Between the Sheets (9781476775807) (40 page)

“Oh, word? What, y'all swingers or something?”

“No, not really. We try not to live our lives defined by labels. We're what you'd call, free-spirited.”

“Oh, aiight. Uninhibited.”

“Yes, exactly.” She swipes a strand of hair from her face. “I wish more people were so.”

I grin. “True. I feel you. So, y'all like to get it in.”

It's a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” She lowers her voice. “Every now and then, we like to let our hair down, while we're on vacation, and express ourselves sexually. We love beautiful people. Men
and
women with hot bodies and…delicious packages.”

Code: We're special kind of freaks.

“Oh, word?”

I feel my dick slowly starting to stir.

The lust in her gaze is starting to awaken the beast.

I want some pussy. Nah, I
need
that shit. Some juicy pussy with a side order of wet mouth and tight neck, followed by a long, wet tongue sliding over this asshole.

I feel my balls starting to heat. “So, y'all tryna fuck,” I boldly say, staring at her peaked nipples. My mouth starts to water.

“We'd definitely love to have you join us back at our villa for a night of
naughty
fun, if you're open to it.”

I eye her, reaching for my dick and slowly stroking it. “You lick ass?”

She licks her lips. “Love it.”

“You think you can handle this dick?”

She stares at it. Admires it. I can see the wheels in her head spinning with fantasies. “My husband is eight inches. What's five more inches? I'd love to
come
trying.”

“Oh, aiight.”

I glance down at my stretching dick, feel it coming alive.

True, I'm missing my wife. But I'm still a man. And I have needs. I have desires. And wants. And right now, my dick's come alive and I'm horny as fuck. And these balls are aching for release. I have six months of nut backed up in me.

A few moments pass between us.

I turn to her once more, inhaling her sweet scent. “Yo, ya man suck dick?”

She stares at me, unblinking. A sly smile slowly eases over her lips.

“Oh, that can definitely be arranged.”

My dick rocks up, hard ‘n' ready. And I take this as a sign.

I glance up at the bright, blue sky and smile, wiping a lone tear that slides down my face. Marika filled my life with so much joy. But, I have to move on. And there seems to be no better time than the present. Between the sheets, lost in the warmth of a tight, wet pussy…and a warm, juicy mouth.

I
F YOU ENJOYED
“B
ETWEEN THE
S
HEETS,” WE INVITE YOU TO ENJOY A TASTE OF

B
Y
C
AIRO

A
VAILABLE NOW FROM
S
TREBOR
B
OOKS

Remorse and guilt don't exist in an empty heart…

I wasn't born a killer.

And I hadn't initially planned on becoming one. I had hoped that if I had to murder anyone, Jasper would be first on my list. Not Felecia. Not my flesh and blood.

But here I am.

In the flesh.

A killer.

A murderer.

Still clutching the gun in my hand, I stare into Felecia's dead face. Her eyes wide and frozen in fear, her curled lashes still wet with tears, what's left of her bloody mouth is gaped open, front teeth cracked and knocked out, smoke still floating out of her lying dick suckers. I feel a surging rush of adrenaline pumping through me, yet I feel
nothing
—for her, for what I have done. I am numb to this, to her current state. Slumped over and lifeless. In a flash, Felecia, along with every mental snapshot—an entire lifetime of memories—of everything we've ever shared, gone. Her last breath snatched by the bitch she tried to do in. Me.

By choice.

I stare at the gun in my bloody hand, then look up toward the ceiling as if expecting the roof to open up at any moment, to only get struck by a bolt of lightning. This bitch betrayed me. She hurt me. She disrespected me. She fucked me over. And she
fucked
my man. Regardless of whether it's over between Jasper and me or not, this bitch fucked him, sucked him, while things with him were good—even if they were only in my own head. And the bitch continued fucking him on the sly—
after
shit between him and me went downhill.

So
I
killed her.

By choice.

Because I wanted her dead! Because she deserved to be dead! Because she ran her mouth and popped shit.

Sadly, I feel not one ounce of sorrow. No regret. No remorse. No guilt. Nothing. And no goddamn tears.

I'll admit. Killing this bitch wasn't my initial intention. No. I planned on confronting her, allowing her the chance to confess, to redeem herself—not that anything that came out of her cum trap was going to change the damage already done. She and I would never be close again. Then I was going to slip out of my heels and beat her ass real good. However, somewhere in the back corners of my mind, I knew it was a slight possibility that I would take it to her skull—not with my fist, with a bullet—if the bitch came at me sideways and crazy.

And she did.

The more she tried to lie and deny her way out of shit, the stronger the urge became. The more reckless she talked, the deeper my conviction became. Then the bitch had the audacity to tell me she was pregnant. The admission of who planted his nut in her became scribbled in the fear shown in her eyes. It was Jasper.

So, for that, I took her life. There was no blackout. There was no lack of judgment. There was no temporary moment of insanity. I didn't just get caught up in the moment. I was clear
and
in my right frame of mind when I reached in back of me and pulled out my 9mm, shoving it down into her motherfucking throat.

And I was fully cognizant of the look in her eyes when I pulled the trigger.

I am
still
very much aware of what I've done.
I've
murdered her.

And the scary thing is—standing here taking in the splattered blood on the walls and the loose teeth knocked out of her big-ass mouth—I know, deep down in the pit of my soul, I am very much certain, I'll have no problem doing it again, if I have to,
when
I have to…
if
I am forced to.

Bitch wanted to be me. Thought she was going to snatch my spot. I'm convinced she wanted me dead. Wished it. Hoped for it. Shit, the bitch admitted she didn't give a fuck. That she didn't care then. And damn sure didn't care now. I'm glad I didn't allow her up to the hospital to hover over my bed, secretly gloating that she'd had a hand in doing me in while I clung to my life, and sanity.

I glance over at the clock: 10:38
P.M
. Then step away from her body. I walk into the bathroom and wash off the blood on the gun and my hands, carefully drying them. Then I wash my face, glancing up from the sink at the reflection staring back at me in the mirror. I don't like what I see.

I don't even know who I see.

The bitch staring back at me has my face, my complexion, my hazel eyes. But she is still a stranger to me. I don't like her.

I don't like me.

But this is who I am.

This is what I've become.

Thanks to Jasper.

Thanks to Felecia.

Thanks to every motherfucker who took his turn at fucking my throat raw.

I flip off the light and walk back out into my office over to my desk and pull out one of the burner phone's Lamar had given me, then place a call. “Who this?”

“Pasha.”

“Oh, what's good? You still need that remodeling work done?”

“Yes. I'm ready for that paint job,” I say, unlocking and opening my office door, then walking into the staff lounge, going over to the counter and pulling out the top drawer. I grab a steak knife, then shut the drawer. “And I need the carpet pulled up and tossed along with all the
dead
weight in the room.”

“Oh, aiight.”

He understands, clearly. She's dead. He's the only person I told about my meeting with her tonight here. The only person who I let know things might get ugly between us. He was the only person I let hear the extent of my rage toward her. And when I told him out of anger that I felt like killing her ass, he said, “Then maybe she should catch it. What she did was some real grimy shit. You didn't deserve that. So, whatever you decide, I'ma ride it out with you. Real shit, ma, I know that's ya fam ‘n' all, but I think you should handle her.”

He said it with no expression, no emotion. Then leaned into my ear and whispered, “I have a professional cleanup crew
in case
… things get bloody. I can get you a piece that won't ever trace back to you. You won't have to do anything except pull the trigger.”

He walked me through it. Told me to make sure to turn off the security cameras just in case I decided to handle her—
permanently
, so no one would see her coming in if anyone were to ever ask to see any footage. Not that they would have reason to. But I needed to be three steps ahead. He told me to be sure to meet with her in my office, where it's soundproofed. Then handle my business.

“Right after you pop her top, hit me up and I'll handle everything else. I
specialize
in these kinds of jobs. Security work is my other gig.” Without him saying more than that, it was evident at that very moment that there was a whole lot more to my armed-security stud. “You wanna rid ya'self of a poisonous snake before it has a chance to strike again, chop off its head.”

The seed had been planted. Her slick mouth sealed her fate.

Hate me? Bitch, please!

There is no room in my life for snitches and snakes. Felecia really thought she'd reap some hefty reward by snaking me. Thought she had snatched her the door prize, along with a quick come-up by backstabbing me. Ha! I showed that bitch. She couldn't have possibly thought she'd get away with it. She almost did.

Almost.

But getting caught happens to the best of us. Eventually she would have to pay her dues. It was only a matter of time. And, tonight, her time had come.

It's over. When I walk out of here tonight, I will go home, grab a bottle of wine, run a bubble bath, then soak away any memory of tonight. Then I am going to pop two sleeping pills and sleep the rest of the night away free from any chance of being plagued with nightmares of what I've done. And, before the crack of dawn, I will wake up with a smile plastered on my face. Catch my flight to Los Angeles to spend the day with my son. Catch the red-eye flight back. Then Tuesday morning, bright and early, I will step up in my salon, facing the day with the same renewed purpose. To shut down
everyone
else who had a hand in hurting me.

And I will go on with my life as if nothing ever happened tonight. As if I hadn't laid eyes on this bitch in almost two weeks. I will pretend she never existed. As if, minutes ago, I'd never pulled the trigger, blowing a hole in the back of her head.

I grab a pair of latex gloves, then the toolbox from under the cabinet and take out a wrench and a pair of pliers, then place the toolbox back in its place.

“Oh, aiight. You still there?”

I walk back into my office. “Yes.” He already knows where to park his trucks. Around the back of the building as we discussed. He knows to enter through the emergency exit door on the side of the building where the staff lounge is. I snap my fingers, suddenly remembering something.
Yes, that's exactly what I need.
A large bag of ice and a cooler. I pull out the key to my storage closet, unlocking it, then taking out what I need. One last piece to finish this bitch off…

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