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Fourteen
Get Some Sleep Because Tomorrow’s Coming
Ihave never given much thought to who I am and where I come from. My legacy. I have always been a bit eccentric, and yes, spoiled, as Dominique asked. Things have always come easily to me, maybe in spite of the so-called Beauchamp curse. It wasn’t mere words when I said I take what I want. I always have, things seem to have always been given freely to me. Granted, I’m not much for extravagance. But, as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve always had an unconscious sense of entitlement, one of position and lineage. To put it simply, I’ve always felt like a self-entitled rich prick who thought way too highly of himself. I felt like I was on top of the world and everything was beneath me. However, I always made an effort to reject that, because the last thing I needed was to be rightfully viewed as the so-called Beauchamp prick that my heritage marked me as.
Sue me, I can’t help who I am. Frankly, I fucking love being me.
It seems lately, however, thoughts and feelings are awakening inside me that seem to come from some place long ago and far away. Like my legacy is waking up and preparing. For something. And just like I feel somehow responsible for the killer targeting Dominique, I feel like me, this house, and her are all connected in some way.
Which might be why when I see her walking up the front steps of the house, she looks like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.
It might be why I want to pin her down on the front steps and fuck her, right there in front of God and everyone and brand the house with her, have her essence seep into the ground and plant her here forever.
Like a goddamn sacrifice.
I scrub a hand down my face, gnash my teeth together hard, and push those dark thoughts from my mind. I’ve always been on the kinky side, but the things I feel for Dominique, the things I want to do to her, the debasement and the darkness, it’s a whole other level of fucked up. I think what might be most disturbing is I can’t shake the thought the killer was here messing with Dominique’s car while I was fucking her inside. Like he knew. Like he was doing what he was doing to spite her, to punish her for giving herself to me. It’s crazy, I know, but it doesn’t change it.
What’s even crazier is I imagine him out there now, hiding somewhere amongst the trees watching us. I’d take her hard and make her scream out in pleasure over and over again imagining his fury because she’s mine and he wants her. I know he wants her; I can feel it. That’s why he was here, that’s why he came for her.
The moon is high in the sky when she stops at the large front double doors and turns to face me. Her face practically glows in the moonlight, like some dark magic princess who came to spell me.
I slowly approach her, my steps soft and measured. My mouth is watering, hungry for her taste, her scent, the feel of her skin, and the sound of her cries. I feel like a fucking animal. I can see her chest rising and falling quickly with her rapid breaths. She must sense my depraved want.
“Ignatius,” she murmurs when I’m standing in front of her at the door.
“Dominique.” Her name is practically a growl on my lips.
“What is it?” Her back is pressed against the panel.
I place my palms on the wall on either side of her head, lean in, and slowly run my nose up the side of her face. “Do you really want to know?” I ask darkly.
The sound of her breath is mixed with the owl calling out somewhere in the distance. “Yes,” she replies as her breasts press into my chest.
I reach down and cup one of the heavy globes and drag a thumb across the pebbled point of her nipple, then grip it tightly between thumb and finger. “I want to make you scream, cheri. I want to hear the music of your cries out here. Then I want to fuck you hard under the moonlight.” I hear her gasp with my perverse desires. “Would you let me do that, Dominique? Out here?” In front of the killer so he knows you belong to me?
We fucked like savage beasts at the back of the house outside. But that was different, that somehow seemed more private. Here, in the front of the house, it feels like we’d be on display. I can’t deny that makes me hard as hell.
Her breaths are coming short and quick, the warm air fanning against the skin of my neck. I pinch her nipple tighter, causing her back to arch into the touch and push her breast into my hand.
“Yes,” her answer comes quick and breathy, “I will. Here and now.”
“Fuck, Dominique.” I kiss her like the beast I am, devouring her mouth as I take her entire breast in my palm and squeeze while cupping her sex with the other. Her body rocks into my touch as I swallow her moans. I tear my mouth from hers, take a few steps back, and stop once I hit the steps. “Strip, Dominique. Let me see your skin shine in under the moon.” My eyes are glued to her mouth as her tongue swipes over her lower lip before she drags it between her teeth. My balls tighten with hunger at the sight. “Take your shirt off. Then touch your breasts like I touch them, bring them to your mouth, then flick your nipples with the tip of your tongue.”
Her mouth opens in shock and her eyes widen. But she doesn’t tell me no.
Slowly she starts at the top, pushing the little white buttons through the holes on her prim and proper crisp white shirt. It’s beautifully ironic how fucking filthy I’m going to make the pristine Detective Chavelle. When she gets the long row of buttons undone down the front of her blouse, she lifts her hands to open her cuffs. When the blouse is hanging open hinting at the luscious tits waiting for my mouth beneath it, I tell her, “The pants first, cheri, then on your knees.”
She pulls her plump lower lip between her teeth again, her eyes locked on mine, and opens her slacks. I bet her panties are wet as she shimmies her cigar pants down her legs. She follows with her underwear, then pushes them to the side with her foot when they’re around her ankles.
She gets down on her knees.
“The blouse.” My voice is a rough timber.
As she slips her shirt from her shoulders and lets it fall to the porch behind her, I undo my belt and open my pants. She watches me watching her as she takes both her breasts in her hands, holding them from underneath, then lifts them to her mouth.
It’s a beautiful fucking sight.
I’ve got my hardness gripped firmly in my hand, tight and hard, hard enough to practically feel my heartbeat in my shaft. Her eyes dip close as her tongue circles the dark discs of her areolae. I want to come all over her face and chest, smother her in my cum, then make her lick it clean.
