Chapter Sixteen
Artemis
Susie looks so broken. A sad, little thing with a bloody knife in her hand. I can’t tell if that’s fear in her eyes or madness. I’m not sure if I should let her in when she’s tried so hard to lock me out.
Half of me wants to let her in because I know how desperately she needs a friend right now, but the other half of me wants to close the door because I know how desperately Idon’tneed a friend right now.
“What do you want?” I ask tightly.
“I need your help,” she mumbles again, tears starting to stream down her pretty, confused face.
I roll my eyes, but hold my ground. I’m not going to feel sorry for her anymore. I can’t. This is the same woman who’s pussy I tasted after Mark forced me to “suck him clean” as he stated, and it wasn’t exactly earth shattering. Not that I would normally mind, but none of it happened because either of us wanted it to.
Susie leans her head against the door and lets the knife clatter onto the floor and I wonder just how much of an amateur she’s been all her life. I’ve personally never killed anyone before, but I sure as fuck wouldn’t go lobbing the evidence around.
Wait.
“Susie? Where’s Mark?” I ask, with a cold, hard reality setting in.
“What?” she replies, her eyes becoming distant and hazy.
“Where’s Mark?” I ask again in a stern tone.
“Oh. He’s inside.”
I raise an eyebrow curiously at her and open the door slightly wider than it already is to retrieve the knife when I see something long, fleshy, and coated in blood in her left hand.
I swallow hard as I reach for the knife, my eyes on the trophy she’s holding, telling myself that there’s no way in fucking hell that she actually has it in her to do something like that.
I stand back up, the evidence firmly in my hand, and step behind the door leaving just a crack between us.
“What the fuck are you holding?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I feel sick; the look of confusion on her face as she brings it up to get a better look at it, almost as if she’s forgotten what she’s been holding this entire time, makes me wonder what level of crazy this bitch really is.
“Nothing,” she says dropping the freshly severed cock onto the floor. I can tell that in her daze she doesn’t realize what she’s done. I also realize that I don’t know if he’s dead for sure, and I won’t fucking know until I go look.
Instinctively, I reach down and snatch the warm, bloodied phallus off the floor and yank her into my apartment. The only reasonable thing to do is make her wait here while I go check on him and make sure that, a: he’s still breathing, and b: that perhaps by some miracle, this is a super realistic dildo that somehow managed to find its way into the cherry pie.
“Just wait here and don’t fucking touch anything,” I say to her, holding up the cock.Hm. I wonder.I shake it at her a couple of times, but she’s still too far gone to appreciate the humor in what I’m trying to do, and I’m trying to become as far removed from the seriousness at hand to wonder if I should leave it with her.
Maybe I can sew it back on.
Oh God.
It’s real, isn’t it?
Fuck.
I lock Susie into the apartment when I leave. Or maybe I’m locking myselfout.Regardless, as long as I can put some distance between me and her psychotic break, I’m okay with whatever happens next.
The door to her apartment is slightly ajar, and I can see the drops of blood that lead the way out now beckoning me back in.Why did I bring the dick? I should have brought the knife instead.
“Mark?” I call out timidly. “Are you okay?”
There’s no response. The silence, something I’m used to and love so much when I have my moments of solitude, is actually depressing me right now. There’s always silence before it’s over, but I never thought there would be two this time instead of just one.
While I would love nothing more than to blame this entire fiasco on Mark and his testosterone, I can’t help but find the fault in myself. I should have just let him come to my apartment and fuck me for some coffee water and left Susie Q out of it, but she forced her way into the situation, and we both just followed her lead.
I wonder if there will be a next time with Mark. Not in the sense of feeling his long, thick cock filling me against my will, but if there will ever be another chance to banter with him. I would kill to hear him ask me if he could slide his fingers into my ass right now, when normally that would turn my stomach. At least that was the facade I would put on for him, because he likes when I play hard to get.
