Page 23 of Wicked Nightmare

Who gives a fuck? What does he want me to say?

I kill people who deserve it. Or something more tame, like, I work at a strip club now? Like, honestly. What the hell does this pedo want from me?

"Lakey, I'm trying here." He implored, leaning forward in his seat. There was this eagerness in his eyes. Almost like if he tried to humanize me, or get me to humanize him, I wouldn't lop his dick off and make him eat it.

I flicked my knife back and forth in my hand, savoring the cool metal against my skin. "What for? You didn't give a fuck about me when that tiny dick of yours was near my body, so why the fuck do you care now?"

He grimaced and leaned back, before his eyes roamed to the missing photo on the mantle. Blood filled my mouth as his pants tented ever so slightly.

I stomped towards him, pointing the knife straight between his eyes. "You get off on that picture? Is that what it is?" My voice rose until I was screaming at him. "You're getting hard right now thinking about a seven-year-old? Right in front of me?"

He opened his mouth. Some excuse. Some explanation. Some rearrangement of words designed to make a grown man's erection over a child's photograph sound like anything other than what it was.

I didn't hear it.

Without thought, my hand found my second knife, and I brought them both up, slashing through his chest, tearing the flesh from his body in a large X. Blood spurted from his wounds as his jaw went slack.

"Wha..." His eyes filled with fear before rolling back.

"Oops." I bit my lip and glanced around the room. I didn't have time to clean this up. Cam was going to be pissed I killed Ed without him here to watch. Dammit. I hadn't lost control like that in years.

But he'd gotten hard. Looking at my photo. The photo of me at seven. The photo he'd stolen from his mother's house and framed on his mantle because he "liked the way I looked in it." And his body had responded to the memory of what he'd done to the girl in that picture, right there in front of the grown-up version of her, with her knives strapped to her thighs and twenty years of rage sitting behind her teeth.

He deserved worse than what I gave him. He deserved days, not seconds. But the seconds were all I had because my body had moved before my brain could build a plan, and now he was dead and I was sitting on a corpse in a living room that smelled like copper and regret.

Not regret for killing him. Regret for doing it too fast.

As if on cue, Cam strode in the door, slamming it shut behind him. "Yeah, he was..."

He stopped talking, his eyes fixated on the dead fuck in the chair and me still sitting on his lap, casually wiping my blades off on his shirt.

"What the fuck, Lakey?"

I put my knives back in their cases and walked towards him. "I'm sorry, okay? He just... he said something, and it triggered my rage, and I didn't really know what I was doing until he was dead. Trust me, I'm upset, too. I wanted to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat, but we can't all get what we want now, can we?"

He sighed and sat on the couch. "I wanted to watch, babe. That's not fair. Plus, what if he was lying? You need to slow down and think sometimes, baby." Running his hands through his hair, he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. "Thankfully... he was telling the truth. Carmen and Will are at 6471."

I caressed his face before grabbing the back of his head and smashing my lips on his. "Thank you." I purred against his mouth.

"Anything for you, Lakes." He traced his fingers down my back. "You wanna go kill Carmen and Billy boy?"

I bit his jaw, the coppery taste of blood and lust filling my mouth. "Nah, I got something better to do right now. Then after that, we need to get some sleep. They'll be there."

He smirked. "What about him?" His eyes roamed to Ed's corpse.

"Eh, fuck it. Leave him there. If he was telling the truth that he doesn't have a relationship with his family, no one will find him for quite some time. By then, the trail will be cold. No one's going to give a fuck about a kiddy diddler anyway."

Chuckling, Cam nuzzled my neck, moving me so I was straddling him. He leaned forward, biting on my bottom lip and pulling it, snagging on where I'd split it open with my teeth.

I hissed, pulling back before pushing forward. I grabbed his bottom lip, biting down hard enough to draw blood. His groan sent a pulse straight between my legs.

He growled, "Fuck Lakey, not fair."

Grinding down on his pants, I moaned at the friction. Not wearing underwear was a good call. "You know what they say, baby. No fair, no fun."

He stood, sliding me off his lap onto the hardwood. I hit the floor hard, the cold wood biting into my bare skin where my shirt had ridden up. Before I could say anything, he was on top of me, tearing off my thigh straps before pulling down my leggings. His hands were rough, impatient, the way they always were when the violence had fed the hunger and now the hunger needed a different kind of release.

"God, angel, you're so wet." He groaned, undoing his pants and letting them fall, his cock hard, precum leaking from the tip. "You're so damn perfect."