“Get the fuck out!” I say, stumbling off the bed, pointing at the door. With one quick jerk I pull my panties back on, because I don’t want that fucking bastard looking at me. The gun is pointed at him, but my hands are shaking. I’m weak. I hate it.
Get over it. This fucking piece of shit deserves to die.
The moment he sees the gun his eyes widen and his movement stops.
“Get out!” I scream, flicking the gun between him and the door.
He scrambles up from the bed and pulls up his pants, making me painfully aware of the fact that he touched me. That my clothes are ripped, and that he was about to stick his junk into me.
Fuck, this is fucked up.
“I’m not saying it again; get out or I’ll fucking kill you right now!” I yell.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” he says, walking around the bed. I follow his every step, vigilant, because I know pigs like him can’t be trusted. He could still change his mind and try to force himself on me again. I’ve seen it before with another girl at the club. One time this girl was flirting with a customer and I knew she was taking him over the edge with her lap dance. The edge means they aren’t able to walk away anymore. The men want more, and they won’t stop until they get it. Not all of us are willing to give it, but she was. She wasn’t willing to give up her pussy, though. Just like me. We give them pleasure, but the pussy is off limits. Too bad for her she didn’t carry a gun around, unlike me. It was the last day I ever saw her.
My anger gets the better of me, because Billy’s face while he tried to push inside me is still imprinted on my retina. So I bend over and take off my high heels, throwing them at the back of his head. “Hurry up, you piece of shit!”
He turns around and rubs his head. “What the fuck? I’m leaving, aren’t I?”
“I should kill you for what you did!”
As Billy twists the key in the lock, a knock is audible, and he freezes. I keep the gun pointed at his head, air leaving my lungs in rapid breaths as Billy backs away from the door. The door creaks. I’ve never heard it creak before.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, a shiny, black shoe smashing the lock. I stiffen, chills running down my spine. The leg retreats. A gun appears out of nowhere. A black, velvety gloved hand holding it. Fingers moving to the trigger.
It’s not loud, like in the movies. It’s a thud, like someone just punched a pillow. The shot is soft, but unmistakably a gunshot.
At first there is nothing. Seconds seem like minutes as I stand here trembling with a gun in my hand, watching everything unfold. Fingers shake and breaths falter. Blood pours from his head. Billy falls to the ground.
My jaw drops because I can’t believe my eyes. Billy is dead, but it wasn’t me who killed him.
The gun fires again and again, two shots, one right between the eyes and one into the heart. Each one pulling me further away from this world. It all feels like a dream, but I know it’s not. I just wish it was so I could force myself to wake from this nightmare.
I want to scream, but I can’t. Air is trapped in my throat and it can’t escape. I don’t even know if I should. I’m frozen in place as the mysterious killer steps into my room and reveals himself to me. A bald stranger wearing a fitted black suit, a white collar contrasting the colorless ensemble. Lines of ink stick out from underneath, tattooed into his skin on both sides of his throat. However, the most striking of all is the x-shaped scar that marks his right eye. A wound seared into his skin ages ago, leaving ruin and havoc on his face. His eye has been replaced with a metallic fake; an eerie warning to the horrible events that he’s involved in. Events that I might get involved in too now.
Who is this man that stepped into my room?
Why is he here?
Can I trust him?
His face turns from Billy to me. Eyes black as night stare back at me, unsettling me to my core. At first they widen, but then they narrow, as if he’s surprised. I shiver, trying to keep the gun steady, but I fail in my attempt to keep it together. The look in his eyes reminds me of the stories my nanny used to read to me, stories about the devil.
His steps are fast and big as he comes toward me, indifferent about the gun in my hand.
“Don’t come closer! I’ll shoot,” I warn, but his hand is already locked firmly around my wrist. He jerks it to the side, forcing me to drop the gun. I yelp as his hand moves from my wrist to my neck, chocking me. I wrap my fingers around his, desperately trying to claw my way out, but it’s not use. He’s twice as strong as me, and his will seems unbendable.
Terror fills me as the gun in his hand rises to eye-level. The cold metal feels like a burn against my skin. He looks me straight in the eye, his coal eyes filled with chilling determination.
Mr. X -- Coming July 2014
Clarissa Wild is the Amazon Bestselling Romance author of FIERCE, a top 200 and top 15 New Adult Romance novel. She is also a writer of erotic romance such as the Blissful Series, The Billionaire's Bet series, the Doing It Series and the Enflamed Series. She is an avid reader and writer of sexy stories about hot men and feisty women. Her other loves include her furry cat friend and learning about different cultures. In her free time she enjoys watching all sorts of movies, reading tons of books and cooking her favorite meals.
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