Page 55

He was already on top of her, pants shoved down around his thighs, grunting like a pig as he pawed at her body. She lay on her back, the red set barely on. Her bra was yanked out of place, one tit fully exposed, the thong twisted and pulled to the side. Her legs were spread, but her face was blank, detached, eyes half-lidded from the coke and boredom.

She saw me instantly. Her body went completely still.

He didn’t notice a fucking thing.

I crossed the room in two strides. My gloved hand clamped over his mouth as I dragged the knife across his throat in one clean vicious slice ear to ear. The blade bit deep, severing everything. A wet gurgling spray exploded outward, hot arterial blood jetting in thick rhythmic pulses across the bed across her tits, face and open mouth. He made a pathetic choking sound, hands flying up too late, fingers clawing at the gaping wound as blood poured down his neck soaking the sheets crimson.

I shoved his twitching body off her. He hit the mattress with a wet thud still gurgling, legs kicking weakly as the life pumped out of him in bright red fountains.

She stared up at me, her chest heaving, face and body streaked with the man’s blood. It ran down her cheek, dripped from her chin, coated her lips in a glossy red sheen. Her eyes widened in terror.

I leaned in close. “You and I had an agreement, Maggie. No. More. Clients.”

She opened her mouth to answer but I pressed a finger to her lips. “Shh. You did all this to make me jealous?”

I gestured to the dying man. He was still twitching, blood spurting in weaker arcs from the ruined gash in his throat pooling beneath him.

She shook her head slowly.

“Well Maggie the least you could do in his final moments is give him a show.”

Her eyes narrowed at me pure fire and defiance.

“Give him one last lap dance.”

She didn’t move. I drew my gun and aimed it at her forehead.

“I said dance.”

Maggie climbed over to the dying man. She positioned herself above him as his eyes fluttered the last weak gurgles bubbling from his mouth.

“Bend the fuck over. Spread those legs so he and I can both see that slutty little pussy dripping for us.”

She obeyed arching her back deeply and spreading her knees wide. Her pussy lips parted slick and glistening, her tight hole visible as blood from his throat sprayed across her ass and lower back. I reached down grabbed his limp arm and used it to smack her ass hard twice, the wet slap ringing out as her cheeks jiggled and reddened.

I cranked the radio on the nightstand louder letting the heavy bass thump through the room.

“Now straddle him. Ride his lap like you did at the club. Make it good.”

Maggie swung her leg over the corpse and sank down grinding her cunt against his bloody crotch. She started moving slow filthy rolls of her hips sliding her pussy along his softening cock while fresh blood spurted from his throat and coated her stomach. She glared at me as she worked herself against the dead man’s body smearing crimson everywhere.

“Take his hands and put them on your tits. Let him feel you up.”

She narrowed her eyes at me but obeyed lifting his cold heavy arms and pressing his bloody palms to her full heaving breasts. She squeezed his fingers around her soft flesh herself forcing his dead hands to grope her while she kept grinding against him.

I chuckled low. “Bet if most of his blood wasn’t pooling across the bed he’d still be rock hard for that greedy little cunt of yours.”

I drove my knife straight into the soft give of flesh under the man’s belly, right above the groin, and twisted until the textured handle stood upright from his cooling body. The steel sank deep enough that the grip rose clear of the mess pooling around him. Maggie stared at the knife, her breath catching hard in her throat.

“Climb on it and bounce on it like it’s his cock,” I told her.

She froze for a second. “Richie—”

I cocked the gun and leveled it at her face before she could finish. “I will not say it a second time.”

She shifted forward and lowered herself until the thick textured handle pressed between her legs. Her pussy lips parted around the ridged grip as she sank down, taking every inch of the warm blood-slick surface inside her. She started to move, rising and dropping in short, deliberate strokes that forced the textured handle deeper each time, the ridges of the handle stretching her open.

I watched the wet shine of her cunt coating the grip with every bounce, her juices mixing with the blood until the handle glistened and dripped. My free hand cupped the growing erection in my pants and squeezed hard as the sight of her riding my knife pulled another thick pulse of heat through me. Her thighs trembled and her breath turned ragged while she kept bouncing, chasing the friction like she needed it.