Page 1 of My Girl
Prologue
Crave
three years earlier
The girl slidesacross the back seat of the car, her stockings swishing against the leather. She never leaves her legs exposed, always covering herself up with sheer stockings: the picture of purity. A man in a button-up shirt—her latest boyfriend—stumbles in after her and immediately grabs her breasts. She smacks his arm playfully, then tucks her red hair behind her ear.
Another night of being good. Another blue-balled boyfriend she’ll dump.
It’s boring how predictable she is.
“You have to wait,” she says.
“I’ve been waiting all night,” he whines.
“Where to?” I ask loudly.
“Just keep this thing going,” the boyfriend murmurs, shoving me a twenty. I pull into the stop-and-go traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard. Alcohol seeps from their pores, stinking up the air, mixing with her jasmine perfume. Skin and fabric shuffle. A giggle erupts.
“Oh my god!” she squeals.
“Come on,” the boyfriend slurs. “He’s not watching, babe.”
“Oh—”
I glance in the rearview mirror. Lips against lips, their eyes closed in lust. My eyes flick to the road, then back to the show reflected in the mirror: she straddles him, her back to me.
The good girl riding her newest boyfriend in the backseat. Unexpected.Interesting.
Raven Sinclair, nicknamed Rae, has alwaysseemedcoy. Shy. Inexperienced. Breaking it off with each boyfriend before they get too handsy. This man must be different.Worthyof her physical affection.
What’s changed in her?
The answer is insignificant though. After years of seeing her up and down the Strip, watching her has begun to bore me. I picked her up for the first time because I want to use the knife tonight. When you get bored of something, it no longer has a purpose. You discard it. After all, good girls deserve to die too.
I keep a safe distance from the car in front of us, then twist my head to see the couple. The girl’s dress bunches around her hips, revealing the tears in her stockings. I can’t see his cock, but I know it’s inside of her. Did she make him use a condom? That would mean she came prepared.
The scent of arousal—his sweat, her juices—mixes with the aroma of stale beer and jasmine. My dick throbs. I settle back in my seat, keeping one hand on the wheel as I run the other over my bulge, savoring the sensation. The hunger grows inside of me.
I didn’t think she’d make me hard. This started as pure curiosity. Now, I don’t know what it is.
They change positions, a slight moan coming from her lips. At the stoplight, I watch as best as I can in the rearview mirror.
She rests her ass on the edge of the seat. He groans as he thrusts harder into her. He falls into the back seat, resting his head on the padding.
She pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.
My jaw loosens. I’mintrigued.
She opens it.
Removes a handful of bills.
Shoves it back in his pocket.
At that moment, the girl’s eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. She winks at me, then turns her attention back to the boyfriend, pressing her hips forward as if she truly wants this.
She’s not such a good girl after all.
