Page 25 of Dead Man's Wish
Bexley is out shopping with Mariana as I write this. They’ve been out since this morning, and she looks so pretty compared to these lowly girls around her. They went to the mall, the one in the city. I’d happily spend all my days following her around and capturing her beauty in the shadows. She doesn’t know I’m here. She doesn’t know how much it turns me on.
They’re in the fourth store for today and the bags she carries weighs her down. She looks so pitiful when she’s exhausted and ready to give up. Mariana is at the counter, ready to check out, and I’m hard at the thought of Bexley going home.
Alone.
All for me.
She made it back to her parents’ house safe enough, even though I lurk along the perimeter’s edged privacy bushes. I couldn’t get any closer without her noticing, so I’m parked by the big oak tree that sits outside her window, waiting. Waiting so patiently for her to walk in. The camera I installed a few months ago gives me a live feed through my phone and uploads the stills right to my cloud storage. It’s perfect for when I’m away from her.
She’s here. Finally. A subconscious routine, she undresses. Watching her in person is better, but through a lens gives me this craving. I’ve taken 15 stills alone of her removing her shirt and skirt. She’s unaware of course, but earlier, in the food court, she dropped one of the bags and when she bent over, her panty-clad pussy was on display.
She knew, though, in her soul that I was there. She showed her pussy just for me. She’s gone again. The memory alone can get me going, but I’m waiting for our next moment.
She’s here again, and I’m on the edge of my seat with my dick fisted. She sees the window is open. She knows—she’s practically inviting me in. She wants me to watch.
The towel is gone. It’s gone and she’s bare—FOR ME. It’s all for me. So many pictures for us. For later. This is my favorite, documenting how she loves to change just for me. I’m so hard, it hurts as I stroke, watching her hands ghost over her breasts and pussy.
SHE FUCKING LEFT AGAIN. She has a shirt now. Shorts. Even the wet spots from her hair across her chest give me nothing because of the dark material. She plays these dangerous games with me, and it worsens my plans for her. I will teach her obedience and to give in to me without hesitation.
I’m done here.
I rectified that sting in my soul. I printed them all, well past a hundred, threw them onto my bed, and looked at how she teased me all day. Despite the slick film, I can almost feel her as I stroke that body in print. Taste her as I drag my tongue across her lithe figure. Her punishment will be rough. Thorough. As I fuck my hand, I think about what will happen if she denies me again.
And as I come on her pretty face,I can’t wait for the day she does.
Twelve
August 4, 2025
Bexley Wells
“Good morning,”Mari greeted when she strolled through the kitchen. She was in her pajamas still but managed to do her hair up and makeup before coming down. “How are you feeling?” She took a seat at the island and grabbed a muffin from the glass case.
“I am feeling too much,” I said honestly. My knife hit the cutting board too hard and the top of my strawberry rolled off the counter. Mari took a bite of the muffin but didn’t comment. “I just want to know who I fucked over in a past life or this one, even, that warrants this type of psycho bullshit.” I stopped abusing the board and scooped my berry bits into a bowl of yogurt.
“I don’t think it runsthatdeep, babe.”
“What other explanation could there be?” I reached for the granola to sprinkle over the top. “Do you know the chances of being the victim of one serial killer, let alone two?”
“I don’t. I’m not a statistician.” She batted her eyes with a smirk and broke through my frustrations.
“I love you; you know that?”
“I do.”
“Thank you for coming over and spending the night in our horror-movie house.” I whipped my spoon through the makeshift breakfast and took a bite. Anxiety rippled through me and almost made my food repulsive.
“One, I got free takeout—thank you, Jaiden. Two, I got to spend the night with my best friend. May I remind you, we lived through a horror-movie house once before and we will survive it again.” She balled up the wrapper and swiped the crumbs into her hand before making her way to the trash can. “Honestly, it’s amateur shit.”
I looked at her, dumbfounded.
“Amateur? Have I showed you the crime scene photos yet?”
“In comparison to Brent Hale? Yes, B. He literally broke into our home and destroyed property. This punk could only muster the faux courage to dump old photos onto your stoop. Brent broke in while Jaiden was in bed beside you, but this new guy won’t dare to enter with Jaiden home.” She crossed her arms and dared me to challenge that statement.
“He did call him beforehand,” I countered, but she didn’t buy it.
“Has Noah confirmed that phone call came from a person of interest?”
