Page 21 of That Emerald Vow

“I want you so bad, baby,” he says as he tries to grind himself on my core again.

I smirk at him, even though all I feel is disgust. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get that yet.” He strains as he pulls on his restraints to no avail, but his smirk tells me he still enjoys the tease.

There’s a distant motorcycle that starts its engine, bringing another man into my forethought. Someone I have no business thinking about.

Damon.

It’s been so long since I’ve had a climax from anything other than my toys that I let myself get lost in my thoughts. I remove myself from Cleetus and go to the edge of the bed, facing away from him. “It’s my turn first,” I say.

He doesn’t get the pleasure of seeing me touch myself. I move the edges of his shirt, pull the black lace aside, and touch my already wet center. Closing my eyes, I let my mind roam free as I move my fingers in a circular motion on my clit—swiping down and sometimes into my folds.

I imagine Damon’s face—the way his dimple shows whenever he smiles or laughs with his whole body. The way his eyes twinkled when he proposed to me. How his hand felt like the perfect mix of gentle and rough on my skin from years of manual labor. Him calling me his little gem. Each memory comes in quick flashes in my mind as I circle, swipe, and finger myself into a frenzy.God, I wish it was Damon here with me right now.He would know exactly what I need. And with that secret thought, I feel the build up in my core explode through every nerve ending as I orgasm, moaning out in ecstasy.

“That was so hot, baby. Is it my turn now?”

I’m quickly pulled out of my stupor, remembering why I’m here. My euphoric smile turns into a scowl as I turn toward him. “I’m sure it was,” I say seriously, hating him for pulling me out of the moment.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion at my sudden change in demeanor. “Ar-are you okay?”

“I am.” I smirk down at him. “It’s your turn, right? Let me just get something to take the edge off first.”

Cleetus’s furrowed eyebrows turn curious. “What do you mean?”

I go to my bag and put on gloves before pulling out a syringe, an elastic band, some heroin, and other things I’ll need. “Oh, honey, don’t think I didn’t notice those little track marks on you.”

“I-I haven’t done that in a long time.” He furiously bites his lower lip. “We can have some fun without th-that.” I look up when I hear him yanking at the ties.

“Uh-uh-uh,” I say as I walk back over to him. “You said it was your turn, right?”

He licks his lips like a true addict ready for it—unable to refuse. “O-okay. Just a little though. Then I can fuck you like the slut you are,” he says, trying to regain control. “Make that pussy come for me again.”

Without untying him, I pull the elastic around his lower bicep,tightening it so his veins are more visible. As I prepare the heroin, I say, “I think you should know that the whole time I was touching myself like that”—I fill the syringe up and place it near his vein. The bed is vibrating with his legs that are also tied, rubbing the comforter in anticipation with the small movements that he can make while bound—“I was thinking of someone else.”

“What the fuck,” he spits out. Before he can move, I plunge every ounce of heroin I prepared into his veins.

He takes a large intake of breath as he chases the rush of the dragon. “You . . . you fucking bitch.” He is struggling between his anger and the high and the death that is awaiting him.

“You said you wanted a release. Well, here I am. Your own personal fury is ready to avenge all the pain you cause. Ready toreleaseyou from this world.”

His eyes bulge as he screams. “What?” The bed starts shaking as the drug makes its way through his system. “What did you give me?”

“Oh, my own personal concoction.” I giggle. “You’ll be dead in minutes,” I say, getting up to clean up.

“HELP! HELP!” he screams as loud as he can. “Why are you doing this?”

I turn back as anger feels hot in my core, rushing back towards him. “I am doing this for all the women who yelled ‘help’ or ‘stop’ and you didn’t listen. No one is here to help you.”

“They’ll know. The police . . . They’ll know,” he says, already becoming sluggish.

“No, they won’t. You have no working cameras because of all the illegal things you do. And you so kindly put up a closed sign on the front door so you could fuck me. No one is going to find you until it’s too fucking late.” I smile at him before continuing to clean up and wipe everything down.

I switch out of his shirt, throwing it into my bag—not wanting to leave evidence—as I change back into my own clothes. “The best part? You’re an addict. No one will look too closely into this, as they’ll assume it was an accidental overdose.”

As I gather my things, I look back at him, his eyes are trying to stay open as his mouth starts to expel foam and he convulses slightly. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t have made this more painful. But I’m strapped for time.”

I wait a few moments until he’s unconscious—the last remnants of life leaving his body. Walking back over, I grab all the restraints and leave evidence of the overdose. Thankfully, the restraints didn’t leave any marks on his skin.

I make my way to my car, feeling a lot better and a bit more prepared to take on my family. About halfway through the ride, I get a phone call from my mother.

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