“You'll kill me then?” I ask, moving back slowly, just enough that I know Audra will have a clear shot of Mark's back, the liquid stain on his pants. The acrid smell of piss wafts in the air around us. He peed himself. What a surprise. “To protect this man?” I point down and do my best to show that I'm not concerned about Audra, not even when she pulls another knife from the block. “This man who tried to rape you?”
“He wouldn't be the first,” Audra drawls, the slightest hint of a Southern accent peeking into her crisp West Coast. You can always tell when someone is from around here – they pronounce every syllable, every letter, but quickly, almost too quickly. I let Audra's accent curl around my body, tightening my skin as it slithers against the pores. “Why do you care?”
“Oh, I don't,” I tell her in all honesty. Surprisingly, this seems to soothe some of her ire. God forbid I actually did care about her. “Not about you personally. I simply dislike weak creatures. It's the natural call of the earth to cull their existence.” I pause, my eyes catching on Audra's. She's fading again, her long pale fingers slackening their hold on the knife. “And well, that's not entirely true either.” Some of the color snaps back into her irises, dark green whorls with flecks of gold and brown. “I'm a selfish little monster.” I slide my tongue over my lower lip, making sure Audra's pupils follow the motion. In some ways, she's exactly like all the rest. In other ways, she's completely different. I'm not sure what to make of it.
“Get out or I'll kill you,” Audra says, voice calm but firm. I don't doubt that she means to try. I could overpower her, knock her senseless, take Mark away as planned, but that sounds like a good way to get caught. I clench my hands tight and suck in a hissing breath through my teeth.
“You have my number,” I respond succinctly, turning on my heel and exiting the house before I explode into a frenzy of unbridled rage.
Dr. Lauren Houssard lives in a house that some might call a mansion. Having personally been in the Braxton household, I can say that isn't true with all due confidence. Lauren's house would fit quite comfortably in the Braxton's formal entryway and living room area. This is certainly an upgrade over Pamela's house where each and every scream echoes through her suburban neighborhood of fifties style ranch homes.
Even though Dr. Houssard is fully embroiled in maniacal screeching, nobody in the neighborhood will be the wiser. I slide my cock from Lauren's tight pussy and slap her ass with every ounce of strength in my arm, drawing another scream for her slender throat.
“Don't stop,” she whimpers as I grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back. Her brown eyes snap up to my face with desperation. I don't often visit the Houssard home. First off, because Mr. Houssard is clinically insane and were he to find me here, the consequences would be rather dire. Second, because Lauren is vicious. She may not seem it at the moment, but when her demon comes loose, it's hard to satisfy. I consider her my second most dangerous client. I tried to call Margarite Simmons first, but she didn't answer and I was desperate.
“Don't you dare tell me what to do.” I don't shout, don't scream, simply speak as if I'm asking directions. I release Lauren's hair and watch her struggle against her bonds. Don't judge me please – she specifically asked for them. Everything I do is at the request of my clients. It's all part of setting boundaries and keeping the darkness contained. I smile as Lauren screams in anger, kicking and flailing violently against the leather straps at her wrists and ankles. Currently she's laid out flat, belly down, on a slab in her basement. Originally, it was built for Mr. Houssard to get his kink on. The man enjoys being strapped down and beaten with a cat o' nine tails. Not that I'd know from personal experience, but that's Lauren's explanation for the medieval slab of cement in her basement. Since her tyrannical husband obviously knows about it and doesn't complain, I imagine she must be telling the truth.
I run my fingers down Lauren's smooth back, her skin like melted chocolate across her muscles. She's a tad leaner than I prefer, but she makes up for it with her lack of rules. The only creed here is don't judge. And I don't. When Lauren lets herself go to a point of no return, I simply walk out and come back later. While there's nothing I can't handle, there are certain things I don't tolerate.
I drop my hand to my cock and stroke my fingers along my shaft, my mind drifting back to Audra and my failed pursuit of Mark. Fury spirals through me as I relive the morning. Lucas Carter isn't used to failure. I reach down to the belt loops on my slacks and remove the strip of leather, clutching both ends tight in my right hand. Without warning, I snap my wrist up and strike Lauren's ass with the belt. Another scream tears through her throat as I tighten the leather between my hands and bite down on it. I don't let Lauren see me. I can't allow anyone to catch my practiced perfection slipping through my fingers. I toss the belt to the floor.