It was supposed to be safe. A thrill. A way to break through the monotony of everyday life. It was an illusion of danger that I could walk away from as soon as it was over.
Except that it wasn’t. Because I had been in danger long before I ever invited it into my life.
My mission is almost complete. The bubbling boil of vengeance that heats my blood might finally simmer.
She is the last piece of the puzzle. Once I destroy her, everyone who ever hurt me will have paid their debt.
It was supposed to be quick and easy, but as soon as I met her it got complicated.
Very complicated.
It’s already 11pm and my patience is growing very fucking thin. I know she’s at a party, but I don’t give a shit. I want her here now.
Finally, I hear a car pull up front. A Taxi. Perfect. She’s alone just as I expected.
I watch Mia from a closet as she enters the house and locks the door behind her. She even does this thing where she switches the light on and off. Stupid little bitch.
It’s tempting to jump out now, but I need to be patient. I have to catch her completely off guard and without warning.
She’s wobbling all over the place, she must be hammered. I couldn’t have asked for a better setup: drunk people are easy to overpower. Not that I am worried about her tiny ass putting up a good fight.
She kicks off her shoes and pulls off her sweater, and I admire the curves of her body in her white tank top and tight jeans. Her tits are perfect, full but still perky, and right now her nipples are hard, poking right through the thin material of her tank. Her ass is round and tight. Her body has changed over the years, filling out in all the right places. My dick throbs thinking about the things I would do to her.
Now if this bitch would just go to the bedroom, I could get started. Her living room window faces the main street and she will scream. Her bedroom, on the other hand, is towards the back of the house and faces the backyard. Wrestling on a bed is much quieter than in a living room full of lamps and bookshelves filled with random bullshit. How many fucking knickknacks does one human being require? Is that a porcelain cat? Honestly, I’m putting her out of her misery. She should thank me.
Anyway, I want to take my time with her, so I need to wait just a little bit longer. Shit, I’ve already waited fourteen years, I can manage a few more minutes.
I cannot believe this shit, she’s turning on her stereo.
What is this godforsaken shit she’s listening to? Of course, fucking Backstreet Boys.
I can’t help but smile a little when she dances. She’s so carefree right now. She thinks she’s safe.
But she doesn’t understand that tonight is the night she dies.
Nina G. Jones is the author of the Strapped Series and Gorgeous Rotten Scoundrel.
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