It’s been one year, at least, with this story…Moving on…

Ch. 2

A cough. Hard to believe that he was sick. He never was sick, well, that was until her. Somehow she seemed to break down all the walls surrounding him. It weakened him and made him spiral down a path he didn’t want to go. Irrevocably, it pulled and pushed him. Deeper and deeper it seemed to hold a secret treasure. A dark secret. Betrayal of the very worst.

Perhaps that was exaggerating. It wasn’t the very worst. But he had done it upon her. He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe the hopelessness and the despair tainted him. He shouldn’t blame others. His choices were his own and as long as he didn’t regret it, it was a good choice even if others were hurt.

Oh how he loved her screams.

The lavish walls of his house were cold comfort. Crimson streams of silk hung from high up almost near the sky. They veiled the ugliness and deception hidden behind the walls. Staircases spiraling and confusing newcomers had been made with silver, gold, and blood. “A beautiful house!” she had said. “A magnificent house for lovers!”

He chased her away.

Quality over quantity as he had done. Chains of deceit and bitter contempt held him here. How he loved her; loved her still, but she now hated him.

Because of him.

A difference in their writing, their expressions on the world—everything. It had drawn him to her, a moth to a flame. A smirk here and a coy gaze away had snapped them up. Coaxing hands and burgundy breath were played over and over again. Time seemed to still as they went spinning and spinning.

Motions too fast and too quick to decipher winded their gasps and moans. Joy, ecstasy, and black came with them to their coven. The bare strips of her were too much to hold. The screams and bounded iron made the love sweet to his ears. Regret here and there did nothing to deter his pleasure.

The scars he held now were because of her. Feisty and beautiful she was, but she broke quickly and the fun dissipated. It was always the strong and flighty ones that were the first to fall. Angels they were, but when fallen, fall straight to hell. The touch, the movements…bring her down there for his bites and nips.

Bruises of beautiful hues: blues, reds, purples, and oh so blacks. Haunted eyes looked back at him and made him shiver. A cough. And a thought interrupted. As he walked down the red light district, he eyed the wanton whores, the women who sold their bodies for money. How luscious they were and how right their occupations were for them. ‘Wanton, whores, and women’ he thought with a sardonic grin. How fitting they all begin with the same letter.

A blonde beckoned to him; a finger crooked at him. He raised his eyebrows. Such crass coming from these females. Perhaps he should teach this wench a lesson. ‘Another letter beginning with w that has to do with women’

He looked at the blonde up and down. Fishnet leggings and ‘fuck me’ heels tempted him to go over. Black mini skirt showed too thin tan legs and halter top that was about to fall off. The heaving of delectable breasts beneath the fabric and the flushed cheeks of the blonde showed that the whore had a fever. Bitten down nails showed a nervous habit and chapped, wide lips good for a sucking.

He went over to her and those chapped lips opened up invitingly. A sudden thought flickered of supple flesh and daring pleas. The blonde grinned crookedly and they went up to an apartment. She quickly grabbed him and with that their tongues ensued with heated lust.

A scream lurked in the air.

His hands roamed the coarse flesh and the blonde moaned, albeit fake. He took off her top as she adjusted herself to him and the offending garment fell on the floor; forgotten. His lips left hers as they traveled downwards and a snap told him that her bra had been taken off. He quickly took in her form as she lay gasping for air from breathy kisses and shattered morals. He bit and licked as he heard her gasp and smirking he continued with his torture.

When he finished with his assault on her generous forms, he went down and ripped her mini skirt and looked down at the swollen lips staring up at him. He went down and devoured her and she lay their gasping and moaning nothings as she quickly came. The scream came as a flash of haunted eyes looked back at him in his memory. He shook his head quickly and took of his pants.

He straddled her and stared at her eyes that had a flicker of fear before they were hidden behind pools of fake emotions. She coyly smiled at him and he smirked with a knowing look in his eyes. Her smile faltered a bit and it soon completely disappeared as he quickly thrust into her. Her scream echoed the place and before she could fully prepare for more, he took her, huge and heavy. Her screams and cries of ecstasy and his grunts of appreciation seeped into the walls and finally he came with a slight gasp.

The blonde looked up demurely, never having such a satisfying time, and uttered, “More.” He shot her a look that said he wasn’t going to be giving more and threw a wad of cash to where she was on the bed. Her eyes widened as she looked at the amount lying in front of her. He got dressed and the whore did so too, while looking at him with promises of more and murky nights. He returned these glances with his own filled with boredom and resentment. She was used and to him, was nothing more than a fun, quick toy to appease him before he got his doll.

“Hey, how about another run?” spoke the whore, wishing for more cash and the chance to reach heaven. She placed her hand on his arm.

“I’m not interested.” He responded dryly. He shook her hand off and moved toward the door.

She latched on him and tried to pull him back, earnest for more. He glared at her and threw her on the bed. She looked back at him, mustering all her actress skills into use.

“Please…I need money” she choked out. “I have a child and-“

“And what?” he asked, smirking. “Tell you what. I’ll give you what you want.”

“All I want?” she asked, inwardly smirking.

“Yes. All you want” He said in response. “You won’t have to worry anymore with what I’m giving you.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you!” she smiled gleefully, “You’re the most kind gentle-“ Bang.

Glossy eyes stared back, a glimmer of past shock in them as she fell on the bed. The blood pooled all around her as the hole from her head was filling out with rich burgundy. He looked at her with distaste as he put his gun back into his holder. He walked out from the building and looked around for any signs of notice.

“A gift of death.” He pondered, smirking lightly. “You can’t really worry anymore if you’re dead.”

He turned left and started walking on the dimly lit path. Wicked memories and promises of soon-to-be’s came into his mind as he thought of his precious little doll. He lost her, true, but it wasn’t as if he was never going to find her. The world can only be so big and they were drawn together like a moth to a flame.

He lit a cigarette and started smoking. The fumes sifting into the air and a sense of foreboding clung to him. He coughed and coughed. Damn. He should’ve known smoking a cigarette while sick wasn’t good. He threw the cigarette on the ground and stamped on it, stamping it out like ants and people. He thought of her and thought about where she went.

Of course, anything for her.

To be continued…

Authoress: Okay! No, it did not take this long just to write it…hummm…I wonder what their names will be. (I’m kidding. I know what they are, but do you?)

Are you confused yet?