Page 1 of Savage Behavior

Chapter 1

Britt

1 year ago

I stepped into the elevator, tightening the strap around my trench coat. The force of the machinery around me was tugging on me, grounding me. I felt lightheaded in the best way; adrenaline coursed through me, and I clenched my thighs together.

I knew what I had to do, and the thought of my mission aroused me.

I bent slightly to check the garter wrapped around my thigh and to ensure the camera couldn’t see what I was doing. I straightened up and checked my watch, pressing the little button on the side as I pretended to look at the time.

The camera should be off now.

The doors slid open, and I exited on the floor below the one I was really headed to. I needed to get to level 12, room 1221. That’s where he was waiting for me.

The door to the stairwell was heavy as I swung it open. The weight filled my thoughts with apprehension, but I was doing this; I had to protect Krista. She meant everything to me. Saving her was my one mission in life. It’s all I had to live for. Everything I did was for her.

My heels tapped as I ascended the stairs, the echo ricocheting off the white walls surrounding me. It wasn’t the first time white walls surrounded me. They just usually had padding. My foster parents admitted me to the asylum more often than not for disobedience. One toe out of line, and they admitted me for suicidal behavior and requested I be pumped full of meds. When I wasn’t in the Asylum, I was locked in a fucking closet where my foster father had a good time with my body. Sick fuck. I wouldn’t change a thing, though. As long as I could take attention away from Krista, I would.

Monsters. All of them, and I would have their necks.

They didn’t know what they created.

I adjusted my hair before tapping my knuckles against the door. It was red with gold hardware. Fancy fucks. I grew up with nothing, poor as a dog and as homeless as one, too. I got caught fucking for money when I was young. Younger than I’d like to admit, but I was surviving. No one could judge me for what I needed to do to feed myself. Then I met Lionel. He was a big guy in his line of work. He was good to me in the ways he knew how to be. He never hurt me or tried to fuck me. He just taught me what he knew to help me survive these streets. Hustle or get hustled. He didn’t know I was underage, but he also never asked. Trauma must age you because most men thought I was at least 18.Killer curves,he used to say. He was in prison now, serving a life sentence, and I put him there. I tried to lie about who I was and get him off, but they found my records so fast he never stood a chance. He was charged with prostitution and kidnapping all because of me. I slipped up, fell in love, and got caught. Thankfully, he didn’t blame me. We talk every now and then. He got me into my current line of work. Making men pay for their crimes.

The door swung open, and Rico stood there, six feet tall, with tan skin and honey-brown eyes. It’s a shame, really. That someone so beautiful could be so ugly inside. He hurt Krista, and now I had to hurt him. It helped that he also had a hit out on him from the Knights, I didn’t know what the fucker did, but he was dead meat regardless.

“Hey sexy,” two simple words, and they made me sick, well not sick, really, but disgusted. Such a sad excuse for a man.

“Hey,” I say, licking my lips, his eyes falling to them. Predictable.

I placed my hand on his chest, pushed him inside the threshold, and shut it behind me.

He stared at my feet and inches his way up my long legs with a look of temptation, and I unwrapped myself for him, loosening the strands of the coat, and opened it for him. His eyes widened as he saw what I had on; it was red and strappy, bandaging, covering every intimate part of me with straps that crossed each other.

“God damn, Britt,” he licked his lips, and I smirked. He was walking right into my trap. It was just too fucking easy, so I will make it a little harder.

I pulled the coat closed and feigned regret.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Rico,” I said, plastering false guilt on my face. It worked like a charm.

He pulled me in, trying to comfort me, “It’s okay, baby, just let me make you feel good. He cupped my pussy, and I moaned gently. Fake, of course. The only thing that turned me on was knowing the condition he would be in when I was done with him.

He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs around him. He carried me into the bedroom and put me down. I walked to the mirror, leaned in, and placed one hand on it, still acting as if I was questioning my presence here. However, I actually placed a small camera on it. He walked behind me just as I expected him to. Pushing the coat down off my shoulders, I let it fall to the floor in a puddle at my heels.

He looked at me through the mirror, devouring me with his eyes. I bent down, acting as if I was going to undo the straps on my heels, but he stopped me.

“Keep them on,” he ordered. Every bone in my body wanted to defy him, but I forced myself to obey. To be the good girl he expected me to be.

“God damn, your ass is perfect,” he said, squeezing it; he leaned down to kiss each ass cheek, and I turned slowly, placing my pussy in his face. He inhaled deeply, smelling my arousal.

“Fuck you smell so good; open wide so I can taste you,” I obeyed once more. He brought his lips to my swollen cunt and kissed it, pecking like a fucking bird. I rolled my eyes, moaning to appease his ego. Men were fucking idiots. They were only good for one thing, and he wasn’t even good at that.

His tongue darted out repeatedly, licking the skin around my clit. A real man would know he needed to spread the lips and find the clit. For fucks sake. He stood up, looking me in the eyes,

“You like that baby?”

“Yes,” I replied in a breathy little moan, making sure my jaw was slack. It’s all just a part of making him feel like he had control here. Like he was a man.

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