Page 84 of Obsession
With my lip trapped between my teeth, I reach down with my free hand to tweak my balls, needing a twinge of pain to finish me off.
Archer’s pained groans blend with the sound of slapping skin and my deep grunts to create a symphony of twisted evil. I let my head fall back between my shoulders and pick up the pace, jacking my dick so hard that the veins bulge on my forearm.
I wish Savannah were here on her knees, with her pretty little mouth open and ready to take my cum.
Rising to my feet, I step up to Archer and smack his face to rouse him. “Did you force her to drink your cum?”
“Yes.” The fight has left him. I’m disappointed. I thought it would take longer to kill his spirit, but here he is, willingly admitting how fucking ugly he is inside.
“We called it ‘Milk the Cow.’”
My hand pauses on my dick as something ugly churns inside me. “You did what?”
“We made a game out of it.” His weak voice barely carries. “I’ve changed, Hammond. I don’t do shit like that anymore, butyou haven’t changed a single bit. You’ll hurt this girl just like you hurt the others. You can’t love a woman without hurting them.”
“Well…” I resume stroking my dick, ignoring the twinge in my chest and the doubts his comments evoke. “Let’s make a game out of it. Let’s see how well you milk cow.” I reach for his mutilated hand and help him stroke it over my cock to the sounds of his agonized cries. “Not very good at gripping, are you? You’re shit at these games.” Dropping his hand, I milk my dick, using his blood as lube.
My balls draw up tight, and the pleasure reaches a breaking point. I grip his hair and release a strangled grunt as I erupt on his face, painting him like a fucking Casanova piece. That’s what he gets for hurting Savannah.
Leaning down, I whisper near his ear, “An eye for an eye.”
Jeans smeared with blood, I tuck my dick away before grabbing his face. I bring the blade to the back of his ear and unleash a sinister, cold smile. “I’m curious to see how much pain you can suffer before you pass out.”
Then I slice it clean off.
36
SAVANNAH
Itry to conceal the slight shake in my hands by switching on the coffee machine and reaching into the cupboard for a clean cup. “Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?”
Detective Chapman offers me a polite smile. “I’m alright, thank you.”
Beside him, Detective Briem declines, too, and I turn back around.
When the coffee is brewed and poured into my cup, I take a seat opposite the detectives. It’s too hot, so I blow on it to give me something to do, unsure where to look. Mark Archer’s decapitated head is stuffed inside my freezer until I figure out what to do with it. Now that there’s a police car permanently parked outside my house, it would look very suspicious if I started burying items in my backyard or beneath my patio. And I can’t toss it in the trash can outside.
Now I just have to sit here as though I have a pole stuck up my ass while trying my damn hardest not to peer over Chapman’s shoulder at the freezer.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“Huh?” I blink, nearly tipping the coffee.
Reaching out, he steadies my hand. “You seem a little off?”
“I’m not sleeping well,” I lie.
Chapman’s warm hand squeezes my wrist reassuringly before he drops it back to the table.
“Have you found him yet?” I ask, though I know the answer.
He shakes his head. “Not yet, but we’re looking everywhere.”
Sipping my coffee, my heart beating erratically, I smile weakly.
“Do you know this man?” Chapman slides a photograph of Archer toward me.
“He was my father’s friend.”
