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I do what he says with a whimper, gasping when I see a thick vein in the side of Zedd’s neck bulge and throb as he watches me slide my big butt lower in the seat, spreading my legs, then slowly raising the bottom of my sundress to reveal my snow-white panties pressed tight against my wet slit.
“Oh, fuck, that pussy’s mine,” he mutters, his jaw clenching as he rips off his sunglasses and stares at the outline of my waxed slit clearly visible through my drenched panties. “I’ll never have it, but it’s still mine. Fuck, you need to make me come now before I lose control, Princess. I’m this close to claiming that cunt right here in the open, ripping those panties off and taking you hard and deep until the cops pull me off you. But if I start, I won’t stop until I fill you with my seed, pour every drop of my semen into your tight hole until my balls run dry. They’ll have to kill me to get me off you. The cops won’t have the firepower. They’ll have to call the National Guard, Homeland Security, the fucking United Nations. But I’ll fight them all off until I take what’s mine, until I claim my property, until I see you overflowing sticky and white down your thighs, your weeping slit pink and plump from my fat cock. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ohfuck!”
The outpouring of his manically filthy words barely registers before Zedd’s left hand whips away from the armrest and he raises three thick fingers andsmacksthem between my legs, right on my throbbing pussy, doing it twice and then palming my crotch and rubbing the front of my panties rough and hard, thumb grinding into my clit, fingertips pushing my panties into my slit.
I’m about to cry out in shock but suddenly he’s kissing me full on the mouth as I wrench and pull at his cock, feeling it spurt angrily in his pants, coming like a beast being murdered, thrashing like a caged animal as he tongue-fucks my face and ravages my pussy through my panties.
My screams are throttled by Zedd’s hungry mouth as he drives his tongue down my throat, his obsessively deranged words finally hitting me and drawing forth a filthy furious orgasm, the climax charging out of me like a caged mare out the gates, so many years of needing to be touched by him, stroked by him, filled by him,fuckedby him all rushing out in a breathless gush of ecstasy.
Zedd’s still kissing me as my climax thunders through my slumped down body, and I realize my hand around his cock is wet and sticky, like he’s soaked all the way through his underwear and trousers. The scent of his semen is divine, and I smell my own pussy heavy in the air around us. My lips and chin are covered with Zedd’s saliva, my sundress hiked obscenely over my hips, panties pushed into my slit like a big wink, his long rough fingers caressing the sensitive insides of my smooth thighs as he pants into my mouth.
Finally Zedd breaks from the kiss, his breath heavy and warm against my cheek.
I smile dreamily at him, wait for him say something.
“You need to leave,” is what he says. “Immediately. Just go, Amelia. Right fucking now. You need to go before you get hurt. Badly hurt.”
6
ZEDD
The hurt in her eyes cuts me like a blade. But it’s my only move, and it has to be done now, while I’m temporarily sane. The moment after blowing a load is the only time a possessive beast like me can think using logic and common sense, reason and calculation. Ten minutes from now I’m going to get hard again, my balls tightening for another monstrous release.
And after touching that pussy through her panties, I know what my cock wants, what that beast inside me needs, what that creature inside craves.
I thought I could stay in control out here in the open, the danger of being discovered too great to seriously consider fucking her.
But I was wrong.
I can barely recall that gush of word-puke that poured out of me as I came. All the manic-obsessive filth that I mutter when I’m alone fisting my cock like a deranged beast came out like the stream-of-consciousness confession of a madman who’s lost his grip on reality, is sinking into a fantasy that’s putting this sweetheart in danger.
So she needs to go.
And so do I.
This is over ten minutes after it began.
It’s the only way to keep her safe.
She’ll be married in three weeks.
Before the thirteenth of next month.
So when I show up at the Volini estate for next month’s meeting, there’ll be no Amelia Volini sitting on that wicker chair.
There’ll be no Amelia Volini anywhere, in fact.
She’ll be Amelia Romero by then.
And that’s how it should be.
It’s the only way this plays out without destroying her life.
“What do you mean,go?” She’s staring at me, hurt and accusation in those big brown eyes, like I’ve used her to get myself off and now I’m sending her packing. “We just got here, Zedd. We’re just starting to . . . just starting to . . .” She trails off when she sees the cold resolve in my eyes, that dead expression which blocks access to normal human emotion.
It’s the emotional switch I can flip by choice, the mindset shift that allows me to kill without remorse, without the trauma that comes with taking human life.
But somehow the cold wall that protects me from the psychic impact of murder can’t blunt the pain of the confusion I’m causing in Amelia right now.
