Prologue
Mikah
Eighteen years ago
Ican see the news reporters now—the ripped-from-the-headlines television shows.
Which show would capitalize on this mess of a scene to earn millions from viewership?
Law and Order SVUorCriminal Intent?Potentially.
MaybeCriminal MindsorDexter?Yes, definitely Criminal Minds—it would take a profiler’s brain to piece together the fuckery taking place here.
“How can you do this?” she begs with a paltry whimper. Tears and snot mix with her blood, cascading down her face, interrupting my thoughts.
A chorus of snorts from my friends echoes throughout their bedroom.
“I’ll take stupid ass questions you already know the answer to for ten thousand, Alex,” Jackson bellows from his perch, causing another round of mocking.
“You create themonster, and then have the fucking audacity to ask mehowandwhy. Do you even hear yourself right now?” I exclaim, tapping the side of the knife against her cheek. The irony in the timing of her plea feels almost staged.
It wouldn’t be surprising if it were an act. Our whole life has been nothing but a well-scripted movie.
“Why ask questions you already know the answer to?” I hiss, gripping her chin until her smokey gray eyes shut, squinting as she cries out in pain. The wail threatening to burst an eardrum. “Isn’t it far below your station?” I mock, fighting to remain in control.
She sniffles, desperately trying to escape my hold.
Not today, bitch—not ever the fuck again.
Fisting her messy hair, I yank back until I feel the strands ripping from her head as I force her to peer up at me. “The prim and proper Charlotte Gordon,” I tsk. “If only the women at the country club could see you now.”
The sight of her on her knees, begging—pleadingto get up, stirs my dick.
It’s a trained reaction. I try to tell myself, hoping it will temper the disgust I feel for myself. But it’s too late. My stomach churns at the memories of how I was trained to elicit this reaction. Disgust slithers up my spine that I find anything to do with her even remotely arousing. But sure enough, another cry slips from between her swollen lips, and my cock is now standing at attention, fueling my outrage.
Unable to hold back, I release her hair and quickly unbutton my pants. She doesn’t drop her gaze, though. Instead, her hungry eyes look on in anticipation. It should ward me off, but I’m captivated by the full, pouty lips as her tongue glides over them.
Even at death’s door, this woman is gagging for my cock.
I waste no time, positioning my swollen head at her mouth, painting her lips with my precum before she opens and greedily sucks me down.
“Fuckkk… fuckkk,” I groan while my hips move instinctually at the trained pace, and my head falls back at the sound of her slurping me down.
It’s so goddamn good that I forget myself. I can barely make outthe raucous cheers of my friends’ murmurings about who will get to go next.
Too slow… too slow—too fucking slow.
Grabbing the side of her face, triple pace, relishing in knowing the blade of the knife is making shallow cuts to her face.
“You greedy little whore. Look how you take me. Look how I fit perfectly down your throat,” I grumble, matching the cadence of my words to each slam of my hips.
My head falls back when her tongue swirls over the tip as she hollows out her throat to meet each thrust.
“Fucking whore. How dare you be the best head I’ve ever had?” I rage.
My shaft stiffens.I’m so close.I shouldn’t want this—not from her.
Grinding my teeth, I jerk forward with a force that causes her to fall. My dick nearly slips out of her mouth, but like the hungry slut she is, she maneuvers at a speed that allows her to keep her pace.
