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But she’s different. We’re different. I expected her to know, somehow, that it was me.
That at that moment, she was safe from death, but perhaps she knows what is to come is so much worse.
That the life she knew has gone, and the life we will have together started this morning when she stepped out in front of my truck.
Music turns on upstairs, and I wonder if it is my brother, but I know Michael, and whichever couple he chose first, should already be dead.
Besides the first scream, there hasn’t been much noise from the second floor, but that’s how we work.
Quickly and quietly at first, and when there is no worry of anyone else overhearing, we can have as much fun as we want.
But the thrill of the kill is the same for me. Quiet fear or loud screams, it all gets my blood flowing.
But tonight is different. I am here for a new reason.
We changed our plans tonight; for me.
I appreciate that. Letting Michael take the lead seems the least I can do. Besides, I am not going home empty-handed. My night isn’t over.
It has just begun.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Charlie
I have barely caught my breath before registering the rest of my body.
My back hunches forward as far as I can with him unwilling to let me go. Not even for my coughing fit.
His strong arm remains latched around my belly, his hand fixed on my hip. His other hand now holds my neck, and my skin blazes everywhere. I feel his body pressed against mine, but I am most aware of the pulsing between my legs and the wetness in my panties.
And I don’t know what caused it; the feel of his obviously large dick pressed into my back or the fact that despite his harsh grip on my neck, his touch is soft and gentle, almost soothing.
What I do know is that I’m fucked either way, and that at the thought of that actually happening, of this huge wall of muscle pushing me over the counter and fucking me until I can’t stand, makes my pussy spasm. My inner walls pulse painfully like I need him to survive.
I shift my hips, squirming against him. I can’t help it. My body reacts on its own.
What the fuck is the matter with me?!
I’m in the middle of what I can only assume is a robbery, and my body reacts in a way that it never has before . . . well, once before.
Thoughts of my actions earlier today and what I let Daniel do to me make my face heat and my body throb harder.
But that was different. Even with Michael in the car, I felt safe and protected.
But this man is a criminal. He broke in and attacked me. Well, he walked in. I did leave the door open, I suppose. And I guess he hasn’t actually attacked me, just restrained me and stopped me from alerting the others.
No, Charlie!
But I don’t get a chance to argue with myself for long before another masked man joins us in the kitchen . . . from the hall leading to the rest of the house.
Like the man behind me, he is dressed in all black except his mask. It’s not the same as the other man’s. This one is white, shaped around his face, with a large red mouth painted on. A black material flows from the edges of the mask to shield his hair.
It’s sinister and creepy.
But it’s not the mask alone that makes my heart stop. It’s the splashes of blood that paint it. His bright and light eyes are a shade of blue that reminds me of something I can’t quite put my finger on. But the saying the eyes are a window to the soul could not be truer than right this second because I can see right into the soul he doesn’t have. He’s excited and in his element.
What the fuck has he done?
