Page 23 of Morally Grey

It’s a way to remain faithful to my dead wife.

But then I look up at Briar. I want to give her all of me. I want to fuck her without wearing the mask. Why is that so difficult for me?

I pluck up the mask and spin it around my finger as I enjoy a chunk of banana. “We still need to go over the plan one more time. I want to be sure we both understand our parts.”

Briar strips off her shirt, tempting me as she lies back in nothing more than a bra and some silky sleep shorts. “I’ll be at home, watching the cameras to keep you safe. You’ll be at the mansion, going through the safe and collecting the money. There. Can we fuck now?”

She spreads her legs and squeezes her mound through the thin shorts. A low moan eases out of her, and the blood rushes to my cock. My cock does nothing with it, though. If I want to fuck her, I’ll need to wear the mask.

“Put it on,” she begs. “Once you make me come again, I’ll pay attention and be a good girl. I promise.”

The woman is insatiable, and it’s such a fucking turn on. She can’t get enough of me, and the feeling is reciprocated. If I could just fuck her without the mask...

But I can’t, so I give in and slide the scratchy fabric over my face.

The erection is nearly instantaneous. Grey is gone, replaced by a man who is safe to ravage the beautiful woman in front of him. The desperate killer has no ties to a past. Hell, he doesn’t have ties to a future. He’s connected only to the woman who desires him fully, and that woman is right now. That woman is Briar.

“I want you to do something for me, Grey,” she says, looking up at me.

“What?”

She leans over, pulls something from a drawer within her bedside table, and walks over to me. What she puts in my hand surprises me.

It’s my gun.

Briar sits on the bed. Her fingers trace the black metal, almost lovingly. If she wants me to kill her, she’s chosen the wrong person for the job. Even with my mask on, I couldn’t do it. I hate to admit it, but I actually like having her around.

“I want you to fuck me with it,” she says.

I rip off the mask. “Excuse me?”

“I want you to put the barrel inside me.”

“There are so many safety reasons that?—”

“I don’t care.”

“I do!”

But then she nibbles her bottom lip, and I care a little less. And when she lifts her legs and spreads her thighs, I care not at all.

With a groan, I pull the mask over my face as she moves the crotch of her shorts aside, exposing her sweet little slit. It begs to be filled, but she doesn’t want my cock this time. No, she wants a murder weapon inside her.

My murder weapon.

I make a move to unload the pistol because I’m not stupid, but she puts her hand over mine, silently asking me to leave it loaded. While I don’t particularly want to play Russian roulette with Briar’s body, if that’s what she wants, I’ll play.

I steel myself, then drag the metal barrel down the curves of her belly and between the lips of her pussy. She drops her head back as I rub her with the rough metal, then drag it downward and push it inside her. She gasps as the small front sight slips past her opening. Her inner lips spread around the barrel, and I’m in awe. It’s not often that I get to witness perfection from this angle. The greed of her pussy. Every inch being taken and released.

“Fuck me,” she pants.

Her back arches as I piston the gun inside her, and I can’t deny the flare of jealousy I feel for the chunk of metal in my hand. I want to be that gun.

The mattress creaks beneath me as I get onto my knees and lean over her. My hand rises to her throat and squeezes, and her irises roll toward the back of her head. She tightens around thebarrel. Her thighs tremble. She spasms as pleasure drips down the metal and heads toward my skin.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, little psycho,” I growl. “Even prettier when you’re about to come.”

“Grey,” she pants.

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