Indulgence (13 page)

Black hair suited her better than her natural blonde. She
was beautiful in her darkness.

Leaning over, I curled my fingers around her pretty, pale
neck and began to squeeze. She wouldn’t feel a thing. This was as gentle as I
would allow myself to be with a mark. She was getting off easy.

Her body jerked underneath me, an animalistic reflex warning
her of danger. A warning that would go unheeded. I crushed my thumbs into her
throat and felt the life slipping from her, feeding the monster inside me.
Leaning closer into her, I pressed my lips against hers as they started turning
a dull shade of blue.

Vanilla. She smelt like vanilla perfume. Flowers. Beauty.

My cock began to harden, pressing painfully against my jeans
and my entire body tensed. Letting her go, I sat up sharply, hissing through my
teeth.

I never got off on killing. Never. There was one thing that
I knew how to do and that was separating one need from another. Killing never
came into my sexual world and vice versa. Blood never made my cock hard.

Mercy Reid. Mercy
fucking
Reid.

Shoving the gun into the back of my jeans, I hauled her limp
body up and into my arms, unsure of what I was doing or where I was going.

I never hesitated and I never failed.

Not until today. Until I wanted to fuck her as the life bled
from her eyes.

Sick son of a bitch.

Mercy

Alison Crawford was a lot of things.

Alison Crawford was the image of perfection.

Alison Crawford was dead.

I was glad to go away to University. I was glad to get away
from my overbearing parents and fucked up brother, Anthony. The stupid asshole
that kept dragging our family’s name through the mud by getting caught up with
criminals and thugs. He liked to play games, but with the name Crawford behind
him, it made him a target and far from someone to be feared.

Then there was me. I did what I was told and I followed
orders like a good little girl. I let my parents mold me into a perfect image
of themselves and their legacy. That was until my brother got to me and
convinced me that forging my own path was the way to go. They controlled me too
much, he said. I was nothing but a shell. Putty in their hands to be used and
abused. What did
I want
?

I wanted to be an artist. I wanted beauty, life…
color
.

I loved my parents and they loved me, but they never really
saw the person I was underneath. The person who I wanted to be. They just
wanted the best for their only daughter and all that overbearing stuff? It was
just the way
they
were brought up. A kind of conditioning that was
passed through the generations.

I loved my parents, but I wasn’t going to be like them.

Winter break was meant to be my first time home since
leaving for University four years ago. I’d graduated a week before, but had
somehow won a scholarship to do my Master’s Degree in Fine Arts. I was going
back to study, because going home to tell your well-to-do parents that you had
no job lined up after your expensive stint at one of the country’s best
Universities, would go down real well.

I sat on a train, the darkening countryside flashing past
the windows. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I jumped when my phone
buzzed in my coat pocket. Glancing at the screen I saw it was a text from my
mother.
5pm. Don’t be late
. The train would get into the station at four
thirty and it was a ten-minute taxi ride from there to home. I wouldn’t be
late.

There was a cough across the aisle and I glanced up,
catching the eye of the young man who sat there. He threw a newspaper onto the
seat next to him and smiled at me, his blue eyes the first thing I noticed.
Well, apart from the fact that he was pretty hot.

I was looking for a way to piss of my parents and at
twenty-three, I should probably be past that kind of juvenile behavior, but a
little fun never hurt anyone.

The man smiled at me, his lip curling. He was interested.
Good.

He stood, straightening his coat and crossed the aisle to
sit next to me.

“What’s your name?” he asked with a grin.

“Alison,” I replied, shifting in my seat so my knee pressed
against his. “And you are?”

“Damien.” He raked his gaze over my body and smiled,
obviously liking what he saw.

“Where are you getting off?” I asked.

He laughed, his thoughts obviously going to a dirty place.
“The next stop.”

“I was hoping you would say
in me
.”

His brow furrowed for a split second before he licked his
lips. “That sounds even better.”

An announcement blared over the speaker calling the next
stop and I raised my eyebrows. Standing, Damien held out his hand and I grasped
it in my own. He helped me to my feet as the train swayed and I stumbled
against his chest. Arms circled my waist to steady me and I laughed. He was a
head taller than me and had a firm chest and strong hands. I wondered if he had
a cock to match.

I picked up my bag from the seat opposite as the train
pulled into the station. We stepped out onto the dark platform together as other
passengers disembarked, passing us in their haste to get home. Winter was well
underway and would be a tough one this year. Winter sucked the marrow out of
life, what with getting dark at four in the afternoon.

“My car is parked across there.” He pointed to a suave
looking sedan in the corner of the car park.

Nodding, I let him lead me across the asphalt. Okay, so
maybe I was being a little stupid letting a stranger lead me to his car in the
dark. He could take me anywhere and do anything to me, but since I’d struck out
on my own, I’ve lived life a little more on the edge than any sane person would
care for.

Pushing me gently against the car, Damien pressed his body
into mine, forcing my legs apart with his knee. I dropped my bag and fisted my
hands into his jacket, pushing through layers of clothing until I found skin.
Lips crashed into mine as he swiped his tongue into my mouth, kissing me with
as much flair as a wet fish. This was not at all promising, but I was kind of
aroused and it would be better than finding a quiet place to finger myself to
kill time.

“Get in the car,” I said, shoving him off me. “Fuck me in
the back seat.”

“You sure? I don’t live far.”

“I’m sure.”

The indicators flashed as he unlocked the car, popping the
back door open and sliding in. Immediately, he began unzipping his trousers and
pulling out his cock. Getting in beside him, I closed the door and slipped my
hand around his dick, palming him to full erection. He groaned, rolling his
hips upward.

Curling his hand into my hair, he pulled me in for another
kiss, and then tried to force my lips onto his cock.

“I want it in my pussy,” I said. “Maybe I’ll suck you later.
Maybe I’ll suck you when I can taste my cum on you. How does that sound?”

“Fine by me,” he growled.

Shoving me across the middle console, he ripped my jeans and
knickers down to my knees, my bare ass sticking up in the air.

“You’ve got a pretty ass, Alison,” he murmured.

“It would look better with your cock in it,” I replied,
moving back to rub against his erection.

I waited as he rolled on a condom, fisting his balls in his
hands. As he positioned the head of his dick against my pussy I smiled in
satisfaction as he slid inside me, wondering how my mother was coping with me
being late. Having a meltdown probably. Fucking good.

Damien’s balls smacked against my thighs as he thrust home,
burying himself balls deep. He pulled out to the tip, ramming in again and
finally I was getting somewhere.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I purred, feeding his ego. “Fuck me
there.”

He began fucking me hard, his skin slapping against mine,
stroking my clit with one hand, while the other clamped down on my hip. The car
filled with the musky scent of sex, the windows beginning to fog.

I reared back into him, meeting him thrust for thrust and my
orgasm slammed into me hard and fast. Not half bad for a guy who kissed like a
wet fish.

There was a grunt as he came, filling the condom with his
orgasm, his hands caressing my ass cheeks.

“So, can I get your number so we can do this again?” he
asked, pulling out. Shit, the guy didn’t miss a beat lining up his next cheap
fuck.

Falling back onto the seat and yanking my knickers and jeans
back on I smiled up at him. Not bloody likely.

“Nice fuck,” I said, opening the car door and getting out. I
spied a waiting taxi by the entrance to the station like it was a getaway car
waiting to whisk me away from the scene of the crime. “But no thanks.”

I slammed the car door closed, leaving the guy with his
trousers around his ankles and a condom still firmly on his mediocre cock. Nice
fuck, but it didn’t blow my mind. Hell, I’d already forgotten his name.

I opened the back door of the taxi, throwing my bag in
before me. I gave the driver the address, ignoring his raised eyebrow. Crawford
was a name well known in these parts. Money bred gossip and all.

Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out of the taxi and slipped
the guy a twenty, telling him to keep the change. Staring up at the house,
which was an old country manor that had been renovated just after my parents
got married, I saw that all the lights were on. I was an hour late, but that
was neither here nor there.

My footsteps crunched on the gravel drive as I made my way
to the front door, readying myself for the barrage of abuse that would spill
from my mother’s lips. Was that any way to treat your daughter who you hadn’t
seen for four years? Was that any way to conduct a reunion?

Stepping up onto the landing, I instantly noticed that the
front door was ajar, which was strange. Not thinking much of it, I shoved the
door open and my heart stopped. My fingers went numb as my bag slipped from my
grasp, falling to the floor with a thud.

Anthony was slumped against the wall, a hole in his head. A
smear of red trailed down the paintwork behind him, while his lifeless eyes
stared across the hall into the lounge. In front of him was my mother lying
face down in a pool of her own blood.

Sticky, congealed, rancid
blood
.

Stepping forward, my entire body beginning to chill, I saw
my father dead on the lounge room floor, a hole in his head too.

They’d been shot. Bam. Right between the eyes.

The air smelt like copper and smoke. Blood and gore. Death
and destruction.

I wanted color in my life…I wanted beauty.

And all I got was a beautiful corpse.

Later the police told me that if I’d been any earlier, then
I’d be dead too.

A selfish fuck had saved my life.

Whore
.

Mercy

I felt like I was drowning.

Darkness clung to my mind as I struggled to the surface,
trying to drag me down. It would be so much easier to just give in.

It was the best sleep I’d ever had in my life and knowing it
was unnatural, knowing it was X who jabbed me with something, made it all the
worse.

Why was I waking up? Why wasn’t I dead?

That was the stupidest question I'd ever thought in my life.
I was still alive so he could do horrible things to me. I fell for the monster
and now I was caught in his lair. He knew the truth and who knew what was
coming to devour me.

I’d tried to be dark. I’d tried to be like him, like Sykes.
He killed my entire family in cold blood and he had to pay. I wasn’t on good
terms with my parents, and fuck…I hadn’t seen them in four years, but to come
home to a welcome stained red… My family might’ve been a lot of things, but
they didn’t deserve to die like that.

I wanted to put a bullet into Sykes head and see how he
liked it. Bam. Right between the eyes.

The door opened, swinging inwards and colliding with the
wall with a bang. I jerked on the bed, the drug haze wearing off even more. My
arms met resistance so I pulled harder, making something bite into my skin.
Rope… My arms were over my head, tied to the bedposts and I kicked, only to
find my legs were bound as well. I was completely naked and spread-eagled. I
was at his mercy.

X stood in the darkness of the hall, watching me struggle,
watching my naked body writhe in panic as I realized what he’d done and how
hopeless my situation was.

The room was lit in a soft orange glow from a lamp on the
bedside table, the scent of leather and male sweat heavy on the air. It smelt
like X and I suddenly realized where I was being held. He’d taken me home. This
was his apartment. It had to be.

Stepping into the light, X stared down at me, his gaze
traveling over my breasts and down to my most private parts, which were exposed
in front of him. His expression was completely passive and not knowing what was
going through his mind absolutely terrified me. Somehow I knew that this wasn’t
the X that had fucked me over Weiss’ desk. It wasn’t the X that had shown that
rare sliver of tenderness in my bed. It wasn’t the X that had let himself fall
asleep next to me.

This was X the hitman. X the monster.

He was shirtless; all he wore was a pair of jeans and a
manic glint in his eyes. My heart thumped painfully in my chest and I jerked
against my restraints again.

“X,” I gasped. “Please…”

At the sound of my voice, he sprang to life and rounded the
end of the bed, stalking like a predator. I was his prey, stuck in his web. I
knew it was going to hurt. My natural reflexes began to kick in and I pulled
desperately at the rope, like I’d suddenly developed some kind of superhuman
power and break free.

He shoved his jeans off, revealing his erection and I
shivered, not understanding what was happening. Was he going to fuck me to
death? Was this normal for him? Was this how he operated?