Heartless Lover by Faith Summers

12

Eric

Feeling frustrated, I make my way to the room I set up when I began my quest. It’s the furthest room in the apartment, and absolutely no one besides me is allowed inside. The only time I ever have to worry about it is when I have women over, but I never allow them to stay for longer than a night.

Obviously, the woman currently living with me is going to be a problem even with the lesson I hoped to teach her earlier. I get the feeling she’s going to cross me again. It’s the nature of her inquisitive firecracker personality.

Regardless, I hope this shit gets resolved before she gets any more ideas about wandering into the unknown and trying to learn what I really am.

She’d get a good idea from this room of mine.

I only come in here when I have something to add to it. So last night, I came in here to add the copy of the recording I downloaded from the files Dominic sent.

The room is as big as my office, which is massive. The size shows the importance I’ve given to its purpose.

When I switch on the lights, and it chases the darkness away, the emblems of my obsession with death are fully displayed. If anyone were to take a peek inside here, they’d know which type of insane villain I am.

This room is the thing in existence that shows how I really feel inside. It resembles something from a psychological horror film depicting a serial killer or some bat shit crazy person.

I have writing on every wall—I’m mathematically-minded, so I need my thinking space outside my mind.

The main wall you see when you first walk in is what I know a person would find disturbing. That’s the wall that would freak them out.

On there, I have pictures of each person on my hit list. There are ten people up there. Robert is number one. As of tonight, he’s the last person left on the list. The last person who remains to be dealt with.

Under each picture of all except one of the others are details about that person, from newspaper clippings and other printed information.

The disturbing stuff is what I have under that. What’s there is the plan I wrote out of how I was going to kill them. Below the plan is a picture of them dead with a big X crossed over their dead faces. I collected the pictures of the dead to remind me that I defeated them, and that was how they looked after they met their end at my hand. I’m about to add Luke’s picture up there.

Everyone on this wall there assisted in the plot to destroy my family.

That’s why Persephone is there too.

While I was being tortured in Brazil, I had the privilege of seeing she was very much a part of the plot when she visited Jude.

It was because Dad didn’t fight for us is why she became an enabler of that plot. She always planned to destroy us anyway, so helping Jude take me, her husband’s illegitimate son, was a delight for her.

The day I wrote her name on my hit list, it felt like a long time coming.

Unlike everyone else there, though, I have an X marked in red across her living face.

I don’t have a picture of her dead face because I didn’t kill her. Death decided to rob me of getting my revenge on her. She died of a heart attack a few weeks after I was rescued. I heard it happened as she was looking at pictures in an album that belonged to my father. It was pictures of us she never knew about.

I was told it was she who helped locate me in Brazil. But she only offered her assistance because she wanted Jude dead for blackmailing her out of the inheritance she wanted for her sons. That bitch would have known what my rescue meant for her. She knew I’d be planning my revenge. Personally, I think that’s what killed her—the worry over what I’d do to her.

Robert can worry his ass off too.

His death will be the worst of them all.

I pull the picture of the burnt remains of Luke from my pocket. I printed it off from my phone while I was at my office earlier. I set it on the wall and put an X over what used to be his face.

If Summer ever came in here, she’d be more afraid of me than she already is.

She’d really believe I was a fucking psycho, and she’d be right to think it. I’m starting to believe it too.

I should keep my distance from her but being home and knowing she’s in the guest room, probably cursing me, has my dick hard all over again.

I chuckle to myself like the madman I am. Summer Reeves is the only person I haven’t checked out yet.

It’s evident I’m fucking obsessed with this mission of mine if I didn’t take the chance to check her out. It’s more evident after what happened between us earlier, and I didn’t fuck her. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to.

I didn’t check her out before, but I can now.

With that thought in mind, I go to my office and do just that.

I do a general search for her on the net, and I come up with images of her from when she was six-years-old right through to her teens. There are images of her and Scarlett in a TV magazine covering their debut performance on the Family Channel’s show All my Years. She and her family lived in New York at the time.

The headlines describe them both as actresses with a bright future because they were amazing. I see details of them acting in the show for four years, and after it ended, Summer went on to stage plays. There are articles about her grandmother, Susan Matthews, who had links to classic Hollywood films, and her mother, Elena Matthews, who was in a number of films.

The headlines go batshit crazy when her mother gets engaged and later marries Ted Nicholson, the States Attorney of New York.

I’m well clued up on who Ted Nicholson is. He’s now the governor of New York state. Every time I’ve seen him on TV or anything like that, I’ve had this feeling that something was off about him. There’s just something sinister about him that spikes my nerves, but I can’t put my finger on it.

Elena Matthews looks like a woman who loves power and prestige, so it doesn’t surprise me that she’d be with a man like Ted or that he remarried after her death. Fuckers like him always link themselves to the cereal box family image, even if he just has a wife and no kids.

Summer’s family was torn apart after Elena’s suicide, and it doesn’t look like dear old Ted kept in touch with his stepdaughters. While there’s nothing more about Summer, Scarlett seems to have continued to do well in her life and career. I find numerous articles about her taking over the theater scene. Summer, on the other hand, disappeared. Maybe that’s when she went to Monaco.

It was around that eight-year span where she stopped talking to her father. The latest about Scarlett is a play called Lovers Purgatory that’s opening next month. That’s a problem we haven’t addressed yet. I’m planning to talk to her father about it after the funeral. I haven’t told Summer that yet, but there’s a chance that it could be next week.

I was kind of hoping to watch the situation and see what happens by then.

I return to my search and continue finding more images of Scarlett.

Nothing for Summer, though. That’s the twin that has me worked up.

Since my dick is already hard for her, the only place I can think of looking to get the most recent intel on her is at Club Montage.

I find their website, and of course, just from their home page it looks like you’re about to delve into something risqué as fuck.

It looks like a fucking porn site, but the only difference is it doesn’t have the sleaziness. That’s what gives Club Montage that high-end edge and lures you into buying into the fantasy.

The home page tells you about the club and has a link with a booking form so you can book your visit. What catches my eye, though, is the page where you can book a girl. You have to have membership access to the club to be able to view the portal and book the girl you want, but I bypass that by hacking the system within seconds.

When I click on the link, all the girls—who Cassius has christened the Dolls—pops up with over a hundred girls. Summer Reeves is in the top twenty and categorized as a V.I.P. doll. She’s number two. I’m guessing there must be some rank system, but I don’t know how it works. To me, girl number one has nothing on Summer.

Just from the look of her profile picture, I can see why Summer is number two.

The woman is fucking beautiful with that body of hers and her perfect cock sucking lips. A man would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine her mouth on his dick when he first looked at her. Since I’m no fucking boy scout, I won’t be a liar and pretend my dick isn’t hardening as I look at her picture and I remember with perfect clarity how her lips graced over my dick.

That fuck me expression on her face is enough in the picture to conjure a fantasy, but she’s dressed in a see-through red net babydoll negligee that leaves nothing to the imagination. I see rosy pink, pert nipples begging to be sucked and the smooth flat line of her stomach going all the way down to her clean-shaven pussy.

Fuck me.

She looks like temptation wrapped in red. With her gorgeous velvet hair flowing down her shoulders and her back arched, she looks like she’s ready to make every fantasy you ever had come true.

I click on her file, and I can’t stop thinking with my dick when naked pictures come up of her.

I knew what I was likely to see when I clicked. I just wasn’t fucking prepared for it.

There are twenty naked pictures of her in different poses and showing different angles of her. My obsession with her breasts hook me on the first picture of her holding one breast in each hand and licking her lips. The next one that hooks me is the scandalous as fuck picture of her lying on the bed with her legs spread wide and her fingers parting the pretty pink lips of her pussy.

Jesus Christ, by the time I get to the end of the selection and see the listing of what Summers Reeves is willing to do to make your fantasies come true, I don’t know how I don’t blow my load.

For $1300 per night, Summer Reeves (age 24), with her striking American heritage and interest in reading and watching films, is willing to do anything to please you. That includes but is not limited to: hardcore BDSM, threesomes and group sex, anal sex, fisting, and anything wild you can think of.

That’s how much she sold herself for. $1300 per night. In those eyes, however, I see more than the girl I’m looking at. The woman I see only put a price on her body because it was going to help her in some way to survive.

Her beauty is unmistakable, but there’s something about her that draws you in. I was trying to put my finger on it earlier. I think I know what it is now.

The most attractive and desirable thing about her isn’t that she looks like she’s ready to please you and fulfill your fantasies. The most attractive part of her is the part she doesn’t show. The part she might not know exists—her spirit.

That’s the only part of her that isn’t broken. I don’t think she knows.

That’s the sexy as fuck thing about her and what’s drawing me to her.

My brows furrow and my temper flairs when I scroll to the bottom of the page and see the notice stating she’s unavailable for booking and to email Jake Wainwright for more details.

That fucking cunt.

There’s always something to remind me of him.

Curiously, I flick into his personal files again and do a search for Summer Reeves. I find a folder on her with over a thousand images and twenty recordings.

Jealousy accompanies rage when I realize he took the pictures of her and recorded her. To make my jealousy worse, I see there are pictures of them together—them naked together and the recordings are all like that.

She was his.

Since I can’t help being the possessive motherfucker I am, I can’t be held accountable for what I do next.

I delete all the images of him and her and download every fucking picture of her on the website and his files to my personal folders. I then make my way into the background coding of Club Montage’s site and delete the pictures.

There, only I have those pictures now. They’re mine, and since she isn’t fucking going back, no one else can look at her and see her that way but me.

He can’t fucking look at her. He’s a sick fucker. Even though he thinks he killed her, he’s still the type to jack off from her pictures and those recordings.

I shut down the computer realizing that it affected me more than I liked.

When I make my way into my bedroom and find myself within the granite walls of my shower with my dick in my hands, I know this woman has more than piqued my interest.

As I pump hard along the length of my shaft and imagine the hard fuck I want to give her to own her pussy, I realize the reason why Summer Reeves is going to be more trouble for me than I truly anticipated is because I want her.