Five of Him Early Access
RICK
“THE REAPER”
The first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was mine. The missing piece of my soul. The girl of my dreams.
I couldn’t stop obsessing over her. All those nights I spent in my lonely bed, fixated on her photos until I spilled onto them. Her smooth thighs and full bosom. Her pursed lips and crooked smile. I wanted her. Not in a nice little “feed her ice cream” sort of way. Something messed up. Something bad.
Oh, the things I would do… Some would make her bleed. Some would never heal.
She was mine by birthright, and I had to claim her.
JAMES
“THE PROTECTOR”
We’ve been down this road before. Jumping to conclusions before the process is complete. The search for the perfect woman requires time, patience, research, and proof.
A boner is just what it is, a reaction of a young body to arousal. I once got hard from staring at a hole in a tree, and the tree certainly isn’t the woman of my dreams. A hard-on is not proof. That’s simply ridiculous.
I sigh and slam my money on the counter, disturbed by the thoughts running through my mind these days.
“One room, please.” I nod at the clerk.
My eyes wander down the hallway of this old, stinky motel at the edge of town. It looks even worse than I remember. Out of five lamps in the hallway, only two are working this time, and yet I’m paying for a room, just like the other eighteen guests staying here tonight.
There’s a certain group of people who choose where they stay based on location, anonymity, and discretion, and I’m one of them. Motel 808 offers all of the above. It’s right across the street from the Denny’s where the girl works, and I’m here to watch her.
“Same room?” the clerk asks.
“How about 207? Better view.”
“It’s not available.”
“307?”
“Sorry.”
“What about 205, 209, 305, 309? You gotta have one for me.”
“No… They’re all booked.”
“Seriously?”
He looks at me impatiently.
“Same room it is then.” I raise my brows, slightly disappointed. “107. My lucky number.”
107 has the clearest view of the girl, but it only works when traffic is light. 105 and 109 are both acceptable alternatives. Then again, none of them match what the second floor can offer.
Maybe next time. I grab the room keys and put my things in the room. Then I cross the street.
She’s working tonight.
* * *
The doorbell rings as I push the door open, and there I am, standing in her presence. She turns to look at me from the soda fountain, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet across the diner.
Daisy Maxwell.
I know everything there is to know about her: where she lives, when her shift starts and ends, who her best friend is, and whether she’s dating anyone. Her favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla. She listens to Eminem and has an annoyingly sweet habit of making fruit muffins on rainy days.
I ask for a window seat facing the soda fountain and grab a salt packet to rub between my fingers. Just a little something to distract me from the increasing discomfort of my arousal pressing against my pants. I watch her carry three cups of Coke to the table behind me.
She wipes her hand on her apron and heads my way. I quickly lower my head, my fingers rubbing the salt packet a little faster.
“Hey, you look familiar,” she says in a bright voice. “Have I seen you before?”
I look up. My gaze falls on her lips, noticing the curve at the corner of her mouth. She’s put on some lip gloss, sparkly and in a shade of pink I like.
“Yeah, I’ve been here a few times,” I murmur. “It’s my favorite diner.”
Her eyes linger on my face a moment longer, then she lowers them, as if my gaze is too intense.
“What brings you to town?” she asks after clearing her throat. “Do you know anyone here?”
“You.” I can’t help but draw a smile at the idea of her, my eyes lowering to the name tag on her chest. “I like to look at pretty girls with flower names.”
“You’re too sweet,” she says, and I watch her smile widen. A dimple forms in her cheek.
“Not as sweet as your fruit muffins.” I swallow. “It was rainy this morning. Am I right?”
“You know about my rainy day muffins?” She widens her eyes. “You must have been here a lot.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” I toss the salt packet on the table, leaning back. “Glad to finally be noticed.”
She clicks the back of her pen several times, as if nervous.
“I’m Daisy,” she says.
“James Bell.”
I’ve sat in this exact booth ten times this year, observing her, taking pictures of her. Eight out of those ten times, she was too busy to pay me any attention—breakups, new flings, girl fights. She kept herself busy, which made it easy for me to stay off her radar.
Over time, I’ve grown bolder, more reckless. Which led to this unfortunate exchange.
“What’s your last name, sweetheart?” I ask, unable to help myself.
She bites her lip slightly, as if the question is a bit intrusive, so I explain.
“A beautiful woman like yourself deserves more respect than a flowery name.” I shift in my seat. “I know three Daisies in my life. You sure don’t look like any of them, and believe me, I mean it as a compliment.”
She clicks the pen again, rocking back and forth. She does this whenever she feels flutters in her stomach. I know this because I’ve seen it before—with the busboys she had a thing for, and then her boss. It seems that today, I’m the one.
My fingers reach for the salt packet again.
“Daisy Maxwell,” she says shyly.
“Daisy Maxwell,” I repeat in a whisper. “You remind me of someone I know.”
Her pupils dilate slightly.
“My late wife,” I explain. “Especially when you smile.”
And there it is—that look of shock on her face as she realizes I’ve been married.
“I’m sorry…” She bites her lower lip, as if unsure what to say next. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. I mean, you look so young.”
“A man can be widowed at any age,” I say, looking her in the eye. “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She bites her lip again. I’ve made her nervous again, and for some reason, I like it.
“So, um, what brought you to town?” she asks. “You didn’t answer me before.”
“A woman,” I say without flinching.
Her smile freezes, and I catch a hint of disappointment on her face. I rub the salt packet a bit faster, recognizing her attachment to me. She has a tendency to become too emotionally involved with the ones she likes—perhaps a little too fast at times.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m just doing a friend a favor, checking on his girl.”
“Oh…” She seems a little relieved. Her fingers seek the pen again. She clicks the back of it. “How long are you staying?”
“The plan is to leave first thing in the morning,” I say softly, my eyes locked on her face. “I could stay a bit.”
She nods thoughtfully, though she can’t hide the disappointment on her face.
“You grew up in this town?” I ask.
“Yeah…”
“How do you like it here?”
“It’s… fine.”
“That doesn’t sound like fine to me.”
“I do like it here…” she blurts. “It’s just a really small town, and sometimes a place like this can mess with your head, you know?”
“Like you’re trapped in a place too small to hold all parts of you.”
“Yeah, like that.” She nods.
My eyes drift back to the menu. My fingers glide across the plastic surface.
“Do you travel a lot?” she asks. “You have this… vibe. Like you’ve seen things.”
I raise a brow, not entirely sure what she means, but my lips move anyway.
“I have.”
“I’d like to hear about them sometime,” she says shyly, her fingernails digging into the side of the pen.
“How about tonight?” The words jump out of my mouth before I can stop them. My heart races. “I’d like to learn a few more things about you as well.”
“I’d love that,” she whispers. “But my shift doesn’t end until eleven.”
“You got a date afterward?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Then I’ll wait,” I say, pointing at the motel across the street. “You know 808?”
“Yeah.”
“I have a room there, but I’m not in a rush to go back all by myself.”
“It’s certainly not the best spot in town,” she says, as if she knows something about the place. I sense she wants to tell me more, but she presses her lips together and lowers her voice. “There are rumors, you know. I mean, if you’d like to stay somewhere else, I can recommend a place or two.”
“Anywhere you like,” I say with a smile.
“So… tonight, after my shift.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay then.”
She takes out her notepad at last, smiling as if she’s been holding it hostage the whole time.
“What would you like, James?”
RICK
“THE REAPER”
My fingers curl into a fist, heat coiling low in my body. There are rules. Lines we don’t cross. Protocol. Research is just supposed to be what it is: observation, background checks, and light stalking. No interaction. No getting himself a date with my girl.
That first conversation was supposed to be mine. She was supposed to feel all the flutters in her stomach with me.
I flex my chin, rolling my neck until it cracks.
“Hi, Daisy,” I call the little waitress over, trying not to lose my cool. “Can you remind me what I’ve ordered?”
“Coke, steak dinner, a side of fries, and a cheesecake,” she recites. “Did I get it right?”
“What a good girl.” I try to keep my voice soft, but something rough slips through anyway. “I’ve changed my mind about the steak dinner. I’ll have the nachos. Extra jalapeños and cream.”
“Mmm spicy.”
“You like that too, don’t you?”
She looks at me, and whatever she sees in my eyes makes her press her lips together and swallow.
“Sweet girl, give me a beer and vanilla ice cream in a cone.”
“You like vanilla ice cream, too?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“Then we should share.”
She hesitates. She goes still under my gaze for a moment. By the time she snaps out of it, she looks flushed and startled. She presses that notepad back into her pocket and hurries away.
A little while later, she circles back.
“We can share one after my shift,” she says, keeping her eyes on the table as her fingers brush my arm.
“You sure we can wait?”
I make no effort to hide how hard I am.
She walks away, but she looks back at me a few times. One of those times, I lick my lips and lock her gaze in mine, not letting her look away until her breath turns uneven. She blinks, trying to pull herself together.
I keep doing it every time she steals a glance at me, until she simply can’t anymore.
“Excuse me,” she mutters, heading to the back.
I push my fists harder against the table and stand up. In other times, I’d flirt with her a bit more over the next couple of hours, until the taste of desire becomes desperate, and this little dance between us turns inevitable. But James crossed a line today. He made her like him. He made her want him. Him. Not me. And that’s unacceptable.
I follow her to the back. There, against the wall, I find her with a cigarette. I walk up to her, take the disgusting thing from her hand, and throw it into the dumpster.
She slides a little down the wall as I lock her between my arms. Our bodies touch. She looks like she’s still debating what’s going to happen, but her hand already reaches for mine, guiding me under her apron.
“James…” she whispers. A soft moan slips out. Her eyes look hopelessly into mine, like a silent plea telling me she shouldn’t be doing this, while her hand presses me harder between her legs.
I press my thumb to her soft lips, pulling them apart.
“Call me Rick,” I correct her.
“Rick.”
“That’s it,” I whisper, feeling her melt under me. “That’s my girl.”
I lick her upper lip as I push my thumb past her teeth. I bite her lower lip, sucking it as she reaches for my belt. Her small hand strokes me over my pants.
“How long have you known?”
“Since you called me to change your order.”
“That’s the right answer.”
I turn her around and peel off her panties.
“You got a condom?” she barely manages to get out.
“Yes.”
I take one out and put it on, then pin her hands behind her back, like my little prisoner.
“Say my name again.”
“Rick.”
“Again.”
“Rick…”
What comes next is her muffled cry against my palm as I slam hard into her. She takes the whole thing in and squeezes me tight, wet and needy, as if she’s been waiting for this the whole time.
“Horny girl.” I pull her closer to me. “Your shift isn’t even over yet, and here you are, being fucked into a wall.”
I lift her a little and bend her over.
“Tell me, do you do this often?”
She shakes her head.
“How many times?”
She shakes her head again, unable to talk with my hand over her mouth.
“Good girl.” I grip her ponytail, picking up the pace.
“Good. Girl.”
I bounce her hard on my cock, letting the sound of us fucking fill the alley. She makes sweet noises where our bodies meet, messy and desperate.
“I want to take off that condom and fuck all my swimmers into you.” I pull her hair to the side and whisper into her ear.
She pulses around me suddenly.
“What do you say? We keep fucking like it’s a sport. I make you come, and we go back into the diner. Or—you let me cream you up.”
She swings her hips wilder at my words. Her pussy tightens, then releases, tempted and wanting. I know she can’t resist it. She’s my girl. She wants everything reckless and hot, just like me.
I give her a couple hard thrusts. My hands cup her ass and part her cheeks, readying her.
“Take it off,” she begs at last. “I want you to take the condom off, and—”
“Fuck my swimmers into you,” I finish for her and pull my cock out. I rip the condom off, then push back inside, hot and naked. A heavier sound pulls up from deep inside her as if she feels the difference.
“That’s my girl.” I pull her even closer to me. My fingers press into her mouth as I hold her, mounting her from behind.
I don’t remember everything that happened after that. Just the intensity of it—hot, messed up, and a little violent.
I give her all I have. All at once. Everything I’ve dreamed of doing to her.
She cries so loudly that even a hand over her mouth can’t keep her down. She keeps making those wild noises until her belly is full. Then she goes still, looking so pretty with her shoulders covered in my marks and blood, her ass swollen and red.
“Wow…” she mutters, still catching her breath. “That was—”
“Too much?” I ask, wiping the tear from the corner of her eye. My eyes fall on her bruised lips.
“No.” She swallows, shaking her head rapidly. “You kidding me?”
“Tell me.” I rub my thumb over her lower lip, the dried blood crumbling on my skin.
My heart still races, but I feel my lips curve.
“Is it too soon to say I love you?” she jokes.
“Yes.” I pull up her panties for her, then press a kiss to her forehead as I redo my belt. “You’re a crazy girl, Daisy.”
I’m a little surprised that she liked it. My intensity has always been more of a curse, and because of that, I’ve never been able to be with the same woman twice.
The girl of my dreams. My missing puzzle piece. She’s mine, and I’ll never let go.
“Fuck… I, um… I should get back. I’m not really supposed to be out here.”
“Not supposed to fuck a customer either,” I tease.
She flattens her apron and smooths her hair, trying to pretend she’s still the same girl. I let her do what she has to do, but no matter what she does, she can’t hide those marks. I made sure they’d be seen.
“Don’t forget our date.”
She tries to slip away without a kiss, so I grab her and pull her back to me, pressing a kiss to her lips. It tastes like blood, mine and hers.
“You still want to?”
“A date is a date,” I whisper, looking her in the eye. “Just because I’ve had a taste doesn’t mean I don’t want more. I still want to fatten you up and learn a few things about you. Later tonight, I’ll take you to my motel room and do what we just did again.”
“You’re trouble, Rick.” She bites her lip.
“You have no idea.”
I plant my hand on her sweet ass and kiss her again before she leaves. I watch her disappear through the door.
I will take her again later in the night. Then again in the morning. Then again during her shift. Then again and again until she misses her period, until she carries a part of me inside.
