Page 14 of Room Four

“I understand,” you said, falling back to the bed. “Make me come first, at least.”

I huffed out a laugh, one that sounded manic and insane. But I moved my thumb to your swollen clit, and watched as you arched your back. My other hand slid up the slick skin of your belly to your bloody breast, and I roughly cupped it.

“Harder,” you panted. “Fuck me like you’re about to kill me.”

So I did.

I stopped holding back. I stopped caring if I was hurting you. I used you for my pleasure, and my pleasure alone. My cock swelled inside you, but your dying wish was your final orgasm, and I wasn’t a monster. I could give you that.

So I held my own at bay, rubbing tight circles over that swollen bud until I felt your body tense.

You cried out, the blade digging roughly into my ribs as you held onto me. I’d never felt a cunt so fucking tight before, and it was almost impossible to fuck you through it. But I did. I forced my cock in and out, focused on my own orgasm as it rose higher and higher.

You collapsed onto the bed, your eyes bleary as you stared up at me.

“How was that?” I asked, smiling.

And finally, you gave me your real smile. The smile I’d been desperate for all night.

Then drove the blade straight through my heart.

EIGHT

LILY

I knewI would kill Aaron the second I saw him. When our eyes met, there was this shark-like coldness radiating from him, and I knew he was the killer I’d been searching for. I knew he was arrogant—who wouldn’t be after killing ten women and getting away with it for years?

He was perfect.

Naive in that way only arrogant men could be. He stood there, pretending like I didn’t know he’d just been reading a dirty magazine, or like I didn’t know he would come watch me in my room. I knew he was there. I felt his eyes on me.

I’d done enough research to know his games.

The problem with his arrogance, though, was that he’d accidentally let someone live. Someone who knew his secrets.

One night, in room five, a woman laid in bed. Aaron had checked her in the week prior, but because she hadn’t come out of her room, he’d forgotten about her existence.

She told me how she heard him in room four that night. Heard him grunting. Heard the woman scream. She told me how the taillights to his old truck flooded the empty parking lot with red as he sped into the nation forest.

When he returned, he was alone, and the woman in room five knew what had happened. She left without checking out.

She was the one who told me about the missing women. She was the one who promised me a story.

So when I began investigating, I knew what I would find here.

What she didn’t know, though, was that I was as sick as he was. I didn’t chase killers because I wanted to lock them away.

I chased killers because I was one.

I like luring them into my trap, then killing them the way they killed so many before. The problem now was that I had a taste for it. Killing only killers felt…anti-climactic.

Which was why I was now sitting behind the desk at Sunny Pines Motel, smiling at the sweet, handsome man across from me, and handing him the key to room four. Aaron’s knife was safely hidden in my back pocket, and the holes he’d so carefully dug into the walls were still there for me to watch my new prey.

You thought you were reading the story of my death, that you knew the ending as soon as you picked up this book. You thought you were reading a story about a monster, a sick man who peeped on women in his motel, then killed and buried them, marking their lives with a painting on the wall.

But you really came here for me.