Page 11 of The Death of Kisses

I carefully pulled up just a small dose of ketamine—just enough to get the job done, but not enough to trap me in endless sleep. Thank you, Dad, for pushing chemistry onto me as if I were destined to run some secret drug operation. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I shoved the vial toward the back of the fridge, feeling the weight of his expectations and my own silent frustration.

I left the gym just moments ago, my steps heavy and unsteady, my heart pounding with a lingering ache. As I made my way back to the house, the cold vial in my glove seemed to burn hotter, a stark contrast to the chill that seeped into my bones. My path drifted off course, still familiar, yet not enough to feel like home—just a whisper of a place I longed for but could never truly reach. The soft glow of the kitchen light flickered on, casting a fragile warmth as I paused, lingering at their mailbox. There, in that fleeting moment, I saw their family—an image of happiness I would never possess. I watched her blonde hair sway gently across her shoulder, the smile that danced upon her lips as she spoke—so full of life, so untouched by my world. And in that instant, she looked my way, as if my very presence beckoned her, as if she could feel my yearning, drawing her toward me with an unspoken pull I could never quite grasp.

My feet instinctively pulled back, retreating as a surge of better judgment seized me—don't stalk her, I begged myself, it's just so damn creepy. She moved on with her life, while I lingered in the shadows, my eyes fixed on her—the orange and brown carton of ice cream clutched in her hands—sitting peacefully with her father. They were laughing, carefree, watching some old black-and-white TV show like nothing else mattered in the world. A blazing envy tore through my soul as I stood there, frozen in place, watching her, waiting for her like some desperate, haunted soul possessed by an unshakable longing.

I wasn’t sure if it was pure captivation that kept me rooted to that spot or the impossible allure of her. Maybe a dangerous blend of both. I stood on the street, bathed in the warm glow of the street lamp, waiting with bated breath. I watched her as she brushed her teeth, as she slowly prepared for bed—each movement pulling me deeper into her world. Her sleepy eyes suddenly widened when the light in her bedroom flicked on, as if she sensed something unseen. Instinct took over, and I instinctively moved away, like a predator unleashing its silent warning, taunting its prey. She shook it off effortlessly, continuing to undress as if the dangers of the night couldn’t reach her, as if she were too lost in sleep to realize the threat lurking nearby. That moment, that sense of reckless vulnerability— I found it intoxicating.

Sometime later, her eyelids became heavy, closing in sleep. That’s when I moved, deliberately—slowly, purposefully. Every step measured and controlled, like this was just an everyday stroll, nothing more than a casual walk. But inside, my heart thundered—this was more than just walking through the night. It was an obsession, a dangerous passion, a silent desire I couldn’t resist.

My gloved hand carefully pried open the window, each movement heavy with quiet desperation. I slid into her room on silent, plush steps, my boots pressing softly into the carpet, as if afraid to wake her from that fragile, tender world. My eyes were irresistibly drawn to her—the soft, golden glow of her blonde hair, the gentle rise and fall of her peaceful smile, her dreams gently cradling her in serenity. I could have walked away, left everything behind, gone without so much as a touch—a ghost in her sanctuary. But as her blankets slipped below her waist, exposing that vulnerable, sacred part of her, my mouth watered like a starving beast. A relentless, primal hunger roared inside me—a savage craving to claim her, to possess her, to devour her innocence with an impossible longing that burned hotter than the night itself.

There was something so forbidden about the situation. I had never done this before but as my mind caught on the syringe in my pocket I couldn’t help wondering if some deep dark part of me planned it. Motivated by my distraught emotions and my longing for company.

As I moved through her room, my gaze was drawn to everything that reflected her soul—every little detail, every treasured fragment of her life. My steps were slow, hesitant, caught in a whirlwind of doubt and longing, wondering if this was the right choice. But does it truly matter?

A dark, twisted thought crept into my mind, wrapping itself around my spirit, and I surrendered to its seductive pull. Silent drawers waited as they opened and closed, revealing nothing of consequence—panties, bras, shirts, jeans—nothing that sparked my interest until I saw it: the outfit she had meticulously laid out.

A “good girl” outfit—so innocent, so seemingly modest. Long-sleeved baby blue top with a delicate sweetheart neckline, paired with flared jeans that spoke of innocence. I almost chuckled at the sight—she even laid out her underwear, as if preparing to present herself perfectly. But no, this simply wouldn’t do.

As I gently put away the clothes, my fingers brushed against a sleek, short black shirt with a daring cut, tucked away at the back of her dresser—a piece that whispered secrets of confidence and wild dreams. Next, I found a vibrant hot pink bra, fiery and bold, perfectly matching her fierce spirit. I then selected a pair of low-rise skinny jeans, feeling the anticipation build as I laid them out, ready to transform her into something breathtaking. Or perhaps, it was Lilly’s ghost softly whispering in my ear, urging me forward. Before I finished, I carefully placed her rugged cowboy boots in front, symbols of her free-spirited soul. Sighing softly with a mix of admiration and longing, I turned once more towards her peaceful, sleeping frame, captivated by the quiet beauty and the promise of what’s to come.

My gloved hands moved her soft curls to the side revealing the bare skin of her neck. The syringe loomed in my hand, a slight hesitation before my mind settled itself. The soft prick drew a whine of protest from her lips as the needle punctured her skin, the plunger depressed moments later as I held my breath in anticipation.

Her breath is still steady. Her body laid in the same position as moments before. I pocketed the syringe watching, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Nothing.

Her gentle breaths were the only sound as I slipped the blankets down and away from her body. My heart danced wildly against my ribcage as I stared at her soft delicate form. So beautiful.

Gazing upon her was like staring straight into the vast, trembling heavens just moments before the skies unleash their thunderous, soul-shattering rain. It was as if the very air around me pulsed with anticipation, echoing the raw, uncontainable surge of emotion swelling within my chest—an intoxicating, menacing promise of something powerful and all-consuming, ready to burst forth in a torrent of life, passion, and unspoken longing.

A fear encased me for just the briefest of moments, as if touching her would damn me to an eternity in hell. Yet, all I felt in the moment was starved of her touch. My gloved hand pressed gently upon her bare leg, a soft test. Her body didn’t move, just as suspected, the ketamine working to keep her utterly still. Suspended in a paralysis where her deepest desires and dreams ran rampant. It called to me, the beast inside purred and rolled over at the thought of having her all to myself. Lilly. Shaking my head a soft chuckle tumbled out of my throat, no this was not my Lilly, the creature beneath me was too soft, too alluring.

“Anna,” I tested the name on my lips, whispering it like a prayer to some forsaken goddess.

My eyes fixed on the phone beside her head, the soft chime tearing through my thoughts like a sharp scratch on a chalkboard. A moment later, the text appeared, pulling me even deeper into the silent ache.

Carrie: Hey Anna-banana, are you coming? Text back if you are or we can plan for Sunday. Love you!

A fierce rage, filled with burning emotion, twisted around my heart, tightening its grip and clouding my thoughts as the phone screen went dark. Jealousy might be the polite word for it, but this was far from polite. A raw, guttural sound escaped me—a broken promise clawing its way out from the depths of my throat—“Mine.”

No longer bound by the suffocating chains of what’s right or wrong, I was finally free to chase my true desires with reckless abandon and unshakable conviction. My gloved hand roughly pulled her night shorts off of her. Jaw dropping as my eyes locked onto her center— no panties. Salivating and unashamedly staring at her temptation I licked my lips in anticipation. There was no denying the urge that surged through me like the strike of a lightning bolt. My fingers traced her legs in a playful manner as my body bent forward, lured closer to her like a fish on the hook.

Her thighs are soft, delicate. Unmarred by cruel hands at least not yet. Tentatively spreading her legs wide I waited with bated breath. Her breathing was still that steady rhythm. Inching my way between her legs, I inhaled her soft musky scent letting the aroma dance around my senses before my tongue flicked across the pink bud of her clitoris. Teasingly rolling it across my tastebuds soaking in the sweet tanginess of her.

Okay, maybe I was enjoying it far more than I should, but honestly it would be a waste to go this far and stop short. As if my thoughts had struck a chord deep within her, she gasped—an almost fragile, quiet sound that slipped from her lips, yet it carried the weight of her unspoken emotion.

With a newfound surge of urgency flooding through me, my heart pounded fiercely, igniting a fiery passion that engulfed every fiber of my soul. My pussy clenched as my mouth engulfed her warm soft wetness. I’m craving her with a desperation that’s almost primal, like I’m drinking in the final, precious drops of water from an arid desert pool—knowing it might be the last taste I’ll get, and every moment with her feels like salvation. My tongue danced wildly, pulling the softest of moans out of her sleepy state. Gloved fingers reaching forward softly to grasp those risen peaks of her nipples as they rose beneath her shirt.

If she could move her beautiful body right now, I have no doubt she’d be pressing her hips desperately against my face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she screamed out for mercy—sweet, pleas to a god she’s ready to forsake, instead crying out to a devil she’s longing to surrender to. The very idea sent a shiver through me, igniting a wild, reckless smile that burned with forbidden desire. My gloved fingers pinching and pulling at her breast kneading against her delicate flesh working her over as her body tightened around my touch.

My own desires basked in the glow of her body as it performed just how I directed. My tongue slipped around her folds teasing her entrance with a quick prodding and back towards her clitoris where I sank my teeth in gently enough to banish the pleasure if only for a moment.

Her chest heaved rapidly beneath my hand, the mounting anticipation electrifying every nerve as I eagerly pressed closer. I could feel her body quaking with the gust of surrender, skin flushed with a fiery blend of longing and relief. My eyes darted upward, filled with a fierce, watchful hunger—waiting, craving that inevitable moment when she would finally break free and give in completely. Any second now, and she’d shatter into pure, unspoken ecstasy. I flicked and twirled my tongue around her sensitive clit with urgent care as my breaths became labored. Rolling her nipple between my forefinger and thumb I pinched ever so slightly and was rewarded with the softest and wettest releases. Her body visibly relaxed as I slowed my lapping, withdrawing my hand from her breasts and dragging my tongue through her fresh release.

I could have stayed there, and cleaned her dry, but I wanted her to feel how wet she’d gotten from me. I needed her to know that it wasn’t a dream.

I stood over her watching as her body slowly drifted off into a deeper slumber, and with the same gloved fingers that had been mere milliliters away from her heavenly skin I unbuttoned my jeans. Sliding them down my panties followed, bunching around my legs. The soft leather of my gloves slipped through my drenched heat as I plunged my fingers into my aching needy cunt. Working myself through the pleasure I’d denied myself while giving her every ounce of my being.

Fingers hammering into my dripping sweet center as I chased the sparkles that threatened to disappear. My heart raced wildly as the pressure built around my fingers. Biting my lip as a moan slipped out of my lips and her.