“I’m counting on it,” I reply, picking up my glass and bringing the bourbon to my lips.
“Cocky of you to say, but I’m too turned on to be sweet and demur,” she says, tossing her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder. “You should know that I’m going to ride you until you have a heart attack.”
Swallowing my alcohol, I take a moment to keep both the bourbon and my partially eaten meal in my stomach. This slut might be turned on, but I have never been more turned off. I suppose my disgust is a good thing though, it’s making the beast step in much sooner than usual. I latch onto its excitement to settle my revulsion, letting its hedonistic nature distract me.
“Oh, Sweetheart. I’d much rather be the one on top, fucking you untilyoudie. I can’t wait to hear you scream my name. I wonder how many different octaves I can make you hit before your heart gives out.”
Staring at me, a flirty giggle leaves her lips. I notice a look of confusion flash over her face, but it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been leaving her little hints and clues about how this night will end since we met, but she’s too stupid to pick up on my breadcrumbs.
“I’m not sure what an octave is, but I can’t wait to find out,” she replies.
Suppressing a laugh, I give her a wink instead of sayingwhat’s on my mind. I’m not surprised in the least that she was more confused about the wordoctavethan the thinly veiled threat on her life. When my hands are finally around her neck, she will probably think that I’m just being kinky, like the other thousands of men who have no doubt been inside her. Like I said, she’s two sandwiches shy of a picnic.
“Finish your dinner and I’ll take you back to my room.”
“Actually, why don’t you pay while I run to the bathroom and then we can get the hell out of here,” she suggests, already reaching for her purse on the back of her chair
Nodding my head, I place my glass down on the tabletop. She’s making this so easy for me, I should feel somewhat annoyed that the hunt is coming to an end so quickly. But I’m more than ready to get this over. I want to get the hell out of here and back into the loving embrace of my Princess as soon as possible.
“Sounds good, Sweetheart. Don’t be too long,” I say.
Standing from her chair, she presses her sticky lips together in an air kiss.
“Be right back,Daddy.”
Bile rises in my throat as she turns away. She has just ruined that word for me for all of eternity. Thank God Dolly never uses it. I don’t want to be reminded of this whore for the rest of my life.
Watching her slink away, I stew in my seat for a goodminute. My thoughts run away with me, toggling back and forth between Dolly’s beautiful face and reminders of my past kills. Instead of feeling joy and elation, I now have the sour taste of guilt. Guilt for lying to my love and guilt for harboring this murderous demon inside of me.
What the fuck is going on?I’m not used to feeling so…dirty.
Pushing out an annoyed sigh, I motion to the waiter as he walks past. Pulling my wallet from my pressed slacks, I show him the universal signal for letting him know I’m ready to pay. He stops dead in his tracks, waiting as I fish my card from the leather billfold. Handing him the piece of plastic, he offers a polite nod before mouthing to me that he will be right back. My eyes narrow as he scuttles away. Not from the odd look he gave me, but from the feeling that a pair of eyes are upon me.
Quickly turning my head, I glance around the crowded patio. It would make sense that someone would be looking at me, but the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up on end. This isn’t a normal gawk, I can feel theheatin it. It’s unnerving.
Clenching my jaw, I grit my teeth as I visually search for the culprit. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and it only vexes me further. I almost stand from my chair to have a complete look over the River Walk, but I’m pulled from my search by the vibration of my cell on my hip.
Hissing an expletive, I reach back into my pocket. I’m sure it’s my Mama checking in on me. I know she’s spendingquality time with my Dolly, I’m thankful that this will be a brief conversation.
Yanking my phone from its confines, I take a look at my screen. My heart skips a beat when I see the message is from my gorgeous Princess and not my Mama. I gave her explicit instructions not to message me until she crawled into bed, but I am so very glad that she has disobeyed me.
My heart squeezes as I reread her text, shame takes root in the pit of my stomach. I should be at home with her right now, celebrating the fact that my offer was accepted on our home. Not all the way across the damn state with another woman.
Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers dance across my phone’s screen. I’m desperate to talk to her, even if it’s just through texting. I know she will calm me down just enough so I can do what I must.
Looking at our exchange, not even two seconds pass before I notice that she is texting me back. I wait impatiently for her thoughts to come through.
My face scrunches in thought before I respond. I honestly don’t know what she means by this. Is Mama telling her how I pushed Griffin out of the two-story window when we were kids, breaking his arm and almost ruining his hockey season? Or is she telling her that I’m a psychopath that used to kill women for pleasure and now I kill them to maintain my family’s power and influence?
Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past Mama if she told Dolly the latter. She has already warned me that I must come clean with everything before I marry her. I don’t know how I will have that conversation with her. I’m almost praying I have made her pregnant, so she won’t have any other choice than to accept it and stay with me. Pushing away my sudden anxiety, my fingers type out a reply.
I can’t help but chuckle, I’m both relieved and amused. I knew Mama was smitten with Dolly, but her admission warms my heart. My Princess will fit right in with us, I know my brothers will love her just as much as I do. She will make a fine addition to the Douglas clan, indeed.
Laughing out loud once again, my mind stirs up a wonderful visual. I’m tempted to grab one from the corner store on my way home to her. Of course I will take her to Cartier assoon as they open, but this would be a fun memory for the both of us to tell our children about.
Reading her last text one more time, I push out a breath through my nose and close out of my messages. Locking my cell, I quickly shove it back into my pocket just as I catch a glimpse of my date in my peripheral vision. As soon as my gaze fully settles upon her, the sour taste fills my mouth once again.
Plastering a smirk on my face, I try my best to seem hungry for the next portion of our date. I watch her with feigned interest as she steps right up to my chair. She’s definitely primped herself in preparation. Her hair is brushed, she’s added on another layer of foundation, and bathed herself in cheap drugstore perfume. I try not to think about what she may have done to other parts of her body.
