Chapter 14
These so-called big fish aren”t what they used to be. In front of me, tied to an old plastic chair, sits my victim, who is about to lose consciousness. I toss aside the one ear I”d just sliced off his head. Adjusting my blood-soaked gloves, I cradle the cheek of the man in the palm of my hand before delivering a powerful slap across his face.
”Wake up, we”re not done yet,” I say. The man lets out a pathetic, muffled whimper, and his whole body jerks. He opens his eyes and looks at me. The sock in his mouth is already drenched in his own saliva and the blood from the teeth I’ve pulled. ”Well done,” I praise him with a low chuckle. ”We still have a few things to talk about.” I pat his cheek gently this time, but the man flinches at the subtle touch. I squat down in front of him to be at his eye level. ”I”m going to remove your gag, and then you are going to sing for me and give me all the information I want, do you understand?” I raise my eyebrows, and the man nods his head. ”Good, because you know it will increase your chances of getting out of here alive.”
I reach for the sock and pull it out of his mouth. With the gag now gone, the face of the man in front of me changes from fear to disgust, and he purses his lips to spit right in my face. I back off, and my body moves on its own. I stand up and kick the man right in the gut. With a loud, painful scream from the man, the chair he’s tied to falls back with a loud thud onto the concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse.
”You bastard.”
I stalk toward the man, the soles of my leather shoes echoing through the damp air of the old, moldy brick structure. I lift my left foot to press down on the man”s skull. Reaching into my suit pants pocket, I pull out a white handkerchief and wipe my face, gagging at the sight of the now bloodstained, once spotless fabric. Leaning forward to get a better view of the the man at my feet, I shift more of my weight on his head.
”That little stunt is going to cost you your balls,” Using my strength, I pick up the chair with the man tied to it. I reach for the pocket knife tucked away in my suit jacket, and with a quick flick of my wrist, the blade snaps from the handle.
Fueled by anger, I rip open the man”s cheap belt and cut through the fabric of his pants and boxer shorts until he is fully exposed. I scrunch my nose in disgust at the sight of his sorry excuse for a dick. I pity all the poor women he has used his power over and taken advantage of. I get to work, twirling the knife between my fingers before bringing the blade down between his legs. The man screams in pain, rocking back and forth in the chair, causing it to sway from side to side. I groan, annoyed.
”Damn it, stop moving!” I yell at him and ram the knife into his thigh, prompting him to scream again.
It really annoys me that I have to deal with such a whiny baby when I could be having fun with her instead. I”d rather be in that shitty little apartment watching her, but I took the job before the offer for her even came in. I wonder what she is doing. Flicking my wrist, I check the time on my smartwatch, ignoring the text messages from Mrs. Collins and Kyle. It”s ten p.m. There is no notification that the GPS tracker has moved, which means she’s at home. A smile curls at the corners of my mouth at the thought of her waiting for me, even though she”s not waiting in anticipation. I know she”s not thrilled to have me around. But if I”m on the balcony, she knows where I am. She knows I”m waiting and that she”s safe, at least for the time being. My beautiful dove, I will come and get you soon, rest assured. But first I have some things to prepare for our big day.
With a jolt of my hand, I slice through his skin, and the seminal ducts that connect his balls to the rest of his body, and the sack of skin falls to the ground. I push myself up and take a step back to look at my latest work. The man is weeping in pain, and his entire body is quivering as blood gushes from between his legs, forming a pool of crimson liquid at his feet. I don”t think he”ll last much longer, and in his current state, I won”t be able to get any more information from him.
I take a few steps back and draw the pistol from my chest holster. With a quick but steady motion, I shoot the man in the head. The loud explosion of the gunshot bounces off the brick walls. Blood and brain splatter everywhere as the chair collapses backward with another loud thud.
I sigh and slip my pistol back into my holster before turning my attention to my right, where three more men are sitting, tied to the same cheap plastic chairs, gagged and waiting for their turn. I really hope one of them is going to sing. I”m tired and don”t want to waste more time on these people. I want to go back to her.
See her.
Be with her.
Over the past few weeks, the small two-bedroom apartment has become like a second home to me. While getting familiar with everything in the apartment, I also learned a lot about the original tenants. Since I needed to keep myself busy whenever Evelyn went to sleep, I decided to go through their paperwork and hack into the computer they left behind. The couple still hasn”t returned, and from the emails I”ve been monitoring, they”re not coming back anytime soon.
Going straight to the kitchen, I pull open the fridge, which I have stocked with some quick snacks like protein bars and a couple of drinks. I grab one of the fruit bars and a can of cold-brew coffee before heading out to the balcony. With a pop, I crack open the can and place the coffee and my snack on the small patio table. I then pull out the pack of cigarettes from my pants and lift one of the small sticks to my lips. Lighting it with the small black plastic lighter before taking a deep drag on the burning cigarette, holding my breath, closing my eyes, tilting my head back, and enjoying the soothing burning sensation of the smoke in my lungs. With a heavy sigh, I release the remains of the gray smoke. Opening my eyes again, I watch it dance through the air toward the concrete ceiling of the balcony above me.
I”m exhausted. Maybe I should have gone home tonight instead of coming here. It”s been a while since I”ve had a full night”s sleep. It”s my own fault. I don”t have to sit here and watch her, but I want to. I have become addicted to the thrill of watching her. I want to know everything about her, every little detail, even small things like what shower gel she uses, and what brand of coffee she drinks in the morning, absolutely everything.
I tilt my head forward and settle into the plastic chair that creaks under my weight. Reaching for my coffee, I take a sip from the can before turning my attention to the building across the street. The ceiling lights in her apartment are off, but from a distance, I can see that the floor lamp next to her sofa is on, casting a warm glow onto the white fabric. Across from the sofa is her television, and although I can”t see the screen, the flickering blue light illuminating the room tells me it’s on. My heart skips a beat at the possibility that she is still awake. It”s two a.m.; I wouldn”t blame her if she was already asleep.
I put my cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and reach for the binoculars that I”ve left behind. Just as I had hoped, there she is on her sofa, dressed in a cozy oversized shirt, a fuzzy blanket draped over her legs, with a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn. She has her tablet in hand, scrolling through whatever it is she”s looking at while she mindlessly pops one kernel after another into her pretty mouth. I snort when my eyes land on the pistol sitting next to her on the blanket. You don”t need one yet, my dove. But of course, keep it close if it helps you feel more safe, I can”t wait for you to point one at me again.
Time passes and I keep trying to make out what she is reading on her tablet, which seems to be quite interesting given that she hardly ever takes her eyes off the small screen. But she never moves so that the screen is facing me. It’s as if she’s deliberately trying to hide it from me. After what feels like hours, she finally puts down the device and shifts her position on the sofa again to face the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her attention lands on the building I”m in, and the balcony I”m on, to be more specific.
I watch her pick at the skin of her fingers and chew her lower lip in a subtle, agitated manner; the wrinkles on her face give away that she is thinking about something. I wished I could tell her that she doesn’t need to be nervous. She’s safe for tonight.
My eyebrows shoot up as she lets out a long breath and lies down on her back with her lower body facing me, pushing off the blanket to expose her bare legs. My mind goes blank, and I almost choke on my breath as she props her feet up on the sofa and spreads her legs, giving me a perfect view of her red lace underwear. I don”t even have time to catch my breath before her hand slips between her legs, tracing the inside of her thighs before she brings two fingers flat against her cunt and moves them in a slow, circular motion.
My heart flutters at the sight, while a warm throbbing sensation pools between my legs. The wet spot soaking her underwear grows with every circle she draws against herself. I let out a low moan as she lifts her hips off the sofa and pushes her underwear down, revealing her perfect, rosy, glistening cunt. She looks so damn wet. I swallow the lump in my throat as all the memories of our shared night flood my senses: her smell, the way she tasted, and how perfect she felt around my cock. God, not a day goes by that I don”t regret fingering her with my stupid glove on. I want to know what the silky flesh of her insides feels like around my fingers.
My suit pants are rapidly becoming uncomfortably tight. I shift in the creaking plastic chair to make myself comfortable, but it doesn”t work. Biting my lower lip in an effort to stay calm, I watch her fingers circle her now-exposed clit before pushing her folds apart to reveal her opening. I almost drop my binoculars when she lifts her head from the pillow and turns her attention to the windows, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. That little bitch knows I’m watching. Her lips part in a moan while sliding two of her fingers inside herself. The digits sink easily into her, and she throws her head back into the pillow, her hips bucking against her hand. Unable to hear the beautiful sounds coming from her lips, I”m left with nothing more than my memories.
There is no way I can make it through this little show without helping myself. My whole body cries out for relief. With only one hand, I struggle to undo my belt, which is harder than I expected. My chest vibrates as I growl in frustration because I don”t want to take my eyes off her. My lungs deflate with a sigh of relief when my belt comes loose, and with a quick flick, I undo the button of my suit pants, pulling down the fly. I don”t even realize how tight my muscles are until my whole body relaxes back into the uncomfortable plastic chair the moment the tight hold of my suit pants loosens, and my cock gets more room to breathe.
I”m aware of every throb of my cock in my boxers while I watch her pump her fingers inside her, her other hand pushing up the oversized shirt covering her body, cupping one of her breasts in her small hands. Without a single clear and rational thought left, I lift my free hand to my mouth, grab the fabric of my leather glove with my teeth, and pull it off. Pushing the waistband of my boxers down, I free my hard cock and wrap my fingers around the base. Circling the head with my thumb, I scoop up what little pre-cum has come out and smear it down my length. It is far too little to give me a smooth experience, but I have to make it work. I don”t have any lube with me, and I”m certainly not going to waste a second searching the shabby apartment for something that might not even be there.
Stroking myself with great care, it doesn”t take long for me to match her pace, following the exact rhythm of her fingers as they pump inside her. Her lips part in what I can only imagine is the same cry of ecstasy she made when she reached her orgasm with me, and she squeezes her legs together, trapping her own hand between her thighs in the same way she did around mine.
The memory of her orgasm, her muscles contracting around me, flashes through my mind. In response, I tighten my grip on my cock and reach my own orgasm in the palm of my hand. With every throb, my cock pushes out my cum, the sticky fluid squeezing through my fingers. Ignoring the mess I’ve made of myself, I keep my eyes on her. Her body relaxes, her legs drop, and she pulls her hand back before she pushes herself into an upright sitting position. She stands up from the sofa, adjusts her shirt, and walks over to the large windows. She looks at me, a triumphal smile playing on her lips when she winks in my direction.
My lips twitch into a smile. So this show was for me. What a naughty little bird she is, messing with me like this, not even aware of what she”s setting in motion. She turns and disappears into her bathroom, shutting the door behind herself.
With her out of view, I lower my binoculars and throw them back on the table with a loud thud. I look down at myself and sigh when I see the mess I”ve made. Not only my hand, but my pitch-black suit pants are covered in my cum. I grab the clean handkerchief from the breast pocket of my suit jacket, wipe myself clean, and tug myself back into my pants. It irks me that I have to drive home with these obvious stains, but it’s still better than the blood-soaked clothes in the back of my car. Maybe I should start keeping more than one set of spare clothes there from now on...