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Killer Secret

By FreyReh All Rights Reserved ©

Horror

Chapter 1

"Tell me a secret."

She smiles, swirling her drink and looking down at the olive that slowly rolls at the bottom of her martini glass. She looks up through her lashes, biting her bottom lip, making the man she is talking to shift in his seat and eye the plump flesh between her teeth. 

"A secret?" she asks. 

"Yeah," he says, distracted, but blinking rapidly to look back up at her, a smile back on his face. He is Wallstreet, she can tell, and smells of expensive cologne and money. His hair is perfect, his teeth is perfect... Everything about his is just... Perfect

"Any secret?" He nods. "Hmm..."

She ponders, slowly bringing her drink back up to her lips. The glass already has a red imprint from earlier sips and she adds to it, ankle bouncing, a playful air about her. She adds effect, twisting a lock of her raven black hair, seeming in deep thought before giggling. 

"I actually really hate martinis," she says, making him laugh as she puts the drink he bought her down on the damp napkin. Though he laughs, she can see the clench in his hand, and the tick in his jaw. Irritation. Anger... She can smell it. "Is that rude of me?"

"Of course not," he answers, drinking from his beer, setting an empty class down on the bar. The hand that had been holding his glass ends up on her knee and she smiles as it massages slow circles up the hem of her red dress, fingertips brushing her inner thigh. She loves this dress, and wore it for this reason. Men love it, it hugs her figure tightly and she knows it makes her look damn good. "If you are done with that drink..."

"I am," she answers breathlessly, leaning forward, showcasing her breasts, his eyes lower to them before up to her gleaming, emerald eyes. "Shall we go?"

She slides off her stool, grabbing her clutch, and his hand is already at her hip and gripping it possessively as they weave through the bar crowd. It is a small bar, and it doesn't take them long to exit through the back. The door locks behind them as he grips her hair fiercely and twists them around. He presses his lips to hers, desperate while almost slamming her body into the brick wall. She sighs, returning the kiss, knee between his legs now, pressing, making him groan. 

"I need to have you," he groans, hands groping every inch of flesh they can find. Her breasts. Her shoulders. Her hips. Her ass. Nothing is left untouched and she allows it, lips swelling from his harsh kiss. 

"You do?"

"Yes..."

"Can I tell you something? Another secret?" she asks, hand coming up, fingernails scratching at his scalp. Her voice is alluring, an almost purr. He stills, looking up at her. Her green eyes are even brighter here, in the dark, and he is entranced. 

"Anything..." he says softly, grip on her softening. 

"I knew from the moment I saw you..." She leans forward, lips to his ear. "That I wanted to kill you."

"What? Bitch, you-" Her hand at his throat halts his words and she squeezes. He chokes, eyes bulging as his hands go to her delicate wrist, trying to break her hold. Alas, it is futile. 

"What's the matter baby?" She allows her lips to part, giving him a view of her now protruding fangs. "Don't like what you see anymore?"

He tries to scream. She can smell his fear now. It is intoxicating. She actually laughs before striking, fangs slicing into his neck like a hot knife through butter. The burst of blood on her tongue is erotic and she moans as she drinks his life source. She is greedy, whipping their positions around now as she has her fill of him, the wet sound of her suckling his blood a turn-on for her... Not so much for him. When his heart stops she lets him go, the now corpse falling at her feet. Licking her lips she laughs once more, spinning away from the dead human. The world was better without him. A cheater with no qualms of picking up women with a ring on his finger. A piece of trash now where it belonged, on the ground... Forgotten. 

Like her.

Sighing she fluffs her hair, wiping at her lips before digging in her clutch to find her lipstick. Slowly, she reapplies the make-up, the art of applying it without a mirror practiced. She looks down and sees a small stain on the red fabric of her dress... Blood, but hidden enough to not be noticed. Slipping her lipstick back into her clutch she slowly walks out of the alley, hips swaying to an unheard beat, already looking for a new kill. 

The night was still young... And she was still very, very hungry. 

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