Taking the hint, she takes my dick in her hands and starts sucking on it. Henley is the girl you marry. She’s the one that no matter who you fuck, or are with, she’s the one you always go back to. Her sweet cunt and perfect mouth are too good not to take advantage of.
I’m not cheating because we’re not officially together. We don’t label what we have. She wants me, and I want others too. It’s simple.
Brenda gets my attention as she licks up my shaft, and I let out a sigh. The girl is the worst with blowjobs. “Lie down,” I order, pulling away.
She lies down on her back and pulls her skirt up for me. I rip her underwear off and throw them to the side. I roll on a condom, knowing I’m not the only one she spreads her legs for, and start to fuck her, not wasting time.
The floor is cold, and my knees scream as they rub against the dirty concrete, even through my jeans. She throws her head back, moaning, and I wrap my hand around her throat.
Fucking Henley’s mouth in her bathroom after she gave Dax her virginity, I realized I like it this way. Me in total control. A darker side of sex. Full submission. It doesn’t have to be done with ropes or handcuffs. It can be done with your bare hands.
She starts slapping at my chest, needing to breathe. “Almost there,” I tell her, squeezing with both of my hands. The sound of our bodies slapping fills the large room.
I close my eyes and start thinking of my doll on her knees. Needing a little extra than what Brenda is offering me at the moment. I imagine Henley’s blue eyes looking up at me as tears fall from them. The feel of her mouth swallowing me. The girl was given a gift, for sure to serve from her knees. My balls start to tighten, and I give one more thrust and come. Letting go of her neck, I fall on top of her. I stay like that for a few more seconds and then get up. Her head is tilted to the side. Her eyes open. I feel for a pulse.
“Fuck!” I hiss. “Brenda?” I slap her face. Nothing.
I fucking killed her. Scrambling to pick up her underwear and the condom, I shove them in my pocket.
I turn to leave but come to a stop when I see Henley. Steve stands behind her, his hand over her mouth, and her face is wet. She’s crying.
Fuck!
How did she find me? My eyes go back to Steve. Why the fuck is he holding her like that? “Let her go!” I growl.
He shoves her forward, and she trips over her own feet right into me. “Dax.”
I freeze. Did she just call me Dax? I look at Steve, and he shrugs.
“Henley?” I ask, shaking her shoulders a little bit. “Henley?”
“Please, don’t.” She sobs. “You killed her.”
Steve rips his belt from his jeans and wraps each end around his fists. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snap at him.
“Do you want a witness?” He arches a brow; he goes to lift it to wrap it around her neck from behind.
I take a step back, yanking her to me. “She’s fucked up. She won’t remember it.”
“Sure about that?”
“Henley?” I look back down at her.
“You raped her.” Her hands hit my chest. “Then you killed her.”
I grip her face in my hands, forcing her to look up at me. Her eyes are dilated, and she looks spacy. She’s so fucking gone; I have no doubt she’ll forget tomorrow. But just in case. “This is our little secret,” I say, lowering my face to her neck, inhaling her scent. Fuck, I want her.
Her small frame shakes uncontrollably against me.
“Or you’ll be next,” I add.
“Dax,” she cries. Henley goes to run over to Brenda, but I grab her and throw her over my shoulder. I walk her over to a pew on the other side of the room.
I kneel before her. She wraps her arms around herself, rocking back and forth.
“You didn’t see anything,” I tell her.
“You killed her. Oh, my God, you killed her,” she repeats, mumbling to herself while staring at the floor.
“Who did?” I question, looking over at the opening in the wall where there was once stained glass. Maybe Steve has a point. The thought of throwing her out of it crosses my mind, but I immediately dismiss it. I can’t get rid of her. She’s my doll. My toy. I can’t do that on the chance she’ll remember. Because I know she won’t.
“You did!” she screams in my face.
I stand, grip her cheeks, and shove her to her back. Lifting my left leg, I push my knee into her neck, pinning her down to the pew. Her hands come up and slap at my jeans. “No one killed her, Henley. You’re confused.”