Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Isla.
A unique name for a woman who gave me such unique feelings.
I moved back toward the bed and stood over her as she slept soundly, completely unaware a predator could take her life before she even opened her eyes. Her face was calm while she slept, despite the fire I’d seen in her eyes earlier when she spun around after bitch-slapping that motherfucker—the same one I’d be taking care of soon enough.
As much as this thrill turned me on, I kept myself in control. I moved to the other side of the bed and slowly lowered myself onto the mattress right beside her. I didn’t touch her at first, but I was close enough to feel the heat of her body and smell her intoxicating aroma even more potently.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in her scent until it filled my lungs.
I moved closer, and the motion of the bed shifting caused her to stir slightly in her sleep. I couldn’t define why she—at this moment—felt different. And I hated it. I hated that she had this power over me… that she made me feel anything at all. But I loved it as well.
I lay beside her, listening to the rhythm of her breathing and watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. She stirred and rolled onto her back. The sheets slipped down to just barely covering her breasts. She was topless, her tits perky and nipples rock hard, tenting the soft material.
I didn’t stop myself as I gently cupped a mound and ran my thumb over the peak, watching in dark arousal as it hardened further. My cock throbbed incessantly, and while I cupped her perfect tit with one hand and thumbed her nipple, I used my other hand to grab my thick cock through my jeans.
Rubbing myself wasn’t enough, so I popped the button on my jeans and pulled the zipper down, slowly and quietly. Her sleep was deep, and I felt adrenaline move through me as I pulled my dick free and started jerking off.
I let go of her breast, grabbed the edge of the sheet, and pulled it downward until I could see her luscious tits. She hummed softly, and I stilled, watching her face to see if she’d wake up. Her breathing was still even, so I started jerking off again as I cupped her bare breasts.
God, she looked good, unaware I was touching her and masturbating right next to her. Before I woke her up, I slipped out of the bed, cock still in hand, and moved around the mattress so I could jerk off right over her.
While staring at her tits and pert nipples, I ran my palm up and down my shaft, feeling my balls draw up tight as my orgasm rose to the surface. My breathing hitched for a moment before I controlled it and held in my groan as my climax claimed me, and I ejaculated.
I angled my cock at her tits and let my orgasm paint her in milky jets. Thick white ropes shot out of my cock slit and covered the mounds. And God, she was so perfect, because she slept on while I defiled her.
I shook my shaft, making sure all the cum dripped out of the crown, and tucked myself back in. And then I stood there and just admired how good she looked, painted up like my whore.
With one last glance at her face, I turned and left. But I knew this wasn’t the end. I’d be back. I’d be stalking her until the moment was right and I figured out if I was taking her life, or making her mine.
I now knew killing her would give me the most intense high I’d ever experienced.
I wanted her to be my ultimate prey.
And this was an obsession I couldn’t control.
5
ROMAN
After I left her place, I had one thing on my mind.
To stalk and devour.
The hunt had been going on for two days now. I was prolonging this, playing with my prey, even if the fucker didn’t know it.
In between hunting the asshole who touched her, I visited the diner nightly, hoping to see her again and get that shot of feeling high. But I hadn’t seen her and had to assume her bitch-slapping that motherfucker had gotten her fired.
I had my hand in my jacket pocket, running my fingers along the smooth surface of her ID.
Her name was Isla Campbell. She was five-foot seven, weighed one-hundred and thirty pounds, had shoulder-length black hair, and hazel-colored eyes. She was also an organ donor, but if I decided to take her life—that she’d be my greatest kill—her organs would be useless to anyone.
But regardless of what I had planned for her, Isla fascinated me. The way she moved, the way she smiled to navigate the world. But I could see the truth of her strength and a hint of misery in the hazel depths of her eyes.