Page 26 of Resist Me Not (Bloody Desires #4)

Nasty parents and partners are the worst, but these types of caregivers can be just as loathsome.

The place I am staying at isn’t near the man’s home, but several points of interest are, making it not odd at all for passersby to see me with my camera on its tripod, taking photos. There is a view right past the man’s house of a giant rocking chair.

The things people turn into landmarks.

But through my camera, I can also see very clearly into the living room and upstairs bedroom, even with the curtains drawn.

The nurse isn’t very good at making sure the drapes are completely closed, and the zoom on this camera is top tier.

Right now, I am confirming her routine, and she is oh so predictable.

She cashes all his checks and keeps most of the money for herself, which she then uses to get prescription drugs not prescribed to her or him from a local peddler who is arguably just as bad as she is.

Who knows where he gets his stash from. Probably from more people like this nurse, who take it from their patients.

But I can’t kill everyone I come across who deserves it, tempted as I am. I have something else planned for him.

If the nurse sticks to her routine today, she will enjoy a bender tonight and need a restock tomorrow.

I will use the time to work on my next article, and then, tomorrow night, I will follow her to her dealer’s favorite spot, a dark alley in a mediumly bad part of town behind a convenience store that does not have outside cameras.

He always leaves quickly, and she stays to look through her score.

While she is alone, I will slice her open from throat to navel and leave her there to bleed out.

Not all my victims need to be chopped up and bagged. Some, when I’m lucky, can have their deaths blamed on other lowlifes—like her dealer. Later, I will place an anonymous noise complaint about the man’s home to be sure someone discovers his nurse is missing.

But that’s for tomorrow. Right now, I’m multitasking.

I check my phone again to see Walker’s reply.

Walker: Can I call you?

I call him. I have enough on Nurse Ratchet.

“Everything all right?” I ask when Walker answers. I made the call through my Bluetooth headphones so my hands remain free and I can start dismantling the tripod.

“Your voice helps. It’s just… that detective?” Walker whispers, even though I know he is at home alone. “He knew things.”

We haven’t talked about it other than Walker’s admittance about not showing the picture.

“What things? Tell me.” I smile at the occasional person who passes me on the sidewalk.

The nurse is taking her lunch now, likely having not yet fed her patient, and will splurge on something at a restaurant above her actual means a few blocks down.

I hurry to pack up so I can follow. The tripod dismantles small enough to fit in my messenger bag when I bring it along, and I can use some lunch too.

Walker tells me in more detail about his discussion with the detective a few days ago.

He is aware of me, which is a problem, but all he seems to know is that Walker is seeing me, and I was spotted in Curtis’s neighborhood.

No concern there. I have receipts of my stay at the hotel, and it is where Walker and I met.

He says he said as much to the detective, but only that.

“There is nothing to worry about, Walker,” I assuage him.

I am following the nurse now. She is indeed a creature of habit, the easiest victim to claim.

She has basically drawn me a map of exactly where, when, and how to slaughter her.

So considerate. We have one more block to go before the restaurant.

I even smile at her when I step up beside her to wait at the crosswalk.

“Maybe to you,” Walker says. “Worrying is kind of all I’ve been doing lately.”

“You did very well,” I tell him and tap my ear when the nurse glances at me so she knows I am talking to someone else.

She nods back at me, cordial as can be, having no idea I will be slicing her open tomorrow.

It sends a unique thrill through me that I will not deny is quite gratifying.

Arousing even. So much so that it gives me an idea.

“You deserve a reward, something to help you relax and take your mind off things.” I say it all very huskily and promising.

Enough that even the nurse straightens her posture before we cross the street.

If you’ve wondered whether I am aware of how much my voice can affect people, I assure you, I am very aware and use it to my advantage often. But never have I found it quite as enjoyable as when I cause Walker’s breath to quicken.

“What kind of reward?”

“Are you busy right now?”

“I’m just at home. I was studying but I’m taking a break.”

“Where at home? On the sofa? In the bedroom?”

The nurse slows her pace to keep parallel with me, so very obviously listening in.

I don’t attempt to hush my voice.

“Do you want me in the bedroom?” Walker asks.

“Oh, I want you in the bedroom, on the sofa, and in the bath again. If your apartment had a balcony, I would want you out there too, up against the side of the building where everyone could watch.”

The nurse trips over her feet, having reached the restaurant a pace or two ahead of me, and because she has already started to open the door but nearly loses her hold in her stumbling, I catch it and hold it open for her with a wider smile.

“Now, tell Daddy what you’re wearing.”

I stare at her expectantly, waiting for her to enter the restaurant so I can release the door.

With a deep flush to her cheeks, she finally does.

I am poised to follow her inside, but the building has a rather convenient alley of its own.

I let the door swing closed and head there instead, finding a hidden alcove where no one else will overhear me or see what I do next.

I can almost sense the nurse’s disappointment, wondering where I went to, maybe wishing I had gotten a table right next to hers and continued the conversation within earshot.

Tempting as it was to have done that, I am half hard and in need of my own relief, and that is something I will not do where I am about to eat lunch.

“I’m, uh… just in sweats and a T-shirt.”

“No underwear?” I lean my messenger bag against the wall.

“No.”

“Good to know. Did you move to the bed?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m in the bedroom.”

“Lie down and hitch up your shirt enough to reach your nipples.”

“What are you doing?” Walker asks, and I can hear the added echo that means he has put me on speaker. Smart.

“I am in an alley in the middle of the city sliding my hand into my pants and wishing it was yours.”

“My hand or my pants?”

“Yes.”

Walker chuckles. “Wait, are you really?”

“ Yes .” I am. I have my hand in my underwear in a dirty alley—all for Walker. “Are you playing with your nipples yet?”

“Yeah…”

“Circle one of the nubs with your thumb, slowly, while I slide my thumb through the prerelease at my tip.”

Walker moans. I almost do too. “How come you get to touch your cock already, and I can’t?”

“Because I’m Daddy. And you like it when Daddy leads, don’t you? No touching your cock yet, doctor. I will tell you when you can.”

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

He moans again.

I lean back against the wall, much as I loathe the idea of it dirtying my jacket, but the collection of prerelease on my palm is getting wetter.

I need the support or my knees might buckle.

I could do this to Walker’s breathless voice all day.

Every day. I think I will from now on whenever we’re apart.

“Are you leaking through your sweatpants yet?” I ask.

“A little.”

“I want the front sopping before I let you slide your hand in there.”

“What about your hand… Daddy?”

“Oh, I am pumping myself very slowly, don’t you worry. I will make you come first. Lift your hips, so you can slide your sweats off your ass, but don’t let your cock free. Keep it contained.”

“O-okay.”

“Then wet a finger. You’re going to play with your ass a little.”

“ Trey …”

“Do it. Imagine it’s mine, where my fingers will be very soon. Where my cock will be again very soon.”

I can hear him sucking his finger as ordered with little smacking noises and whimpers. I know exactly when he brings it to his entrance because he whines louder and his breath quickens again.

I am hard-pressed to not stroke myself faster.

I meant it though. He is coming first.

“Slide your finger deep inside you now. Give it a little twirl. Then start pumping with it.” I hear the faint creaking of the bed. “Are you rocking your hips?”

“Y-yeah.”

“I can picture it. I bet you would suck your own cock if you could reach it right now.”

“ Yes ,” he admits with a shaky laugh.

“How’s that wet spot coming?”

“It’s soaked through… please.”

“How big?”

“Um, two quarters worth?”

“Not enough. Keep finger-fucking yourself, doctor. You can add a second if you want.”

“Please, Daddy… I’m going to burst if I can’t touch myself.”

I slow my own hand again or I might burst. “When that wet spot is a third quarter’s size, tell me.”

He whines. And whines . A little grunt tells me when he adds a second finger to ease the building pressure, but what a good boy he is, because I know he isn’t cheating. He wouldn’t lie to me. He will wait and tell me when it’s time.

I have to stop stroking entirely or I am going to come, so I just hold myself, listening to Walker’s panting and mewling pleas.

“ Trey .”

“Is it big enough?”

“Yes! Please!”

“Go on. Stroke yourself to completion but keep your fingers inside you while you do.”

“Yes! Yes !”

“Describe the scene. Tell me everything.” I start to stroke myself again.

“I-I… I yanked my sweats to my ankles. My hips are up… fingers scissoring. I want it to be your hand on me, Trey… your cock in me. Fuck, Daddy, I’m—”

My hips stutter too. Just as I know Walker is releasing, I follow and catch all of the spillage with my fingers and palm so none of it gets on the inside of my pants or underwear.

Walker is panting, and I picture him sprawled on his bed now, spent and all debauched looking with his shirt hitched, sweats at his ankles, come staining his hand and stomach. And directed there all by his Daddy’s voice.

“Still miss me?” I ask, low and ragged.

“Fuck, yeah.” He chuckles again. “A lot actually. And you… really miss me?”

“Of course I do.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Well, a moment ago…”

“Besides that .”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Which job?”

“Bit of both. You needn’t concern yourself with that, Walker. I will be back for you soon. Can you continue being a good boy for Daddy in the meantime?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Daddy,” he says, and no matter how much my second—well, first in my mind—profession might upset him, I know he means it.

“Good boy. We’ll talk again soon.”

I have napkins in my messenger bag and use them to clean up.

Then I head into the restaurant and take a table near the nurse.

I don’t always shadow my victims so closely, but there is an added thrill to being near someone whose life you are going to snuff out very soon.

It’s almost enough to plump me back to hardness when she glances at me and flushes bright red again, fully aware of what I was doing until I came in.

I would rather have Walker under my touch right now, more than just a voice in my ear, but this balance works well in the interim, during these times when I am unable to touch him myself.

Yes, I think we can maintain this relationship as it is indefinitely so long as Walker remains my good boy like I know he wants to.