Page 20 of Wicked Nightmare

My other half. The match to my flame. The only good left in me.

He increased his pace, his cock pistoning in and out of me while his hand found its mark, rubbing my clit hard. His free hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing until I was breathing in small pants. My head started to float and black splotches clouded my vision just as a wave of pleasure tore through my body, forcing me to collapse forward onto the couch. He released my neck and grabbed my hips, driving himself home before dumping his cum deep inside me.

His cock twitched as his balls emptied. I loved the sensation of pieces of him staying inside me, living inside my body. I wanted to plug my pussy and keep it there, but instead he slowly pulled out, a wet pop sounding as he slid free.

"Such a good girl. You're all mine, Lakey. Every curve, every fear, every part of you. It's all mine." Cam said, his voice rough as he tucked his softening cock back into his pants and zipped up his jeans.

He scooped me into his arms, assessing my neck. "You'll have some bruises. Sorry baby."

"Mmm, I don't mind. My personal necklace, and handmade by you. It's the best gift I could ask for. Aside from more of those orgasms, and of course my early birthday present. Hard to top a personalized hit list."

"Yeah, you're right. Fuck, you're so sexy. I love you, baby girl."

I leaned up, kissing his lips gently. "I love you too."

He set me down and stood before grabbing our empty wine glasses, placing them in the sink before washing his hands. "I need a smoke. Coming?"

"Yeah, I just need to get changed," she said. “Thought you wanted to plan these kills.”

"Yeah, changed my mind, but Lakey… remember the deal?"

"You really want me to kill someone with my tits out? Really Cam?"

"Yeah, you right. You can put a shirt on, but the underwear stays off, just change into leggings or whatever the fuck those things are called. Tights. I dunno. I just wanna see you all wet." He grabbed his pack of smokes.

"You're a sick fuck, you know that right?" I smiled, forcing my legs to move towards the bedroom to grab some proper killing clothes.

"Yeah, but I'm your sick fuck."

Chapter Seven: Cam

Once we were on our bikes, we were cruisin' towards Oakland. Lakey was in her element. Her beautiful, long hair flowing behind her as she revved, that sexy ass leaving me in the dust. She was one with her machine and so damn distracting that I’d slowed down while she sped up.

Lakey was waiting for me at the stop sign. She always looked so damn good in those black tights, her long, muscled legs propped up on the bike, her hand resting idly in her lap. She revved the engine once, that sick grin splitting her face. "What, you miss me already?" I teased as I pulled up beside her.

She pouted playfully before raising her middle finger at me. "Fuck off," she quipped. "We're close." She pointed down to the right and moved her finger in a 90-degree angle.

"So... down this road and then left?"

Nodding, she tore off, only slowing when she had to turn left. Goddamn, you'd think she would slow the fuck down considering we didn't need to alert the Almines to our presence, but then, Lakey wasn't really the best at thinking ahead. She had a thought and acted on it. It's what I loved about her. Well, one of the things, but it's also what made her so dangerous.

She parked and was examining her phone before looking back at the piece of paper clutched in her hand. Then she looked through the window at the house where the Almines supposedly lived with their foster kid. Letting out a small growl, she threw her hands up in frustration, accidentally letting go of her phone in the process. It smashed to the pavement with a loud clack.

"Hey, hey, what's up, buttercup? Something wrong?" I got off my bike and grabbed her phone. Shit. The screen's cracked. The map came into view before the phone descended into darkness. Well, that's shot.

"Yes, Cameron. Something is wrong. Look in the window."

I followed where she was pointing and saw someone who was definitely not John L. Almine. Or his wife, Janine. Fucking Skeeter. Gave us the wrong address. Tsk tsk. He was gonna pay for that. "Shit."

She screamed in frustration and hopped on her bike, but before she started the engine, I grabbed her hand. "Baby, it's okay. Edward Jones is near our place, okay? We will just switch targets, and I'll figure this out with Skeeter."

"No, Cameron." She replied. "I will figure this out with Skeeter."

I knew what that meant, but hey, I didn't blame her. Skeeter left unscathed the first time and now he'd done my woman wrong. He was going to pay, one way or the other. Might as well let my little harbinger of death have her shot, play ball with his balls, if you get what I mean.

"Sure, baby girl. You can have Skeeter. But what do you say we go hit up ole Eddy boy? He did quite the number on you if I remember correctly. I have a few... words, I'd like to have with him."

A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her face as she put her helmet on and revved the engine. "Well, if you put it that way," she purred. "I'd love to play with Eddy."