Page 118 of Brian and Mina's Holiday Hits
Like normal human coupling. No whips or chains. No me having to tie him up so he doesn’t get out of hand. No crazed violent fucking, just slow, gentle lovemaking. My brain might be short circuiting right now.
I whimper when his hand trails between my legs to stroke the swollen bud that has been hungry for his touch for this long eternity he’s made me wait. I move with him, my back arching, my moans and panting growing louder.
“Yes, Killer, just like that, come for me sweet girl.”
And then I do.
He groans as my muscles contract around his cock, and then when he can’t hold back anymore he spills inside me, his own pleasure mingling with mine.
Our eyes are locked. I don’t want to break this silent intimacy. He stays inside me until he goes soft, then he pulls out and leans against the headboard. He holds me against him, his breath coming out in harsh pants.
“Brian?” I finally say.
“Yeah?”
“I’m hungry.”
He just chuckles. “There was an all night diner a few miles up the road. We’ll get cleaned up and grab something.”
“Okay.”
We wash each other in the shower, careful to make sure we get all the blood off. Brian washes my hair, and I wash his. Andfinally, when we don’t look like we just murdered a bunch of people, we get out, dry off, and get dressed in fresh clothes.
I watch as he puts on gloves and proceeds to put the destroyed bloody clothes in a large black garbage bag. Then he pulls the bloodied wallpaper off the wall and checks the rest of the room for evidence. He strips the bed and puts that in garbage bags as well. When he’s sure he’s got it all, he puts the bags in the trunk. He strips the plastic out of the interior of the car, rolls it up, and adds it to the rest for disposal, and then we get in the car to go eat. Just two people on a late night Valentine’s day date.
“Oh, wait…” I say.
He turns to me, a question in his gaze.
“I forgot to give you your present.”
He smirks. “I already got it.”
“No, I mean the thing I got you before we left.”
I go back into our room and take the wrapped package out of my bags and bring it out to him. I felt a little silly wrapping it with pink and red heart wrapping paper, until I got his gift and card. Now I wish I’d gotten him something more sentimental.
“It’s not as romantic as yours,” I say as he tears into the paper.
He pulls the black jacket from the box and presses the leather up to his face and inhales deeply.
“Dead cow. I approve.” He says.
“Yours was kind of beaten up. I thought you could use a new one.”
“I love it,” he says, putting the new coat on over his T-shirt.
FIFTY-NINE
brian
I hadn’t actually seenthe diner a few miles back, I’d seen thesignfor the diner a few miles back. And as it turns out, those are two completely different things.
Once we got off the highway it was another three miles before Laney’s Diner appeared before us like an oasis in the desert with a lit-up neon blue sign.
A neon pink arrow points down at the diner—as though we could ever miss the one building in a vast wasteland of nothing as far as the eye can see. A flickering sign beneath the first sign reads, “Home of Laney’s famous blueberry pancake stack.”
There are only a few cars and a couple of semi-trucks in the cracking and buckling parking lot. It needs to be filled in and blacktopped. I park at the side of the building and go around to get Mina’s door. I do a quick weapons check and notice Mina doing the same. It’s been instinct for me for a long time now. These patterns of behavior are still new to her, yet it’s beginning to become her second nature as well.
