Unlike the women he’d run over, or hit with his car, they were a mess.
But not this one.
The person in charge of the makeup at the mortuary did a damn good job for him.
How?
He liked them with less makeup, and more natural beauty shining through.
That got him harder, faster.
It shouldn’t, but it did.
It was the only thing that got the juices flowing, and while he didn’t know why, he didn’t care.
Let them stop him.
Or try.
“We have a little date. I can’t help but tell you how long I’ve waited to do this. Following you around, and making sure I could take your life without being caught seems to take forever. Now, though, my sweet flower, I have you. You’re mine, and we’re going to be very happy together.”
Slowly, he slid the dress up her body, and cut through the undergarments she wore.
Those, he’d keep for himself.
That was one more thing to collect, and he had quite a few at his place.
It always amused him how much care a family put into picking out things for them when they were literally going to rot and decay.
They were dead, after all.
Nothing more.
It wasn’t like they were wearing that outfit to meet their maker.
They.
Weren’t.
It seemed like a shame to destroy her pretty things, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He had been patient, and now, he needed his prize.
HER.
Moving her legs, he got into position, and he enjoyed her body. She just laid there, but he knew that she would have enjoyed it had she been awake.
Or alive.
After all, he never had complaints.
EVER.
It didn’t take him long to get off, and when he filled her, his guttural moan could be heard over the chirping crickets, the wind in the trees, and the sounds of the night.
It was the best orgasm yet.
It never shocked him that they only got better.
Standing, he tucked himself away, and grabbed the machete that was sitting on the ledge of the grave.
