Page 18 of Psychological War

“Fine by me.” But something inside felt off. Normally I’d be fucking glad we’d be headed home, but something was different. I felt off, weird and tingling inside.

Dimitri nodded, sparing one more glance at the bodies before turning around and going back upstairs.

Swallowing the rest of my coffee, I ignored the feeling of gagging. I grabbed my Beretta 90-Two from the table and shot Martin between the eyes. I didn’t have to kill either of them. In reality, I could have let them go. But the moment Martin told me they planned on taking advantage of her because she simply looked like an easy target, he signed their death warrants.

Making my way up the stairs, I rounded the corner, rushing through the house so I could get to my room before Mila or Tobias even saw me. Just as I rounded the entryway, I hadn’t realized Mila was standing there until I knocked her off her feet. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I steadied her before backing away quickly. If Dimitri caught me with my arms around Mila, he’d kill me. Even if it was as simple as trying to make sure I didn’t knock her off her feet.

“Oh shoot,” she muttered. “Oh he—” her voice cut off, simply looking down at my forearms, which were covered in blood. Mila knew what I did, and she knew I had a key for getting messy. I liked it, getting more personal than just shooting them and getting their death out of the way. But it helped me get my rage out, to make it personal.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m going to clean up,” I mumbled. “Thanks for the coffee,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Oh you’re welcome,” Mila smirked. “I’m glad youenjoyedit.” I wouldn’t say I enjoyed it. I hated coffee. But I would get her back, somehow, some way.

Glaring down at her, I winced. She had spots of blood on her arm and clothes.

“Your shirt,” I motioned towards the blood.

Mila looked down before I could visibly see her swallow. “Yeah I-I’m going to go change.” She tapped my shoulder before rushing off.

Headed to my room, I slammed the door closed and began kicking my shoes off. Reaching down, I tugged my shirt off and dropped my pants.

Immediately my thoughts went to the mystery girl. My dick was now hard, begging to be touched by the thought of her. To the outfit she wore, the thin material stretched across her breasts, hooking around her neck, leaving her back and stomach completely open. The leather pants she wore left nothing to the imagination. Even her boots added to the appeal. I wanted to bend her over the alleyway, rip her pants down, and sink my cock into her wetness.

I shouldn’t even be thinking of her like that; she was no one to me. Just a random chick outside the club. Trying my best to ignore my raging hard-on, I stepped into the cold shower, and tried to calm my breathing, and the itching need to stroke my cock.

“Harder, please I need it harder.”I could imagine her screaming, asking me to fuck her harder. To grab her hair and punish her for unknown reasons.

Fuck it.

It’d been forever since I fucked a girl, let alone actually jacked off to the idea of one. Wrapping my hand around the base, I began slowly stroking. I hissed at the contact. It was too long. Closing my eyes I began fucking my hand harder.

I wanted to wrap my hand around her throat while I fucked her from behind. Her moans would be cut off because of my hand, her hands pinned to the wall to stop herself from falling forward. Her wet cunt would fit my cock so well, she would beg me to fuck her faster and harder. But she couldn’t get a word out because I would choke her, on the verge of passing out.

Jerking my dick faster, I could feel the buildup of release begging to rip out of me.

I would deny her own release, making her wait until my own. I was a bastard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted, my body jerking forward, my warm cum shooting out onto the shower wall.

I kept my eyes closed and dropped my hand. I waited until my breathing calmed down before I quickly rinsed the evidence of what I’d done. Shampooing and washing my body in record time, I dried off, pulling on my black jeans, dark gray sweatshirt, and black biker boots. Grabbing my wallet and keys I closed the door behind me as I made my way into the kitchen.

I wanted to ignore what I just did, and I wanted the girl out of my mind.

9

Zane

One week later

“Yeah,yeah,yeah,”Imuttered into the phone. “Yes, Killian, I fucking remember,” I growled as I prowled down the sidewalk leading to the Chinese restaurant Killian begged me to stop at.

“Listen attitude, I’ve been busy. I don’t have time to go out and get my favorite Chi—”

“Is there a point to this conversation!” I snapped. I wasn’t mad at him, not truly.

The mystery girl was missing. I had no idea where she was, and it was beginning to bother me. And I couldn’t ask Killian because I didn’t have a name. If I involved Killian, then Dimitri would get involved as well. Then they would both learn I lied to them. Which in the end would not end up good for me.

“You’re already out, just get me food and I’ll find you…” He trailed off. “Oh, fuck, I gotta go.” He hung up before I could say anything. Pocketing my phone, I continued down the sidewalk.

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