Page 12 of Trapping His Darling

“More like you’re going to find a man who rips your heart out, and sacrifices your body parts to his one veritable god.”

I laughed. “You watch far too much television, Lav.”

“I’m going to steal all your clothes if you go missing. So, in case you do go missing, don’t come back.”

“Whatever.”How much trouble could a server get into?“Just make sure to take good care of my plants.”

“I know you don’t like to do the bar scene, but I think you should come out with us tonight. You stay home too much, spend too much time with those plants.”

“Sure!” This was just what I needed. I knew there was some flashy asshole who’d do something to piss me off.

“Really?!”

“Yeah. Why not?” I pulled the cell away from my ear as she squealed.

“We’ll text you when we’re on our way to pick you up!”

???

I fixed a few stray curls,giving my hair some extra volume. Russians seemed to adore my hair, and I took every opportunity to flaunt it. After applying red lipstick and checking myself in the mirror, I decided I was ready for work. I adjusted my 48 DD-sized breasts into my bra cups, and gave myself a final wink in the mirror, before heading out.

The ride to the club was quick. I usually didn’t attend gatherings like this with the other gals at the agency. For one, not everyone spoke English, and I had not mastered Russian. And two, due to the nature of my unique personality and proclivities, having too many friends was counterproductive to the goals I had set for myself.

Not that anyone thought less of me for wanting to be alone. I was often thought of as kind, sweet, and smiley. I giggled as much now as I did when I was a kid. I was always happy. I saw the good in the world, as much as I did the bad. I had read somewhere about trauma freezing your emotional development at the age in which you first suffered the trauma. It’s probably why I still enjoyed flowers, and rainbows, and stuffed animals, as much as I did poisons, and fire, and knives. Oh, and my penis collection too. I loved that.

While my outward personality might seem childlike to the many around me, I was not oblivious to the darkness inside. I knew it was wrong to kill, but I liked it. I liked hurting those who hurt me first, or hurt those I loved. I knew I would one day findmy prince, and he would take me away, and we would marry. And while I might not be able to know or accept all of me, I vowed I would be the best wife ever.

It didn’t take long at the club to find my guy. He seemed arrogant, cocky even, and flashed his money around. Women seemed to swoon over him, but he only had eyes for me.It must be the red lipstick.

Of course he followed me, when I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I didn’t fight him when he tangled his fingers in my hair and pressed me, face first, against the dingy wall in the dim hallway.

His constrained erection jutted into my ass. He jerked my head to the side and began kissing my neck and shoulder.

“Do you speak English?” I asked, giggling.

“Yes,” he replied with a heavy accent.

“Well, turn me around, so I can see you.”

He spun me about, shoved my back to the wall, and pinned my wrists above my head. “I have never been with an American.”

“Oh?” I noted he had a gun in a holster under his jacket. “You’re missing out!”

He leaned in to kiss me.

I giggled and turned my head, so he could kiss my jaw instead of my lips. “Daddy, I can’t touch you.”

“What are you going to touch?”

I giggled. “Your cock, of course.”

When he released one of my hands, I rushed to delve down his pants.

“Your rings are sharp,” he growled, nipping my neck.

“Oops,” I replied, then used my thumb to shut the poison needle ring, and gripped his cock properly. I stroked the sting away. “Goodness! You’re so large, it’s no wonder my ring got caught.”

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