Taboo Unchained(38)

I hear a small intake of breath from behind me seconds before Mrs. Braxton's moan of pleasure cuts through the sound. I hate, hate, fucking hate how satisfied she sounds, but I don't stop. I don't know if I could, even if I wanted to. Make her bleed, the beast coos inside my head. Thank whatever non-existent God above that I don't currently have my knives – I have no idea what I'd do if I did.

I focus on the headboard above Mrs. Braxton, taking great care to keep my eyes off of her smug face. She looks like the bird who just caught the worm. In a very rare instance, I feel like the prey instead of the predator and I don't like it, not one bit. I fuck her hard, coming inside of her relatively tight cunt. I don't give her much credit for it though; I'm one of only a handful of people in this world who know Clarice had vaginal rejuvenation surgery. Besides, she's not half as delicious as Audra Holiday.

I purse my lips and pull out of Clarice, letting my eyelids flutter closed when she starts to scream at me again.

“Lucas, you fucking whore! I'm paying triple what you're worth. You'll get your ass over here and fuck the shit out of me if you know what's good for you.”

I spin away from the raging housewife and focus my attention on Audra, dressed in a black evening gown with off the shoulder straps and a fitted bodice. The silky elegance of the outfit blows me away. To be honest, I had no clue that Mrs. Braxton owned anything other than cheap, stretchy polyester dresses and overpriced furs. I lick my lips and let my eyes roam over Audra's small shoulders, her delicate arms, the gentle curve of her waist. Meanwhile, I do my best to block out Mrs. Braxton's voice. If I let her words penetrate my psyche, I'll end up slitting her throat with my fingernails.

“You look lovely,” I say, keeping my voice low. It slithers from my throat like a noose, tightening around Audra's throat and making her catch her breath. She raises her long, luxurious pianist fingers to her neck, tracing the beating pulse under her pale skin.

“Look at you, trying to flatter me while your dick's still wet with another woman.” Audra clucks her tongue, but not like she really cares. Her green eyes flick over my shoulder and narrow on Mrs. Braxton who's started thrashing again. The bleach blonde bitch is so far outside my general comfort zone at this moment that I'm disgusted with myself for not walking out. Dead body or no, I have more dignity than this. I clench my fists at my sides. It's not just my life on the line though; it's Audra Holiday's. If Mark were to be discovered, a little forensic work would easily reveal Audra's hands tangled up in his threads of fate. So here I stand, finding myself doing something incredibly generous for someone I don't even know. It might be a sick, twisted bit of generosity, but nonetheless, I'm not doing it for Lucas Carter. It's been years since I've done anything for anyone that didn't come with a price. “Can we gag her?” Audra asks, and I shrug. Clarice has never specifically asked for that, but I don't see that she'll mind. I imagine that her screaming has less to do with me actually putting my dick in her than it does with the fact that I'm not paying her any attention. My mouth twitches.

“Please do.”

Audra grabs Clarice's ugly fur stole from the floor and carries it over to the bed, thrusting it unceremoniously beneath Mrs. Braxton's head and jamming it into her mouth. I turn towards the scene, my expression schooled into a carefully bored expression. I refuse to let on how interested I really am. Instead, I head into the bathroom and retrieve Audra's discarded dress, walking back into the room with a smirk growing on my face. Mrs. Braxton looks equal parts pissed and pleased with the way things are going. Hmm.

I move over to the bed and look down at her, letting all of the contempt I feel for the bitch show in my face.

“I used to feel sorry for you,” I admit, pressing the dirty dress into her hand, making sure she can still grab onto it with her wrists attached to the bed. Clarice squeezes the fabric like it's done her wrong, the joints of her fingers straining against her orange skin. I lean down and press a mocking kiss to her forehead, feeling my lip wrinkle as I do so. It's a mocking goodbye, a farewell to Clarice as my client. She might not know that yet, but I have a small flicker of hope – a very small flicker – in my heart that she'll look back on this moment later and realize I was discarding her. “Married to that fat, galumphing oaf of a husband with a small brain and an even smaller dick.” I sigh and stand up straight, feeling a smile take over my face. Audra stays silent, but watches me with interest, keen eyes taking in details that I can only hope she forgets to bring up later. The tight clenching of my left fist, the smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes, the disgust lacing my every word. “But now I know,” I start to turn away and Clarice growls at me from beneath the gag, “that you're just as pathetic as he is. I hope you have a lovely marriage.” I hold up my finger. “And a long lasting one at that.”