Filthy 3: A Dark Erotic Serial Page 3

  I walked right up to him and threw my arms around him because I knew it was what he wanted, what he expected. And I knew he would give me what I wanted if I played by his rules. “Thank you for coming to get me, daddy.” The words rolled off my tongue the same as they had all my life, but the bitter, sour taste they left behind was more potent this time around.

  “You called Dad?” Rhett still seemed confused when I let go of Taylor and turned around.

  I nodded and opened my mouth to speak, but Taylor cut me off. “She’s coming home.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “For good.”

  I didn’t miss the way he said it. The permanence in his words. But I could already feel it. Taste it. I rubbed my nose. The bump I would get. The pure, perfect coke. It would be worth it. It would stop the ache in my bones. It would end the pain. It would be enough.

  It had to be.

  FOUR

  “Tell me about them.”

  I stared at Taylor while he lounged on the couch in front of me. The white couch. The one in his house where I had begged Rhett to fuck me all those years ago.

  “About who?” I stood awkwardly in front of him. We had just gotten there a few minutes before. The ride had been silent, empty, like so many things in my life.

  “The men you’ve fucked since you left.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “You promised me some coke.”

  He nodded and rubbed his fingers against his smooth chin. “I did.” His blue eyes traveled up and down my body, sparkling with malice and want.

  “So give it to me.” My voice trembled and I hated how desperate I sounded.

  “Not just yet.” A smile curved his lips. “I want to hear about the men you fucked when you ran away from me.”

  Does he know I’m a prostitute? That thought made me nervous. Yesterday I was certain that he didn’t, but now I wasn’t sure. What will he do to me if he knows about the hundreds of men that have been inside me? He tortured me when he found out that I wanted to sleep with someone else—and I hadn’t even done it.

  “What men?”

  “Don’t play stupid, Faye baby.” He stood up and walked around me.

  My skin prickled as my nerves stood on end.

  “There weren’t any other men.” The lie slipped off my tongue easily.

  He chuckled. It was that sickening sound that I remembered from so long ago when his tastes turned dark. “Don’t lie to me. You’ve been gone for three years and you’re such a lusty little thing.” He trailed a finger along the exposed flesh at my waist below my black top. “You’re the kind of girl that needs to be fucked every day,” he whispered in my ear. “Someone had to fill my void.”

  I shook my head. “No one could take your place.” It fed his ego, but it was also the truth. No one could be what Taylor was to me. No one could take my virginity again. No one could take the things took from me. At the same time, no one could give me the things he gave me either. I pushed the thought away not wanting to consider the good that came out of mine and Taylor’s relationship. The pleasure. The hours I spent orgasming in his mouth and on his cock.

  He stopped right in front of me, brushing his fingers against my cheek. I wanted to jerk away from them and lean into them all at once. “Don’t lie to me!” The anger in his voice was a polar opposite to the gentleness of his hand.

  I flinched. “I’m not lying,” I whispered.

  “Then where have you been?”

  My mind flittered to a hundred different scenarios. “I stayed with my friend…Macy…” I pulled the first name that came to me off the top of my head, “and her mom. But then my friend moved to live with her dad because her mom was hooked on coke…” I trailed off, letting him connect the dots to my fake story.

  Some internal war took place in his eyes before he stepped back from me, dropping his hand. He ran it over his dark hair and looked away from me for a moment. “Do you remember when I took you to Cancún?” I closed my eyes and looked away from him. I didn’t want to think about that time. “Do you remember, Faye?”

  His words demanded an answer. “Yes.” I nodded.

  “It was the best time of my life,” he said so quietly I jerked my gaze up to his—shocked that he would say such a thing. It had been just before the end of my freshman year in high school. I was fourteen, almost fifteen. It was just weeks before Rhett came home for that faithful summer that changed everything. “I’d wanted to get you away from here on our own. Just the two of us. Your mother hadn’t wanted that. She hadn’t wanted us alone. Did you know that?”

  I chewed on my lips. I knew well enough.

  “She didn’t want to share me with you. Not really. She never wanted it. But I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Did you know that, Faye?” I bit down on my lips harder, not wanting to answer. “Did you know that you were the reason I married her?”

  I blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  He smirked at me. “How could you not know? You were the only reason I even approached her that day in the mall when we met.”

  I wracked my brain for memory of the meeting, but couldn’t recall it.

  “You were so perfect.” He reached out and brushed his fingers through my hair. “So young. You were looking in at the kittens in the pet shop window and telling her all the pros of why you should have a kitten. You told her that you would clean up after it. You would care for it. You would give it everything it ever wanted. You would make it happy.” He brushed his hand against my lips. “It made me hard just thinking of everything you were promising to give.”

  “Taylor…”

  “Don’t fucking call me that, Faye!” His chest heaved, his face reddened. “And I got you. It took months of dating, of pining, of fucking your mother and promising her the world. She married me and then I told her what I wanted. I think she knew all along. How could she not? How could she not see the longing in my eyes when I looked at you?”

  “I was a little girl.” I shook my head wanting to deny everything he was saying.

  “It didn’t matter, Faye. Don’t you see that? I’m not some monster that preys on little children.” He gripped my chin forcing me to look up at him. “You were the first and only person I ever felt this way toward. It was an instant attraction. It wasn’t because you were a child. That had nothing to do with it.” His eyes were frantic bouncing around my face. “I felt a connection with you like I’d never felt with anyone else. I knew you were meant to be mine. And only mine.” He shook his head. “But enough of that. Do you remember the trip, Faye, to Cancún? Your mother didn’t want us to go, but she didn’t have a choice. You had been mine for years and you were practically a woman. Your body was lean. Your breasts fuller, bigger.” He let his hand drop to my chest, palming one of the globes. “You were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen when you laid on that beach in your little two piece. Do you remember how we made love on that sand? Do you remember how you rode my cock?”

  I stared up into Taylor’s eyes and remembered. I hadn’t thought about that trip in a long time. About those five days I laid on the beach with him. About the way I laughed at his jokes. About how he bought me anything I wanted. About the way he fucked me everywhere. In the limo, in our penthouse suite, on the beach, in the water. Everywhere. He was everywhere. Inside me. On me. He was a part of me.

  He’d taken me because he was afraid. He was scared that I was pulling away from him. It was around the time I realized what we had together wasn’t natural. It was wrong. But that trip to Cancun changed those thoughts. I was his and he was mine in those moments. We belonged together. He said those words to me over and over and by the end of that week I believed him.

  “I remember,” I whispered.

  “But then we came home and Rhett did too. And then everything changed.” Hate reflected back to me in his eyes.

  “I was just a kid, Taylor. I didn’t know what I wanted.” I said the words defensively, but they were true none-the-less. The trip with Taylor had been exhilarating,
but Rhett being at home and Taylor not touching me for the time brought new clarity to my life. It made me realize that I wanted so much more.

  “But you were mine. You’ve always been mine!” He gripped my arm and forced me onto the couch and loomed over me. “And then you left.” The words came out hollow, like they gutted him.

  “I left because you hurt me. Both of you hurt me,” I said, referring to my mom.

  “Do you know how long I looked for you?” He raked his hands at my top forcing it down until my tits burst free. He circled the hard tips with deft fingers and with all my might I tried to resist the way it made me feel. The tingling it sent to my core. “Did you know that I looked everywhere for you? Do you know how heartbroken I was?” He pinched one nipple hard and I let out a moan of protest. “Do you know, Faye?”

  “No!” I shrieked, shirking away from his touch.

  “I know you don’t.” He let go and leaned down, circling his tongue over the throbbing bud, soothing it, bringing back all the good feelings I wanted to squash. “Which is why I’m going to show you.”

  He rose to his full height, his knees planted on either side of my waist. The look in his eyes was familiar. It promised many things. It promised pain. It promised retribution. It promised all the things I had run away from—as if I had never left.

  “Tell me about them. About him,” Taylor whispered in my ear. “I know you fucked him.” He’d taken off his clothes and torn mine away when I didn’t remove them fast enough. He hovered over me now, his thick cock pressed against my belly.

  “I didn’t fuck anyone.”

  “I know you fucked Rhett. I saw the way he looked at you today—the day of the funeral.”

  “What kind of look is that?”

  Taylor’s open palm slammed into the side of my face hard, making the throbbing pain in my head quadruple. “Like you belong to him. But you belong to me, don’t you?”

  I don’t. I would never belong to any man. “I’m yours. No one else’s.”

  “You didn’t fuck anyone while you were with your friend and her mom?”

  “No. No one but you. I’ve never been with anyone else.”

  He slapped me again sending my head reeling in the other direction. “Then why did you leave me?” His voice was hoarse, as if it physically hurt him to say the words.

  I looked up into his eyes. They were so blue. Blue eyes I’d stared into hundreds of times. “Because I was afraid.” The truth.

  “I had to punish you.” He ran a comforting hand against my cheek while he trailed the other one down my body. “You had been so bad.” When he reached my pussy he delved his fingers in, not bothering to linger. It would have hurt if I wasn’t wet. But I was. I was fucking wet. It was disgusting and I wished it wasn’t true. I wished I was dried up and unwilling but I wasn’t. Taylor had some kind of control on my body. Even though he had hurt me. In fact, every time he had hurt me I had still had an orgasm. Even when I was gushing blood, the dark red liquid sliding down my thighs he had still made me cum. Made me crave him in spite of the horrible things he had done.

  “I had to do those things. You had to understand,” he grunted, sliding his fingers deeper inside me. His cock kicked between us. “You had to know who you belonged to.”

  I should have been filled with revulsion, but I wasn’t. Something pushed at my mind, threatening my sanity. Why am I really back here? Is it because of the drugs? It was. But there was something more. Something dark and sick that lived inside me, that craved this. This twisted relationship. The fact that he had what I needed only gave me more of a reason to be here. The thought scared me. I didn’t want this. Not really. But I couldn’t deny the wetness between my legs. The way his fingers curled to caress the sweet spot inside me. I moaned and arched into him. My hands gripping his shoulders.

  He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. Lips I knew better than my own. He kissed me hard while he played with my pussy, his tongue, twirling, dueling with mine. And he kept kissing me until my body shook, the orgasm slicing through me like a dirty knife.

  I came down from the high quickly. Taylor jerked me off the couch and forced my body down onto the floor. The movement was so quick it shocked me and I slammed my head hard against the side of the couch on the way down. If I hadn’t already had a headache and felt so weak from withdrawals the hit wouldn’t have hurt me at all. But as it was, I was stunned, my head spinning.

  “Tay—”

  “That’s not what you call me,” he growled. “You liked that didn’t you? Didn’t you?” Spit hit my face as I gazed up at him, dazed. “Remember when I gave you that every day, Faye baby? Remember when I made you cum over and over?” He dug his hands into my hair and jerked my head up to his, twisting my body awkwardly. “But you had to ruin that. You took it all away and for what?”

  “I haven’t been with anyone else.” I knew now that he didn’t know. The look on his face said it all. He was angry, but he wanted to believe me. He had to believe me if I was ever going to get any cocaine. “Only you, Taylor. Only you.” A tear leaked out of one of my eyes.

  A sneer covered his face. “You’re mine. Only mine.” He said the words right against my face before releasing me. My head hit the carpet with a thud. Seconds later he was slamming into me, his big cock spearing me. But he was thrusting too hard, going to deep. His cock seemed to rip through me, and I tried to scramble back on my elbows. He stayed my weak movements with his big hands. “You’re never going to run from me again. Ever!” He shouted the words as he fucked me hard, slamming his dick inside as far as he could go, demanding I take more.

  “Taylor, you’re hurting me.”

  “Don’t fucking call me that,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Daddy,” I screeched. “Daddy, you’re hurting me.”

  The plea seemed to spark something in him, he slowed down his pace and reached behind him. His hand came back with something silver. A blade clicked into place just as panic kicked me in the gut. I tried to scramble backward, but again he stopped me.

  “Do you remember this, Faye baby?” He kept thrusting his hips as he held the knife to my face.

  I did. I remembered all of it. He used the blade on me after Rhett left, on my stomach particularly. He would slice my skin, making shallow, painful cuts. Cuts that wouldn’t scar so there would be no lasting evidence. But the pain was there. Always there in the back of my mind.

  “Do you remember how good it was with the knife?”

  “I—” The slice of the blade on the skin just below my left breast ended the words in my throat and made me cry out in pain. He tossed the knife away and pressed his fingers against the wound, still moving his hips.

  “Look how pretty it is.” He lifted his fingers up for me to see. They were dark with my blood. He swiped one finger across my closed lips. “It’s so red. So pretty.” More tears pressed at the back of my eyes. He moved his hips faster and fingered the cut again. “Don’t you like it?” He rubbed his fingers together, smearing the crimson. I watched the movement in slow motion. It was never-ending. Until it did end. He pressed his hand to the cut harder, squeezing it, coaxing more blood out. He snaked his damp fingertips between our bodies and rubbed the moisture on my throbbing clit.

  I moaned and he fucked me harder. It hurt, the way he stabbed into me roughly, but something sweet bloomed from the pain. Even though I had just cum, even though not even ten minutes had passed, the orgasm surprised me. Sneaking up on me. I was too weak to fight it. I let it take me. I let it swallow me whole while he fucked me harder, while blood dripped from my superficial wound. Just as it was ending he pulled out of me, fisting his cock a few times before groaning and hot liquid spurted onto my stomach.

  I lay there on the pristine white carpet, my body limp and achy. “Please.” The word slipped from my lips of its own accord. I needed the coke. I needed it now. I couldn’t wait any longer. I felt like mush. Like complete and utter shit. I’d cum, sure. But all of it left me feeling worse than b
efore, which I didn’t think was possible. “Please…”

  “Please, what?” he chuckled over me, sucking his bloody, cum covered fingertips into his mouth.

  “Please, daddy. I need a bump. Please.” I hated how I sounded.

  He leaned in and pressed his palm to the side of my face. His eyes searching mine. “Not yet, Faye baby.” He smiled. “Not yet.”

  FIVE

  One month later.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been there. In his house. In his bed. It had been weeks. Days. Maybe even months. I wasn’t sure because time all ran together. I spent my days sleeping in his bed. The big bed he used to share with my mother. It was the only place he hadn’t fucked me while my mother was alive. But now that she was gone he seemed hell bent on fucking me there every chance he got.

  I wasn’t a prisoner. At least that was what he said. But I was. He made me a prisoner with the drugs. He held them over my head. He kept me weak and desperate for them so I wouldn’t run again. When he left for work I didn’t try to run away. I could have. I could have ran and gone back to my home. To Shauna and the drugs. But I didn’t want to. The cocaine Jorge sold me was nothing compared to what Taylor had. He had the best and I knew I wouldn’t be able to function on anything else now.

  And what was the point really? Why go back when what I needed was here? I had tried to run away from Taylor. I had managed to stay away for years. But he was right, it looked like fate would always send me back here. I would always end up in his arms, no matter how much I hated it. And now he knew I hated it.

  He could make me cum, he could fuck me. But he knew I didn’t love him, even though he made me say it. He knew that the little girl who would have died for him was gone and in her place someone else. Someone broken, fractured beyond repair. Instead of trying to fix me, he chose to break me even more. And I let him. I let him rip me apart with his hands. With the knife. It was reminiscent of those times I hated so much, only now he had no audience. My mother wasn’t here to cheer him on. She was dead. And every day I spent with Taylor was a day that I envied her. She was free. And I was here, desperate and clinging to the sickness that made me run away in the first place.