AllFreeNovel
Share Us
2
Iremembered the soft glow of the red block numbers on my analog clock.
Five AM. It was when I’d usually wake up, throw on some workout gear, and gun it to the gym. Where I’d stretch, hit the bag until it swung so hard it might hit back, then ease my muscles into a hot shower.
By seven, I’d choke down a quick breakfast somewhere local, order my coffee (black, always black), then scan my files. Looking for a case that piqued my interest. A challenge.
It was seven thirty. And I remembered doing jack shit after staring at the red dashes of the number five as it blinked back at me. Two and a half hours of nothingness—the longest period of time yet.
I didn’t dream. I never dreamed. It was more like whispers of the past would bide their time until I finally lost consciousness. Then they’d worm their way into the dark, unoccupied crevices of my fucked-up brain, the instances where my neurological system would misfire and forget to maintain its usual shield.
By the time the glow of that clock bore into the gray of my irises, those voices had slithered away. Retreated to whateverbullshit rock they crawled out from under just long enough to torment me for a few hours.
The coffee tasted stale and my neck was stiff. I must have gone too hard on the bag in my haze. My bandaged knuckle bolstered that sentiment. This ringing in my ears was new, but it subsided as the buzz of the city streets took over.
I didn’t have my files with me and I could only hope that I hadn’t dropped them on the ride over. Maybe I’d reviewed them and found zip? Fuck if I knew. The pickings had been slim. Too fuckin’ slim for my own good.
I thirsted for the chase, especially after Johnny Boy got away. If I didn’t have something to occupy my time, I went stir crazy. I could already feel my knee bouncing under the table, the pent-up energy clawing at my insides and begging me to let it the fuck out.
Fucking and fighting. They were the only two outlets that fed this innate hunger that festered beneath my surface. And last night I’d left with neither. Something that wasn’t boding well for the growing tension in my muscles. Hitting the bag was about as satisfying as my vibrator. Nothing compared to the real thing. The feel of skin on skin, the release of bodily fluids, the push and pull.
I had to get out of this café, find a target, and spill some blood or cum.Whichit would be was entirely dependent on whoever the fuck I ran into along the way.
There were three things a girl needed to remember in order to give the most unforgettable blow job.
First, you had to grab the base. Think of it like a joystick.
Control the cock, control the man.
Second, always choose the corner of the room with the best vantage point to keep one eye on the door.
To avoid unexpected surprises, of course.
Third, and probably most importantly, never—and I mean never—use your teeth…
Until the last possible moment.
Then bite down like your life depends on it. 'Cause sometimes it would. And I promise you, when he’s flopping around like a gutted bluegill, your name will be the only one to part his lips. That and perhaps a few other choice words…
But you catch my drift.
Un-fucking-forgettable.
And that was how I ended up where I was presently, with that familiar copper taste in my mouth and red coating my teeth.
Sucks for him that tonight the answer was blood. It was dirty work but someone had to do it. Besides, the screaming really did it for me when the cock couldn’t.
Whatever remnants of the man remained in my mouth were easily killed off with a quick swish and spit of 151. While I wasn’t one to waste alcohol, there was a caveat to even my most steadfast rules.
Did I have to go down on the fucker?
Probably not, however, it was a tried-and-true method that had yet to fail me in a crowded room when other options for seclusion weren’t available. And, when done properly, it was a good way to distract your target while giving him a thorough pat-down. Though I could see how the method could be problematic for law enforcement. Good thing I had no interest in wearing a badge. Too many rules and regulations. And, to put it mildly,fuck that.
I’d feel bad for the son of a bitch if it didn’t take more than a quick contacts change and a blonde wig to make myself unrecognizable. I didn’t pity stupid. Envied it sometimes, butyou got what was coming to you when you thought with the shit between your legs instead of the shit between your ears. Believe me, I was case and point. But at least I learned.
My target was doubled over, clutching what was left of his cock in one hand while trying to staunch the bleeding with the other. He was screaming but no one could hear his cries over the beat of the music. This was one of those few instances where a crowd was to my advantage.
I flipped Johnny onto his stomach and drew out the pair of zip ties from my pocket, forcing the bastard’s arms behind his back with one knee securing him in place. Then dragged him through the closest exit, towards the paneled van I left parked in the alley. I made it three steps out the door, Johnny whimpering in front of me, before a familiar voice had me stopping in my tracks.
