Page 2 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

I inhale sharply, sucking in a puddle of water that’d found refuge on the purse of my bottom lip. “I want you, Nick,” I whisper back.

“Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

Daddyis his new thing, but he only says it in the heat of the moment. Only says it when his cock is deep inside of me or when it’s about to be. Screams it the loudest just as he’s about to come inside of me.

He reaches down to adjust his cock and presses it against my cunt. My mouth drops open as he enters slowly, filling himself to the hilt. He is insatiable, filled with rapturous lust as if he believes that if he fucks me enough, it’ll magically erase the sins of his brother. Or maybe it’s his way of not thinking about it anymore. Or maybe he just wants to fucking feel good.

I understand that. It’s why I reach for his hand and guide him to hold my own against the tiled shower wall in front of me. He holds me in place as he steadies himself, the water from overhead threatening to drown us both. And then he fucks me the way I liked to be fucked these days. Fucks me like a whore. Fucks me like his property. Fucks me like there’s not a soul inside of me.

Harder. His body slaps against my own, undoubtedly leaving red marks painted on my ass cheeks. Harder. His grip tightens on my own, straining the life from my pale fingers. Harder. His fingers on his other hand dig deeper into my hip, leaving a trail of temporary scars. Harder. He bucks forth one last time and stays there as he empties his seed inside of me.

Harder, he breathes against the side of my face, moans caught up in hiccups of breathless peril as if his heart is going to give out from within. He releases his grip from my hand and guides himself downwards to take hold of my other hip and shifts forward, pinning me against the wall and his muscular body.

The shower overhead continues to rain down upon us, tasked with the impossible—washing away the sins of the lost.

When he recovers, he kisses me softly on the cheek. It’s an unusual sign of affection and it fills me with both a sense of dread and disgust, but I must keep up the charade. I cock my head away from him and breathe slowly as he retreats from the shower, picking his jeans up off the floor as he exits the bathroom.

I stay in the shower for a little bit longer. Not too long to raise suspicions but long enough to second guess this new mess I’ve gotten myself into. It would have been so much easier to just get the fuck out of town, but I’m drawn to the trauma like a moth is drawn to the flame. Sometimes, I think I want to die. It’s the only logical explanation as to why I continue to play games dangerous enough to cost my life.

By the time I get out of the shower, Nick is already dressed.

Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am.

I get dressed in a hurry, climbing into a pair of jeans and a white tank top and then take a seat on the bed. It’s part of the ritual as I patiently wait for him to leave without saying another word. It’s in the frequent silence between us that I seem to make the most sense of things.

He stands by the window as he points to an envelope on the nightstand beside me.

“What is this?” I question, hesitating to reach for it.

“It’s a thousand dollars.”

I cock my eyes to him with a raised brow. “For what?”

He shrugs with forced apathy. “Look, I don’t want you getting the wrong idea or anything, but you’re broke and I’m not.”

“I don’t need your money,” I scoff.

“I’m not worried about you.” He circles the bed and reaches for the envelope to hand it to me on his own. “I just don’t want the mother of my child being seen wearing ten-year old clothes or staying in a broken-down motel. I’m not going to let you wring me dry, but I have a little bit of a soul, so just take the damn money.”

I rip the envelope out of his hands, but don’t say anything.

He backs away slowly, clapping his hand together. “You’re getting better at this listening thing.” He reaches for the door and then holds himself there for a beat. “I’ll give you a call soon.”

I offer my goodbyes in the form of a quiet nod as I watch him leave the room, closing the door behind him. When he’s gone, I take a good look at the room. It’s a far cry from the run-down motel my mother and I have been staying at. I could never afford it on my own, even in its simplicity. I’m his dirty little secret and this is the place he rents out for our escapades. He’s not stupid enough to leave anything of value here. He doesn’t trust me, and with good reason.

I rise to my feet and step to the window to pull the curtains open. The bright afternoon sunlight floods the room, almost blinding me. If I had an eye for beauty, I’d say the city outside is beautiful. It’s the nicer part of town, where everything is manicured and the streets are situated with cute, boutique shops on every corner.

It’s filled with plastic people living plastic lives without the weight of trauma dragging them into the darkness on one of the last hot days before the end of summer. I’m reminded that time is running out. Soon enough, the Callaways will pack up and head back into the city for the winter.

I retrieve the lockbox from underneath the bed and throw it onto the top. I dig the key out from where it’s taped underneath the nightstand drawer and open it up. Inside are the discs I had stolen from the office of Nick’s father. Beside them is one of two backups I downloaded onto zip drives. I grab one of the zip drives and plug it into the computer.

And then I watch, for the hundredth time, the video surveillance of me stabbing the knife into Carter Callaway’s stomach.

ChapterTwo

NICK

I hate just about everything these days. On my best days, I can enjoy the sunshine and the sight of the beautiful women, just like I used to. On my worst days, I want to burn the world to the ground. I hate my family. They’ve always been awful, but knowing I have a family of my own on the way, I see clearly the exact kind of life I don’t want for myself or my child. I hate this town and the fakeness that threatens to swallow the entirety of it into hell. I am a product of this place, cold and calculated. I hate this and I hate that, and I fucking hate everything in between.

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