I LOOK DOWN AT THE red stains on my clothes. The soul that withered and died by my hands leaving its memory imprinted inside me was just that now; a reminiscence of a life I stole.
The rush of her depleting pulse didn’t feel as therapeutic as the others, she was different but I wasn’t. I still took her life.
“The blood is so red on my hands,” I murmur, holding them up to the light seeping through the curtains from a streetlight outside. The soft glow highlights the crimson painting my palms, the blood long since dried and sticky on my skin.
“It never bothered me before, but her blood was so . . . red. The warm flow trickled through my fingers as the knife buried into her flesh. I felt her life fade. For the first time I felt something other than the darkness. Something other than the satisfaction of the kill, I felt disappointment,” I whisper into the night, surprised by my own revelation.
“Ryan. Tell me why you’re here. What happened? Why do you have blood on you?”
I look up into the soft, worried eyes of my psychiatrist, Jenna. I came straight here using the key I had made from her set. I let myself in, making enough noise to alert her to an arrival, but not enough to call the police; not that it matters much anyway, she won’t get the chance now.
“I killed her! The light died in her eyes as the knife sliced into her, her shock making her breathe ‘why?’ as the blood leaked from her wound, her green eyes so expressive, so confused.” I look up at Jenna to gauge her reaction.
“Ryan,” she breathes, holding up her hands and starting to take a step towards me. I point the knife in her direction, halting her. I must have woken her because her hair is in disarray. She’s wearing a white silk nightgown hanging to mid-thigh and I know she’s bare beneath it; her nipples are hard and pushing through the fabric from the chills racing through her body. She’s trembling, and she should be scared. I want to strip her naked and make shallow cuts in her skin, drawing the kill out, replacing the blood already on my hands with hers.
“Start from the beginning, Ryan. Start from when you were released.”
I smirk in her direction. She’s using stall tactics like a pro. I will start from the beginning but I already know what the ending will be.
Her white gown tainted red.
8 months earlier
“STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR NEW toy and go get the paper,” Melody chides in a playful manner from a few feet away.
I tear myself away from the new coffee machine I insisted we didn’t need but since declared we can’t live without. She’s always right when it comes to this stuff. I smile at my sexy woman, standing with her hair in disorder and my shirt slipped over her shoulders, open so it just teases her nipples and hangs enticingly down her frame, ending at her lace covered pussy. I raise an eyebrow and zero my eyes in on her panties.
“You put panties on for our coffee break?” I ask with a smirk.
It’s my day off work, technically, but with a job like mine that break could end at any moment. Criminals don’t work around me and now I’m captain of our detective division, if someone decides to go on a killing spree or even something less dramatic, my day off will end.
On the rare occasions I get time off we usually do something as a family but our baby girl is more interested in spending time with her girlfriends than her folks these days. Damn, people tell you your children grow up fast and before you know they’re leaving for college, but you don’t actually think it’s true. My baby girl leaves for college next year. How time flies. The only good thing about Cereus spending all her time with her friends is that I get her mama, naked and horizontal . . . or vertical and any other way I can think of. As long as she’s naked, I’m easy.
I walk over to Melody and slip my hand inside the shirt, stroking her stomach my favorite part of her body. My hands trace the thin silver marks, proof our Cereus was created there; a life she nourished and grew inside her womb. That still amazes me, even after witnessing the nine months her tummy swelled and the seventeen years our baby grew up. Sometimes I see Melody’s eyes stare back at me through the eyes of our daughter. Pregnancy is a magical thing, and when pregnant, a woman looks her most stunning, in my opinion. I loved seeing Mel pregnant and I’m excited to see it all over again. We decided we want another child, and the baby making process is proving so much fun, I may want ten more.
“Mmm, forget the paper.” She giggles.
Her palm covers mine, our joined hands sliding down inside her panties, her wet heat from our earlier lovemaking still apparent between her slick folds. I push her backwards against the table, lifting her ass to sit on the edge, and nudge her knees apart. My cock grows achingly hard the closer it comes to its home. Leaning forward, my lips find her neck, and nuzzle, inhaling the soft hint of strawberries her lotion leaves. My shirt she’s wearing falls open, baring her tits to me, her pink rose bud nipples enticing me to taste them. I suck one into my mouth and relish her moan as her chest lifts to aid me, making me chuckle at my greedy wife. Sliding my hand up to her throat I grip her in my hold and add a small amount of pressure, guiding her to lay back with the subtle command. Releasing her nipple with a pop, her body moves back from mine to lie flat against the table. I can smell her arousal, making my mouth water with need to taste her.