds my need for violence. I focused my attention back on the cameras in Kits' parlor. She was waiting for someone.
I couldn't see the texts, but her Academy Award-winning scream fest directed my way told me someone was going to visit her, and if it was a man, I would not be happy about it. I observe her closely on the camera. She’s about a foot shorter than I am.
I am six feet six inches and full of muscle. I am heavily inked on my arms, chest, and back. I keep my black hair short with light sideburns. I have a neatly trimmed goatee.
I like to keep my face clean. If I don't shave for a day or two, I'll grow a little stubble on my cheeks, but it immediately comes off. Some women find me scary, but most find me to be the bad boy of their fantasies.
If I fucked half of them, they'd be mentally scarred for life. Yara says I am vain and narcissistic, and I could not agree more. I don't apologize for my way of life. Killing people for a living does not bother me. Life in general made me uncaring and unsympathetic to others.
My conscience and empathy for humans were destroyed in my younger years. My brothers, Zach and Joey, are the only two people I care about. I watch my obsession walk to the fridge in her shorts and tee shirt. Her long dark hair is pulled off her neck in a messy bun.
She is adorable. I wonder if she can manage me when I finally take her. I won’t know until I begin her training.
What I do know is she’s a fucking flirt, and it makes my blood boil. I often witnessed it when I watched her dancing and laughing with those gutter rats.
None of them can compare to me. All of that will end soon. I am going to worship that body. I want to bite her all over, claiming my territory.
My goddamn dick is moving around again. This happens every time I think about her. My ears perk up when I hear a knock at her door. She heads back to the parlor and lets some scruffy-looking kid in.
I hope it’s the pizza delivery boy, but I know it isn't. I can feel myself getting angry. This chump looks like a fucking sissy. He is tall and lanky, with blondish hair. He has little to no muscle. Fuck, if he is there to crawl into her pussy, she needs to rethink her choices.
I’ve been keeping myself in check these past few weeks. I would hate to go out there and split the kid’s face open with a goddamn backhander, but if I must, I will.
I listen intently to their conversation. I can feel my nostrils flaring and my anger building as this scumbag hones in on my fucking property.
Kitlyn
I opened the door to let John in. He looked like an unkempt college dude, with his black T-shirt and baggy jeans hanging off his waist.
Now that I'm staring at him, I notice how thin he is. He is wearing black loafers on his oversized feet—boat shoes. He looks so preppy and boyish that I almost laugh.
He really is not my type. His blonde hair is messy, framing his face. He isn't a bad-looking guy, but he’s not someone I’d be interested in long-term.
I have a weakness for bad boys with tattoos. There’s something about a bad boy that makes me wet. I know those types of men have an awful reputation, but I can't help what I’m attracted to.
I sometimes fantasize about being taken against my will and forced to do dirty things when I masturbate. I've never encountered a man who even comes close to that description, including the guy standing in front of me.
I greet John, smiling.
"Hey, hey. Please step into my humble abode, sir."
I swept my arm towards the parlor, looking around outside quickly before shutting the door. I make sure to lock it just in case my lunatic stalker is out there watching me.
John takes a seat on the couch, making himself at home. Tuna hightailed it out of there as soon as the bell rang. He isn't a very social cat. Anytime anyone other than myself or Becca enters the room, he bolts. John grins at me.
"So, what are you doing home alone tonight, Kit?"
My shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug. "I just feel like relaxing. I am not in the mood to go out; plus, I have to get up early to finish my design for a perfume ad."
I love the freedom that being a graphic designer gives me. I usually work from home and can make my own schedule.
I grinned in his direction.
"I wasn't up for company, but I took pity on you when you texted."
He laughed; a slight dimple indentation marked his cheek. "Well, I am glad you took pity on me. I like hanging out with you. Hint, hint." He smiled and winked.
I lift a brow, a little concerned.
"You know we are only chilling out. No sex tonight."
He shifts in his seat, clearly looking uncomfortable.
"Yes, I know that's what you said. I am happy to watch the movie with you, but I am always game if you want to have some fun."
I just laughed, shaking my head.
"No fun tonight, John. I am not in the mood for anything like that. I want to watch a movie and relax."
He sighed, frowning, showing his annoyance. It pisses me off, but I say nothing. I grab the remote and start the show. My popcorn isn’t hot anymore, but I scoop a handful and start munching, anyway. I offered him the bag. " You want some of this gourmet delight?"
He shook his head, looking bored and aggravated.
"Why the mood?"
I ask in between munching on my cold, salty snack. His eyes narrow as he rubs his leg.
"I know you said you just wanted to hang out, but I hoped to change your mind once I arrived. I could use a good fuck tonight, Kit Kat. What do you say?"
My mouth hung open at the crudeness of his words.
This isn't like John, or is it?
Usually, we always meet up and only screw. We never hang out together afterward. Now that I think of it, this has always been the basis of our relationship. I gave him a dirty look but kept my cool.
"Listen, John. I invited you over to watch a movie with me and nothing else. I made that clear when I texted you. You are not getting laid tonight, so if that is an issue, I must ask you to leave." His face scrunched up, and his cheeks turned red. I can see his fists clenched in his lap.
WTF! Is this guy going to try and rape me?
The thought makes my heart thud loudly in my chest. I feel the sweat pooling under my neck. My skin is cold and clammy even though it is summer.
Keep your cool, Kit; you don't want him going crazy.
"You know, Kitlyn," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You're a fucking cocktease. I always give in to you when you call me to get laid, but now that I need it, the answer is no. That really pisses me off!"
Before I could react, he reached out and grabbed the back of my head, forcefully pulling me towards him. He pressed his mouth to my lips, stabbing at me with his gross, dry tongue. We only kissed once, and it was barely for two seconds the first time we had sex. I didn't enjoy it at all.
I found it too personal, and it disgusted me. I brought my hand up to his chest, trying to push him away. He pulled back, laughing in my face. I have never seen this side of him.
Oh my god! Is he my stalker??
The thought sobered me as if I were being immersed in a tub of ice-cold water, making my insides knot up. Panicking, I pushed him harder. Even though he was thin, he was still stronger than me.
He pulled me toward him more forcefully, squeezing my head tighter. With as much strength as I could muster, I held him off with one arm while I felt around under the cushion to reach for my gun with the other.
It’s now or never, so I pushed him with all my might, using most of my body weight. He fell back against the arm of the couch just long enough for me to remove the weapon. I lift it and point it at him. My eyes were ablaze with anger. I could feel the heat warming my cheeks as I yelled.
" You motherfucker. Stand up now!"
He wasn’t laughing anymore. He raised his hands in surrender and stood up slowly. I would do the same if I were staring down the barrel of a 38. He swallowed hard while keeping his eyes focused on mine.
"Whoa, Kit. Look, I’m sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please don't shoot."
He kept his hands in the air while talking to me as calmly as possible. The color drained from his face. "Kitlyn, I won't do anything to you. I swear to God."
I yelled at him....totally pissed off.
" You bet your ass you're not going to do anything, motherfucker. So help me; I will blow your brains out all over this floor if you try!"
He kept his hands in the air, trying to talk me into letting him go. "I just want to go home, and we can forget this happened. What do you say, Kit?”
I jumped off the couch, holding the gun level to his head. I spat the words out like they were poison on my tongue.
"Fuck you, asshole. Grab your cell out of your pocket and dial 911." He looked at me as if he just saw a ghost.
"Kit, please-" I cut him off before he could finish.
"I said call 911 and put it on speaker. You are going to jail, buddy. I think you're the one who's been stalking me these past few months. It is you, isn't it?"
He looked confused, shaking his head.
"What the hell are you talking about? I lost control tonight, but I am not a stalker."
I kept the gun aimed at him while my heart continued to pound in my chest. I can feel my nerves playing ping-pong in my stomach as I hold the weapon. My hands were a little shaky, but not enough for him to notice.
" I said, call 911. NOW!!!"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He looked like he was going to shit his pants.
"OK...OK...Calm down." His hands were shaking as he dialed the number. The operator picked up.
"911, what’s your emergency?"
I held the weapon in a firm grip, although I was still nervous as hell. I hollered into the speaker.
"Please send someone as fast as you can. I am holding this creep at gunpoint. I want him removed from my home, and I want to press charges on him for attempted sexual assault."
The operator kept me on the phone, soothing me with her calm voice. She controlled the situation, so I didn’t lose it and splatter John’s brains all over my floor.
His pallor turned chalky white as he realized how dire the situation was for him. His hands shook, and he kept licking his lips. I felt no pity for him. I never wanted to see this man again as long as I lived.
After I gave the operator all the necessary information, she stayed on the phone with me until the police arrived about twenty minutes later.
The sooner they get him out of here, the better. I scared myself because if I had killed him, I wouldn’t have felt any remorse at all.
Does that make me a psycho?
The thought frightened me.