Desolate(18)

I pull my cell from my pocket and text Stacy:

Where are you?

On way to mall with my bf. I blew her off last minute last time so making up for it today. She needs a dress for a date.

I don’t reply. Instead I make my way to the mall.



I sit outside the food court; engrossed in watching Melody and Sean grab lunch together. I didn’t expect to see them here, and by pure coincidence I spotted them from a few feet away, giving me time to move away without them seeing me. Fascination has me trapped, gazing at them. Melody looks just like she always has; she has every cock in the place twitching. She was built for sex and looking at her after all this time and seeing her flourishing makes me feel like she beat me at my own game. She took my brother and made a life for them both while I rotted away in those tall, caged-in walls.

Sean and Melody stand and embrace each other, and this makes my temper rage even more, they found comfort and friendship in each other in the aftermath of my games, bonded by me even without me in the picture. I’m going to kill him and stroke my cock while I watch her mourn him at his funeral.

“Can I use your sauce, please?” A quiet, shy voice breaks me from my musing. I look up at a mousy brown-haired girl nodding her head towards the condiments on my table.

“Would you mind if I use your head as a soccer ball?” I mutter under my breath.

“Excuse me, sir. Can you please pass my daughter the sauce?” a woman at the table opposite asks when I don’t offer it to the girl now standing next to me. The girl is frozen in place.

“Can you pass me a knife so I can cut your daughter’s throat?” I glare at the mother, knowing she didn’t hear me but the daughter did.

“What did you say?” the girl asks, shocked and shaking.

I stand and hand her the sauce. “I said, sure thing, sweetheart.”

I slip away before a scene can be caused, alerting Mel and Sean to my company.

You’re a man ;) Which one do you prefer?

Two pictures of my niece follow Stacy’s text message. One in a red dress making her look like a hooker, and the other a white dress making her look like a pervert’s wet dream. She looks angelic and all I can envision is dark ink spreading over the white dress, consuming it.

They would look better on you! I want to meet up with you. Just you. Lose the friend and meet me?

A few minutes later I see Stacy waving Cereus off and then looking down at her phone. A second later my phone buzzes.

Done. Where?

I slip my phone back into my pocket and make my way to Cereus. It goes perfectly. She’s even lifting a drink to her lips as we walk around a small bend and collide with each other. Her drink spills and drips down her chin and her bags drop to the floor. Her yelp echoes in my head.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, lifting her bags and handing them to her.

“It’s okay.” She sighs and shakes her head, looking down to see if her drink stained her clothes.

It’s remarkable seeing her eyes up close. They really are a replica of her mother’s. They study me, scanning my face, and a blush lights her cheeks. She takes the bags from me. I raise my thumb to trace the drip from her chin up to her lip and push against her closed mouth, making her gasp. I take the opportunity to slip the Cola-soaked pad of my thumb into her mouth and swipe it against her hot, wet tongue.

“Can I reimburse you for your drink?” I ask.

She shakes her head and I smile at her inability to talk. “Well, I’m sorry again . . . ?”

“Cereus,” she whispers, almost too quiet to hear.

I tilt my head and study her for a few silent beats. “Moonflower. Unique.”

Her eyes grow large. “Ryan.” I offer her my hand.

“Pleasure to meet you.” She blushes more furiously than before, her creamy skin turning bright pink.

I step closer to her, almost aligning our bodies “The pleasure was all mine.” I drop her hand and step around her, leaving her standing there open-mouthed.



Stacy stands out in contrast to the other kids at the park. Her stance screams attitude. I walk up to her and offer her a smile.

“Hey,” I say. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and offers the same greeting in return.

“A walk?” I ask and she looks skeptical, scanning the surroundings with a raised brow but agrees. Her footsteps fall in sync with mine.

“So, tell me about your friend who you sent pictures of. Why does she need help picking out a dress?”

Stacy laughs and swings her bag back and forth. “C? She’s been my best friend since I moved here . . .” She pauses to count on her fingers, “Four years ago. She’s just different, you know? She commands an air of respect from everyone else because she’s just real. I liked her right away and she was asked to show me around. We hit it off immediately. She freaking hates shopping and dresses are not really her thing.”