The house is modern, a typical family home. But it’s also a mess. There are dirty dishes scattered over the sides and piling high in the sink. Clearly, he’s taking advantage of his wife being gone.
Up the stairs I go, praying with each slight creek that Thomas doesn’t wake before I get to him.
Inside his bedroom his loud snores greet me. He’s sprawled out, wearing plaid pyjamas like a weirdo. Who wants to sleep with something covering them? Naked is the only correct way to be. Preferable with a nude woman pressed up against you.
Damn it.
Now I’m thinking about Emily’s luscious tits and those dark nipples I want to lavish with my tongue and teeth.
I was already hard, just thinking about spilling the man's blood, but now I’m too aroused to concentrate. My cock throbs with need. I reach down, squeezing it tightly, trying to force back the intoxicating thoughts running through me.
Pulling out the syringe from my bag I jab it into his waiting neck. He doesn’t even stir.
Now is the harder part.
I grab his floppy limbs, lifting him onto my shoulders like he’s a sack of potatoes, then I carefully carry him down the stairs.
I drop him down in the hall, not bothering to make the landing smooth.
Outside I reverse my car into the drive, so my boot is as close to his door as possible. None of his neighbours have CCTV which makes this easier.
Dashing back inside I drag his body up into the boot, closing it quietly, then pulling his front door closed with my gloved hand.
Back in the car I start the drive back home, humming under my breath with excitement at the night to come.
Parking in my garage, I wait until the door is firmly shutbefore hauling him onto my back again. Taking my steps down to the basement level I press my handprint to the scanner, waiting for the doors to open into my favourite room.
Charcoal-polished concrete floors mask the stains of blood and ash. Steel panels line the firebrick walls, catching the light and throwing it back in fractured reflections—pain-addled faces staring at themselves. The room is toasty, warm, wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. The faint scent of smoke and metal settles in my lungs and makes me feel at home.
Once Thomas is secured in the chair, limbs bound and head slumped forward, I finally tend to the ache pulsing in my groin.
I unzip myself, cock already hard in my hand, and stroke with purpose.
Emily’s naked form floods my mind—the image of her sprawled out, vulnerable and unguarded, still seared into my brain.Christ.
I close my eyes.
She’s on her back, lips parted, breathless with want. Her nipples are tight, begging for my mouth. I imagine biting down, dragging a cry from her throat as my hands roam her soft, warm flesh.
Her curves are mine to trace, to claim.
My pace quickens, breath catching in my chest. The muscles in my abdomen tighten.
One, two—
I come hard, release spilling across Tom’s slack face, thick ropes streaking his cheeks, his lips. I groan, dizzy with pleasure and power.
My smile twists, wide and wicked.
Now... time to wake him up.
Crossing the room, I grab the small vial of smelling salts from my table and return, wafting the ammonia under his nose. His body jolts. A low, strangled noise crawls out of his throat.
He stirs.
Still half-lost in confusion, he blinks up at me—until his tongue inadvertently brushes across the mess on his lips.
That’s when panic hits.