The slap of skin against skin continues to fill the room, while her eyes are silently pleading to stop this madness and fulfill the stupid fantasy she came here with.
When she gags, I don’t pull back.
When she hopelessly tries to breathe, I don’t move away.
The sound of desperation is the only pleasure she truly provides.
“You wanted to be used,” I growl.
She sobs around my dick, and that’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard today, making my cock twitch. I fuck her until my balls tighten and my stomach clenches. When I am about to finish, I pull out, releasing my cum all over her precious hair, face, and breasts. I want to mark her, like livestock. She is used. Useless now.
Two seconds later, I’m dressed and untying her hands.
“You can untie your own feet,” I say, already halfway to the door. “There’s a mirror in the hallway. Use it to remember where you are.”
Once I get home, I let myself fall onto the couch, and I light my cigarette, the weight of the evening hitting me like a wave of ice-cold water.
Tonight revealed nothing new. It only confirmed what I’d always known: the control I hold over myself is paper thin, and that user26093003 has something to do with it now that it’swearing thinner. I’m still deranged, and because of this little experiment, I could snap without warning.
The smoke curls lazily in the air, layering the room with a fog-like aura.
I’m not proud of what I did. I’m not ashamed either. It’s just the normal outcome of my true nature. A reminder that the lectures, the rules, the restraints—none of it matters when my demons take over.
There is a line I often try to reinforce. A boundary I should never cross unless I want everything to be destroyed around me.
Tonight, I didn’t just approach it. I didn’t just stumble near it.
I danced on it.
I welcomed it, and I couldn’t feel more pleased.
My phone buzzes on the desk, forcing me out of my thoughts. For a fraction of a second, I think—no, hope—it might be her.
But no, it’s just the used cow I just discarded.
Unknown number: Thank you, Professor.
Pathetic.
CHAPTER 7
VICTORIA
This job is taking way longer than it should.
First, he moved the drop-off location, jumping from one continent to another as if he were collecting SkyMiles. Tracking him took long enough. The cost will cover Alex’s mortgage for the next ten years. We finally got him in Seoul, planning to finish the job in a parking building next to the hospital in Dongguk.
And if the jet lag is not enough to infuriate me, the fact that I’m in motherfucking Asia definitely is. Here, the pre-summer is sticky, the people are unnecessarily loud, and everything smells like fish. But I need to deal with it for just one kill.
The entire mission should have been a red flag, starting with the moment when the government asked for the little fucker to be killed onlyafterhe sold the information. Or the fact that the location moved so many times. Or, if that wasn’t enough of a warning sign, when the deal had to happen in fucking South Korea. Why on earth would he choose this location? It beats me. But if I’ve learned one thing, it’s not to bother understanding official missions. Again, Poland.
Everything was perfect according to the plan until it wasn’t. What did the target do?
He flinched.
Mid-transaction. Like some rat sniffing danger, he bolted before the deal even closed. Now I’m chasing a trembling idiot because he couldn’t die like a professional. Not to mention that the walking embarrassment managed to wriggle through a maintenance hatch I didn’t account for because who the hell runs through a maintenance hatch when they are bold enough to sell secret governmental information? Little Daniel, that’s who.
The problem with rats like him? They don’t think long-term. They succumb to the first hole they see and pray it’s not already occupied.