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“Take my cock out of my pants.” My breath hitches when she closes her eyes and doesn’t move. “Now.”
“Kill me,” she says quietly and I chuckle.
“Oh, sweetheart, you aren’t getting off that easily.” I yank my zipper down, grab her hair to keep her face still, and force my cock into her mouth. She fights me a little and even tries to pull away. I grin at her fight. It’s adorable that she thinks she can win. If she doesn’t want to play nice, I can be a mean motherfucker.
She doesn’t suck my cock. It’s alright, I’m slamming into her mouth so hard, she’s crying her eyes out. Yet, she’s sucking now. “That’s it, you dirty slut. Give me the blow job of your life. Your mommy is over there squirming. I bet she’s jealous I’m fucking her daughter.”
As Amantha gags on my dick, I try to focus on the mother, but I can’t. My mind is swirling, and I’m getting angry that I haven’t cum yet. I hear the gags and my cock throbs. “Harder!” I demand, and the bitch shakes her head. Poor thing didn’t expect to wake up today and have her world completely turned upside down.
“If you don’t suck me harder, I’m going to turn your ass over on this chair and take that tight little pussy.” She sucks hard. So hard, I have to close my eyes and enjoy it for a moment. To reel myself in so I don’t have an orgasm too quickly. I want her to work for my cum, even though I’m angry I haven’t given her my seed yet. Fuck, I hate being this out of control, but it is what it is.
Her head bobs up and down on me, and I hear her mother wailing. I can’t stand it, and it’s distracting me. Pulling my gun out, I put a bullet in her head. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet.”
Amantha pulls away and I slap her. “Did I say stop sucking?”
“But—” I cut her words off as I slide my cock down her throat to the point her nose is scrunched into my body. I don’t let her up for air as I pull back just enough to thrust right back in. She’s choking and I don’t give a fuck. My orgasm is the only thing on my mind as I release into her hot throat.
Once I’m done, I zip my cock up in my pants and look at the woman I just violated. I smirk and wink at her. “You want to come with me? That blow job wasn’t half bad.”
“No.” She pulls her skirt down and turns away.
“So be it.” I grab her head and twist until I hear the crunch of her neck breaking. Images of the car accident flood me and I stumble backwards. Dammit to hell. They won’t stop and I can still hear the metal crunching and screams.
Green eyes float through my head and I fall to my knees. “Fuck!” I slam my hand on the ground and stand up. Norma and the cook are back.
“Should…”
I wave my hand and stand up. “Nope. I’ll have someone clean up.” Without thinking, I put a bullet in them and walk out the door.
Chapter Eight
Kronos: Age Twenty-Nine
“Man,areyousureabout this?” the tattoo artist asks as I sit down in his chair.
“Yes,” I whisper as I lie back and let the man get to work. It’s a small pair of green eyes on my upper left shoulder. The fucking eyes won’t leave me, so why the fuck not put them on my body? It will be a constant reminder that I’m an asshole that killed a mother.
The voice inside my head said I’ve killed over a hundred people this last year. Where’s the tattoo for them? I shut it out as the sting of the needle gets to work.
Three hours later, I walk out and find the nearest bar. Not that I need it. At this point I’m pretty fucking sure I bleed alcohol. I do not find a quiet bar. Nope, I found a heavy bass dance club. Perfect for playing around.
Ten drinks in, I get up and decide to leave. I’ve had enough and I know it. Taking a few steps toward the door, someone pushes onto me, and I keep walking. The dumbass doesn’t let it go. He shoves me.
“What the fuck man?” The big guy looks at me as I straighten up. He may be tall, but I'm taller.
“Dude, let it go,” one of his buddies says.
“Nah man, this guy needs some manners.” The one that’s trying to start some shit says.
“We need to leave him alone. He’s a…” A girl tries to tell them who I am, but I chuckle. Loud enough to keep them from saying anything.
“You really should let me leave.” That’s all I say. No threats. No dropping my name. Nah, I want the fight.
The man to my left tries to hit me, and I grab his hand and twist. His arm breaks and I bring out my gun.
“Now this is how it’s going to go. You are going to let me leave or I’m going to start shooting.”
People scatter but the rage is filling me. Coldness washes over me as someone grabs my shoulder from the back. I chuckle and start letting loose. I don’t care who I hit or who dies. It’s all on. Screams fill the club, drowning out the music.
