Sick Fux - Page 83

Meathead led us through a red curtain . . . and my eyes widened at the scene before us. I yanked Dolly to my side. Her jaw dropped as she looked up at a stage. Women, naked women, and women divesting themselves of their clothes to music, drew our gaze. Men loitered around the side of the stage. One woman dropped to a crouch, a solitary string posing as panties on her oily body. A man slipped cash into the string, and then she got back up and danced away to the other side of the stage.

It wasn’t dancing like Dolly did for me. These whores fucked men with their eyes as they paraded around the stage in high heels. They rocked their bodies and touched themselves.

“Rabbit . . .” Dolly whispered, loud enough for me to hear. She was transfixed by the women. She never took her eyes off them. I didn’t take my eyes off her, so I didn’t feel a whore touch my back. I didn’t see the half-naked whore reach her hand around me and put her mouth at my ear. “Hello, handsome,” she said. “Come here to play?”

Unable to stand her fucking touch on me, I spun around and grabbed her by her throat. I slammed her back into the wall and braced my cane at the side of her head, gun side, ready to fire. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I thundered as her eyes widened in shock. I squeezed my hand tighter around her throat, watching her eyes turn red.

Bitch was going to die.

A hand on my shoulder wrenched me from her. I turned, teeth gritted, ready to fucking slit some throat. The meathead stood there. “Don’t touch the talent,” he said, then backed off, arms in the air, when he saw my murderous face.

I rolled my head back to the whore, just in time to see the bitch run away to a back room. Rage built inside me, until Dolly slid her arms around my waist. She flattened her breasts and body against my stomach. I quickly inhaled the scent of her hair. Of the perfume that she always wore—roses.

Roses, roses, roses.

Dolly looked up at me and smiled. I exhaled the long breath I held imprisoned in my chest. But I could still feel that bitch. I could still feel her, until . . .

Dolly threaded her arms around to my back and began to rub the spot the whore had dared to touch. I breathed. I breathed and breathed as Dolly’s touch started to replace that of the whore. But I needed more. As my anger lingered, as I watched the pulse in Dolly’s neck throb, and as her hands touched me, igniting my blood, I needed so much fucking more.

“Room,” I demanded, knowing the meathead remained standing behind me. “Private room. Now. Or consider the money I gave you your funeral costs.”

The meathead walked to the right and down another hallway. Moans and groans emerged from the under the doors. But we kept on walking, my hand braced at the back of Dolly’s neck. The meathead stopped at a door and handed me a key. “It locks. There’s a back entrance too, just in case.” I nodded. Clearly we weren’t the first people they’d harbored for cash.

Just as I was about to enter the room, a text came through on my cell.

Chapel: Done. Took the bait. Wait an hour before you leave. Godspeed.

I slid the cell back in my pocket and walked through the door. Dolly followed, pushing past me when she saw what was in the center. “A stage . . .” she whispered and edged closer. She reached up, stroking the metal pole in the center of the black stage.

“It’s what the women out there were using to dance.” I shut the door, locking us inside. The lights were dim, only a red glow coming from the ceiling light. Music pumped through the speakers. Facing the stage was a large couch.

I walked past Dolly, anger still ripping through me like a hurricane. My cock hardened as I felt my pulse pounding and my blood rushing through my veins. As I passed Dolly, I reached out and brushed my fingers over the back of her neck. My sharp thimble scraped at the wet skin. Dolly turned, eyes leaden, and curved her spine into me. I kept going to the couch. Without looking back, I shed my jacket and tossed it to the corner of the room. I sat down and rested my hands on the rabbit head on my cane.

I leaned against the back of the couch. Then I looked up. Looked up to see Dolly watching me from beside the stage. Her hair was wet. Her eyes were wide. Pupils dilated.

I knew she’d be wet too.

I knew she’d liked seeing me slam that whore up against that wall for touching what was hers. Her pussy leaked at the fact that it was only her touch I could ever stand.

Tags: Tillie Cole Erotic
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