Love and Other Murders

By lidmila All Rights Reserved ©

Thriller / Erotica

Chapter 39

“What have you done so long with this obnoxious clown? You do look a mess, Magda! Cover yourself!” He throws her the robe with a glare.

“I hope you have got the photos! You do? Let me see! Not bad! How was he in bed, tell me, you little whore, don’t be shy!” Vincent draws her to him with grim determination to make her pay for her love night.

“What am I seeing here, sweetie? I can’t believe my eyes!” He purrs sweetly lifting up her breasts.

“What are doing those purple suckers on your snow-white tits? A French lover! Must have given you SOME pleasure! How could you do that to me, Magda?” He slaps her face, toppling her over the bed and grazing her body with his sharp teeth.

“Wait, Vincent, I am all muggy, let me clean up first!”

“I couldn’t care less! It’s not the first time I am screwing a hooker.”

He pushes his face into her vagina and inhales avidly her smell.

“You stink like a rotten fish, you fat tart!” He spits into her face.

She lies crushed under him, scratched by the thick cotton of his jeans and the coarse wool of his sweater, a dynamite stick readying to explode in her swollen vagina. She suppresses her screams of pain. She knows that he is hurting her purposefully and accepts his next sanctions spurning and enjoying Vincent’s brutal sex.

He swirls his fingertips in the soft, humid flesh of her bosom. Feeling a thrilling excitement he screws her nipples mauling them with a vicious satisfaction. This has nothing to do with passion; this is a corporal castigation for an act he asked her to perform with another man.

With a heinous final push he makes them come together in a torturous climax while a hateful scream escapes from his mouth. He glides down from her, cleans himself up with the fistful of her hair and jumps out off bed. He buttons his fly up giving his full attention to the snapshots she made for him and that he despises her for doing so well.

“I’ll pass them on Alex and inform you about his further orders when the time comes. The room has been paid for; here is your ticket for Eurostar. Alex was generous enough to pay you the first class back to Paris. As for Polland it was the last time he saw you. Any future contact is undesirable, understood? You are taking the evening train. Do whatever you like until then. You can stay in bed until eleven. I am sure they will keep your luggage at the reception desk if you decide for a walk around town. Here, it’s the tip for the doorman. Ask him to call you a cab. Elijah will meet you at the Gare du Nord and bring you home. Don’t tell Nathalie what you did or where you were. I count on your discretion.” He gathers his equipment and is gone.

She stretches cautiously out, evaluating the damage to her man-mauled body. Thanks God, no serious injury. She is just sore and badly bruised. But that’s nothing new to her. Men are zombies feeding on women’s flesh. She decides she will make Polland pay for what she gave him and dials the number of his cellular. He takes her call at the first ring and asks her to wait a second to step out of a conference.

’Of course he can make it for lunch. He’ll meet her at the hotel at noon. That she has to free her room at eleven? No problem! He will notify the reception to give her free access to his suite. So sorry he has to leave her now and go back to the meeting.’ He rings off assuring her of his love.

She gives herself a critical look in the mirror. The purple cashmere pullover, designer jeans, a wee too tight for her curvy buttocks and high-heeled crocodile boots show her a cool young lady with ginger locks surrounding a girlish face: the heavily made-up lips cover professionally the cracks and bruises. She touches her hair, silky and shiny again after a thorough wash with the expensive hotel shampoo removing the mug and grime of her couplings.

The knock at the door makes her freeze. She opens it with apprehension. The bell boy is coming to ask if Madam would wish him to carry her luggage to Mr. Polland’s suite which she does and follows him graciously. She orders a full English breakfast to be served in the room and enjoys it fully while concocting a list of goodies she will ask that poor jerk as compensation for her last night’s good graces. Delightfully heavy with food and tipsy from her breakfast champagne she sinks upon the bed to recuperate the sleep she was deprived by her night job.

She is woken up by a mouth muzzling her breast.

“My sleeping beauty, may I join you?” Polland’s murmur is vibrant with hope.

“Not just now, Jean!” She chirps sweetly.

“There’s a time for everything. It’s lunch time now.”

She pushes gently off his grabbing hands and jumps out of bed displaying a shrill cry of pain.

“You see what you have done to me, you naughty boy! I’m hurting all over! What a savage you are!” She scolds him jokingly and he blushes crimson with guilty pleasure.

“My poor baby, I’m SO sorry! You made me mad! Let me kiss you to health, I’ll behave, I promise! “

“Better not, Jean. You are a passionate man and I go weak at your touch! If I remember well I gave you my virginity before term and you promised me to take me to “Harrods”. Let’s do it fast to get out of harm’s way.”

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