The Deadly Tinder Bender

Damn. Does my Tinder date have explosive diarrhea or what? It feels like he's been in the bathroom for most of our date. I hope he wasn't claimed by the same fate as Elvis Presley. I tap my perfectly manicured nails on the table as my eyes continually dart to the handsome man standing by the kitchen entrance. He wears black chef attire, and his dark eyes smolder with sexual want every time they connect with mine, causing my nipples to pebble and my clitoris to throb.

 I break eye contact with the gorgeous man when I feel a gentle tap on my bare shoulder. I glance over my left shoulder at the gorgeous young hostess and my waiter hovering nervously behind me. I give them both a soft, friendly smile, feeling my heart fluttering hard against my chest.

 Fuck, what if while I'm out here having filthy daydreams about the kitchen staff, my Tinder date has kicked the bucket while on the commode. What a fucking way to meet your maker. Shit, I'm a terrible person.

 "Yes," I ask warily, my pleasant expression frozen on my face. I'm smiling so hard that I feel my teeth grinding and my cheeks vibrating. These people probably think I'm a lunatic with the Krusty The Clown smile pasted on my face. Their eyes shift between one another like they're trying to send Morse code telepathically. "Geez, please just tell me why you both are standing here looking like you've just found a dead body," I say, bracing myself for the news that my Tinder date has been found dead in the Men's bathroom.

 The young male waiter finally grows a pair and responds, "You remember how you asked me to check on your date in the men's bathroom? Well, he wasn't in there, so I asked the hostess if she'd seen someone by his description, and apparently, he skipped out on you about thirty minutes ago, and we've been trying to figure out how to tell you."

 The beautiful young hostess's face reddens from what I'm certain is second-hand embarrassment as my waiter fidgets in his spot. My smile fades, and I go completely still as I try to recover from the shock of the entire situation. I feel a myriad of emotions hit my body in waves: fear, humiliation, regret, but as I wait for a sense of rage to hit me, it doesn't. Instead, I'm hit with a wave of hysterical laughter, causing the hostess and the waiter to flinch at my surprising response. I probably looked like a madwoman as I cackled to myself.

 Since moving back to Savannah, Georgia, I'd once again swiped right on a complete fucking dumpster fire. I should've known a dude with only rock-hard ab photos with gym-rat vibes and a bio that read:

 Nudes are overrated. Send me a video of you reading out loud so I know you're not stupid… and if you do it naked, you get bonus points.

 It should've been a sign I wouldn't make it through dinner with an asswipe like that. I was at least hoping to get dick down, at the bare minimum, from this shitty encounter. But, hey, I had swiped on what felt like every man in Chatham County, and the dates seemed to get shockingly worse and worse.

 "I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not the worst part. He ordered a to-go meal at the bar and put that on the tab, too,” the waiter said, handing the ticket to me with shaky hands. I look down at the receipt, and my eyes practically bug out of my head.

 What. The. Fuck? Did the man buy dinner on me for the rest of the week? Had I known I’d be footing the whole bill and then some, I would’ve suggested the fucking Cheesecake Factory or, hell, Applebee’s. This piece of shit had used me for free meals.

 Now, this situation was no longer funny. I am fuming mad. I am so angry the waiter and hostess probably see smoke coming from my ears. A second glance at the dinner bill has me feeling absolutely murderous.

 “It’s okay. As owner and the head chef, I will make your meal on the house,” a deep, heavily Italian-accented voice booms from in front of me. I glance up, doing a double take as the handsome man I’d been eye-fucking earlier has swooped in to save the day. And my mind could only form a single word after seeing him up close and personal.

 “Damn.”

 Followed by, “Please, Daddy fuck me.”

 I couldn’t even remember the name of my piece of shit Tinder date as I drowned in the beautiful obsidian abysses of the restaurant owner’s eyes. I drank in his beautiful, smooth olive skin, those soft, kissable rose-colored lips, and my panties drenched from the thoughts of what gorgeous gift was hidden beneath his chef’s uniform waiting to be unwrapped. My ideas of what I wanted to do to this man probably had me blacklisted from Santa’s nice list, but if being a naughty girl let me be this man’s good girl, there were no sins I wouldn’t willingly commit to ride this fine Italian stallion’s dick.

“Oh my gosh, thank you, that’s very generous. It’s as if you’re my guardian angel. I have no words that could possibly express my gratitude,” I thank the gracious and handsome man.

He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I have a few words I love to hear fall from a beautiful woman’s lips. We close in thirty minutes. So, if you stay until a few hours after closing, I’d love to treat you to desserts. But the choice is yours, of course.” I shiver, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as his delicious scent of spices and citrus and the hot, wet feeling of his breath against my ear lingers even after he disappears into the kitchen.

The man looks like an Italian Henry Cavill, so you bet your fucking rent money; I stay and wait for him like a crazed fan trying to sneak onto Drake’s tour bus. I watch from my seat at my dinner table as his staff completes all their closing duties. The restaurant is finally vacant after what feels like hours, except for me and this handsome chef.

And that’s when the real magic happens in the kitchen.

The cold metal of the stainless steel counter feels fantastic against my heated flesh. The sexy Italian chef has me bent in half with my legs behind my head in the Viennese oyster sex position. I’m sure we are breaking all kinds of health department guidelines as he buries his dick into my hot wet pussy while licking chocolate sauce from my overly sensitive nipples that grow more and more erect as he pounds my pussy. I am in fucking heaven on earth as he suckles the sticky, gooey sweetness off my breasts, causing me to writhe with pleasure.

The sexy-as-sin Italian chef holds my legs back by my calves, slowly drawing his dick out of me. I feel every big thick delicious inch of his manhood dragging across every sensitive pleasure point in my vagina. I whimper in protest, my body quivering, missing the feeling of his dick, feeling my needy pussy that’s drenching wet and aching for him to satiate the throbbing between my thighs.

Ugh! This man is such a fucking tease as he leaves just the tip inside me. He makes me lose my mind when he begins to stroke the entrance of my pussy, eliciting moans of sexual frustration from me, desperate to feel his dick filling me up once more. A begging plea is about to fall from my lips when he lets out a low chuckle before slamming back into me, filling my wet pussy to the hilt. He swerves his hips in a circular motion massaging my G-spot in just the right place and the perfect tempo as I kegel his dick to ensure he continues to hit that delicious spot inside me.

He maneuvers my legs from behind my head, swiveling them along with my hips, forcing me into a sideways position on top of the counter with his dick still buried balls deep in my throbbing wet pussy. His dick feels ten times larger inside me from this angle, with my legs slammed shut, giving me no choice but to desperately clamp down on his dick. The man has a serious sweet tooth. I feel him drizzle more chocolate syrup on the mound of my breast. I let out a throaty moan when I feel his tongue lick the curvature of my side boob as he slowly begins to piston his hips, moving his dick in long, torturously slow strokes in and out of me.

I feel a sharp sting on the ass where he slaps my bare bottom, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head from the different sensations he creates as he fucks me into a stupor. The sexy chef builds the momentum of his thrust until he relentlessly fucks me, showing my pussy no mercy. He fucks me so hard and thoroughly I can’t fucking think straight. I suck in my stomach as I feel my orgasm begins to build, and the walls of my pussy begin to strangle his dick. My orgasm begins to build inside me as I barrel toward euphoria. My moans of pleasure turn into high-tone shrieks of ecstasy as I shatter into a million pieces.

Through breathy whispers and pants, the Italian stallion murmurs “fuck” repeatedly as if it’s his mantra as he picks up the pace of his erratic thrusting, his balls slapping my plump ass cheeks until he twitches inside me, grunting out his sexual release. His big, sweaty, muscular body collapses on top of my body as we attempt to catch our breaths.

“We got to do that again,” he whispers in my ear, causing my pussy to clench around his dick at the promise.

Hell, yes! What a great ending to a shitty night. After meeting this man, I might never have to swipe right again. 

 “Am I ugly,” I wail, slamming my phone down onto the booth table I’m seated at with my two best friends.

“No,” they both exasperatedly respond as I furiously toss back a tequila shot. I wipe my hand on the dark sleeve of my black sweater dress, trying not to glance at my phone. Every time I hear a beep and chime in the bar, my heart doubles in size, filled with hope that it’s the sexy Italian chef that fucked my brains out the previous night. 

“If I’m not ugly, then I must be coming off as a crazy bitch,” I exclaim, glaring across the table at my friends when they take what feels like an eternity to respond.

“No, you’re not crazy. Your sleepwalking is a little creepy, though,” Saniyah answers, avoiding eye contact and playing with the end of one of her purple locs. I roll my eyes at her comment. In college, I slipped into bed with her once and accidentally humped her leg in my sleep, and she will not let that shit go. I turn my angry gaze and narrow my eyes at Quyn as he pretends to pick imaginary lint from his black sweater. I clear my throat a few times, and his champagne-brown gaze meets mine. He picks up his beer mug, taking a huge sip, trying to disguise the smirk I see creeping onto his face.

“You’re lucky you look like Godfrey Gao. Otherwise, I wouldn’t let you fucking hang with two baddies like Saniyah and me, Quyn,” I state, annoyed, taking a long sip from my margarita.

“Case in point, why you come off as a little bit crazy and why your Tinder date probably abandoned you in the middle of a meal,” Quyn mutters as he and Saniyah simultaneously burst into laughter at my expense.

“Fuck my shitty Tinder date. I could care less if I ever heard from that douchebag again. I want to take another ride on my Italian stallion I met last night,” I whine, checking my phone for the millionth time today.

“Inina, if he stood you up and won’t text you back, then who gives a shit? That’s his loss,” Quyn coos, comforting me by placing his hand over mine. I give Quyn a small smile. I take a large gulp of my margarita to try to push my insecurities to the back of my mind. I know I’m a great catch, but my single status as a thirty-something-year-old woman sometimes made me feel defective.

“Yes, Inina, you’re this gorgeous exotic Melanesian beauty with her own business. These men are stupid not to want a second or third date with you,” Saniyah chimes in, sipping her old fashion. I feel myself deflate, feeling defeated by the Georgia dating scene when scrambling and a loud yell for the bartender to turn up the television has the three of us turning to figure out what all the commotion is about.

The 55-inch flat screen mounted above the bar switches from the current sports game to a flashing visual alert accompanied by a “We interrupt this program with breaking news” message. Everyone in the bar is held in a trance as a gorgeous blonde news anchor stands on Tybee Island with crime scene tape and the pier behind her. She reports about The Midnight Heartslinger striking again, but this time with a double homicide. This surprising, scary announcement causes the entire bar to fill with ominous gasps.

“Oh my gosh,” I scream at the top of my lungs when two pictures appear of the victims on the screen. It’s my Tinder date and the Italian stallion I fucked the previous night. I begin to feel lightheaded as white-illuminated floaters and black fuzzy spots blur my vision.

“What,” Quyn asks, reaching over the table and grabbing me by the shoulder.

“T-T-T-That’s my shitty Tinder date and the chef I fucked last night,” I loudly whisper, my gaze glued to the screen, my heart aching as I look into the beautiful obsidian gaze of the sexy chef.

“Well, you clearly got lucky,” Saniyah says without looking away from the breaking news story. Sanyah’s statement gives me whiplash as I swivel my body to look at her, confused as to why she’d say something so terrible after hearing about such a heinous crime like murder.

“That’s why they’re familiar to me,” Quyn mutters. I give him a questioning look, and he continues, “I know I work in the lab. Cases involving live people aren’t my forte, but their images have been floating around the precinct because of all the buzz around those two men. They’re a big case in sex crimes.”

What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?

“Sex crimes,” I gasp, placing my hand across my pounding chest, expecting to go into cardiac arrest any second.

“Yeah, the news just reported they were suspected of a non-consensual pornography ring,” Saniyah exclaimed, her eyes going wide, knowing from our discussion at breakfast I got home late from fucking a hot chef. I felt my skin get clammy, and my stomach churned with disgust. My dinner rose to my throat, and I was ready to spew it all over the bar table.

“Apparently, one of the guys would find women on dating apps, and the other would swoop in and rescue the woman from a really shitty date. If the woman fucked him, they’d record it and upload it to pornography websites without the women’s permission. But, they were having difficulty sticking it to them because of the continuously changing VPNs,” Quyn fills in the blanks.

“Oh, my goodness,” I manage to bellow. I would’ve been next had they not been murdered.

“Let’s head out. I have a feeling my shift in forensics will be crazy fucking busy tomorrow,” Quyn says, shaking his head begrudgingly.

“You’re spending the night. Inina and I have been crazy active on Tinder and other dating apps, and those people keep coming up missing or, worse, dead. You can’t leave us alone,” Saniyah pleads, grabbing Quyn by the arm as he stands from the booth.

“Ugh, I told you guys to stay off of those things with those two creeps loose that just got served just desserts, and The Midnight Heartslinger, why would you take your chances going on dates with strangers,” Quyn responds, not hiding his agitation with our disobedience.

“Your just desserts joke was way too soon. Plus, will you come if you can cuddle with me tonight, pretty please? We’re scared,” I beg, taking Quyn’s hand as we exit the bar.

“Please sleep in her room to keep her from humping my leg in the middle of the night, if nothing else,” Saniyah adds to my plea, looping her arm through Quyn’s free arm. He looks between us, rolling his eyes and nodding in agreement to our requests.

As we walk down the street to Saniyah’s car, I feel full-body chills course over me. Dating was already scary and intimidating as shit.

But now we had to worry about being murdered and splashed across porn sites.

What were the odds that those two men I encountered last night would end up dead?

Maybe, they fucked with the wrong woman, literally and figuratively.

Oh, how I had missed Quyn’s beautiful dick. In college, I had tons of amazing memories starring his dick and glorious body as he fucked me senseless. However, no matter how fine I find Quyn, after moving back to Savannah, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to start back up our friends-with-benefits arrangement. Especially since my goal now that I’m in my thirties is to move past my hoe phase and find a husband. Even though Quyn is a great best friend with a dick game that’ll drive any woman wild, I couldn’t see us together as end game, at least not in my fairytale dreams.

My mouth watered at the sight of Quyn’s dick tenting the gray bed sheets. Before going to bed last night, he told me that if I felt a little frisky and wanted to hump his leg at night, he wouldn’t mind, unlike Saniyah. I had rolled my eyes at being the ass of their jokes once again, but now that offer looked awfully delicious. I rubbed my thighs together, trying to create friction to get some relief for my pulsating clitoris.

Just one taste wouldn’t hurt. Plus, he asked me to wake him up in forty-five minutes anyway since we both needed to rise and grind early this morning. What better way to wake up a man than with a blow job wake-up call?

I quickly shimmied beneath the covers, crawling between Quyn’s legs. I slowly peeled down his boxers, and he didn’t even flinch as his dick sprang free. I guess nothing had changed over the years because Quyn could literally sleep through The Rapture. He slept so heavily. I teased his dick by blowing over the tip before running the flat of my tongue beneath the fat head of his manhood, making sure to show his frenulum some extra love. I inhale his dick to the back of my throat, allowing my tongue to lick every ridge and vein of his manhood until he hits my tonsils. I wrap my hand around his balls, stroking and massaging them as I deep-throat his dick feeling high on the control and power of owning his dick with my mouth.

I hoover his dick in and out of my mouth with deep hard sucks. I change between fast, tight suctions, hollowing my cheeks as I continue to fit his whole dick into my mouth in downward motions and slow strokes with my tongue in upward motions as I swirl my tongue around the head of his manhood. I am in the fucking zone, my pussy getting wet and coating the inside of my thighs as I get turned on by the sloppy wet noises my mouth makes as I suck his soul through his dick.

I pick up the tempo, swirling my tongue around the thickest vein that runs through his cock, and when I feel his dick begin to twitch in my mouth and his balls hit my chin, I’m ripped away from his manhood. I let out a loud squeal of surprise accompanied by a groan of dissatisfaction until I’m slammed down onto Quyn’s erection. His throbbing dick fills me to the hilt, causing a gasp of ecstasy to spill from my lips. My eyes meet a slumberous hooded champagne gaze as Quyn holds me in place astride him so I can’t move, and my body gets accustomed to his dick stretching me wide.

“Oh, what a pleasant good morning,” Quyn rasps. I still hear the sleep in his voice as a lazy smile spreads across his lips. He leans up, nipping at my painfully erect nipples as he bucks into me hard. I toss back my head, letting out a loud moan of pleasure. His big palms move to grab a handful of my ass cheeks as he begins to thrust inside of me, deliciously bouncing me up and down on his cock.

“You know how rough I like it, Quyn. Dick me down dirty, baby,” I loudly moan, grabbing the headboard for leverage as I drag my hips back and forth and meet him thrust for thrust. I let out a loud, throaty moan as he pounds my pussy so hard, making it hurt so good. I lean forward, placing my tits in his face, enjoying the added sensation when he buries his face in the valley of them, blowing a raspberry on my breasts. He sucks my overly sensitive, oh-so-hard, and oh-so-erect nipples into his mouth as he guides my hips down hard onto his manhood. In this position, I grind my clitoris against his pelvic bone as his balls slap my ass cheeks. I begin to convulse around him as my hot wet pussy holds his dick in a vise grip as my orgasmic yells ricochet off the walls of my bedroom. He bounces my limp, sweaty body on his dick for a few more thrusts before his manhood twitches, squirting hot wet ropes of cum inside of me.

I collapse on top of him as he slips his semi-erect dick from between my thighs. I feel the mixture of both of our cum seeping out between my thighs. He rolls me on my back, tugging on my right nipple with his mouth before kneeling between my thighs and asking, “Plan B or IUD?”

I roll my eyes, cracking a smile and saying, “IUD, you know me so well.” At my confirmation, he pushes a mixture of our cum back inside of my pussy, licking any remnants off his fingers.

“I got to shower quickly and leave. Round two after dinner tonight,” he asks, hopefully. I shake my head slowly, watching his broad shoulders deflate.

“Winston is in town. You remember Winston? He’s here in town for business, so I’m going to meet up with him tonight,” I answer, not missing the brief tense of Quyn’s shoulders.

“Well, be safe out there. You never know where The Midnight Heartslinger might be lying in wait for their next victim. I’d feel better if you and your ‘one that got away’ just came here for dinner and to hang out. It’s like you’re trying to ignore the fact that there’s a fucking serial killer on the loose, Inina,” Quyn huffs before turning his back to me, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.

Quyn was probably pissed more than anything that I’d fucked him this morning and wasn’t canceling my dick appointment tonight with Winston, my long-time on-again, off-again boyfriend. But I am a single woman and will enjoy my singleness with whomever I choose.

Plus, who knew? Maybe Winston is the one, and I’m at a point in my life where I am ready for a serious relationship with him. Over the years, Quyn knew we weren’t serious, and he never acted like he wanted anything more from me than a convenient fuck, so I shouldn’t be worried about his feelings.

Quyn’s biggest push at the moment was for me and Saniyah to get off the dating apps with a serial killer running rampant and going on a murdering spree right in our backyard, so maybe if a spark sizzled between Winston and me tonight, then there’d be no need for me to keep swiping on dating apps. 

I stretch my arms over my head, wiping the sleep from my eyes as I take in my surroundings. Damn, I was getting old if I could sleep anywhere. My last memories were meeting Winston in Forsyth Park for a picnic and a Rocky Horror Picture Show movie screening. I couldn’t remember if I had fallen asleep when Frank had tried to seduce Janet and Brad or if I had at least made it to the time warp scene. 

 I hear the wind whistle and the sound of leaves crunching under people’s feet as they leave the part of the park where the movie screening happened. I shiver as a chill settles in my bones. I swipe my unruly curls out of my face, feeling oddly distraught from my much-needed nap. I shrug into Winston’s Canada Goose down jacket that’s abandoned on the red checkered picnic blanket I had carried into the park from my car.

 Where the fuck had Winston gone?

 I remember laying my head into his lap as my eyes began to feel heavy during the movie and loving how it felt to have him massage my temples and curls, but did he tell me he was going to the concession stands or the restroom? I practically jumped out of my skin, screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs, when I heard the rustling of leaves of the nearest oak tree in the park that was slowly becoming deserted.

 Shit! I needed to find Winston and get us either to his hotel or back to my apartment. Who the fuck knew where The Midnight Heartslinger was lurking, waiting to pounce and kill their next victim. I’m sure a big park like Forsyth was an ideal hunting ground for a killer. The park was poorly lit, deserted at night, and ultimately the perfect place to bury bodies.

 “Winston,” I loudly whispered, gathering our scattered belongings and quickly tossing any leftover trash from our earlier picnic dinner. I try to stay in well-lit areas as much as possible; as I call into the park bathrooms in search of Winston, I ask the employees closing up the concessions if they’ve seen a man with his description, and I even check to see if he’s in the dimly lit parking lot.

 But there’s no sign of this man any fucking where. I’d known Winston since we were children, and I knew he loved to play pranks on people, incredibly close to Halloween, but I had told him there was a maniac murder on the loose in Savannah, so hopefully, he’d at least heed that warning and not trample into unknown territory.

 This was the weirdest situation in my life because it was as if Winston had left the park; however, his car rental was still in the parking lot. My stomach roiled as bile burned the back of my throat. My stomach flipped, flopped, and turned because I had a funny feeling that something was amiss.

 After warring with myself, I set off on one of the popular walking trails at Forsyth Park. I shivered partly from the chilly autumn wind and partly out of being scared shitless. But I had to find my friend. Hopefully, he had just gotten turned around when trying to find his way back to the movie screening or the parking lot.

 I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and a tingling runs down my spine as I hear a rustling in a nearby bush. I suck in a deep breath and head toward the noise, feeling like one of the dumbasses in a scary movie that runs toward the killer and not toward safety.

 “Hey there, are you looking for someone,” a loud, deep baritone voice shouts behind me. I loudly scream at the top of my lungs as I tumble into the bushes. I fight my way through twigs, thorns, and mulch, staggering to my feet to escape whoever is chasing behind me. My heart beats a thousand miles per second as I run further into the center of the park, away from the well-lit path and surrounding buildings. I hear the crunching of leaves as the person’s stride picks up.

 I trip over a loose tree root face, planting into the grass. I can’t catch my breath, my ankle is throbbing, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure I pissed my pants. I start praying to every deity, God, and high power I can think of because of all the ways to die. I didn’t want my urine-soaked body to be found sprawled out in one of the most popular parks in Savannah. I had to fucking get up and save myself. Who fucking knew what horrors The Midnight Slinger unleashed on his victims before snuffing the life out of them.

 “Inina, relax, it’s only me. Chill the fuck out,” the deep voice exclaims. I drag myself onto my haunches, realizing I landed on a blue and white checkered picnic blanket, only all the white squares are slowly turning a pinkish red. I look down at my jeans and notice a dampness on them that I only thought was piss a few seconds ago. I smell a faint metallic scent in the air as the breeze whistles through the trees. I turn on the light on my phone to better examine the wetness I feel on my clothes. I shine the light onto the man who chased me through the park, realizing it’s only my idiot on-again, off-again boyfriend, Winston.

 I should feel relief, but I don’t at the ashen, deadpan expression on his face. I’m afraid to follow the direction of his silver-gray eyes, but I can’t help myself. My phone light illuminates the surrounding area, and I see blood everywhere. It’s covering my jeans, the picnic blanket, and the lifeless body posed like a marionette doll having a picnic in a desolate area of the park. My hands shake as I notice a Queen of Hearts card stabbed into the chest of the dead man posed on the picnic blanket.

“Oh my god, Darren,” I yell, feeling my blood roaring through my ears. I had just had lunch earlier with him because he owns the bakery next to my clothing boutique. I drag myself off the blanket, heaving everything in my stomach into the grass.

 “W-w-we have to call the police,” Winston frantically states, grabbing his phone from his back jeans pocket.

 I can’t move.

 I can’t breathe.

 I can’t speak.

 I was terrified because everyone I’d come into contact with had started to end up dead.

 Was I the next victim of The Midnight Heartslinger? Would Saniyah be next? Or Quyn?

 I shudder at the worst-case scenario as a distant memory clouds my mind. I’m ten, there’s blood everywhere, my mom is screaming for help, and I can’t wake up.

 I look into Darren’s cold, dead eyes. I’ve done crazy shit before in my sleep.

 Is being a sleepwalking murderer possible?

 Oh fuck, what if I’m The Midnight Heartslinger?

My body is slick with sweat, but I can’t stop shivering like I’ve been dropped in a freezing cold ice bath. When I close my eyes, I see blood everywhere, I smell death in the air, and I see red and blue flashing lights.

Darren. Sweet Darren.

He’s another soul lost from the world because of a murderous maniac.

And it has to be my fault. Some way or somehow, I’m connected to The Midnight Heartslinger.

But how?

Could I be the one wreaking havoc in Chatham County? The killings happened when I made my return from Atlanta to Savannah. Most conveniently, it’s been individuals I’ve encountered. It’s just one hell of a coincidence. I’m just so confused with everything that’s happened these past few days.

Poor Daren. He didn’t deserve to die.

I’ve never seen a dead body in my life, at least from what I can recall.

Nevertheless, I hope never to see another one.

“Inina, I’m going to undress you, okay,” Quyn’s voice penetrates the memories of the horrors I witnessed tonight.

I hear the water of the shower running. I feel Quyn’s warm hand cupping my cheek, but I feel like a stranger in my own body. I’m so out of sorts, like when I’ve woken up from a sleepwalking spell, dazed and confused. It’s like crossfading on shrooms and Everclear after a hard night of partying.

“You may still be in shock,” Quyn murmurs, my eyes meeting his champagne stare.

Shock. It’s what the EMT told the police when they tried to question me a few hours ago. But I feel like my mind is trapped in a nightmarish dream state that’s keeping me trapped in an endless loop in Forsyth Park. My mind has become a labyrinth of hell.

“I need to undress you. Once you shower, you’ll feel better,” Quyn assures me, kneading the tense muscles of my shoulders. I slowly nod my head. Quyn unzips Winston’s Canada Goose jacket.

“Fuck, Winston,” I yell, shaking like a leaf. I feel overwhelmed with fear. What if The Midnight Heartslinger got him, too?

“He’s okay. He’s on a red-eye back to California. I was at the end of my shift with CSI when we arrived on the crime scene,” Quyn shares. I feel my body sag a little from relief, one of the many weights lifting off my shoulders. My stomach churns with disgust as I glance down at my blood-soaked clothes rivaling that of Carrie’s on prom night.

I go through the motions of Quyn undressing me until I’m left standing stark naked in my bathroom.

“Get in, and I’ll give you privacy,” Quyn says. I dig my nails into his arm, keeping him in place.

“Stay with me, please. I need you. Don’t leave me alone, please,” I whimper, not letting go until he nods and begins stripping himself naked to join me in the shower.

He opens the shower door, and I step into the scalding hot water, which feels like a baptism from the horrid sins I may have committed if I were The Midnight Heartslinger. I let out a loud purr as Quyn began washing the night from my skin in gentle, caring, thorough strokes skating across my flesh.

Thank God for Quyn. If he weren’t with me, I’d have lost what sanity I had left trying to bear this cross alone. I worried for him. I worried about Saniyah. But I could let out a sigh of relief that Winston was over a thousand miles away.

“Shhh, Inina. Close your eyes and try to focus on something peaceful. You can lean on me and Saniyah. We always have your back,” Quyn’s words whisper across my skin, making me feel a little less lonely in the chaos.

I turn to face Quyn, not wanting to think about tonight anymore. I needed a great distraction. I needed the comfort of someone I know will always protect me.

I needed Quyn.

I watch his eyes darken with desire as I reach for his neck while standing on my tippy toes, pulling him down to devour his lips in a sweet, comforting kiss. I hold him in place with my left hand around his neck, sliding my tongue into his mouth, deepening our kiss as my right-hand trails down his muscular chest and washboard abs until I can wrap my fist around his shaft. I begin to stroke his dick with my palm, swallowing the deep moan of pleasure I elicit from his strong frame. Quyn backs me into the shower wall, hiking my leg up to wrap it around his hips. He plunges two big thick fingers into my pussy, causing me to gasp in shock from the intrusion. Quyn slides his fingers from inside me, stroking my wet, slick folds while stroking my clitoris in a windshield-wiper motion until my entire body shakes around his hand.

Quyn breaks our kiss, trailing soft kisses down my face the column of my throat, until he reaches the erect buds of my nipples. He worships both of my breasts with his hot wet mouth, his tongue sucking, flicking, and nibbling on each tight nipple until I’m panting, wanting, and eager for more. He pulls away from me for a few seconds to grab the detachable showerhead. I gasp in shock from the pleasurable pain I feel when he lets the water from the shower head rain down on my tight nipples as he gets to his knees in front of me. Quyn uses his free hand to hike my leg onto his shoulder, splaying my dripping wet pussy open for him.

I let out a loud hiss when he keeps the shower pressure on my nipples as his tongue darts out to lap up the juices of my pussy before he eagerly sucks my clitoris into his hot wet mouth. I allow my head to fall back against the shower wall as he overloads my body with marvelous sensations of euphoria. Tortuously, Quyn drags the showerhead down my body until it massages my mound, and I’m squirming from pleasure. He replaces his mouth with the showerhead as he slides two of his big thick fingers back into my needy wet pussy. I ride the showerhead, massaging my clitoris just right as he strokes my g-spot until I’m tethering on the precipice of ecstasy.

I tease and tug on my oh-so-hard and oh-so-sensitive nipples as I grind down on the showerhead as Quyn’s fingers thrust in and out of me, slowly driving me insane.

I desperately need his dick inside of me, not wanting to cum from the skillful stroke of his fingers. I want to feel his closeness. I want him pounding into my pussy hard and fast. That’s the only way to satiate my hunger for this man.

“Quyn. I want you to fuck me. I need you to destroy my pussy. I’m so hot and horny for you. Please fuck me hard,” I impatiently beg. Quyn places my leg back on the shower floor, removing the shower head and rising to his feet. He quickly hooks the showerhead back into place before rounding on me and picking me up off the floor. He slides his dick inside me hard and fast, holding me up by the globes of my ass cheeks as he mercilessly thrusts inside me. I wrap my arms around his neck, and my legs around his waist give me leverage to ride his dick, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Quyn sucks on the pulse point of my throat, sending shivers down my spine as he pounds my pussy hard and fast. He slams his palm against the shower wall tilting my hips so that he can fuck me at a deeper angle.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me, Quyn, fuck me harder,” I loudly moan, feeling my pussy quiver around his manhood as I begin to feel my pleasure build into an intense orgasm. As my pussy clamps around him, he strokes in faster and deeper, slamming into me in a way that stimulates my G-spot so damn deliciously. I close my eyes tightly as he bites down on the pulse point in my neck, flinging me over the cliff of ecstasy. I scream until I’m hoarse and my lungs burn.

Quyn thrusts into me once, twice, thrice before grunting out his orgasm as he fills my pussy up with his release.

“I got you, baby. I got you. I will always keep you safe,” Quyn sweetly whispers in my ear, smashing me against the wall, his dick still twitching inside of me. I revel in this physical and mental intimacy Quyn has created with his dick still buried inside me while he softly flutters kisses across my forehead, eyelids, and lips.

I knew Quyn would keep me safe. He always has.

But who would keep Quyn safe?

Especially if the one person he needed protection from was me?

After Darren’s death, I’d been swiping a lot less on dating apps and only adventuring out on double dates with Saniyah. Yet, people were still coming up missing and dead. The oddity of the situation is that some of the men I’d had only one date with but continued to talk to on and off were joining the laundry list of missing and deceased people that the Savannah Police Department is tracking concerning their investigation surrounding The Midnight Heartslinger.

Anytime The Midnight Heartslinger case appeared on the news, or I saw people I was recently acquainted with or had befriended were missing or dead, my stomach became sour. It didn’t sit well with me that these people’s deaths were linked to me in some way. I had begun distancing myself from many of the new friends I had started to make since arriving back in Savannah and only dealing with Saniyah and Quyn. For days after Darren’s death, I had tried to sleep as little as possible in fear; I’d sleepwalk in the middle of the night and commit atrocities I wouldn’t remember during my awake hours.

Luckily, Chatham Country instated a countywide curfew of 9 p.m. to try to minimize the kidnappings and deaths occurring within its jurisdiction. So, the only people I had to protect from me if I were the killer were Saniyah and Quyn. I had installed a lock on my door, where Saniyah could lock me in at night, and Quyn had been spending his nights locked away in Saniyah’s room, giving me some peace of mind. If two locked doors couldn’t keep them alive, then God help us all.

“Who’s ready for some whiskey hot chocolate and a game of Scrabble,” Sanyiah bellowed, carrying a tray of mugs into our living room with Quyn on her heels with the game of Scrabble. I internally groaned because our nights had become like a retirement home party--stale and boring. Not only had our nights become drab, but my pussy ached to be filled with Quyn’s dick. I looked over at Saniyah, envious of the just fucked glow illuminating her flawless mahogany skin. Since she’d been lucky enough to have Quyn to herself over the past few days, when he hadn’t been working the CSI night shift, they were probably having marathon sex. But I wanted to keep Quyn safe, so I had begrudgingly barred him from my bedroom to keep me from potentially stabbing a blade through his heart after falling into a deep, relaxed state of sleep from the post-dick coma Quyn was guaranteed to provide.

Saniyah grinned at me, knowing she knew why I’d been in a crabby mood all day. We both enjoyed a good dick down from Quyn. Saniyah and I had shared men as college roommates, and Quyn had been one of those dicks we’d both got the pleasure of enjoying. Before I moved away, many people had thought we were in a throuple and not just three best friends that sometimes involved benefits of the sexual variety. I watched every move Quyn made as he set up the game of Scrabble. My body screamed for his, my pussy soaking wet and my nipples hardening with every move or unconscious brush up against me he made. The whiskey-hot chocolates flow freely, and by my fourth cup and our umpteenth game of Scrabble, I’m cracking Saniyah and Quyn up with my every word in the game being sex-related. When I spell out cunnilingus, Quyn huffs, and Saniyah lets out an amused snort in response.

“Okay, let’s help our girl out,” Saniyah laughs, grabbing the bottom edge of my SCAD sweatshirt and pulling it over my head. I sit there in a pair of short sleep shorts and no bra, my nipples puckering under the heated, lust-filled gazes of Saniyah and Quyn. It’d been years since Saniyah, Quyn, and I had a threesome. My pussy became more slick, and my clitoris twitched with excitement about the thought of having both Saniyah and Quyn fuck me.

Saniyah held the heavy weight of my breasts in her small palms as she caressed my nipples with her thumbs. A throaty whimper escaped my mouth as the beautiful champagne irises of Quyn’s eyes darkened to an obsidian shade as they clashed with my eyes over my shoulder. I felt his strong hands on my shoulder, lowering me to the ground between his thighs. Once my shoulders hit the floor, he sits on his haunches, his knees straddling my head as he scoops the lukewarm whipped cream off the top of his whiskey hot chocolate and splatters it on the swollen erect buds on my chest. I loudly gasp when his mouth closes over one of my sensitive peaks, taking his sweet time to lick the whipped cream from my chest as Saniyah rolls my shorts down my shaky legs. I allow my thighs to butterfly open, giving Saniyah a full frontal view of my glistening wet pussy. My back arches when Saniyah’s tongue licks the opening of my hot, wet core as she strokes lazy circles around my aching clitoris.

In synchrony, Quyn and Saniyah pleasure me with their mouths until I gasp both of their names in between my labored breathing, unable to get enough of the pleasurable overload they are unleashing on my body. I let not only the sexual tension in my body release itself, but I let the stress of everything happening in our community go as well, as I focus on the moment, enjoying the feeling of Saniyah’s tongue licking my slick folds as she plays with my clitoris and Quyn’s hot wet mouth on my nipples as he runs his hand up and down the sensitive curves and dips of my stomach and hips.

I let out a loud moan of ecstasy as my orgasm hits me when Quyn causes me to shatter into a million pieces by slapping my tits together before demanding, “Saniyah, get naked and straddle Inina’s face.”

I lay limply on the floor, unable to move as I come down from cloud nine as the waves of my orgasm start to dissipate. Saniyah’s sweet, smooth pussy lips gently touch my mouth as she hovers herself on her knees. I look up, and her small breasts sway above my eyes. She’s on all fours with her vagina above my lips. I dart my tongue out for a taste, licking her from root to tip, taking my time to suckle her clitoris before lapping up the tangy, sweet juices of her arousal. She lets out a loud moan as I dart my tongue in and out of her hot wet center while rubbing my fingers through her pussy lips, ensuring I stroke every sensitive point to drive her wild.

I uncontrollably scream in shock as Quyn rams his dick into me without warning, filling me to the hilt. The painful stretch feels so good as my pussy ripples and clenches around his dick. He lifts one of my legs on his shoulder as he slaps my clitoris, sending a shooting pleasurable pain up my spine, causing me to shudder. Quyn begins to fuck me relentlessly, pulling his dick out until it’s just the tip and ramming into me hard. I time the thrust of my tongue and the rhythm of my finger on Saniyah’s clitoris with the tempo Quyn sets with every thrust into my pussy and every slap he makes to my clitoris.

I shift Saniyah’s hips so her clitoris is positioned at my mouth and her ass is in the air facing toward Quyn. As soon as I lick and suck her clitoris into my mouth, I feel Quyn shift his weight so his dick is in a more downward angle as he pounds my pussy taking me deeper and hard as he eats Saniyah, the fuck out. Quyn and I fuck Saniyah’s pussy with our mouths in tandem as he fucks me hard, fast, and deep. I begin to feel my pussy quiver around Quyn’s manhood, and my toes dig into the rug beneath me as a tingle courses up and down my spine.

My body begins to shake, my orgasm building, causing me to shake uncontrollably as Saniyah grinds her swollen clit on my tongue and swollen lips, trying to get some release. Saniyah’s body begins to convulse, her small tits bouncing near my head as she screams her orgasm at the top of her lungs. The feeling of her hot wet pussy on my mouth, the sexy whimpers and cries she makes as she orgasms, sets me off, and I cum loudly and hard as I kegel Quyn’s dick in a velvet vise grip as I meet him thrust for thrust continuing to chase the euphoria he’s gifted my body.

I lay under both of them. The sounds of Quyn slapping Saniyah’s ass and our flesh connecting from how hard and erratically he pounds into my pussy is the only noise that can be heard in the living room until he lets out a loud guttural grunt as I feel hot wet ropes of cum coat the inside of my pussy.

We lay in a tangled heap of limbs, our uneven breathing filling the air as we try to float back to earth after that intense fuck session.

“Fuck Scrabble, Cranium, and Cards Against Humanity. Please, can we just fuck every night to pass the time until the curfew is lifted,” Saniyah groans, rolling away from me and laying her head on my right tit.

“I second that,” Quyn murmurs, pulling his dick from my swollen pussy and then pushing his cum back inside of me.

I let out a nervous laugh. My body becomes rigid, reverting back from its relaxed, carefree state and morphing back into a tightly wound knot of stress, fear, and unease. 

My mind races a mile a minute, a myriad of thoughts crossing my mind of a scary, unwanted truth.

This might be one of the last moments I spend with Quyn and Saniyah if I’m The Midnight Heartslinger.

If I can’t figure out my connection to this deranged killer's victims, then I may have to face the warped reality that my sleepwalking spells have turned me into a murderous monster.

That was a truth I wasn’t quite ready to face, and I don’t think it’d ever be.

Something isn’t right.

The noise in the bar is too loud; Saniyah’s laughter makes me see colors, and I can hear every slurp and swallow of my Tinder date. My senses are heightened, so every sound, taste, touch, or smell feels exasperating. Maybe the sensory sensitivity is due to the few weeks we were forced to spend away from the bustling Savannah nightlife scene because of the countywide curfew, or perhaps it could be due to me no longer being in my twenties because the bounce back and the want to hang out isn’t the same once you hit your thirties.

Yet, the only time I feel this out of sorts is after I’ve awakened from a sleepwalking spell, and that can’t be the cause of feeling like I’m a stranger in my own skin. It’s implausible because I haven’t been asleep in over twelve hours. It has to be social angst from being out for the first time since the Chatham countywide curfew has been lifted. It’s strange to think that when I had gone through the precautions of not being able to sleepwalk from my room, I’d cooled it on the dating apps and spent only my time with Quyn and Saniyah that the kidnappings and murders stopped.

The police and the FBI think either The Midnight Heartslinger has hit their cooling-off period or has left the area to find a new hunting ground outside Savannah, Georgia. While the grief and despair are still shrouding the town of Savannah, people are finding peace in not having to look over their shoulders and their ability to resume their normal lives. However, something still isn’t right about the situation. I’m just having trouble putting my finger on the issue. I could feel it in my gut. I don’t think The Midnight Heartslinger has cooled off or found a new hunting ground because that’s too simple of a happily-ever-after narrative law enforcement is trying to weave to keep the citizens from being in a continuous state of panic.

Whoever The Midnight Heartslinger is, they’re methodical. This has been the one thing that has plagued me about the killer. Would I be able to be this methodical, this clever, and this clean with killings that I’d committed in my sleep?

My mother and Saniyah have told me I become an entirely different Inina when I sleepwalk. I remember one bad sleepwalking spell that led to my parents and siblings locking themselves into their room and locking me into mine. Whereas they could unlock themselves from the inside, I had to wait until morning for them to unlock me from the outside. But, only time would tell if the killings resumed if I were the link to The Midnight Heartslinger that law enforcement was overlooking. Deep down inside, I just knew I should still be worried; hell, all the locals in Savannah should be concerned about The Midnight Heartslinger. Or maybe I’m just being paranoid, and the victims of the killings were a coincidence and not even one big enough to alert law enforcement because it’s not like I was the only woman that these men had swiped on and went on dates with within Chatham County.

“Inina, are you okay,” Saniyah worriedly questions. Her voice sounds scratchy to my ears, becoming my source of great agitation.

“I’ll be right back. I just need some air and to splash some cold water on my face,” I say to her and my date as I rise on shaky legs. I feel nauseous, and I see silvery and white floaters in front of my eyes as my head begins to pound.

“Do I need to come with you,” Saniyah asks. I shake my head, afraid that if she follows me, my agitation will become uncontrollable from the sound of her voice, and I’ll lash out; in a way, our friendship might not survive. The wooden panels of the bar’s walls cause my fingertips to itch and tingle. I feel like I’m walking through quicksand as I make my way to the ladies bathroom. I feel itchy, hot, and wobbly on my own two feet.

How much had I had to drink?

I couldn’t remember as I turned on the bathroom sink. The water rushed from the faucet, the loud whoosh causing my ears to feel as if they were bleeding. I felt my breathing slow, my eyes getting heavy with every blink. A sudden wave of drowsiness hit me as I lowered myself to the smelly tile floor of the bar’s restroom.

My eyes droop close from the heaviness. Maybe I just need a quick nap, and then I’ll feel as good as new in a few minutes. I fall into a dark abyss of the slumber I would’ve fought any other time.

I gasp for breath, adrenaline shooting through my veins as I wake with a fright. My heart beats erratically against my chest as I struggle against the heavy restraints, holding my arms and legs in place. I can barely see anything in this dimly lit room. It smells old and moldy like I’m in an old basement or storage unit. I close my eyes, trying to mentally retrace my steps over the last twenty-four hours.

Where the fuck was I?

Had I been sleepwalking?

I remember going with Saniyah to meet our Tinder dates at our usual bar.

I remember not feeling well and going to the restroom to try to catch my breath and self-soothe myself from the angst I had begun to feel from being in such a crowded space. I crane my neck to hear the loud footfalls approaching me to try to make out if they’re a man's or woman's footsteps. But, even as I strain to hear, I can’t definitively decipher the gender of the person approaching, only that it’s a human.

A bright, blinding light illuminates the small space briefly, causing me to let out a muffled scream. That’s when I realize a damp cloth is tied around my mouth, silencing me. My heart pounds harder against my chest as I come to the realization that I’m naked and shackled to a metal operating table, pinned in place like a frog being prepped for a high school biology class dissection.

I hear the eerie noises of someone moving around. There’s quiet music filling the room, but I can’t tell if it’s rock, pop, or country. Even worst, I can’t see who the fuck is in the room with me.

Oh, shit! I spent all these weeks living in fear of being The Midnight Heartslinger, not giving a second thought of what if I’m the one that The Midnight Heartslinger had been hunting all along—some killers like to toy with their food. What if the deaths happening around me to those close to me had just been signs that I’d be next?

Fuck, I missed every red flag waving in my face telling me I’m not safe in Savannah.

I thrash my body from left to right, the thick leather restraints painfully biting into my wrists and ankles. But fuck if I die in this hellhole at the hands of some deranged lunatic. None of this makes sense to me.

What the fuck? Why me? Tears well in the corner of my eyes, blurring my vision.

A heavy palm comes into view, covering my heart, feeling my thrashing heartbeat. My eyes grow the size of saucers as I peer into beautiful, familiar eyes.

Champagne brown eyes that I’ve seen bring me to orgasmic delight.

Champagne brown eyes that bring me comfort and joy.

Champagne brown eyes that, for the first time, are dull, soulless, and peer down at me with a colossal hint of crazy in them. My body begins to shake like a leaf while my mind tries to process the terrifying truth staring down at me.

“Finally, you’re awake. You can never tell with GHB how long someone will be out,” Quyn calmly states. He removes the damp gag from my mouth, leaning down to kiss me against my lips. Once upon a time, if anyone had asked me, I would’ve said I considered Quyn a phenomenal kisser. Quyn kisses like those hot, passionate kisses you read about in Harlequin romance novels that send the heroine’s head spinning and stabs of lust to her clitoris. At this moment, Quyn’s kiss is bitter and disgusting and makes me want to vomit in his mouth.

I’m shell-shocked as the handsome man I once thought of as my protector moves around this crowded space of horrors he’s created. He’s meticulous with his tools of torture as he lays them out on the surgical tray next to the operation table I’m strapped to. I can tell from his movements, how he catalogs each item, and the sterileness of this place that he’s a good CSI criminalist. The man entered the perfect profession, but now I realize he wants to commit the perfect murders, not assist in solving them.

“What the fuck? Why Quyn,” I rasp out through a voice that sounds like I’ve chain-smoked a thousand and one cigarettes. My throat burns, and it’s dry. I would do anything for a glass of water at this moment.

He turns to face me with a diabolical grin on his face that turns my blood ice-cold. He holds a sharp scalpel in his hand that gleams in the bright light. I feel a sharp sting like a never-ending paper cut as he makes a shallow slice from my breastbone to my belly button. I watch as best I can from my strapped-down position as he licks his tongue in the reverse direction of the shallow incision he made across my body. Quyn rests his head in the valley of my breast, and his lips are stained red from my blood. My stomach churns with disgust. This man is really fucking deranged.

How did Saniyah and I miss that Quyn clearly had some screws loose and missing?

“You are supposed to be mine and only mine. I do enjoy sharing you with Saniyah. But I don’t do well with other men touching my things. So, I had to find a way to leave you and everyone else messages that you were off limits,” Quyn grounds out between clenched teeth. His anger is palpitating, causing my flesh to break out in goosebumps about this revelation.

Quyn had liked me or had romantic feelings for me this entire time? Yet, instead of voicing them, he went on a killing spree? Talk about a crime of fucking passion.

“Why’d you kill Darren? He was gay. He had no interest in me. He always talked about his husband,” I asked, my voice breaking as my throat clogged with tears. Darren is the death that has haunted me more than any of the others, leaving me baffled as to why The Midnight Heartslinger would choose him as a victim.

“That poor sap was a miscalculation, collateral damage, but a message that had you pushing Winston out of town and back on a plane a thousand miles away from you. Therefore, Darren served his purpose. You should’ve heard how he screamed when I stabbed him through the heart,” Quyn cheerfully exclaims. A maniacal laugh shakes his body, causing me to go rigid and draw back in revulsion when he strokes my cheek.

There are no words for how bat-shit crazy this man is, I’ve come to realize.

“So, why me now? Why kidnap me? Why tie me up and carve pieces out of me like a Thanksgiving turkey,” I question, confused. Quyn is an enigma that I can’t crack. Clearly, the police couldn’t either because he’s been killing people left and right while managing to hide in plain sight. I feel full-body chills consume me as I think about how his coworkers are indeed fraternizing with their enemy and have no fucking clue.

His eyes darken with rage, his pupils becoming pinpricks, as he slices into me again. Only this time, I felt the blade cut deeper, and I let out a small cry of pain.

“Because you need to pay. You’ve picked every other trash man over me, pretending like I was only good for my dick. When you should have loved me as much as I fucking love you! I thought if I killed off every date, male friend, hook-up, or fuck buddy, you’d have no choice but to pick me. Yet, you kept finding more men. I finally realized you were the problem. And I needed to end the pain you were causing me and everyone around you. So, I need to rid you of my world,” Quyn seethes as he palms my breasts while fluttering kisses across my face in an affectionate manner.

I couldn’t believe my ears. His declaration of love had been overshadowed by his irrational thought process, which led him to become The Midnight Heartslinger, leaving human bodies as the wreckage of his broken heart like pieces of litter sprinkled around Chatham County.

“The only problem is. I think I’m going to throw them off by driving a knife through your heart, piercing the Joker card, leaving law enforcement guessing, and believing they may have a copycat killer on their hands. In case you’re wondering about my genius, I did a queen of hearts because you were the queen that held my heart, and I was trying to let you and the world know what you meant to me. But now, I see this thing between us for what it really is,” Quyn snarls.

“What is it,” I gulp, flinching each time he cut into me and licked and sucked my blood as if he were a vampire.

“You made a fool out of me. But, you were the real fool by not choosing or loving me. Therefore, I’m going to take my time with you, and I’m going to enjoy every last second and breath you take,” Quyn laughed.

Fuck! I didn’t want to die like this.

I feel a sharp prick in my neck and a burning sensation course through my body. My limbs begin to feel heavy and numb, my eyes drooping.

“Rest easy, Melanesian beauty. I have a CSI shift and will come back by the next time you awake. Unfortunately, the fun I’m going to have with you will have to wait just a little while longer,” Quyn explains, kissing my forehead tenderly. The sound of his footsteps disappears as the room becomes submerged into almost darkness, with a small lamp working overtime as a dim light source.

I try my hardest to fight the sleep that slowly starts to take control of my body.

I never in a million years thought I’d have to brace myself for falling not only victim to The Midnight Heartslinger but having him turn out to be one of my best friends.

I needed to think, and I needed to think fast.

Would I be able to outsmart a psychopath?

 Or would I end up on Tybee Island like many of this lunatic’s victims that had come before me?

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