Cold Cole Heart Page 20

  My mind is clearer with Natalie.

  All I see is her.

  The past isn’t a murky dream where I’m left wondering what happened and what didn’t. I’m able to remember clearly, and with utter embarrassment, that Miranda still lives and breathes. She’s no longer married to her husband, but she still lives the rich bitch life. The interview ends and it cuts in to some breaking news.

  Another woman comes forward.

  Alive.

  I wish I had killed them now.

  Each time I thought about taking my knife to them—to truly cut them—I’d chickened out. My mind would level out and urge me not to do something so crazy. With Natalie, all sanity blew through the window.

  Cassidy, still wickedly beautiful, recounts her own harrowing tale with “the creep.” My mind is a captive to those moments I had her in my grasp.

  Number four.

  I keep fucking this all up.

  They’re supposed to fear me. Not this. Not whatever the fuck this is.

  Cassidy bats her lashes at me and spreads her legs. “Mark doesn’t eat pussy. He says it’s gross.”

  Her husband. The overweight fuck has a beautiful wife. Not because he’s a sensational lover or has any valuable bed skills to add to the equation. He has Cassidy and her big fat fake tits because he owns commercial real estate all over the West Coast. The balding fuckface has money and lots of it. Cassidy, his pretty little wife, loves the money but likes to slum it with men beneath her social class.

  People like me.

  I can’t wait to see the look on her fucking face when I cut her organs out and feed them to her.

  “That’s the look,” she purrs, touching her clit between her thighs. “That’s the look that makes this affair so worth it.” Her features darken. “The kinky stuff is okay, but I’d prefer if you just ate my pussy and then made me a cocktail.”

  “I’m not your fucking pool boy,” I snap, cracking my neck as I regard her naked body on the twin bed.

  She huffs and lets her gaze skim over the sparse cell before settling her stare on my dick that bulges from my jeans. “No,” she agrees with a smile, gesturing at my cock. “My pool boy is certainly not packing that monster.” A heavy sigh escapes her. “I just wish we could do this in Seattle in a five-star hotel. I don’t understand why we have to come all the way out here to Ocean City.”

  “Because you’re my prisoner, Anta,” I bark out, making her jump.

  Her nipples harden and she bites her lip. Crazy fucking bitch.

  “Ohhh, I forgot,” she says, chuckling. “You’re the bad guy and I’m your prisoner, Anta. Please. Don’t hurt me.” Then, she winks at me. “I could have become an actress, but Mark didn’t want me to work.”

  Shut up.

  Shut the fuck up.

  My mind is a scrambled mess. I recall the three before her. Humiliation infects my every pore. I was too weak to do what needed to be done.

  But this one…this one will die.

  I pounce on her and she screams. The scream spurs me on and my dick aches in my jeans to be inside her. To punish and ruin her. But then her fingers are in my hair. Begging me to call her a whore and a dirty slut. It’s all wrong.

  She’s Anta.

  Yet, she’s not.

  She’s just some sick, lonely housewife who gets off on fucked up shit.

  My dick softens. “I’m done.”

  “Done?” she groans. “We haven’t started yet today.”

  For weeks now we’ve played these games where she ruins it all with her goddamn mouth. Weeks. It’s time to end this and find a new one.

  She slaps me in the face. “You disgusting prick. Fuck me. I didn’t just drive hours here with you to get turned down. Do you know who I am? Do you know—”

  My dick is hard again and it doesn’t take much to get it pulled from my jeans and sheathed in a condom. I fuck her, all the while trying to ignore her stupid fake moans. Eventually, I manage to come with a feral grunt. I slap her ass hard enough that I hope it bruises—my only consolation prize for this bullshit.

  “Thanks, sugar,” she purrs. “We’ll play more kinky games this weekend when Mark goes out of town again.”

  I slide out of her and lie back on the mattress. She hops out of the bed and disappears around the corner into the bathroom. While she cleans up, I manage to drag myself up to dispose of the condom. I steal her panties from the floor and her lipstick from her purse.

  She’s officially dead. Number four is dead. Hopefully five will be better.

  The thought of truly killing that big mouth in the bathroom is tempting, but the fire I felt for Anta has flickered with Cassidy. She won’t shut her fucking mouth long enough to let this play out as it was intended.

  Come on, five, don’t ruin this for me.

  I know with time the others will come forward. Everything was consensual, unfortunately. My fantasies are still warped inside my brain. Sometimes I killed them. Sometimes I tortured them. Sometimes I raped them. Sometimes, though, they walked out my front door tossing over their shoulder what a sick fuck I was. They all left sexually sated. On occasion, a few of them came back for more. But by then, I’d moved on.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Down the list.

  I’d hoped five would have been better, but she wasn’t. She was just like the rest of them.

  Back and forth I shake the bottle of chloroform as I watch Anta from my Tahoe. She’s flirting with the cashier. Always flirting this Anta. He’s young and awkward. Probably seventeen or eighteen. Anta doesn’t care. Anta doesn’t have morals. She bats her lashes and pretends for a moment that she’s not thirty-six.

  For weeks I’ve studied this one. I couldn’t have another Cassidy on my hands. Sure, a few times I caved and fucked her while visiting the city, but I’m done with her. She maddened me further, as if I needed the help.

  This one, like the others, is beautiful and self-confident. Too self-confident. Another rich bitch eager to toy with lesser-thans to make her life more interesting. As she exits the store, I shove the bottle into the cup holder and pocket the wet rag in case I need to use it. That would be crossing the line—a line I haven’t officially crossed yet.

  She carries her small bag in one arm along with her purse and fishes for her keys, completely distracted. When I approach, I notice her wedding ring is missing. Only sad, lonely, desperate people try to pick up a piece of ass at the grocery store. As much as I’d love to hold the rag to her nose and pull her unconscious body into my arms to fucking steal her, I don’t think I’ll need to.

  “Are you that celebrity?” I ask, feigning awe.

  She stops digging in her purse to lift her startled gaze my way. “W-What?” Her mouth drops open as she stares blatantly at me. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? I’m Joann.”

  “Cole.” I squint as I blatantly check her out. “Kardashian. Are you a Kardashian?”

  A giggle escapes her and her lashes bat on her cheeks. “Oh, I get asked that all the time. Just plain ol’ Joann Miller.”

  I know because I’ve been watching you, Joann Miller.

  “I was just about to go out for a drink. Care to join me?” she purrs.

  Too fucking easy. I’m irritated. I fist the rag in my pocket. “Don’t you need to freeze that?”

  She doesn’t seem to catch on that I know she buys a pint of rocky road ice cream any day her husband stands her up for dinner to fuck his secretary. I know everything. I watch, I follow, I pay attention.

  “Nah,” she says, grinning. “I forgot I’m on a diet.”

  She dumps the bag into the trash bin and clutches onto my offered elbow. Once in the car, she starts yapping like the rest of them. It pains me to carry on a normal conversation as if I actually give a fuck about her annual trip to the Maldives this year with her girlfriends. She runs her mouth the entire way to Ocean City.

  “A long way for a drink. Are you a seria
l killer?” she teases as we pull up to my house.

  No, but I aspire to be.

  “Are you always this beautiful when taking rides from strangers?” I ask, choking on the stupid words. “Besides, I’m not taking you for a drink. I’m just taking you.”

  Three minutes later and she’s sucking my dick over the console with no fear whatsoever. I pet her hair like she’s a fucking dog as I anticipate my next move. My grip tightens in her hair and she groans around my cock.

  “You’ll pay for what you did, Anta,” I hiss, forcing her to fuck my dick with her mouth.

  She gags around my cock, her fingernails digging into my jeans. I’ll pluck them all off one by one. I’ll make her bleed. A hum resonates from her and I lose it. My cum bursts from me, making her choke on it.

  “My name’s Joann,” she says testily when she pulls away from my dripping dick.

  “Your name is Anta,” I seethe.

  “Take me home. Now.”

  Instead, I take the still-damp rag from my pocket and shove it against her nose.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’s naked and chained to the bed by her ankle. My heart thunders in my chest. This is happening. She’s my captive. Not some kinky shit to reenact my past. Fucking real.

  I pull my knife from my pocket and consider what it would feel like to puncture her flesh and mark her up. To gouge my name in every smooth plane. It would feel good. Like killing Anta.

  My dick hardens at that thought.

  Her lids flutter open.

  “Hello, Anta.”

  “What happened?” she demands.

  “You’re a dirty little whore. That’s what happened,” I bark at her.

  Instead of recoiling, her eyes soften. “Is this your thing?”

  “I have no thing,” I growl.

  “I once made my husband call me his ex-fiancée’s name. It was the only time he ever fucked me like he hated me.” She licks her lips. “I loved it.”

  “I do hate you.” My nostrils flare with fury.

  “Prove it,” she taunts.

  I smack her thigh. She moans. I smack her stomach. She squirms. I smack her cunt. She nearly comes.

  It’s all wrong.

  The chain rattles as she parts her legs, begging for more. As much as I want to torture her to death, I don’t. I’m a fucking coward. I bite and pinch and slap her. She claws at my shoulders and comes with my name on her lips.

  Number five is a disappointment.

  But it’s me who’s the fucking disaster.

  With Natalie, I finally absorbed myself into the fantasy I craved so badly. To hurt Anta once and for all. Like she hurt me. None of this fake bullshit. It was real. Finally real.

  I scrub my palm over my scruffy cheek. I’m exhausted as hell, but I’m free. And as soon as it gets late enough, I’m going to get my girl. Whatever that fuckface did to her, he’ll pay with his blood. And no matter how broken she is, I’ll bring her back to me. I’ll fix her like only I can.

  I’m coming for you, Natalie.

  I always was.

  Slipping in the back door of the building was simple. I waited until someone exited and I popped right inside. The back stairwell used for maintenance was empty. Easy. Almost too easy. Soon, I’m on his floor and huddled in his doorway. For as fancy of a building he lives in, you’d think the locks would be harder to break. I’m easily granted entry with a few clicks of my tools. It’s quiet when I arrive and dark. I hope I catch him asleep.

  Like a panther in the jungle, I prowl down the entryway. Silent and deadly. When I peek my head around the corner, I see light coming from a doorway.

  Moans.

  Pained and awful.

  I pause to listen.

  More moans. Screams. Uncontrollable sobbing.

  The beast inside me rattles in his cage. Hungry for more. I stalk down the hallway, eager for a peek. To see the destruction. My blood buzzes and hums with the desperate craving.

  One peek.

  I allow myself one little peek.

  But the moment I see, I can’t hold back. She’s too beautiful. Covered in blood. Radiating violence and rage. A hellion who belongs to me.

  Her teeth are bared when she snaps her head my way. Dark hair hangs in her face, her gray eyes wild and feral. Her prey moans and sobs. Pleads for help.

  He won’t get help from me.

  “Come here, honey,” I growl.

  She shakes away the monstrous expression on her face and smiles brilliantly at me. I open my arms and catch her as she leaps at me. Her skinny legs wrap around my waist and she hugs me so tightly around my neck I’m nearly choked by the force of it.

  “Cole,” she cries out, her breath hot against my ear. “You came back for me.”

  “I always was,” I remind her. “But you didn’t need me, Natalie. You were winning all by yourself.”

  She shakes her head, her voice cracking as emotion seeps in. “Not true. I did need you. We needed you.”

  “We?”

  Alan hisses behind her, but it’s unintelligible if he’s trying to say something.

  “Our baby,” she says as she pulls back to stare at me. Blood smears are on her face, but they’re not hers.

  “Baby?” I choke out. “You’re pregnant.”

  She nods happily. The white picket fence I’d once dreamed about in a cold, dark cell is once again forefront in my mind. With Natalie, anything is possible. “I love you,” she whispers before crashing her lips to mine.

  My girl tastes salty and metallic. Blood. I devour her because she’s mine. Because she carries my happiness in her belly. Her fingers are tugging at my hair as she kisses me frantically. I need her. Now.

  She cries out when I walk over to the wall and bump her against it. Her T-shirt gets torn away and I set her to her feet long enough to yank off her jeans and panties. Then, I lift her again before pulling out my dick from my jeans and pressing into her tight heat. We both moan at the physical reunion. I fuck her hard against the wall to make up for lost time. To remind her how good we are together.

  “You’re so beautiful and mine,” I growl, nipping and kissing her everywhere I can get a hold of.

  “So are you,” she groans.

  I let go of her earlobe with my teeth because I need to see her eyes. They’re my favorite part. It’s what lured me out of my own insanity and chained me to her. I stare at her as I come. She lets out whimpers of pleasure. I’ll make sure she orgasms later, but for now, I kiss her over and over again. I reach up and grip her throat. So dainty and fragile. I love how she gives herself to me. Vulnerabilities and all. Trusts me to keep her safe.

  Her smile is lazy and I decide I don’t want to wait to make her come. I slide my hand from her throat down to her cunt. She makes mewling sounds and then moans as I expertly bring her to climax. The way she shudders around my soaked dick has it hardening back up again.

  We’re animals.

  Mating and feral and hungry and free.

  She claws at my neck and bites on my lip. Makes my dick hard as stone. Begs for me to fuck her wild once more. The crying behind us is a beautiful soundtrack to what we’re doing. When we come again, there’s a lot of screaming on her part and harsh grunting on my end.

  We could do this forever.

  I palm her stomach and kiss her sweetly. “I love you, honey. And I love our little honeybee too.”

  A CALMNESS SETTLES OVER ME now that Cole has come for me. The rage and fury burning through my veins has cooled. Alan, my victim, is pathetic. I stare at him as he cries while Cole tends to me with a warm cloth. He cleans his cum from me. Then, he rinses it out and cleans off the blood. Once he’s satisfied, he helps me redress. I want to cling to him and beg him to take me away from here.

  I have unfinished business, though.

  “What exactly is going on here?” Cole asks, cocking his head to the side as he stares down at Alan, who’s lying like a starfish on the bed. I tied him to each corner. The coat hanger he tried and failed to abort my baby with i
s now hanging from his mouth. I hooked him right through the cheek.

  My thoughts drift to this morning.

  I kick my heel hard and bash him in the nose. He bellows in pain, momentarily distracted by the gushing blood. I’m free, though. My hands have slipped from the rope and I grab the only weapon available. The coat hanger. Swinging out, I whip it across his face. He screeches when the metal punctures and hooks into his cheek. While he’s freaking out, I grab the lamp and smash it down over his head.

  I’ve knocked him out.

  Of all the times he’s done the same to me, I finally get mine.

  Victory burns in my chest.

  Quickly, I snag the rope and tie up my victim.

  I like the sound of that.

  “That was sort of an accident,” I tell Cole. “He was going to…” I trail off and shoot him a sad look that he interprets immediately based on the explosion of hate behind his brown eyes. “Kill the baby.”

  A growl rumbles from him and I blink away my tears.

  “Surely he’s not in that much agony, though,” he muses aloud.

  At this, I smirk. After I tied him up, I showered and dressed. Ate some toast since I was feeling a little ill. Then, I drove his car up to the office. My poor cousin Alan has been so stressed these days after my “kidnapping.” He was going to work from home. Sent me to fetch some things. Funny how easily they let me into his office and told me to take as much time as I needed.

  He had those people so fooled.

  Apparently I did too.

  I got what I needed, spent a couple of hours at the bank, and then stopped by a craft store.

  They were having a sale and I needed what they were selling.

  “Alan here believes in hurting the one he supposedly loved in inconspicuous places. A slap with a towel on my inner thighs. Punches to the stomach. Slaps to my pussy and asshole. Forcing things down my throat only to bring them back up again. Hair pulling. But the worst were the sewing needles.” I wince and Cole’s brows furl. He fists his hands, eager to pummel Alan. Luckily, I took care of this all on my own.