EroticReverie

Ryker

Sitting across the street, parked further down, I watch the interaction outside the station. 

"Oh no. No, no, no. That is not yours Detective. That is not yours." I shake my head, as I pull up my phone and begin my homework on the detective that thinks my fucking Cecelia is anything he's allowed to touch. Grimey fuck. Preying on my poor innocent Cecelia, coming onto her like that. 

I was going to pick up Cecelia, to be here for her, to comfort her after whatever stress of the police station brought her, but now, now there were far more important matters to tend to.

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I wait five hours, inside of his home. Detective Carson...54...divorced...father of four...beat his wife....kids dont talk to him....just a lonely sad old fuck that doesnt know how to keep his fucking hands to himself. I'd do this not only for my Cecelia...but for his ex wife as well. 

I stand inside his kitchen, leaning against the counter as I hear the door of his Mercedes shut inside his garage. Then the sound of the automatic garage door rolling down. 

He's whistling as he enters, as I stand there, with a knife I took from his cutting block on his kitchen counter. 

"SHIT!" he jumps, first pissed that I scared him, then pissing his pants because I scared him. Literally...pissing himself. I snarl behind my mask. 

"Hello...Detective." I say as I just stand there. 

"Wh-what the hell, who are you?!" he stammers, trying his best to sound tough, to intimidate ME of all people. I simply laugh behind the mask.

"Me? I'm the one who killed Rodger.....for touching my fucking Cecelia." I growl and his eyes widen, and widen even more.

"I saw you touch my Cecelia , detective...and I didn't like it. I didn't like it at all." I say shaking my head, spinning the knife, with the pointed end pressed against my the tip of my finger in my leather gloves.

"I....I didnt...i didnt touch her." he lies, lies right to my fucking face.

"Oh see....lying wont save you Detective...no...it'll only make me more angry...and make this more painful for you." I grin behind the mask and give a shrug as I stand up and walk over to him, towering over him in his piss soaked pants, with the puddle still spreading near his shoes.

"But...that just makes it more fun for me." I say with a grin , all to myself. 

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Two hours later, after I've decided he's suffered enough, I slit his throat. Cocking my head with a grin as I watch the blood pour from him onto the floor, the entire house stained with his blood, making him crawl as I followed him room to room, removing each finger one at a time, allowing him to try to run his fat ass through the house and away from me, only to catch him and remove another....and another...leaving a trail of fingers through his house along the way...fingers that dared to fucking touch what belongs to me. 

I cut off his hand at the wrist after his fingers and thumbs are gone....his screams of agony silenced a bit by the piss soaked rag I shoved in his mouth and duct taped around his head to secure it. 

I tell him when I cut off the other hand, that it's for his wife. Then I stabbed him in the gut. Letting him hold his wound in his stomach with the hands he no longer fucking hand. Laughing at his begging, at his pleading through the mouth of a tongueless bastard. Becaue that was the FIRST thing I did....cut out his fucking tongue, when he dared to tried to blame my Cecelia...calling her nothing short  of a slut when he said "girls like her" are asking for it. 

I didnt like that. Not one fucking bit. Cecelia was no whore. No slut. She'd be my whore...and my slut...she'd be everything for me...but she was not a whore or a slut for men like Detective Carson. I wouldnt let him shame my precious Cecelia for her beautiful breasts. For those delicious little nipples of hers.....it was no excuse....it was no excuse for him to touch her. 

I bend over his now still body, several stab wounds decorating him from the fun little chase he gave me through his house.

"Wait for me in hell....where I'll be sure to punish you again for touching my Cecelia." I whisper to his corpse, and then walk through the house admiring the blood display along the walls where he crashed into them, or tried to push off them, the blood staining carpet, wall paper, furniture. It was a sight to see. Some of my best work. I bend over, plucking one of his severed fingers from the floor, dropping it into a napking, rolling it up and putting it in my pocket.

I leave the scene and go home, on my way there I text Cecelia.

"I'd like to see you again tonight Cecelia. You and Millie are welcome to stay again tonight." I send the text.

"They're doing another sweep of our apartment. I think it'll be a few days before we can go back." she types. 

"You can stay with me as long as you need Cecelia." I reply as I drive.

"You're crazy." she types, making me laugh. 

"You have no idea Cecelia." I type back.

"That's what scares me." she replies.

"It's also what makes your cunt ache." I type.

Smirking when she doesnt respond.

"I'll see you later Cecelia. Behave yourself." I type.

"What does that even mean?" she types.

"It means don't let a single fucking person touch what's mine." I reply.

"You think I walk around letting ten foot tall assholes finger fuck me all day long?" she types and I smirk at the phone.

"I'm only six foot eight. But keep it up Cecelia. Keep running that smart little mouth, and see what happens. " I warn her. 

"Also...i'm not yours." she adds and my jaw clenches.

"We'll see about that, when your cunt is begging for me to fuck it with my mouth later." I type.

"Just because you can eat my pussy, doesnt make it yours." she argues.

"I'm warning you Cecelia. Watch it." I reply.