*For Matured Audiences Only
I place two pieces of garlic on the chopping board and mince away, relishing the sound of the chef's knife against the wood. I focus on my swift technique, becoming increasingly aware of the blade each time it inches closer to my fingertips.
"'Fue mejor volar pa' no caerme, no, amor, no me duele perderte, ya no estooyy,'" I sing. "'Pero nunca olvidas, hay cosas que se tatúan sin tinta.'"
Kali Uchis' angelic voice coos through the speakers in my living room, echoing the hollows walls of my home. I hum along to "Fue mejor", and belt out her lyrics like a duet.
Once I'm finished with the garlic at hand, swiping its contents onto a dish, I wash the sweet yellow onion in the kitchen sink and begin chopping off its ends.
"'El precio de tu amor lo pagué. Si cuando te perdí me encontré-'"
"NO!" someone screams.
Shit.
I look down at the floorboards as if I can see through the cracks. I hear a coarse cough, a horrific choke, and another muffled cry. I sigh, looking up towards the ceiling to keep the tears in my eyes from falling, attempting not to wipe away the onion sting.
I nod. Perhaps he isn’t too fond of the music. It complements the mood, does it not?
I lay the knife down on the board and walk over to the stereo. I smirk, turning up the volume so he can no longer disrupt my peace. Ms. Kali will keep us humble, if not stable, for the next few minutes. I must give credit where credit is due—as the hostess of this fine party, of course.
I continue my preparations for dinner and begin cooking the meat, getting lost in my playlist, becoming increasingly unbothered by the screams and whimpers he continues to exude. It wasn't long before I pop open a bottle of red wine and pour myself a healthy glass. I take a few sips as I mix in the ingredients with the chicken in the pot, savoring the taste of sweet grapes, with, oh, yes, a floral note.
"Starting early I see," someone says behind me.
I gasp, almost spilling the wine onto the stove. I immediately turn around to see my better-half leaning his hip against the island. I relax, knowing quite well he's been admiring the view for a moment or two.
He nods to the glass in my hand. I raise my eyebrows, "I don’t think there is anything wrong with that."
I take in his appearance; button-up ruined, face rugged, jaw ticked, glasses stained. He's been wiping his fingers with the bathroom towel I just cleaned, rubbing between the crevices of his knuckles to rid the sins from the skin.
I take a quick sip, finding myself blush to the sight of his masculinity, to his heavy breaths and erect arms. I watch his eyes travel to my lips touching the glass. He licks his as if he's been depraved, and stalks over to me in swift strides.
"I mean, it is dinner time, after all," he says hoarsely. I bite my bottom lip when he gently takes the glass from my hand, and brings his full lips to the rim. I watch as he drinks, holding my gaze as he swallows the wine. He then closes his eyes, pleased with the alcohol warming his senses.
"So good," he moans, licking his lips. "So fuckin’ good."
The rattle of the lid catches my attention. I spin around to tend to dinner, mix the contents in the pot, and set the heat to medium. I find myself squeezing my thighs together at the thought of his mouth on mine, hoping he wouldn't notice an immersed pool between my legs. But then I feel his body press up against mine from behind, hearing him roughly gulp down my drink.
He sets the empty glass down and tosses the towel behind him on the counter. He slightly bends down to rest his chin on my shoulder, his mouth grazing against my earlobe. I sigh, letting my head fall back as his fingers glide against the strands of my curls. He then brings them over my shoulder to expose side of my neck.
"What are we having, my love?" he whispers against my skin, his hot breath tantalizing the vein.
"Your favorite," I say. I cover the pot with the lid. He kisses the spot between my neck and shoulder, and then profusely sucks the flesh, his tongue sending waves down below. "But it…,” I gasp. “It needs to boil."
"Does it now?" He licks all the way up to my ear, and nibbles on the lobe. His hands maneuvers down the curves of my hips to my exposed bare thighs, hitching up the edge of my skintight dress. "How long do we have?" He whispers, his fingers caressing up my inner thighs, to the spot between my legs. "10? 30 minutes?" He teases me there, rubbing against the fabric of my thin-laced panties. "Oh, my love. You are so fuckin’ soaked. I love how wet you get for me."
I moan as he increases pressure on my swollen clit, and I reach down to guide him lower, pleading him to slide his thick fingers inside me. Right when he slowly pulls my panties to the side, he quickly spins me around and smashes his lips to mine.
We begin to devour each other then, becoming sloppy and animalistic; moaning, gasping, licking, sucking, biting—drawing blood from the corner of our mouths, tasting copper on our tongues. He grips my waist and tugs me against him. He brings me forward so he can grasp the back of my thighs and wrap my legs around his hips. He sits me on top of the island behind us, and I whimper when his fingers tease the dripping ache between my legs.
I fist his shirt in my hands and do my best not to rip the seams, unbuttoning the blood-soaked fabric, begging him to finger-fuck me as I spread open my legs. He gifts me, deeply plunging his digits inside of me. I call out his name, letting my head fall back to his delicious movements. He looks at me then, in awe; eyes starving, hungry—sinful.
"Such a good girl," he whispers, his teeth scraping and sucking my neck. He roughly jerks down my dress to expose my breast, and ducks to flick his tongue against my peaked nipple.
I suddenly notice the specs of blood on his face, the crimson color on his neck, the smear of flesh on his chest. I suppose I should have gotten used to the image of him by now. I imagine what he was doing to that man in the basement. I've watched him before, watched how playful he his with his victims. He loves the torture; the skill, the power, the colossal mess of it all. It's as if I was watching a master create his art piece in real time.
He comes up to gape at the pleasure stained on my face, and I attempt to lean forward to kiss him, but then he pulls slightly back, teasing me. He smiles when I try once more.
"How…how was it this time?" I ask in attempts to concentrate.
He knows I love to hear the details.
He smiles, intrigued. "Exquisite." He pumps faster, and I curse in approval. "Suffocation didn't work . He was so resistant to my methods. It was delicious."
I picture him wrapping the sheer plastic around the man's head from behind, his mouth agape as his victim fights and struggles to breathe, twitching helplessly in the chair. I picture his muscles flexing when he commits the act; the veins on his arms pulsing as he proceeds to use all his methods murder his prey.
He begins to use his thumb to circle my clit, sweeping his lips against my own, tugging my bottom lip between his teeth.
"What did you do?" I moan.
He smirks, "Oh, baby. I couldn't resist. I had to cut his throat."
He escalates his movements, curving his fingers inside of me.
"Where? Show me where." I plead.
He trails his other hand from my breasts all the way up my soft neck, wrapping his fingers tighly around my throat. "Right fuckin’ here," he says.
I lean my elbows against the counter and place my palm against his, needing him to choke me, to squeeze my throat right where he had carved and severed the neck. But he knows me all too well. He loves when I become aroused by the kill, by rawness of his soul; the edge it brings, the lust and hunger it causes.
He slides his slick fingers out of me and sucks them clean, moaning at the taste of my sweet juices on his tongue.
I whimper and squirm at the emptiness, and he clutches my chin before I can sit up, eyes avid and crazed. "You're so damn sexy. Fuck, you really want to know how much he struggled to breathe? You want to know how much I enjoyed his chokes? Did you wish you could see?"
Before I nod, he abruptly whirls me around and bends me over the counter. With his palm pressed against my lower back, he wastes no time lifting up my dress, ripping my panties down, and spanking me. I gasp at the sudden impact, and he does it again, spreading open my cheeks to gawk at the sight of me, at my wetness. He curses, his tongue lapping up what dripped to my thighs. I beg him to eat me, to spank me, to fuck me; to make me cum all over his cock.
And it wasn't long before he unbuckles his belt and roughly slams himself inside of me. I grip the edges of the marble as he stretches me apart, screaming his name with every torturous stroke, biting my lip until it bleeds. He clenches the strands of my hair in his fist, arching my spine and pulling my back to his chest. He teases and sucks and begins to whisper every dirty detail of his kill in my ear, pounding me harder and harder as I burn for more.
Fuck! It was everything! To envision the blood gushing out his victim's throat, the thick flesh painting beige walls…fuck! Our love is so beautiful. He is so fuckin' beautiful! I can’t take it!
"Please don't fuckin’ stop! Right there! Yes!" I scream. He angles his hips and groans, hitting that spot deep inside me.
"Are you going to cum for me?" He whispers. "Is my good girl going to cum all over this dick?"
I'm about to cry out, to beg him to cum with me, to spill inside of me, but I suddenly see headlights veer into our driveway.
We both still our movements.
Shit. Our guest is too early.
He swears too, quickly slipping himself out of me, and I immediately jump down from the island. I straighten my posture, pull up my panties, and adjust my dress; smoothing out the kinks. He slicks back his ruffled hair while I run my fingers through mine, stuffing the edges of his button-up into his pants. I lick my thumb and have him look at me, wiping off the lipstick stained on his lips and smeared blood on his temple and cheeks. He does the same to the corner of my mouth. I struggle not to chuckle at our distraught selves, and he grins at my reaction, fixing my tangled curls at the ends.
The car door slams shut outside, and he lifts my chin up to meet his eyes. "Remember what we discussed?"
"Yes," I nod. I hike his glasses up on his nose, "I serve her dinner, we chat, have girl talk, laugh, eat, dine; flirt a little. ThenI bring her down to the basement to meet you."
He crookedly smiles. "Good girl. She'll meet her husband's fate soon enough.” He grows stern. “They will not threaten our sanctuary. They can never hurt us again. Hurt you. I'll punish those that do."
My eyes darken at that. The doorbell rings and he continues to hold my gaze. He smirks when he sees it; the ardor and thirst twisted within my bones, the wickedness careening my focus. He places a small curl behind my ear and cups my hot cheek, "Don't worry, love. She will be yours to play with. I promise you that."
I smile as well, "Happy Anniversary, baby."
"Happy Anniversary, my love." He kisses me softly, and walks down to the basement.
The doorbell rings once again, growing impatient. I check on the food still cooking the meat before making my way to the front door. My heels echo on the wooden planks, and I turn the music down so my love can hear us, smiling to the start of "Tasty" by DaniLeigh.
I flatten down my velvet dress once more, and open the front door.
"Hi! I am so sorry about the wait. You caught me off guard. Dinner is not entirely ready," I beam, attempting to act frantic, all-too-innocent. I scan my eyes over her leather pencil skirt and silk silver top, observe her relaxed demeanor and pleasant smile. She shakes off my apology with ease. Good, because the bitch is too early. "Please come in. How was the drive? I hope it wasn't too taxing."
I peer out into the night after letting her in, glimpsing at black empty roads and silent pine trees, the streetlights only seen from across the lake.
"No worries," she says, voice husky yet firm. "Thank you for inviting me! The drive was…interesting. But I made it safe and sound without my husband. That's all that matters. Where is my husband?"
I shut the door and twist the lock.
"He's with mine. They’re still in town," I smile. "So let's have some girl time. Shall we?"
Comments