Knocked Up by the Killer Read online

  “Are you okay?” she asked as I joined her on the stoop.

  She leaned back against the black metal railing. Her hair shone in the streetlight. She tilted her chin up toward me and parted her lips again. I felt a stab of something in my gut and realized it was desire, plain and simple.

  I wasn’t going soft. It wasn’t soft to want a taste of this girl.

  I could always kill her after.

  She sucked in a breath as I stepped closer to her. I could feel the warmth of her body. I reached up and touched her cheek with my right hand, fingers brushing against her skin. I bent down and kissed her, nice and soft, just a gentle probing, trying to get to know her taste.

  She returned that kiss with a depth that I hadn’t been expecting.

  I held her there, pushing her back against the railing. I felt my heart pound in my chest and my cock responded to her soft warm body. I broke off the kiss, but kept her pinned.

  “Coffee,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Her voice was a whisper. “Coffee.”

  I released her. She turned to the door, unlocked it, and let us both inside.

  Her building had a ratty green carpet and stained beige walls. The doors were brown wood with gold numbers on the front. We took a dark, wobbly staircase to the second floor and she took me into the front apartment labeled 2A.

  “Nice place,” I said as she flipped on a light.

  She hurried to straighten up some magazines and put a few dirty mugs in the sink. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect to have someone over for, uh, coffee tonight.”

  “That’s okay.” I put my hands in my pockets. “Where’d you get this furniture?”

  “Thrift stores mostly,” she said. “Craigslist and eBay, too.”

  “It’s really decent.” I walked over to the coffee table and ran my hands over the wood. “Mid-century modern. Really nice. Consistent, too.”

  She blushed again and I could tell she was proud of her decor.

  I couldn’t blame her. The place was immaculate. Each piece had distinctive long, slender legs and faux-wood grain. The prints on the walls were all fifties modernist style in bright colors. I could see her wearing a headscarf, an apron, a pair of black high heels, and nothing else.

  It was a damn good image.

  “So, uh.” She lingered in the kitchen. “I guess I should make decaf.”

  I shrugged. “Sure. Mind if I use your bathroom first?”

  “Go ahead. Down the hall, right at the end.”

  I nodded, walked past the kitchen, and into the hallway. I saw her bedroom, the hardwood floor covered in a smattering of clothes, and went into the bathroom. A teal shower curtain and a white porcelain sink.

  I took the Glock from my waistband and stared at it.

  The suppressor felt heavy in my jacket pocket. I took it out and twisted it onto the end of the pistol’s barrel.

  But instead of walking out there and putting two bullets in her chest, one in her brain, I knelt down, opened the sink’s lower cabinet door, and shoved the gun back behind the pipes. I stood up, adjusted my collar, unbuttoned a second button, and turned to the door.

  I didn’t have to kill her tonight. I could always kill her later.

  Or maybe tomorrow.

  Fuck Dante and the family. I worked for them but I wasn’t a made man and they didn’t own me.

  I walked back out and smiled at her. She lingered next to the coffee machine but it wasn’t running.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t have decaf.”

  “Good.” I walked to her. “Fuck the coffee.”

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she said, but didn’t move as I stopped inches from her.

  “Probably not,” I said and leaned down to kiss her.

  She returned that kiss again with the same hunger.

  Maybe it was a mistake, but it was a mistake we both wanted to make.

  I held that kiss then moved down to her lips. She let out a soft gasp as my hands moved up her hips, teased her breasts, moved to her back. I found the zipper on her dress and slowly pulled it down as I bit her lower lip.

  She let it fall forward then pool around her ankles.

  I stepped back and couldn’t help myself. “Fuck,” I said.

  That blush again. “Don’t stare,” she said.

  “How am I supposed to not stare at that?” She had on a pair of matching black lacy underwear like she knew I’d end up peeling her apart. Her breasts almost spilled out from her bra and the panties barely covered her gorgeous little pussy. She chewed her lip hard and gripped the edge of the counter.

  “I’m not used to being looked at like that.”

  “Then you’re not used to being half naked around men.”

  “That’s true.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it.”

  “Wouldn’t like it?” I shook my head and moved closed again. I pressed myself against her and let her feel my hard cock. “I love it,” I whispered in her ear.

  She let out a moan as I kissed her neck and teased her breasts again. I kissed her small shoulders, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts. She reached forward and began to unbutton my shirt. I helped her, finished unbuttoning, let her take off my jacket and my shirt.

  She ran her hands down my cut chest and my abs as her eyes took in my tattoos.

  “Wow,” she said then began to work on my belt.

  I unhooked her bra. It fell forward and onto her kitchen floor. I bit a hard, pink nipple, licked around it, let her finish taking my belt off.

  I lifted her up onto the counter, pushed away a dirty cup, let it rattle into the sink. I licked her nipples, circled them with my tongue. I reached up to pull her hair with one hand and pushed her legs wide with the other. I slipped my fingers down the front of her panties and found her soaking wet spot. I rolled my fingertips along her gorgeous slit, teasing from top to bottom, then found her clit.

  She moaned into my kiss. I worked her soaking spot in circles and bit her lip. She pushed harder against me, her round, firm breasts against my chest.

  I couldn’t take it. I moved back and pulled her panties off. Her pussy was pink and glistening wet as I licked her top to bottom, tongue rolling around her clit, lapping her up, tasting her every inch.

  “Fuck, Tanner,” she moaned. “Oh my god.”

  “Look at this delicious little cunt,” I said. “I knew you were gorgeous, but I didn’t know you’d taste like heaven too.”

  “Fuck,” she moaned again.

  I licked her faster, sucked her clit. “There’s nothing more gorgeous than a girl in barely more than heels,” I said and pulled her down off the counter. She gasped as I turned her around and slapped her ass hard.

  I wasn’t going to kill her tonight. But maybe I’d make it hurt a little bit.

  I slapped her ass again then teased her clit with my fingers from behind. She wiggled her hips, hands on the countertop, legs spread wide, ass up in the air. The heels suited her just find and made those lean legs look fifty feet long.

  “Something about you makes me stupid,” I said, a little purr in my throat. “Something about your skin. Your firm breasts. Those pink nipples. Do you like when a man licks your firm little clit?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  I moved my hand and turned her toward me. I bit her lip hard and let her taste her pussy on my tongue. She reached down and tugged at my pants until they came off. She grabbed my cock through my boxer briefs, a little too eager, and stroked me. I growled my pleasure and pulled her hair as I palmed a breast and kissed her neck.

  “Bedroom,” I said. “Now.”

  I pulled her toward it. She walked ahead of me and I let my eyes linger on her ass. She looked over her shoulder, cheeks bright pink, as she pushed open her door.

  Queen bed, colorful prints on the walls. A big wooden dresser, two nightstands, a clock glowing red numbers. She turned to me and pulled at my boxer briefs until they came off. Her hands wrapped arou
nd my shaft and stroked me top to bottom. I let out a moan of pleasure.

  I ran my thumb down her lower lip.

  “I don’t think you’d ever had a man like me before,” I said.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Look at you. Too cute by half. And this place?”

  “What’s wrong with my place?”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “Too clean. Too nice for a man like me.”

  “What’s so nice about me?” she asked. “Just because I like to have a nice home.”

  “Oh, little darling. You have no clue.”

  She glared at me then dropped to her knees. There was a defiant glare in her eyes.

  Good. That’s what I wanted.

  She took my cock in her mouth. She was sloppy about it. Sucked me deep and long, let me slide into her throat. I grabbed her hair and helped her along, not shy as I fucked her pretty lips.

  “Oh, you are a good girl,” I said. “On your knees, sucking my thick cock. You can barely fit my shaft in your mouth and there you are, still trying. You do want me to make you feel good, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, pulling back and stroking me fast. “God, yes.”

  She was lost in it. I could see it now. She was so lost, deep in the moment. She’d forgotten her hesitations, forgotten that I was a strange man she met on the internet. She didn’t care anymore.

  All she saw was a long, thick cock, muscles, and tattoos.

  I picked her up by the hair and led her to the bed. I pushed her down and pinned her hands above her head as I spread her legs and pressed myself deep inside.

  “Fuck,” she moaned, arching her back.

  “Like I said, you’ve never had a man like me.”

  She was tight, warm, and soaking wet. She wrapped around my cock like a glove and felt like heaven as I began to fuck her.

  I wasn’t gentle or kind. That’s just not the sort of man I am. But I listened to her needs, kissed her when she wanted, licked her nipples, fucked her faster or slower, but always took her deep, always took her hard.

  She began to sweat as I rolled her on top of me and let her ride.

  Fuck, her hips were heaven. She rolled them in circles and took my cock deep. I purred my pleasure as she panted. Her thick breasts shook with every movement and they drove me wild with need.

  “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” I said. “With or without the heels. Look at your pink nipples and pink lips. And that thick dark hair.” I pulled it and made her gasp. I slapped her ass with my other hand. “You were built to fuck me, sweet Elise.”

  “You’re right,” she moaned. “I was built for this. Oh my god, I was built for it. You fill me up just right.”

  I growled and pulled her off me. I turned her around, ass in the air, hips wiggling, pussy glistening. I slid in deep and fucked her. I watched sweat roll down her thin, muscular back. Her breasts shook and when I reached around her hips to roll a finger along her clit, she couldn’t take it anymore.

  She came in heaving, heavy moans. Her body tensed and I felt her pussy contract around my cock. It was fucking heaven, the most gorgeous, most delightful thing I’ve ever seen, ever felt.

  I fucked her harder. I grabbed her arms and filled her to the brim, taking her as my own little prize, taking her as I wanted. I was lost, my purpose for being in her apartment entirely forgotten, the only thing in my mind the pleasure that rang through my body.

  Gorgeous, sweet Elise.

  I came inside of her in thick spurts. I filled her to the brim.

  And when I was done, I collapsed back onto the bed.

  She licked my shaft clean. Her pink tongue lapped up my thick white shaft.

  When she finished, she collapsed next to me. I held her close and breathed in her scent, wondering if I’d ever get to smell it again.

  But my cock was still hard. And she chewed on her lip as she looked up at me.

  “I’ve never done that before,” she said.

  “I find that hard to believe. You fucked like you knew what you wanted.”

  “No, I mean… I’ve never brought a guy home on the first date.”

  “I’m honored then.” I kissed her. “But you know I’m not through with you yet, right?”

  Her lips fell open. She looked down at my shaft, still hard, and wrapped her fingers around it.

  “Yeah?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  She started to stroke me again, and I knew for sure that she’d survive the night.

  2

  Elise

  I woke up in an empty bed and felt a dull throb between my legs.

  For a second, I thought the night before might have been a dream.

  I couldn’t have invited a guy I barely knew up into my apartment for some of the wildest, most intense sex of my life. I could tell he was that kind of guy the second I saw his profile pictures. Sexy ripped abs, lots of tattoos, a smirk that knew he looked good and didn’t mind talking about it.

  That just wasn’t me.

  Except when I sat up and realized I’d fallen asleep naked, I knew it was all very, very real.

  I got out of bed and pulled some clothes on.

  Of course he was gone. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting him in last night. He could’ve been some kind of psycho and murdered me in my sleep or whatever, and although he fucked like a god, he could’ve been crazy as hell on top of it.

  But he was gone. Slept with me then ditched me.

  I felt like shit. I had a really good time with him at dinner. He was charming and made me laugh. He had some funny stories about growing up in Philly, and he listened when I told him about moving to an unfamiliar city all alone as a teenager.

  I thought we had a real connection.

  But I screwed it up like always.

  Maybe if I hadn’t let him in and given him exactly what he wanted, in every imaginable position, right on the first night.

  I used the bathroom, brushed my teeth, stared in the mirror. I let out a sigh and pulled my hair into a messy sideways bun.

  Another failed relationship.

  I’d been unable to make anything stick for the last few years. It always got fucked up for some reason or another. Either he cheated, or I was too busy paying attention at work, or he was just a total asshole, or I slept with him too soon.

  My love life was one long list of stupid mistakes and very bad decisions.

  I got a whiff of bacon and frowned.

  “What the hell?” I said to myself. For a second, I thought I might be having a stroke.

  But I caught another whiff and heard something rattle in the kitchen.

  I left the bathroom, walking slowly, eyebrows knitted together.

  And found Tanner standing over the stove with no shirt on. I gaped at him and didn’t know what to say. Tattoos were etched deep into his skin, dark and swirling. A tiger bit through bamboo. A wolf howled at a geometric moon. Tribal markings snaked up his side.

  Our clothes were in a neat pile in one corner. He plated some eggs and had some bacon frying in my cast iron skillet. The coffee maker gurgled away, two mugs set out beside it already.

  “Hey,” I said, unable to get over my initial shock and come up with something better to say.

  He looked over his shoulder and grinned at me.

  “I was wondering when you’d get up.”

  “I thought you left.”

  He shook his head. “Got some breakfast. You didn’t have shit in your refrigerator, so I had to go out.”

  “Uh. Thanks.”

  “Take a seat.” He gestured at my little kitchen table. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “Pick your jaw up off the floor while you’re over there,” he said, grinning huge. “I know it’s not every day you see a gorgeous man like me cooking in your kitchen.”

  I didn’t have some clever comeback, so I snapped my mouth shut and sat down.

  He brou
ght over coffee. It was dark black with a swirl of white from a splash of milk. I stirred it with a spoon and took a sip.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said.

  “It was the least I could do,” he said, “after last night.”

  I blushed again. God, I had to stop doing that. I picked up the coffee and took a long sip. It was hot but I really, really needed the caffeine.

  I had to try thinking straight.

  This gorgeous stranger, who I found through a dating website, was still in my apartment. We had a very nice date and a very nice dinner, and afterward I had the best sex of my life.

  He also wasn’t wearing a shirt. Which was a little distracting.

  “Want anything else?” he asked.

  “No, thanks.” I hesitated, sipped my coffee. “You don’t have to hang around, you know. If you don’t want to.”

  He smiled a little and walked back into the kitchen. He got himself a plate, covered it with eggs and bacon, poured a mug full of coffee, and sit down across from me. He looked at his food then dug in.

  I watched him eat for a minute. He shoveled it in like he hadn’t had anything to eat in days. I nudged at the bacon on my plate, turned a piece of egg over with my fork.

  He looked up at me. “Not hungry? You a little hungover?”

  “What? No, no, I didn’t get that drunk.”

  He shrugged and started eating again. “Fucked like you were a little drunk.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It’s a good thing,” he said. “A lot of people are inhibited, you know? But when you’re drunk, that whole self-conscious thing goes out the window. You fucked like you love your body and aren’t ashamed to feel good.”

  “Wow,” I said. “I seriously don’t know how to respond to that.”

  “It’s a compliment,” he said. “Assuming you weren’t drunk.”

  “I wasn’t drunk!”

  He shrugged and sipped his coffee then went back to work. I watched him eat and tried to reason out what the hell was going on here.

  “Perfect,” he said as he cleared his plate.

  “You just inhaled all that,” I said.

  “I know.” He leaned back in the chair, still shirtless. I let my eyes roam over his muscular chest and the dark black tattoos marred deep into his skin.