Vacant (Empathy #3) (7 page)

I grab the bottle he’s just drugged and make my way upstairs. This house is too big; it’s obnoxious, the décor untactful and common. Margaret has a thing for leopard print and apart from Joseph’s study, it covers every piece of furniture. The gardener Margaret likes to play with is a kid who likes the bonus money she slips him when he slips her his dick. Poor, greedy little asshole. He actually stopped by earlier but I paid him for the month and told him to leave. I had plans and Margaret getting laid was definitely not one of them.

I push open the bathroom door and smile at the stupid bitch lying naked in an empty tub. How drunk do you have to be to not feel the cold or be aware of the fact a predator wanting your life lurks mere inches from you? How fucking easy these idiots make this. It’s almost not worth even playing . . . almost. I grin to myself, turning on the taps. She moans incoherently so I tip some of the wine into her mouth and then some in the water around her, half down the toilet and then I flush it. I place the rim of the bottle in her hand and let go. Her grip is clumsy and the bottle slips straight out of her palm and smashes on the tiles. I step around the seeping mess so I’m standing where her head is resting against the back of the tub. I came home earlier to find her drinking by the pool while she awaited the gardener boy but her greed for the bottle mixed with the heat of the sun knocked her out. I carried her upstairs and forced a few sleeping pills into her mouth, ushering her to wash it down with a mouthful of wine. She was completely out of it when I stripped her and dumped her in the tub. The water rose quickly, coating her body. I push down lightly on her head until it’s submerged under the bathwater. She twitches a little but there’s no flaying like I would have thought; hoped. Adrenaline pumps in my chest as tiny bubbles pop on the surface for a few seconds until her body stills and goes completely limp. My breath roars in my ears. She was an easy kill but a fucking kill all the same and I’m feeding from her death.

I LEAVE HER AND EXIT the room, closing the door behind me and waltzing to the bedroom I’ve been staying in. I push the door open and grin at the naked Sarah under the covers. She arrived two hours ago; it took less than five minutes to get her naked. I fucked her in Joseph’s office, across his desk, knowing there’s a camera in there. Something for him to jack off to or cry to on his lonely days.

I’m hyper from the extinguished Margaret and if I don’t fuck this bitch hard I’m going to kill her too and that wasn’t the plan . . . but maybe it would be more poetic? I stalk over to the bed and pull the covers off her body. She moans and claws at the covers so I slap her hand, making her eyes open. “Get up on your knees,” I growl, dropping my jeans and pulling my shirt over my head. “Have you ever been fucked in that tight little hole, Sarah?” I ask, creeping up the bed and over her prone frame. The thing about meek women like her is they obey every command even if it scares them. She’s fucked in more than one way now that she’s in my grasp. The animal is in charge, ready to feed, and he’s famished.

Gripping her hair, I yank until her head snaps back and she yelps in pain. Swiping my tongue out, I lick at the sweat beading on her face. Her eyes are watering already and I haven’t even started; she’s going to be so much fun. “Tell me you want me in your ass, Sarah.” I groan and thrust my dick between her ass cheeks but not penetrating her virgin hole . . . yet

“I’ve never done that before,” she whimpers.

“Suck my dick and get it all wet.” I push her head down and she quickly twists to get in position. She’s timid with my dick, which makes me almost lose my erection. If the thought of Margret turning grey across the hall wasn’t on my mind I would have slapped this bitch with a flaccid dick. I push down her throat making her gag and spit around my dick, getting it all slippery so it will slide in her ass, only tearing slightly. My kind of fucking is new to her. She was tight when I stretched her pussy out earlier, and squealed a lot when I slapped her tits and clit. She protested when I added more fingers but her mewing that “it’s too many, it hurts” while coming all over my hand would get only more fingers added. She is the kind of woman that runs away crying and hibernates for a month, until she feels clean enough to leave her apartment again. Or she will fall in love and think letting me degrade and punish her pussy makes us bonded on a deeper level. She was in for a sore awakening . . . literally.

We’re both covered in scratch marks and bruises by the time I feel sated. She cried after I took my fill but soon came creeping over to try and lay on my chest. She got as far as brushing up against my side before I growled her to shut the fuck up and stop moving. The footfalls on the stairs alert me to Joseph’s return. I push the sleeping Sarah away from me, grab my jeans and crack the door open so I can hear him as he finds his wife. “What the . . . ?” His footsteps falter on the overflowing water. “Oh my God!” he cries out, and it’s a beautiful sound. I push open the door and walk to greet him. He’s trying to pull her lifeless body from the water but he’s a weak fuck and he keeps slipping on the floor. He senses me there, his head turning to face me, tears streaming down his cheeks. Isn’t this what he wanted?
It’s all different in reality, dear brother, isn’t it?

“Help me! Oh God, help me, Ryan!” he pleads.

I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head at him. “So she finally took too many, huh?” I ask, and he sobs like a schoolgirl. How am I related to that?

“I killed her. I killed her!” he cries. I had no clue men could actually cry so high-pitched.

“Well at least now you can have at it with Sarah, when she recovers from me, that is.” I smirk and savor his confusion. He looks at me with furrowed brows. His face is bright red and he’s still absent-mindlessly tugging on Margaret’s corpse, trying to drag her from the tub.

“What?” he whispers, and as if I summoned her with thought alone, Sarah tiptoes over to where I’m standing, snaking her hands around my waist. Clearly I wasn’t rough enough with her in the bedroom, I must be losing my touch? . . . Impossible, she’s just that desperate for affection.

“Why is the floor all wet?” she murmurs against my back. I grip her arm and tug her around my body so she can see in front of me. Her gasp is so loud it sounds more like a hiccup. Her frame vibrates.

“Oh my God. Is she dead?”

Joseph rushes to stand and it’s then that Sarah recognizes who he is. Yes, this is his house, sweet little Sarah.

“Joseph? What are you doing here? What’s happening?” Her voice breaks and sobs shudder from her. It’s perfect. She thought I lived here alone, she had no clue she was part of a game. She’s so upset she doesn’t even try to cover her body, the evidence of my fucking apparent all over her skin.

“You mother . . .” I almost get my hopes up that he’ll finish that sentence and come at me; it’s been a while since someone has hit me but the utter failure that he is, he slips on the tiles, his legs going up and his body crashing. His head hits the side of the bath with a glorious thud. Blood, crimson and thick quickly stains the water turning it into a river of red.

This wasn’t the plan. Joseph was supposed to live with his guilt. The screams of Sarah irritate me; she’s only here so I could watch the humiliation and hurt on my brother’s face. I lean down to check his pulse but he’s a goner; there’s too much blood. The hysterical naked bitch pukes in the washbasin. I grab her neck and lift her head to the mirror. “You’re a fucking mess!” I force her head forward with a hearty shove, and it cracks against the glass, shattering the mirror to pieces. I spin her, launching her body into the tub with Margret. Clean yourself up,” I growl at her. She’s face down, and if the hit from the mirror didn’t kill her, the water and body juices filling her lungs will. This was a good trip but it’s time to go see my Cereus.