#dark!flip

Flip freezes, he hears it first, his reflexes attuned to the world around him ever so quicker than yours.

His voice is hard all of a sudden, jaw clenched together as he’s lifting himself out of the tub, grabbing a towel and ordering you to, “Stay here.”

With the thud of your heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you ignore him and follow him out of the tub immediately. The thought of leaving him to deal with whatever that crash was alone is simply unbearable, almost as terrifying as the thought of staying upstairs by yourself. Not now, you couldn’t sit in this tub alone now. You don’t even bother to drain it, only going so far as to blow out the candles so they don’t catch onto the curtain and burn your house down.

Flip sees you getting dressed hurriedly beside him and is already frowning, scowling deep and heavy as he tugs on the pair of jeans he was wearing earlier that day and a t-shirt from the hamper. You pull on a nightgown, just something to cover yourself up. Neither of you are completely dry, but there’s another crash from downstairs, and you can’t find it in you to care, not when your heart is racing as fast as it is.

You stand behind Flip silently, not daring to make a single sound, not going to make a single breath as he grabs his gun from the dresser and begins his descent down the stairs.

It’s dark, downstairs.

It’s quiet.

Flip avoids the creaky floorboard and you do the same, hovering just before that step, not wanting to make Flip angry by going any further. You’re lucky he let you go this far.

He goes farther.

There’s a SMASH! then, the sound of glass shattering, likely the little window above the sink in your kitchen, and Flip bolts.

He’s deadly silent as he runs through the pitch black of the house, Flip is. You can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, there’s no sound of struggle or gunfire yet, not yet. Just the heavy thud of boots on carpeting and wood panel flooring, and your heartbeat hammering hammering hammering in your ears. You’re trying not to scream, and the impulse is getting harder harder harder to hold back when you finally hear,

“Let me go! Let me – I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” It’s a man’s voice, a man who you recognize, and the blood drains from your face when you do recognize it – it seems almost like a lifetime ago, an age ago, since you’ve heard it.

The sounds of struggling are loud now, scuffling as Flip wrestles and wrangles the intruder to the floor. You descend the stairs slowly, in disbelief, your body going numb, going cold, as you hear the crunch of a nose being broken and the grunts that accompany it. You’re frozen, frozen in place as your eyes widen as far as they will go, vision blurred from the way you’re shaking. Are you shaking? You can’t tell, you’re numb, you can’t feel anything.

“Shut the fuck up.” Flip shouts, his voice louder than anything you’ve ever heard before, it echoes in your brain a thousand times. When you turn the corner you can see him standing over the man, pistol whipping him in the face with the butt of his gun, shouting so hard that his face shakes, that spit flies and catches in the moonlight, “I said shut up!”

You hug the corner of the hallway that faces the kitchen, where the sliding glass door is open and broken – not the window then, you think fleetingly – and Flip whips around to face you.

His face is deranged, eyes wide and black and filled with rage, blood dripping down from his fingertips from where the man’s nose was broken under his fist, his gun. The expression on Flip’s face is one that you’ve only seen once before, a long time ago when you were just a teenager, when he…well. You don’t need a reminder of what he did, how he saved you then.  

Flip turns to face you more fully, and you can see how your husband has this intruder pinned so beautifully underneath him. Flip has one big knee slammed down on the cavity of his stomach, bent over to grip him by his throat. The gun is in his other hand, and though Flip looks just shy of feral, the gun does not shake. Despite that, despite his calm, you feel something clawing up your throat, a scream, a shriek of terror when your eyes adjust and the familiar outline of the man’s face is revealed to you.

Time stands still.

He looks so different, and yet exactly the same.

It’s a little hard to tell, with his nose smashed in the way that it is, with blood dripping oozing flowing down onto his lips – but you know him, you know this man. A friend of…his, your ex. The very same one that Flip disposed of over a decade ago, that ex. This man, one of his cronies, you remember these features.

They’re as disturbing to you now as they were then, the face that haunted your every step. Standing outside your window in the dead of night, lurking behind parked cars in lots, always on the same side of the street – following, watching, waiting.

Hunting.

He’s older now, hardened, the man. But the thing that has yet to change, the thing that chills you more than anything else, is the look in his eye. That sparkle, the glimmer of madness, the vacant shine – like a shark.

“Alex? Is that you?” You stand in silence for too long, holding your breath. The words fall out of your mouth seemingly on their own, like you’re surprised you remember the name. But how could you forget? How could you, when he had done everything in his power to make you pay for what happened to Josh?

Alex's ribcage expands under the pressure of Flip’s knee, and he takes in a ragged breath, a strained one. He’s in pain, you can tell, he has to be in pain, but he doesn’t show it.

“Answer her.” Flip doesn’t shout this time, his brain working a million miles a minute. He looks at you, confused, concerned. He waits, his eyes on you. It’s easy for him, restraining Alex, the man is as thin and gangly as he was back in high school, like he never grew into his body.

“Long time no see.” Alex grins at you, blood on his teeth.

You come closer, one foot in front of the other as you enter the kitchen. Alex doesn’t struggle against Flip’s hold, he knows it’s of no use. But he’s slippery, a slimy bastard, he’s going to wait for an opportunity to get out from under Flip’s grip and then he’ll lunge for you.

You know this.

You know Flip won’t give him the opportunity.

“I thought they put you away for good.” You say, your voice entirely too calm.

“So did they.” Alex replies, his grin wider.

You give him a sparing glance, he’s still in his prison uniform, covered in filth and grime and muck. Irrationally, a flare of anger shoots through you for how you just mopped the floors. Flip seems to notice that at the same time, and he breaks his silence.

“You know him?” He asks you gently, calmly, a voice so laced with venom that it’s soothing and terrifying at the same time. Flip wants to rip him to pieces, his jaw is clenched so tightly that you’re worried for his teeth.

“He’s the one I’ve told you about, the one who wouldn’t ever leave me alone back in high school.” You reply, nodding slowly as you take a few more steps closer closer closer, inching towards the monster who has sought you out once again, “Remember I called the cops but they said they couldn’t do anything since he only stalked me? They found him trying to kidnap a girl at the college, found a padlocked cooler in his truck, knives. She was the fourth girl he had gotten to.”

“I remember.” Flip turns his attention back to the man underneath him, who is now starting to squirm, starting to get flighty. He’s waiting for his opportunity, he doesn’t know he’s not going to get one, not with Flip, not when Flip continues, “Liked cutting women up, isn’t that right, Alex? Liked hearing them scream for you, got off on it, right?”

“Maybe.” He’s struggling, the pressure on his lungs, on his throat growing too much for him. You watch watch watch, as Flip makes up his mind.

“Is that what you came here for tonight? To cut my girl up?” The questions are hypothetical, but they’re not at the same time. Flip knows what he’s going to do, he just needs Alex to say it so he has the permission.

“Maybe.” Alex chokes, and Flip doesn’t like that.

“Maybe’s not a fucking answer!” Flip shouts so loudly that the veins in his neck stand out as he grasps Alex's sandy blonde hair as tightly as he can and bashes his head against the floor, blood splattering out from the broken nose in an arc across the wood paneling.

“What are you going to do with him?” You whisper then, your heart racing, thudding hammering pounding in your chest.

“What do you want me to do?” Flip looks up at you with wide open eyes, his gaze imploring, near begging.

“I want you to kill him.” You say without even thinking about it.

You say it too quickly.

You’ve been wanting to say it for so many years.

But this…this is different than the last time. The last time you were both young, much too young.

The last time it was an accident, a mistake that had to be covered up.

The last time Flip hadn’t planned on killing the boy who beat the shit out of you.

(You don’t know, but yes. Yes he had.)

He’s a detective now, a lieutenant now. He could lose everything if someone were to find out. He could be locked away for the rest of his life, he could be put to death. They just reinstated capital punishment, just this year, you know. You know you know you know – and yet.

And yet, Flip cannot imagine doing anything else to this man, cannot imagine any other outcome for him.

“Honey-bunny?” He asks you softly, sweetly, as Alex begins to struggle more significantly underneath him, growing impatient, growing scared.

“Yes Phil?” You whisper, watching watching watching.

Flip looks at Alex, mulls it over for a moment before licking his lips and instructing,

“Go put a tarp down in the basement.”

                                                        ---------------

It’s surreal, doing this. The moment the words leave his lips you’re running, bolting down the hall and to the stairs that go down down down. As soon as you’re out of sight, you hear a gunshot, and a scream.

You don’t look back.

The basement’s not the most frequented place in the house, you almost forget that it’s there half the time. Nothing but storage, big cardboard boxes labeled with holiday decorations that it’s not time for.

There’s a single lightbulb that flickers on and off for a moment before settling on the low light of an orange glow. You have to search for a minute for where the tarps might be, eventually finding them in the back from when you had all those renovations done last year. Your friends playfully mocked you for keeping them back then, but who was laughing now?

Clearing a space on the floor, you put the tarps down, and as quickly as you can, you push all the boxes as far out of the way as possible.

It’s only a minute before Flip is kicking the door in, Alex screaming and thrashing in his hold. Your stomach churns when you see that he shot a hole through Alex's cheek, has hooked his finger through it and is using that to pull him down the steps. Flip doesn’t give a shit if his cheek tears clean through, he doesn’t care, he’s seeing red.

“You picked the wrong fucking house to try, the wrong fucking woman.” He throws Alex's body onto the center of the tarp and before he can even try to get up, he kicks Alex in the chest to knock the wind out of him.

The tarp is already going slick with blood as it gushes out of the bullet hole in Alex's cheek. Flip rips open the buttons of Alex's, taped to his body are knives that he must have smuggled out of prison. Makeshift torture tools, shanks and shivs that he spent who knows how long working on.

“Just kill me already!” Alex begs, but Flip shakes his head.

“No.” He grits out, yanking the duct tape off Alex's flesh as he tears the knives away from his torso. “No, that’s too quick, too easy for you. You don’t deserve that.”

It’s like an out of body experience, watching this. You step closer, placing a hand on Flip’s shoulder. He doesn’t recoil, he recognizes your touch, he knows it’s you.

“Flip, let me do the first one, please?” You ask, watching Alex's eyes widen far far far, so far that they’re almost popping out of his skull. You take one of the knives from Flip, slide it from his palm to yours as you whisper in his ear, “Please, I want to do the first one.”

“Go ahead, I’ve got him princess, my sweet girl, I’ve got him.” Flip encourages you, turns to kiss at your cheek, the soft skin by your jaw, your ear. Something about the praise, about the tone of his voice, the full faith he has in you, makes your pussy throb. Your thighs press together when he says, “Go ahead.”

Flip holds Alex in a headlock, and before the man can say anything, you’re stabbing him in the gut, hard.

The knife slips into his flesh easily, and you watch in morbid fascination as it sinks deeper deeper deeper, until it’s all the way in, piercing slicing serrated and cruel. You look up to Flip, half terrified for what you’re doing, and half enthralled. You’ve never done this before, you’ve never done anything like this before – not even the last time.

There’s no going back now, you both know. Not now, not now that there’s a knife embedded into his stomach.

Flip nods.

Alex screams.

“No one can hear you, no one will come for you.” Flip says lowly, dangerous and dark as Alex writhes shakes scream scream screams in his hold. “Do it again, ketsl.”

You yank the knife out and stab him again, a little higher this time. There’s muscle here, something, you don’t know, you never paid very close attention in anatomy class. You have to slam the knife in a little harder to get it through, the force of the impact blurring your vision for a minute.

“You’re doing so well sweetheart,” Flip’s voice is quiet, but loud. So loud in your brain, in your mind. He might be whispering, he might be screaming, you wouldn’t know. “Let me take over, you’ve done enough.”

You pass him the knife again, and he’s quick to continue what you started. Again again again, Flip stabs him, ripping the knife out and plunging it back in, slashing him up. You’re turned on, so turned on by the way Flip does this for you. It’s revolting, sickening, how wet your thighs become, but you love it, you can’t stop watching the way Flip’s muscles move flex tense as he kills this man for you.

The more Flip does it, the more cathartic it becomes, the more elated you feel.

Tears bubble up, well up in your eyes, but they’re not of sadness, they’re of relief.

“Remember how no one wanted you? How no one ever spoke to you because they thought you were a lunatic? Remember how I tried so hard to be a friend to you? I did everything I could for you, I stood up for you, listened to you, cared for you!” You don’t hold the words back, the volume of your voice growing louder and louder with each stab of this knife, the knife Alex had brought to use on you. “And this is how you repay me.”

Alex thrashes, rages against Flip’s hold. He kicks his legs out in fury, his eyes blank, blood choking up through the wounds in his stomach, pouring out of his mouth, of his cheek.

“This is your fault!” Alex screams, “Your fault! You – you led me on! You lied to me, I thought you were mine! You were supposed to be mine!!”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” You smack him sharply across the face for the audacity of his words, “But if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”

Alex hemorrhages on the floor, seizes, the toll of his wounds taking over him. The force he must have exerted in his screaming fit must have ruptured something, you watch him shiver and tremble uncontrollably on the floor, rolling in his own blood.

“I’ve had enough of your noise.” Flip says to Alex.

Flip grabs Alex's face, hooks one hand around his upper teeth, the other around his lower, and snaps the jaw clean off its hinges with a sickening crack!

It’s unsettling, the way that it hangs there, unattached by anything other than muscle, limp and weak.

He then reaches inside one of the cavities made by your stab wounds, and squeezes Alex's heart, strangles it, forces a heart attack, making him thrash and gurgle hot steaming blood in his throat, until it stops.

It all stops.

It’s quiet, again.

Flip lets Alex drop limply to the floor, the tarp crinkling, slick with blood. He pulls his hands away, smears the red against Alex's face to close his eyes. He doesn’t want him looking at you, not even in death.

“Holy shit.” You breathe, looking down at the corpse in your basement.

“Are you okay?” Flip faces you hesitantly. He’s covered up to his forearms in blood, chest heaving. He’s afraid of scaring you, afraid of causing you more stress, you can tell.

“Yeah, just,” You reach out your hands for him, your own blood-stained hands, hands that somehow, somehow feel more clean than they ever have before. Flip gently takes them in his own, you admire how broad and handsome the palms are as you look up at him and whisper, “I’ve been living with the fear of him finding me in the back of my head for a decade. And now thanks to you, it’s gone. Thank you – Philip, thank you.”

The tears are back, the intense relief of this nightmare being over hitting you like a ton of bricks. Flip crushes you to his chest, wraps his arms around you and lets you cry, lets you mold yourself to his body and tuck your face under his chin, lets you let him hold you.

“Nothing will ever hurt you, not as long as I’m around.” He caresses the base of your skull, pets your hair down, neither of you caring about the blood on his hands. He kisses your temple, “You understand me? Nothing, no one. I’ll kill them, I’ll kill anything that ever dares to try.”

You pull away slightly, just enough for you to look up at him with tears of love and relief in your eyes as you whisper, “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, the taste of iron and salt on his tongue is intoxicating. He licks into your mouth and you sigh into his, exchanging silent I love yous in the way your lips move together. It’s slow, it’s unhurried, it’s careful yet fulfilling in all the best ways.

“I’m so wet for you Flip.” You mumble against his lips, bringing one of his hands to slip under your nightgown, for him to feel how much you want him, how much you want him to, “Fuck me, hard.”

“Not here.” He pulls your hand back up to kiss at your wrist.

“Phil,” you whine, worried for a second, but he just shakes his head sweetly and kisses your wrist again.

“No sweetheart, not here. Not where he can see you.” Flip leads you towards the stairs, bringing you away from the body, the corpse that bleeds slowly, steadily on the tarp. He doesn’t let you look back, pulls you slowly, gently up the stairs. “I don’t want him looking at you.”

“Take me to the bathroom then, the tub should still be full.” You remember suddenly, “Let me wash you clean.”

You smile at one another, Flip locks the basement door just for good measure, and up to the bathroom you go.

It’s strange, being back in the rest of the house. On your way up to the master suite you see the tracks, the mess that will have to be cleaned up in the morning. The glass from the sliding door, the mud, the blood. You’re too wound up to care right now, too focused on the ache between your legs.

But still, it will have to be dealt with.

Flip brings you to the bathroom, and the tub is still filled. He keeps the lights off, it’s so dark, dark everywhere in the house. Dark enough that this almost feels like a dream. The water, somehow, is still hot, and it makes you wonder how long you were even really gone.

It could have been ten minutes or a weekend, you don’t know. There are no windows in the basement.

Flip steps into the tub first, and you follow after, sitting with your legs straddling his thick strong waist. His cock is hard, it bumps up against your thigh as you settle yourself above him, trying to get a good position for you to sink down down down, the stretch filling you as his cock bottoms out.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I’d do anything for you, anything.” Flip groans, dunking his hands in the bath water to quickly rinse them of their grime, before cupping your breasts as you sigh and moan softly above him.

“I know handsome, I know, I would do the same.” You bite at your lips, your hands bracing on his chest as he gets more comfortable in the hot water of the tub. You can only imagine that the water must be stained red, clear.

Something about that makes you anxious for a minute, so you unplug the drain and let it quickly empty, before plugging it and turning on the faucet once more. The pipes creak from the sudden demand for hot water, boiling hot, steaming hot, and Flip sighs happily as it soothes his tense muscles.

“You’ve got such a tight pussy.” He moans as he gets his purchase on the bottom of the tub and thrusts up slightly, pushing his cock further into you. “I could live here, I want to live here, ohhh fuck.”

You let out a little yelp from the feeling of it, of how he drags that cock of his in and out of you, how you can feel all the thick veins and ridges pushing and thrusting against your walls. You settle back against his thighs where his knees are bent in the tub, looking up at the small mirror that he bolted to the ceiling some years ago.

“Look how good we look,” You gasp as he thrusts faster, as you bounce on his cock, his hands on your tits and pinching at your nipples. “Look how nice we fit together, Flip, fuck – oh Flip!”

“So beautiful.” He sounds drunk, you think with a smile, drunk off your pussy. He watches his cock disappear in and out of you instead of looking at the mirror, and that’s fine with you because you can barely see straight as it is.

“Oh yes, yesyesyes, please, more, Flip!” You watch yourself get fucked, watch as your mouth drops open, as you bounce bounce bounce, his hands gripping you grasping you all over, holding you tight, fucking you fast. His hand moves somehow in slow motion to rub hard circles on your clit, making your body shudder, drooling all over yourself.

You come, and maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the relief, maybe it’s the sheer power and strength of the man underneath you, but when you come it’s like firecrackers in your veins, sparking up and shooting up your spine, making you gasp sharply, loudly.

“Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it.” He snarls, close to an orgasm himself, just teetering right over the edge.

You move your hips in little circles that make his head thunk back onto the rim of the tub, make him whimper and snap his teeth together as his thrusts fuck you through the bliss of orgasm.

“Flip, Flip – Phil! Philip oh, yes, yes!” You shout shout shout until your voice breaks and it goes up to a high pitched scream, the feeling of his cock throbbing pulsing spilling inside you enough to make you dizzy.

“Shit.” He groans low and dark as he bites down hard on your throat, hands squeezing and kneading your tits.

And then there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing once again. But this time, this time it’s bliss, sheer and utter joy that permeates from his body into yours as he comes down from his high.

You smile down at him, big grin, so happy, tucking his wet hair behind his ears as you shut the faucet off. The tub is filled to the brim, water sloshes over the side of the porcelain, but you don’t care. Your body is still tingling, nerves on fire, warmed inside and out.

Flip gives you that doe eyed look of his again, and you once again cannot help but think how handsome he is. You huff out a laugh, how surreal the entire ordeal was. You wonder if you’ll scream, if you’ll cry, if you’re just in shock.

You don’t feel like you’re in shock, you feel like you’re flying.

“Penny for your thoughts, foxy lady?” Flip asks, reaching up a finger to caress the bridge of your nose.

You both break out into absurd giggles, and you shrug, reaching across the tub to grab his pack of camels. The little match glows redorangeyellow when you light it, and the both of you stare at the small flame as you bring it to the cigarette you’ve stuck between your lips. It burns the edge of the cigarette, and when the tip glows red you pass it to Flip, to your husband.

There’s a sizzle as you drop the match into the bathwater.

“What are we gonna do?” You ask him, voice broken, barely above a whisper.

“About what, ketsl?” Flip hums, breathing smoke thick and heavy out of his mouth and nose on the exhale. It travels up up up and clings to the mirror on the ceiling, the mirror that’s now foggy with the hot steam of the bath.

“The body in our basement.” You reply casually, as if you were asking what he’d like for lunch.

He shifts a little, more water sloshes around. If there were more light in the bathroom, if it weren’t so dark, you might be able to watch it wash away the blood on the tile, thinning it out until it disappears.

“Don’t worry about that.” Flip whispers, his hands rubbing soothingly against your back, your sides. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You won’t get in trouble?” For the first time your voice wavers, the thought of anyone taking your husband away from you dripping like a cold terror down your spine.

“No one’s going to find out, I promise.” He shakes his head, assuring and reassuring you.

You have every reason to believe him, to trust him, so you do. Wholly and completely, you do.

                                                       ---------------

The next morning you wake up alone. It’s early, but that’s just because you’re used to waking up early with Flip and his job. The alarm clock is ringing, and you have to roll over to Flip’s side of the bed to turn it off. Carefully, you slip out of bed and tip-toe downstairs, blinking in surprise at what you find.

There’s no mess anywhere. Nothing, no mud no blood no prints or marks. You creep down to the basement, find it perfectly clean and empty. The only sign of trouble is the broken sliding door, but even that has been taped up with big pieces of paper, all the glass swept away.

Flip comes home then, the front door opening and closing softly. Tucked under his elbow is a brown paper bag, the smell of freshly baked bagels filling the living room as you go to meet him.

“Clyde knows a guy who’ll come fix the door.” He says after he kisses your cheek and wishes you a good morning.

“Clyde knows?” You take the bag from him and go over to the kitchen, him following hot on your heels like the duckling that he is.

“It was my turn for a cauliflower.” Flip smiles against your cheek as he smooches his favorite spot there again and again and again, as you pop a bagel into the toaster, wanting him to have at least something small to eat before he has to go to work.

“I’ll swing by the bar later, bring him lunch.” You resolve, thankful for your friends.

“Keep an eye out for the three o’clock news.” He whispers, even though there’s no one there to be listening. He turns you to face him, kissing you properly, soundly on the lips, “Love you ketsl, I’ll be home early tonight.”

You grin at him, not bothering to flinch when the bagel pops out of the toaster, and slather cream cheese and lox on it for his drive over to the station.

He’s got an icy cold Shirley temple waiting for you when you walk into Duck Tape, Clyde does. Clyde doesn’t ever really smile much, he’s too much like Flip that way, but he looks at you warmly, opens his arms up for you as you walk behind the bar and give him a tight hug.

“Hey darlin’, I was hopin’ you’d come round.” Clyde taps his knuckles under your chin playfully.

“Heard you helped my man out today.” You offer him a nicely packaged lunch and a smile.

“Wasn’t no trouble at all.” He replies. Even though there’s few patrons in the bar at this time of day, he still keeps his voice down. Thankfully Clyde’s always been soft spoken, no one pays it much mind.

The news turns on then, a breaking report just out of town. You and Clyde both force yourself to be as casually interested as possible, as a woman in a blazer stands just outside a line of yellow tape and police cars – cars you recognize, one car in particular that you recognize – explaining how a convict had escaped and was found mauled to death by a wild bear late last night.

“Damn,” One of the regular men at the bar whistles, “What kinda bad luck? Breaking out of jail and gettin’ killed after not ten minutes of freedom.”

“Pretty bad.” You reply with a nod.

“To better luck.” The drunk raises his beer and tilts it towards you.

You grin, pick up your shirley temple and clink the glass against his.

Autumn of 1977 was such a happening time to be alive. The heavy drama of the late 60s and early 70s were in the rear view mirror of your Firebird. Jaws made you jump, coke was like candy, personal computers emerged, women rock stars were showing the men how it was done.    

Adding to the cultural mayhem, serial killers, it seemed, were all the rage. The Zodiac held California in a state of terror, while Ted Bundy stalked pretty young girls along the west coast, and the Son of Sam kept the City that Never Sleeps even more awake than usual. A violent slasher had also overrun the wilderness of Colorado in recent years, painting the purple mountains red with the blood of countless young women.

The past few months had even given rise to a serial killer in your own hometown. Right there in Boone County, slashing his way through a few unfortunate young women. Fitting perfectly with a local urban legend about a large dark man with a hook who stalked the backwoods dirt roads abducting and cutting lone woman apart.

******************************************************************************

Barracuda blasted from the speakers of the radio you had cranked loud as you wiped down the bar top. You had just started working at Duck Tape for a few extra bucks, and, if you were being honest, for a few extra chances to flirt with the unfairly handsome owner and bartender, Clyde Logan.

You had arrived at work early, wanting to impress Clyde and to have some extra time with him. You danced and sang along with the radio as you cleaned and wiped tables, alone in the bar.

At least, you thought you were alone. Having no way of knowing that a man lurked in the shadow of the hallway leading to the back office of the bar.

Clyde leaned against the wall in the darkened hallway, watching you shake your ass in your little shorts and cowboy boots, grooving in time with the music. Watching you bend over the tables as you stretched across them to clean them off, watching the way your tits pressed against the wood.

He had never seen a woman as good lookin’ as you before. You didn’t have to be bent over a table for him to think so, either. Since the first moment you walked through the doors to his bar holding the ‘Help Wanted’ sign, smilin’ wide at him, he thought you were the prettiest damned woman he’d ever seen in real life. He sure liked lookin’ at that actress Rachel Welch, but he thought you were every bit as hot as she was. And you were right here. Right in his bar. Bent over his table.

Clyde wasn’t used to havin’ nice things, including nice woman. He couldn’t imagine that a woman who looked like you would ever give him a second glance. Although, he swore he saw you lookin’ at him when he was turned away, swore that when you smiled at him it was just a little wider and your eyes shone a little brighter. It was probably all in his head.

Sighing to himself, he pushed away from the wall and made a point of exaggerating his boot steps as he walked into the bar, announcing his presence to you.

He expected you to shoot upright with surprise from where you were bent over the table. Instead, you looked back at him over your shoulder as you arched your back to slowly lift yourself from the table. Fuck, if that didn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans.

“I wasn’t expectin’ ya in this early,” Clyde couldn’t keep the hoarseness from his voice.

“I wanted everything to look extra nice for the Friday crowd,” you smiled at him.

Clyde thought that you sure looked extra nice for the Friday crowd yourself. He’d never seen you lookin’ so good.

You were just about to ask him what else he needed help with when you heard Night Moves come on the radio. It was the newest hit from one of Clyde’s favorites, Bob Seger.

Raising an eyebrow at him with a smile, you held you hand out to him. “How about a dance, handsome?”

Clyde would have looked less shocked had you slapped him across the face.

Chewing his lip, he stepped forward as if in a daze and gently took your left hand in his right. Pausing in his motion, he looked at you shyly, as if wondering if you were already having second thoughts.

Smiling up at him, you reached to his left arm and pulled it behind your back. Trailing your hand from his forearm, you lingered on his bicep before bringing your hand to rest on his shoulder.

Clyde slowly started swaying with you, keeping a semblance of the beat. It was endearing how nervous he was and even his sweaty palm didn’t bother you.

“I’m sure you could find someone who’s sure a lot better at dancin’ than I am, Y/N,” Clyde huffed around a pouted lip.

“Don’t you know?” You let go of his hand to bring both your arms behind his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. “I don’t care how you dance. I just wanted an excuse to feel your arms around me.”

“I never would have thought that you...” Clyde’s voice trailed off as he dropped his head to brush his lips lightly along your temple, his arms meeting around your waist and tightening around you.

Finally relaxing against you, Clyde moved with you to the song as you hummed along with the tune.

Workin’ on our night moves.

When the song ended, he even took your hand from behind his neck and spun you around once as he smiled down at you. Twice as he playfully twirled you, almost too quickly, so that he could catch you against his chest when you lost your balance, both of you laughing.

Staring up at him, you waited for him to make his next move.

Clyde chewed even harder on his lower lip as he looked down at you. He had just begun to lower his shaggy head when the front door swung open to admit Earl, one of the regulars.

Clearing his throat, Clyde dropped his arms from you and stepped away like he had been caught doing something wrong. He looked back at you with a guilty expression as he moved to his place behind the bar.

******************************************************************************

The Friday evening crowd was rowdier than usual. You were still getting used to dealing with the bar patrons in general, let alone when they were extra rambunctious.

Not only were the usuals more wound up than normal, but the bar was busier tonight than you had ever seen it. Packed with people you had never seen, you were scrambling between tables running drinks and appetizers to customers.

A gang of Hell’s Angels was traveling through and had taken up two tables near the bar. The way those men eyed you gave you goosebumps in all the most nauseating ways.

Standing at the bar waiting for Clyde to pour a round of tequila shots for the bikers, your eyes were drawn to the entrance doors as they swung open.

Watching him walk through the double doors, his large frame filling the space between them, smoke huffing from his nose and trailing over his shoulders as he walked, was even hotter than that first time Burt Reynolds stepped onto the silver screen in your favorite movie, Smokey and the Bandit. But, this man was much much larger, his chest where it peeked through the open top buttons of his flannel much broader, and he was even more handsome than the Bandit himself.

His presence filled the entire room as he paused to survey the bar. His gaze landed on you, unabashedly admiring your figure top to bottom and back.

As he walked to the bar, keeping you firmly in his sights, your thighs tensed involuntarily just from watching his gait. You could tell just from seeing him move that this man knew how to make a woman feel good.

A bottle slammed a little too roughly on the counter as Clyde set the tequila bottle down, intentionally drawing your attention back to the shots he had finished pouring. The pout he fixed upon you turned to a glower as he turned to look at the large man approaching the bar.

Undaunted, the man walked to you both. Walking up so close behind you that you could feel the heat radiating off his huge body, he slammed a large hand on the bar top beside you.

“Jack on the rocks,” he ordered, his deep voice rumbling through you.

Removing his hand from the bar and himself from behind you, he moved to take a seat at the far end of the bar. Back facing the wall, he appraised the crowd and the bartender as he took a deep drag from his cigarette.

As you served the shots to the bikers, you were quick to dodge a sweaty hand that made a grab for your ass. Turning back to the bar, you saw Clyde looming over the bar, one metal hand and one flesh hand planted on the surface, as if he was ready to jump over it and charge the table of bikers. The handsome stranger looked at the table aggressively too, a thick stream of smoke exhaled from his prominent nose.

When you returned to the bar in front of Clyde, he was still leaning over it.

“Ya alright, darlin?” He asked you over the whiskey he had poured and immediately forgotten.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you winked at him before grabbing the whiskey on the rocks and walking it to the man in plaid at the end of the bar.

Leaning back on the barstool, one long leg steadying himself on the ground, he watched you approach with a steady gaze and a half smile.

“Thank you, miss,” he almost purred in his deep smooth voice.

“Y/N,” you finished his sentence as you sat his drink down in front of his absurdly large hand.

“Flip,” he blew a puff of smoke above your head. “It’s surely a pleasure, Y/N.”

It was almost hypnotic the way he looked at you, unblinking, with eyes that matched the Jack Daniels he swirled in his glass.

You canted your hip just a little more than usual as you leaned against the bar. You couldn’t help but notice the striking similarities between this man and Clyde. They had to be almost exactly the same height and breadth. Clyde was thicker, meatier, with longer hair and a softer countenance. But, Flip had something about him that you couldn’t place. He was older, more confident, but there was something else too. An edge. A dangerousness. It made you shiver with excitement.

“Are you from out of town?” You asked, hoping your voice sounded sultry. “We don’t get many people passing through here.”

“What gave me away?” He teased with a sly smile. There was no shyness or trepidation in this man. “I’m from Colorado Springs. Here on business, you might say.”

“Colorado? I’ve always wanted to see the mountains,” you noticed Flip’s smile grew more genuine at your words.

“You askin’ me for a ride?” His thick index finger circled the rim of his glass. “Through the mountains, I mean.”

“I don’t know. It seems awfully dangerous there now. Unless I had a big strong man looking out for me,” you lilted. “I’ve heard about the serial killer in Colorado Springs. All those murders.”

“I heard somethin’ about those myself,” Flip smirked at you. “In fact, I also heard that y’all have had a similar problem down here the last few months.”

“I guess that maybe I need a big strong man looking out for me here too then,” you smiled coyly at him.

“Hmmm,” something like a purr rumbled through his chest as he inhaled a drag on his cigarette. “What time do you get off tonight? Maybe you could use a big strong man to make sure you get home alright.”

Smiling up at Flip through your eyelashes, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth shoot through your abdomen at the thought.

A glass being thrown too roughly into sink behind the bar drew your attention. You were met with a sideways scowl from Clyde. But it wasn’t directed at you. Clyde was chewing his lip as he glared sideways at Flip.

“He your man?” Flip asked around another drag, eyeing Clyde in his own askance regard.

“No,” you said, returning your eyes to Flip. “I guess I’m just behind on tables.”

Flip’s eyes followed you when you left his company to deliver another round of shots to the bikers.

As you stretched across the table to distribute the shots, the man in front of you shoved a dollar bill toward your chest as a joke. Recoiling, you leveled a healthy slap across his ugly laughing face.

The man and the entire table seemed to freeze. The drunkest man laughed at his friend, the rest sneered at you.

“You little bitch,” snarled the biker you’d slapped, as he stood from the table. A huge burly man, stumbling in his drunkenness.

You looked to Clyde, looming behind the bar. Your eyes implored him to help when they met his, but it was unnecessary. He was instantly in action, rushing to get out from behind the bar to come to your aide.

Before he had reached the end of the bar, you jolted at the feeling of a strong hand at your back, guiding you away. A sigh of relief washed over you when you turned to see Flip’s handsome face turned in an ominous glare at the other man.

“Let’s have a dance, sugar,” Flip’s voice boomed, as he stared the biker down for several long seconds. When the man took no further action, Flip led you away from them and out into the middle of the floor with him. His demeanor brokered no argument from any of the other men.

Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams played through the bar as Flip moved in front of you, his hand at your back traveled to your waist and he took your hand in his. Flip pressed his body close to yours as he danced with you.

He moved confidently and powerfully, his movements too deft for a man his size. The way he held on to you firmly but not forcibly, the power you could feel in his body, the way his hips moved, and the way his chest expanded with his breath, had your pulse racing from much more than exertion.

This close, you could feel the heat from him and inhale the scent of him. His presence surrounded you as his body moved against yours.

You could barely see over Flip’s shoulder, but when you caught a glance of Clyde, you saw him staring at you as he poured an over-full shot. Clyde slammed the shot back himself, his long hair falling wildly around his face when he returned the glass to the bar top.

Flip shot you out to twirl you swiftly, pulling you back to his chest. You couldn’t be sure if your head spun more from the rush of the spin or the rush of being in Flip’s powerful arms.

“I like how you feel in my arms, sugar,” Flip’s voice resounded through you when he lowered his head next to your ear.

You felt Flip tense against you when one of the bikers tapped him roughly on the shoulder.

“‘Bout time for you to share that little tease with the rest of us?” He asked around a mouthful of Copenhagen.

“Bout time for you to back the fuck off, buddy,” Flip’s voice was deep and foreboding. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you, and you damn sure don’t want anything to do with me.”

Flip kept swaying with you, keeping you close to him. He watched the other man like a hawk, his jaw clenching when two more of the drunken bikers came to stand beside their friend.

Dropping his voice for your ears only, Flip instructed you, “I’m gonna walk you back to the bar. You get behind it if there’s a problem.”

Clyde saw the trouble festering too. He walked from behind the bar to stand near to where Flip danced with you and near the three bikers. His concern was for you alone.

“Bar’s closin’ early,” Clyde’s drawling voice commanded.

At Clyde’s words, several other bikers stood from the tables. They had no intention of leaving.

Clyde’s hand clenched into a fist and Flip’s jaw tensed as they each appraised the situation.

Flip still held you, moving slowly with you as he watched the other men. Three men edged close to you and Flip. Too close. Two men loomed behind Clyde. Several other men stood by their table.

Flip looked down at you, smiling wickedly. “I’m gonna spin you a little better this time, sugar.”

The three bikers were now within arm’s reach of you and Flip. Turning quickly toward Clyde, Flip shoved you forcibly into Clyde’s arms.

As soon as you left his arms, Flip slammed a right hook into one of the biker’s jaw, snapping the man’s head to the side.

You crashed into Clyde’s chest, his good arm wrapping immediately around you. The two men behind Clyde rushed toward his back. Clyde reversed his metal arm into the first man. The metal slammed into the side of his head in a splatter of arching blood with the force of a major league bat, the force knocking him sideways into his compatriot, both men falling to the floor.

The biker that Flip hooked in the jaw stumbled to the floor, holding his bleeding mouth. Without missing a stride, Flip blocked an oncoming punch from another man while landing a left straight punch solidly into the man’s nose. Flip’s right fist followed immediately, knocking the man unconscious on his feet.

The third biker lunged at Flip while another rose from the table, rushing Clyde. Releasing you, Clyde turned to face the table, blocking you with his body.

Watching Flip and Clyde tear into the other men was like nothing you had seen. They were both huge, powerful, and highly skilled. Clyde was looming and forceful where Flip was agile and viscous. It was like watching a bear and a wolf tear apart lumbering cattle.

As the biker rushed Clyde, he drove his right fist into the oncoming man’s solar plexus, doubling him over. Clyde’s metal left hand followed, slamming down in between the man’s shoulder blades and dropping him in a heap to the floor.

On the other side of you, Flip reached both his huge hands to grab the collar of the third biker’s leather vest as the biker rushed at Flip. Using the biker’s own momentum, Flip helped him right along. Flip yanked the man to him, slamming his forehead down into the biker’s nose. You watched as the man’s nose exploded like a water balloon hitting pavement when Flip head butted him. The biker dropped to his knees groaning.

Flip looked like a feral menacing animal. His hair wild, blood splattered across his face and fists, teeth bared in a snarl, chest heaving as he caught his breath. Clyde’s gaze was deadly as he watched the remaining men, his own glare deep and aggressive.

In the span of only a few seconds Flip and Clyde had each put three men down for the count. All six of whom were on the ground, writhing and groaning in varied stated of bloodied consciousness.

Four bikers remained. All had stood from their seats, chairs tipped over behind them.

Clyde was closer to the men. He squared his shoulders and fixed them with a scowl. Flip walked next to Clyde, his chest expanded impossibly wide, shaking the other mens’ blood from his fists. Flip’s glare was murderous as he eyed the other men.

“Do I even need to ask if you punks are feelin’ lucky?” Flip growled around clenched teeth. “Or are you just gonna back the fuck off nice and easy.”

The four men exchanged looks before the only smart one in the bunch raised his hands in supplication. “No, man. No more trouble. Just let us get our friends outta here.”

“Ya’ll can pick up some a’ this mess ya caused while you’re at it,” Clyde boomed at the men.

You walked to stand between Clyde and Flip, looking them both up and down for injuries.

“Are you guys alright,” you asked, placing a hand one each of their arms, looking between them.

“I’m fine, darlin,’” Clyde spoke softly to you as he still eyed the other men.

“Just gettin’ warmed up, sugar,” Flip smirked at you. “Come have a drink with me for last call.”

Flip returned his hand to your back, encouraging you to follow him back to the bar.

Clyde loomed over the group of bikers, making sure the starch was taken all the way out of them and that no one wanted any more trouble.

Flip leaned against the bar, watching you as you poured three whiskeys, one for each of you. You dampened a clean washcloth and returned to Flip with your two drinks and the cloth.

Taking a sip of his whiskey, Flip eyed you hungrily as you stood close to him and took a drink yourself. The whiskey pleasantly burned your throat on its way down, making you grimace but bringing a smile to Flip’s mouth.

Nobody Does It Better by Carly Simon came on the radio as you both savored your drinks.

Nobody does it half as good as you.

Setting your glass down, you reached to grab one of his large hands. Holding it in one hand, you wiped the blood away with the cloth held in your other. Flip continued to smile at you as he drank his whiskey, watching you clean his hand.

Baby, you’re the best.

“That’s my song playin,’” Flip cocked an eyebrow at you.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Carly Simon fan,” you teased him.

And nobody does it better.

“I’m not. But the lyrics are all me,” the way Flip grinned at you brought a flush to your cheeks.

“You think so, huh?” You still held his now clean hand in yours.

“Will you give me a chance to show you firsthand?” He stroked his thumb along your hand. “I’ll show you that nobody does it better than I do.”

“What’s ‘it,’ Flip?” You asked coyly.

“Whatever you want it to be, gorgeous,” Flip took another swig.

Smiling at him broadly, you reached for his other hand to clean the blood from it too.

“Let me take you out tomorrow,” Flip’s voice softened. “Dinner. We can see that new movie everyone’s goin’ on about. Star Wars.”

“I like the sound of that, Flip,” you brought his now clean hand to your lips, placing a light kiss on his knuckles.

“Glad to hear it, sugar,” Flip winked at you.

The bikers had just finished carrying each other out of the bar when Clyde turned to look toward you and Flip. His scowl seemed even deeper now

Slamming the rest of his drink, Flip slapped some bills down on the bar and took his exit.

You walked with Flip out to his truck, one of his large arms slung across your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Pausing at the driver’s door, Flip used the arm on your shoulders to pull you around in front of him. His arm dropped from your shoulders to slide down, following your curves attentively, to rest on your hip. Lifting his other hand to your face, he dragged a thick finger softly along the line of your jaw, tilting your face upward.

Smirking down at you, Flip lowered his head to kiss you. Your hands flew to fist in the material of his shirt when his lips met yours. Even whiskey and smoke tasted good on his tongue when he licked into your mouth. His grip on your hip tightened as he kissed you, his lips and tongue moving expertly against yours.

You had never been turned on so quickly by a kiss in your life. In moments, you were pressing your body against his and moaning against his lips while wetness soaked into your panties.

Just as your hands were raising to loop around his neck, Flip pulled his lips away from yours, straightening his back and smiling down at you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, sugar,” he told you with a satisfied smile.

“I can’t wait,” you smiled back and smacked his chest in playful offense that he broke your kiss.

When Flip climbed into his truck, he gave you a final wink before closing the door and pulling away.

Clyde didn’t say a word to you when you walked back into the bar.

Grabbing a rag, you began wiping down the bar top as Clyde washed glasses in the sink.

“Hell of a night, huh?” You smiled across the bar at Clyde.

He huffed through his nose but he didn’t respond to you.

“You were really something, you know,” you said softly.

Clyde looked sharply over to you at your words.

“You seemed a lot more impressed by that other fella,” Clyde said sourly, returning his eyes to his task. “I’m sure he’ll show ya a real nice time tomorrow.”

“I was impressed with both of you,” you moved closer to Clyde as you wiped the bar. “He was the just the one who asked me out.”

“What do ya mean by that,” he leveled his gaze at you.

“I’ve been here right under your nose, Clyde,” you leaned towards him. “Do something about it if you want to.”

Looking down at the ground for a second, Clyde swallowed thickly, but this time he overcame any shyness. He walked to the bar opposite of you and placed both his meaty hand and his prosthetic on the bar top on either side of you where you leaned against it.

Leaning down toward you, closing the distance between your faces to mere inches, his voice was beautifully deep when he spoke to you.

“In that case, how about you let me take ya out tonight,” Clyde’s voice sent goosebumps up your spine. “Let me show ya good time.”

“I’d love that, Clyde,” you beamed up at him.

******************************************************************************

By the time you cleaned up and Clyde closed the bar down, everything else was already closed too. There weren’t any options for him to actually take you out. But, you assured him that didn’t matter to you.

Instead, Clyde had driven you into the woods, down a winding dirt road through the mountains and out to a beautiful moonlit clearing. He had a nice car, fun to ride in. A brand new Trans Am hot rod. He had talked and laughed with you on the drive, seemingly his shyness melting away with each mile.

Even when he parked, the two of you sat in his car just talking to each other over some beers for what seemed like hours. Clyde’s hand found its way onto your thigh, warm and strong, when he squeezed.

Now, the cool air chilled you as you once again danced with Clyde.

This time, it was outside under the canopy of the forest. The heat from his huge body flowed into you, making you press yourself even closer to him.

This time, his shyness had worn off and he held you tight against him as he moved with you to the music. I Heard It In A Love Song played through the speakers of the open doors of his Trans Am.

Tilting your head to look up at him, you found him gazing back at you. Backlit by the starry sky, his features looked even more handsome than you had ever seen them. Maybe it was because of the way he was looking at you now, like you were the only woman he’d ever seen.

“I’d sure like to kiss ya, darlin’” he said quietly.

A shiver of excitement ran through your body as you lifted your hands from where they rested on Clyde’s broad shoulders to wrap around his neck. Pulling gently, you encouraged him to lean down to meet your lips.

Clyde’s kiss embodied everything you thought of him. Gentle, soft, generous with the pleasure he gave you as his full lips kissed you.

Working their way up his thick neck, your hands found their way into his long luscious hair. When you twisted into it roughly, Clyde’s grip on you tightened until it was nearly bruising as he pulled you against him.

Deepening his kiss until you were both gasping for breath, you felt his hand travel under your shirt. He ran his warm palm along the skin of your back. Gentlemanly as always, he only smoothed his hand across your spine.

The feeling of his hand along your bare skin was electric. It made you want so much more.

Drawing back from him just enough to earn a pout on his flushed lips, you smiled at him before peeling your shirt over your head and tossing it onto the hood of his car.

Clyde looked at you like he had never seen anything so beautiful. The desire and awe on his face spurred you on. Reaching behind you, you unhooked your bra and threw it away to join your shirt.

“Oh, you’re just perfect, darlin,’” Clyde purred. “The prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

The cool air peaked your nipples instantly, and he couldn’t resist bringing his hand to one as he leaned down to capture the other in his mouth. You couldn’t decide if his hot soft tongue on one nipple felt better or his calloused palm on the other. The combination of sensations going straight to your pussy.

You backed toward his car, Clyde following. When you reached the hood, you grabbed the hem of his tshirt to tug it off over his head, further tousling his hair. Your breath hitched at the sight of his wonderful, enormous chest.

Running your hands over his chest, you grabbed his shoulders as you leaned back onto the hood. The engine running warmed the metal under your back. Clyde hooked his arm under your back to hoist you up the hood further before planting his left forearm and prosthetic beside you to hover close above you, lowering his mouth to kiss along your collarbone.

Clyde’s hand ran over the front of your shorts, skimming over your pussy to toy with the button.

“Want me to take these off for ya, honey?” Clyde’s voice has husky as he kissed and licked along your throat.

“Please,” you moaned. “I want you so bad.”

Wasting no time, Clyde popped the button on your shorts and yanked them off along with your panties in one quick motion.

A low growl thrummed through his chest at the sight of you.

“Fuck, darlin’ look how wet ya are for me,” he huffed. “Let me help ya out with that.”

Clyde dropped his head, bringing his mouth to your pussy. He made out with your pussy just as passionately as he had your lips earlier. His hair fell wildly around his face and your stomach, jostling with his movements. A pleasured groan vibrated against you, adding to the sensation.

Your hand returned to his luxurious hair as you sighed, “I want your cock, Clyde. Make me cum on your cock.”

Still teasing your clit with his tongue, Clyde unzipped his own jeans and pushed them down his muscular thighs.

When he lifted his face from your pussy, he lifted both of your legs to place your feet over his shoulders. As he crawled back up your body to line his cock up with your entrance you could see just how magnificent it was.

Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his giant cock pushing slowly into you, the feeling of your pussy being stretched more than you thought you could take, filled to brim with his cock.

The angle he chose let him fill you completely. Your knees were almost pressed to your chest when Clyde settled over you, his cock shoved into you to the hilt. He clamped his left arm against your thigh, keeping your hips flush to his, his right hand rested beside your head on the hood.

“Fuck, darlin, I’ve never felt anything so good on my cock,” Clyde praised you as you acclimated to his size.

He started fucking you slowly, rocking into you more than thrusting. He knew his cock was a lot to take and he didn’t want to hurt you.

You thought you could almost cum just from those simple motions. There was just so much of him. And in the position he had you, every long thick inch of him rubbed along your front wall perfectly.

“Ya like my cock, honey?” Clyde grinned down at you.

“Oh, god, I love your giant cock!” You cried in pleasure.

“Then, have a little more,” he teased as he pulled out and slammed back into you, earning a satisfied sigh from you.

Setting a faster pace, Clyde pumped his cock into you more roughly. Each thrust punctuated by his hips crashing against you. Moaning underneath his huge body, your hands reached to his arms. Feeling the rigid muscles tense under your fingers with every thrust sent a new rush of arousal straight to your pussy.

Hair falling around his face in waves, he fucked you hard now. Every slam of his cock into you rocked his car with his force. The pace he set, aggressively hitting your gspot with every movement, had your pussy tightening around him in minutes as taut pleasure coiled in your abdomen.

“That’s it, darlin,’ Clyde huffed, voice strained. “Keep squeezin’ my cock. I wanna feel ya cum for me.”

A hot rush of ecstasy flooded you as his solid pumps into you pushed you into a throbbing orgasm, your pussy clenching his cock in time with the waves washing over you.

Teeth gritted, Clyde fucked you through it as his cock pulsed inside of you. The tensing of your pussy around him had him cumming with a growl. You could feel the warmth of his thick cum spreading into you, the sensation giving you another surge of pleasure.

Dropping your legs from his shoulders to settle them around his waist, you pulled him down to kiss you. Thick black hair fell around both of your faces as he kissed you for several long minutes.

When he pulled back from your lips, you had never seen a look of happiness more pure on anyone.

“That was incredible, Clyde,” you told him as your hands trailed down from neck over his wonderful chest.

“I’m sure glad ya thought so, Y/N,” he said, still smiling down at you.

******************************************************************************

The night sky was starting to lighten to black blue as you stared up at it. You had spent the whole night with Clyde and it had flown by. You wished it could last twice as long.

Once you had redressed, you sat back on the hood of Clyde’s car. You scooted back until you could lean back against the windshield, propping one arm behind your head, and gesturing to Clyde with the other. He had just pulled his tshirt back on and you had half a mind to tell him to him to take it back off so you could keep looking at his beautiful chest.

Clyde trailed his hand up your leg as he walked to stand beside the hood of his car where you sat.

“Does this mean that I can call ya my girl now, darlin’?” His hand continued until his finger brushed the seam of your shorts as he squeezed your thigh.

“I’d love to be your girl, Clyde,” you smiled warmly up at him.

He seemed to consider your words, chewing on his lip. But, instead of a smile, his brow furrowed.

“But, how could I be sure you’re really mine?” Clyde’s voice had dropped.

“What do you mean?” You laughed playfully. “Of course, I’m yours.”

“Well, I thought ya were wantin’ me today,” his voice had lost its pleasant tone. “But then, as soon as that smokin,’ plaid wearin’ sonofabitch started flirtin’ with ya...” Clyde huffed a breath. “Ya just forgot all about me, didn’t ya?”

“What?” Your eyes widened at his words. “No, that’s not it at all, Clyde. I didn’t think you were interested in me. Especially when you pulled away from dancing with me earlier.”

Bringing your hand to rest on top of his, you continued, “I’ve had a crush on you for a pretty long time.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what I want with you for a while too, darlin,’” Clyde told you without smiling. “I have somethin’ for ya.”

Clyde withdrew his hand from your thigh and walked to the back of his car.

“Just wait right there for me, Y/N,” he instructed as he opened the trunk.

You could hear him rummaging for something. When the rummaging stopped, you could hear something that sounded like a cork screw twisting. You had always assumed Clyde was a hopeless romantic. He probably had a special bottle of wine he’d brought to share with you. Closing your eyes, you smiled at the thought, resting your head back against the windshield as you reclined on the hood of his car.

You heard Clyde’s heavy boot steps as he walked back to you.

“There’s only one way to make sure that you stay all mine,” his voice grumbled at your side.

Turning to smile up at him, you were just in time to see Clyde’s face twisted into a snarl, his raised left hand slicing down towards your throat. Only, it wasn’t his prosthetic. Glinting in the moonlight, you saw a massive, pointed, iron double pronged hook, swinging at you with all the force of the huge man behind it.

Adrenaline and reflex propelled you as you rolled away from him with a shriek. You felt the iron slice two lines across your back as you rolled across the hood, before the hook connected with the glass of the windshield.

Stumbling to your feet on the opposite side of the car from Clyde, you saw him growl in frustration as he fixed you with a feral sneer.

You turned and ran for the safety of the woods, only feet ahead of you, as Clyde violently yanked his arm up, freeing the hook from where it was embedded in his cracked windshield.

The rush of your own blood sounded in your ears louder even that your frantic footsteps as you ran through the trees and brush into the forest. You knew which way the main road was. Maybe if you could make it that far, you could flag someone down to help you.

Crashing behind you signaled that Clyde was charging after you. Although he was much faster, you knew that you had enough of a head start that he probably couldn’t see you through the dense foliage that surrounded you both. You were also quieter as you ran than his enormous body crashing through the brush.

As you ran, the sound of Clyde faded behind you. Your thighs began to burn and your lungs couldn’t find the air you needed to keep running.

Turning to look behind you as you ran, you slammed face first into something huge and unyielding. A pair of strong arms wrapped around you and your heart stopped. Until you realized it wasn’t Clyde who had found you. It was Flip. Somehow, Flip had come to your rescue and you were now secure in his arms.

“Flip?” You almost cried from relief.

His huge hand clamped down hard around your mouth.

Spinning you so your back was flush against his broad chest, Flip pressed his own back against the truck of a tree. His arms were tight and firm around you, keeping you still against him. His own breathing was oddly level, you felt his chest rising and falling at your back. He was listening.

A few long moments passed. Silence. Flip’s hold around you loosened. As his arms slackened, you turned to face him, your chest now pressed against him. A sigh of relief shuddered through you when you laid your cheek against his chest. Flip’s large hands smoothed along your back, comforting you.

“He tried to fucking kill me, Flip,” you whispered against his chest.

“You’re safe now,” even Flip’s whisper was deep and rumbling. “He’s not gonna kill anyone else.”

Still, only silence echoed through the woods around you both.

Arms still around you, Flip pushed away from the tree. Stepping away from you just enough to retrieve his pistol from his shoulder holster, Flip moved to peer around the tree.

It was dark in the forest. You could barely make out Flip’s handsome face as he turned back to you, let alone see deeper into the trees.

Holding his gun in his right hand, Flip reached his left out to you. When his strong grip closed around your hand, you felt instantly safer.

“My truck’s close,” Flip assured you as he started leading you through the trees.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Clyde was still stalking you. He wouldn’t just let you go. But Flip was vigilant as he walked beside you and you could almost feel the alert tension emanating from him.

Holding Flip’s hand tight, you turned to look back over your shoulder. Walking blindly ahead as you looked behind you, you tripped over a log. Flip used both of his arms to steady you.

Both distracted by your stumble, neither of you saw Clyde lunge at you from the darkness on Flip’s right side.

Flip caught the movement of the hook slicing at him through the air from his periphery too late. Simultaneously, Flip roughly shoved you to the ground with his left hand that he was using to help you, pushing you away from the oncoming attack, and swung his right hand holding his pistol toward Clyde.

Flip was a heartbeat too slow. Clyde’s left arm slashed violently at Flip in a backhanded swing that had all of Clyde’s considerable power behind it. His double pointed hook cut roughly across Flip’s chest. You could hear the tearing of Flip’s flannel shirt and the ripping of his flesh as Clyde’s hook carved ragged twin lines across his chest.

A feral growl tore through Flip’s throat as Clyde tore through the meat of his chest.

Clyde’s strike wasn’t just a cut. All of his force was behind it and he pushed through his slash, barreling into Flip and tackling him to the ground.

The two huge men hit the ground hard, a huffed breath forced out of Flip’s chest when he landed on his back with Clyde slamming his hooked arm down onto Flip’s bloody pectorals. All of Clyde’s weight was behind it and you thought Clyde hit Flip hard to enough to break every rib in his enormous torso.

Flip’s gun flew out of his grip with the force of Clyde’s hit and Flip looked dazed for half a second.

Scrambling backwards on the ground, you stumbled to your feet.

Clyde raised himself off of Flip enough to rear back his left hooked arm for his killing blow, aimed in a viscous downward strike at Flip’s face.

Flip bucked his hips up roughly underneath Clyde, throwing his swing off balance. As Clyde canted forward, Flip slammed a violent left fist into the side of Clyde’s jaw. Blood erupted from Clyde’s mouth, raining down onto Flip’s face and chest, mixing with Flip’s own blood oozing from his chest.

You looked frantically for Flip’s gun as the men exchanged crushing blows feet from you.

“Run, Y/N!” Flip grunted to you as he tried to trap Clyde’s left hooked arm with his right.

There. You saw moonlight glint off Flip’s gun a few feet away.

You almost dove for the gun in your haste to pick it up.

Clyde saw you.

As you swung the revolver toward Clyde, your thumb cocking back the hammer, he pushed off of Flip, rising to his feet.

A glint of fear shone in Clyde’s eyes as you leveled the gun at his chest. He threw himself to the side as you pulled the trigger, trying to dodge your shot as he made for the thicker brush.

The bullet caught him in the shoulder instead of the vital area of his center. You saw the spurt of blood when the bullet connected with him and heard the resounding thunk of it burrowing into flesh.

You also knew it wasn’t a mortal wound. But you could hear Clyde crash through the woods as he retreated to his car.

Flip had risen to his knees when you rushed to his side, falling to kneel beside him.

“Oh my god, Flip,” you choked back a sob as you looked at the gaping lacerations across his chest.

“I’m fine, sugar,” Flip grunted, pushing himself to his feet. You rose with him, steadying him as he swayed slightly.

Reaching to grab his revolver from you, Flip flashed a lopsided grin at you. “Good job, gorgeous.”

“We need to get you to a hospital,” your voice shook as Flip again took your hand in his.

“Not before I kill that motherfucker,” Flip’s jaw clenched in resolve as he pushed ahead, leading you through the woods to his truck.

The first pinks of dawn were beginning to streak through the navy sky when you both burst into the clearing where Flip’s truck was parked.

Flip yanked the door open and nearly threw you inside in his haste to help you in. You scooted across the bench seat as Flip climbed in behind the wheel.

He paused long enough to light a cigarette between his lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

Revving the engine, he looked at you with a wicked smirk, “Seatbelt, baby.” Popping the clutch, he spun out of the parking area in a squeal of crying tires and clouds of dust.

Flip was half a second too late. As he gunned his truck to the dirt road, Clyde’s Trans Am shot by, missing Flip’s bumper by inches. An explosion of dust engulfed you, choking you even as it entered in through the truck’s vents.

With a growl, Flip slammed his shifter down and floored his truck. The engine screamed in protest as he launched down the dirt road, close enough behind Clyde to still be blinded by his dust.

Pressing the gas pedal as hard as he could, Flip tried to ram the back of Clyde’s car, but the Trans Am was too fast. It pulled easily away from Flip’s truck, kicking up even more dust as an insult. Flip growled in frustration.

The road through the mountains was winding, twisting and zigzagging through the steep terrain. Ahead, there was a switchback. The road curved sharply, a one hundred and eighty degree turn that would bring Clyde driving below you as he fled.

Flip saw it. White knuckles gripping the steering wheel, cigarette clenched in his teeth, and murder in his eyes, Flip turned the wheel, diving his truck off the road and down the steep bank.

You shrieked as Flip’s truck careened down the hillside, bouncing violently as it plowed through brush and scrub.

Clyde rounded the corner, surging toward you. You saw Clyde’s face contort in fear and shock as he slammed on his brakes.

It was too little too late to avoid Flip’s perfectly timed assault.

Flip’s powerful arm shot in front of your chest when his truck hit the Trans Am, t-boning the side of it just ahead of the driver’s door and sending the car rolling down the other side of the steep bank.

The truck skidded to a stop in the road as the car rolled several times down the side of the mountain. A thick pine tree finally ended its descent with a resounding smash.

Flip turned to you, cigarette still in his fucking mouth, “You alright?”

You nodded, in a mild shock.

Flip got out of his truck and appraised the damage below him. Smoke billowed from his nose as he seemed to consider his next course of action.

Below, the door of the crumpled car pushed open.

Clyde was dazed as he stumbled out of the crunched door, but he was far from dead. He didn’t even appear badly injured.

Setting his jaw and clenching his fists, Flip set out toward the other man.

Flip walked down the hill in long purposeful strides. He wasn’t rushed. He seemed to enjoy approaching the other man like a looming predator.

Clyde had struggled to his feet and was leaning back against his car by the time Flip was closing in on him.

Clyde fixed Flip with a scowl as he pointedly raised his left arm in front of his face, looking over his hook at Flip. He gave the ragged metal hook a solid twist with his good hand, ensuring it was securely in place. And that its razored points were poised to slice through more of Flip’s flesh.

As Flip closed in, Clyde charged forward. Using the car to push himself off, Clyde leveled a powerful swing of his hook at Flip’s throat.

Flip was ready this time. He didn’t miss a stride. He blocked Clyde’s lunge easily and, ducking low, slammed his left fist into Clyde’s solar plexus, knocking the air from Clyde’s lungs and doubling him over in pain.

Clyde’s left arm continued its swing as he buckled forward, slicing his hook across Flip’s thick thigh, opening a long cut through the muscle.

A devastating punch from an iron right fist knocked Clyde to his knees. He shook his head, dazed. Flip fisted the same hand into Clyde’s long hair, using it as a grip to pull Clyde’s face into a violent knee.

Still gripping his hair, Flip pulled Clyde’s head back as Clyde’s body began to slump. Flip shoved the large man’s shaggy head under his own powerful arm, neck crammed under his armpit. As swift as a bear trap slamming closed, Flip brought his forearm up under Clyde’s throat, to lock his hand onto his other arm before twisting his torso violently. You could see every muscle in Flip’s broad back tense when he snapped Clyde’s neck. The wet crunch reverberated through the valley and back to you.

Clyde’s body went limp, arms dropping slack to his sides. Releasing his hold around Clyde’s neck, Flip shoved his lifeless body back into the door of the Trans Am. Clyde’s body fell, leaning slumped against the car and moved no more.

Flip straightened with a growl, shrugging his huge shoulders back. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and brought another to his lips. After lighting it, he took a luxuriously deep drag, his chest expanding with his breath, before blowing a thick cloud of smoke from his mouth.

Cigarette clamped between his teeth, he knelt next to Clyde’s body. Flip reached to Clyde’s left hand, unscrewing the jagged double pronged hook. Turning it over in his hands, he appraised it before standing back up and walking back to you.

Flip’s own blood dripped from the tips of the hooks as it swung in his grip while he walked back up the bank to his truck and you.

Standing by the front of Flip’s truck, you still shivered slightly from the shock of it all. But the sight of the man who had just saved your life returning to you victoriously both calmed and excited you in the best of ways.

When Flip reached you, he looped one of his large arms around your shoulders, walking you with him to the side of the bed of his truck.

Turning to him, your back pressed against his truck, you lifted your arms to reach around his neck. Flip smiled down at you. He hooked Clyde’s hook on the railing of the truck bed and brought both hands to your waist.

As he leaned down to kiss you, your arms tightened around his neck. You never wanted to let him go. His lips were soft against yours, soothing and comforting, as he kissed you. His mouth trailed kisses up your cheek as he pulled back to look down at you fondly.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” He asked you softly.

“You’re asking if I’m alright when you’re the one who’s bleeding all over?” Your hands smoothed down to his lacerated chest.

“I’ve had worse,” Flip grinned at you.

You began undoing the buttons of his flannel, the fabric wet and the buttons slick with his blood.

You helped Flip shrug off his dirty bloodied shirt, pushing the damp fabric off his shoulders and down his arms. The white tshirt he wore underneath made the cuts in his chest look even worse, the blood from them having stained the entire front of his shirt. The blood also plastered the thin white shirt against his magnificent chest.

You couldn’t resist pulling him down to you again. This time, Flip closed the distance between your bodies, pushing you back harder against the truck. He kissed you deeply this time, his tongue hot as he licked into your mouth. You groaned against his lips as you felt his blood soaking through your shirt where your tits pressed against his chest.

He kissed you for several long minutes before you had to pause for breath. Flip lifted one hand to rest against his truck beside you. He leaned against his truck, one hand gripping the bed railing as he caged you against the side.

“I’m sure glad I got to you before he was able to do anything to you, Y/N,” Leaning down over you, Flip smiled as he stroked your cheek.

Your eyes dropped from his handsome face as you recalled everything you had let Clyde do to you.

“What is it?” Flip asked gently.

“I should never have gone out with him.” You couldn’t hide the shame from your voice. “I let it go too far with him.”

“How far exactly?” Flip pulled back from you slightly, straightening his back.

“As far as it can go,” with your eyes on the ground, you didn’t see Flip’s expression harden. “You know what I’m saying, Flip.”

“Did he force you?” Flip asked as he lifted the hook off the bed of his truck. “Did he force himself on you, or did you let him have you all on your own?”

“No, he was just...” you choked back a sob. “He was just Clyde. Until after.”

“So, you wanted it?” Flip’s voice was low and his hazel eyes looked hard at you now.

“At the time I did, but not now,” your voice was cracking.

Turning the double hook over in his hands, Flip’s brow furrowed as you spoke.

“I wish I hadn’t. I feel so awful now,” you were trying to hold back tears.

“Well, that’s a damn shame, baby,” Flip sighed heavily.

You finally raised your eyes back to his, “Flip-“

“A woman like you makes a man think,” Flip continued, not listening to you anymore. “Right when I saw you, it hit me like a ton of fuckin’ bricks how much I wanted you.” He ran a hand through his dusty bloody hair, “How I could have a life with a woman like you. I could start over.”

You leaned against him, placing your hands on his bloody chest, “We can, Flip.”

“No. We can’t,” his eyes hardened instantly as he looked at you. His voice now had a brutal edge, “I’m not takin’ any other man’s leftovers.”

You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes.

“It’s a damn shame I didn’t get to you sooner.” He said lowly. The way he was leaning over you was now menacing.

“Flip, please, it didn’t even mean anything,” you reasoned.

“If it didn’t mean anything,” Flip was snarling at you now. “That’s even fuckin’ worse!”

“I regret it, Flip,” you choked. “It was stupid.”

“I regret not being able to save you from him,” Flip shook his head, but there was no remorse in his gesture. “From everything he did to you.”

“We can still have something,” you pleaded.

“That’s what the cops are gonna say, too. When they find out what Clyde did to you,” Flip glared are you. “It’s a damn shame that I didn’t get to you sooner.”

“What are you talking about,” you pressed you back as close against his truck as you could get, putting as much space between you and Flip as you could.

“It’s a damn shame that I didn’t get to you before he killed you,” Flip’s eyes were cold, dark, and unblinking. “Before that fuckin’ copycat slashed you up like the amateur he was.”

A wave of nauseating horror washed over you. Copycat?

Flip smiled evilly at you, as if he heard your unasked question.

“Why else would I be out in the fuckin’ backwoods of West Virginia? I came here to take care of him,” Flip snarled. “I’m not about to let some hillbilly copycat take credit for my work.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins as you looked at your savior with horror.

“You could have had the real thing, baby. Not some second-rate copycat,” Flip clicked his tongue at you. “And I promise you, I’m better at everything.”

“Please, Flip,” you begged.

“Nobody does it better than I do, baby,” his smile dripped with malice as he violently swung the double hook at your throat.

The last thing you saw was blood spurting onto Flip’s face and chest, staining the remaining white on his tshirt crimson. This time, it pumped from the gaping wound in your throat.

******************************************************************************

You had recently returned to Canyon City, Colorado. You were born and raised in the Colorado mountains, but the lure of the west coast had been too overpowering for you to resist and you had allowed yourself to be pulled away for more than a decade. Now, after several failed relationships and ‘opportunities’ that went bust, you had come home, looking for a fresh start under the Colorado skies. The leaves had just begun to change colors into a beautiful fall palette as the weather chilled. It was such a strange thought to you, that the death of summer and winter’s chill approaching brought out the greatest beauty in nature.

Topical for the season, the local media and the newspapers were buzzing with news of missing people and tales of a possible serial killer on the prowl. The news trickling in from of Colorado Springs. It was ridiculous of course, just some missing people, most of whom were criminals anyway, probably missing because they had overdosed or killed each other in some drug dispute. There were no bodies, no anonymous letters tantalizing police, no lurking killers prowling the streets looking for a lone woman. But, you couldn’t deny, the allure of a serial killer in your quiet little corner of Colorado was exciting.

Even the radio station coming in heavy with static through your car’s speakers told you of the dangers of being out after dark and of young women traveling alone. You scoffed as you ironically drove alone through the winding Colorado passes on your way home from a night of drinking and clubbing in Colorado Springs. You certainly should not have been driving. Not due to serial killers or other things that go bump in the night, but because you had been a little too ambitious with your drinks at the club. Men trying pointlessly to get into your pants with free drinks, all of them unappealing.

Now, your head spun and vision blurred as you drove along the narrow two lane road through the dark woods. Luckily, after the lights of the city had faded behind you, yours was the only car on the road. Most people didn’t drive the passes at night, even while sober, and especially not in the nighttime hours after the bars and clubs closed down.

You reached to your radio to search for a station with better reception when something dashed in front of you. You barely registered the dark body of an elk lunging in front of your car as you yanked your wheel sharply to the side. Your car careened off the steep shoulder and into a ditch lining the highway. Your body jolted with the impact, seatbelt digging into you harshly. Fuck. You might have been better off to hit the damned elk.

You took a moment to evaluate yourself. You felt alright and you recalled stories about drunks faring just fine in car crashes due to the pliance of their bodies. You laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.

You tried reversing your car, wheels spinning in mud, only digging you deeper. You crawled out of your car to appraise the damage. The front was completely crunched in and destroyed. The frame looked damaged to you too, the body canted sideways with one wheel in the air hanging helplessly. There was no way you were driving anywhere.

You remembered driving by a ranger’s station not too far behind you. Maybe someone there could help you. You reluctantly grabbed your purse and pulled on your jacket and began trudging back along the highway in the chilly autumn night.

The moon lit your way as you walked along the highway. Your steps swerved as your head spun, whether from the drinks or the crash, you couldn’t be sure. The highway had little to no shoulder, which became apparent to you after you stumbled off of it a few times, nearly twisting your ankle. Instead of trying to walk on the non-existent shoulder, you took to walking along the outside edge of the inside of the lane. It’s not like there was anyone else out here this late anyway.

You were rounding a shape curve when you where met with a pair of headlights, a truck barreling down on you. You threw yourself off the road as the truck swerved around you, brakes squealing. You landed in an inelegant heap with your face in the dirt as the truck skidded to a stop. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you attempted to brush yourself off when you saw a huge man in jeans and a plaid shirt exit the truck, slamming his door so hard the truck itself shook with the force.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing walking in the middle of the fuckin’ road?” The man roared at you as he stomped toward you in heavy strides.

“What? Isn’t it a nice night for a walk?” You sarcastically slurred at him.

The man grabbed your arm, firmly squaring you to him as he glared down at you. “What the hell are you doing out here this time of night?” His eyes raked you as he took in your appearance, your fancy top and tight jeans, now muddied, and your styled hair and makeup, now mussed from sweat, mud, and grime. His hold on your arm loosened. “Did someone hurt you? You on a date that went bad? What happened to you?” His voice was still coarse but his eyes had softened slightly.

“No, nothing like that,” you pulled your arm away from him. “I swerved to miss an elk and ran off the road a ways back.”

“I’m sure being drunk as hell didn’t factor into that,” he huffed.

“Unless you’re a fucking cop, I’d say it’s none of your business how drunk I am,” you turned to continue your trudge.

The man grabbed you again, rougher this time, and leaned down, getting close to your face as he snarled, “I am a fucking cop, honey.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but his focus had moved to the side of your head. He brushed a large thumb along your hairline, blood dripping from it as he drew it back. “How long ago did you hit your head? Just now diving off the fuckin’ road, or back when you wrecked your car?”

You touched your own temple, confused by the blood you felt on your own fingers.

“Christ,” the huge man growled, stooping as he did to hook an arm behind your knees, lifting you easily as you squirmed and kicked in protest, and carried you to the driver’s side of his truck. Seating you carefully in the driver’s seat. He retrieved a small flashlight from the door pocket which he promptly shone right in your eyes, first one then the other.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked, flinching away from the light.

“Seeing if you need a hospital or just to sleep this off,” he grabbed your jaw, keeping your face pointed at him and the light. Seemingly satisfied with your pupils, he switched off the flashlight. He still held your chin between his thumb and forefinger when he instructed you to follow his other index finger with your eyes. You couldn’t help but admire his vivid mahogany eyes as they watched your own trace the movements of his finger.

Finally, he straightened, placing his hand on the steering wheel. “You’re just drunk. No concussion,” his tone was part aggravation and part relief. He motioned for you to scoot to the passenger side as he climbed behind the wheel.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked as you wiped more blood from your head.

“I live pretty close. You can clean up and get some sleep. I’ll pull your car out in the morning. You’re not going to like the bill if you have the call a tow to come all the way out here,” his jaw worked as he chewed his lip. “I’m Flip,” he offered as he extended his right hand sideways to you across the bench seat.

“Y/N,” you replied as you shook his massive hand in the awkward position. “Officer, Flip?” You teased.

He looked at you sideways, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Detective, if you want to be fancy.”

Flip pulled his truck away from its crooked spot in the highway and took you deeper into the the consuming expanse of wilderness. As he drove, you couldn’t help but notice how strikingly handsome he was, his sharp features giving him a dangerous allure. And he was so fucking big. Even his hands on the steering wheel were absurdly large and long and thick. You wondered how they’d feel digging into you hips, holding you in place underneath him.

Several turns onto progressively narrower dirt roads eventually took you to a large cabin, seated cosily among the trees. It was nice, beautiful even, something you could see on a magazine advertising Colorado living to the socialites and yuppies of the east coast.

Flip parked and reached a hand to grab your jacket, stopping you as you moved to exit his truck, “I’ll help you. You’ve knocked yourself around enough tonight.”

He walked to the back of his truck to adjust something in the bed, ensuring a dark canvas tarp was tucked in around it, covering the load beneath, before he arrived at the open passenger door. He took your upper arm in his hand again, supporting you as you stumbled out of his truck, and led you into his cabin.

Once inside, Flip sat you at his dinner table as he went through the cabin, turning lights on. He ducked into what must have been the bathroom because you heard him turn water on in what sounded like a shower.

Your eyes trailed up and down his tall broad frame as he walked back to you. He wasn’t just handsome. He was fucking hot. This was a mountain you definitely wanted to climb.

He walked to his sink behind you, filling a glass with water that he then set on the table in front of you, instructing you to drink it. He leaned down on the table to talk to you, huge hands, splayed upon it in front of you. “Shower’s running. Give it a few minutes to heat up. There’s a clean towel in the counter. You should at least clean the blood and mud off before you pass out.”

You leaned forward onto the table, pushing your tits out, “Are you going to help me shower too?”

Flip’s eyes blackened as he looked at you, pupils swelling to consume his vibrant irises. “If you’re sober enough to drive, I’m sure you’re sober enough to figure it out.”

You rose with a mild pout and retreated to the bathroom.

Under the heated water, you watched as a mix of blood and mud swirled down the drain as you showered. Flip was right to suggest a shower before you tried to sleep, or anything else. You hadn’t been aware that much dirt and mud had caked onto your skin.

You felt much better after showering, the hot water and steam invigorated you. You were feeling pretty damn good by the time you turned the water off.

After drying, you studied yourself in the mirror. You had a small bruise and cut at your hairline, you assumed you hit your head on your car window as you crashed, but it was nothing concerning. Otherwise, you looked good, you thought as you appraised yourself in the mirror. Tonight had been a complete waste, looking for some man at a bar to charm you enough for it to lead somewhere, but maybe the evening could be salvaged now.

A huge flannel shirt hung from a hook on the bathroom door. Bold from alcohol, you pulled it on. And nothing else.

Flip was seated at his table, newspaper opened to the most recent article concerning the mysterious disappearances and wild speculations about a killer on the loose. He stiffened visibly when you emerged from the bathroom. He returned his attention to the article as you walked unsteadily toward him.

“Bit drafty in that, isn’t it?” He asked with a cocked eyebrow over his paper.

“Don’t you like what you see?” You tried to ask coyly.

“Interesting article, I suppose,” Flip nodded slightly, dismissing you.

You walked to the edge of the table beside him and lifted yourself onto it, sitting beside his hand that still held the newspaper. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he chewed his lip, trying to ignore you. He finally stood when you brushed your bare thigh against his hand. He moved to stand between your legs, his fingers ghosted along the outside of your thighs as he looked down at you. Strong hands pulled your legs up to his waist, encouraging you to wrap them around him, which you did eagerly. Wrapping one arm around your waist, he pulled your front against him.

“I want to thank you,” you breathed against his jaw as you unsuccessfully sought his lips.

Flip lifted you off the table and walked to his couch, holding you. He gently lowered you onto the cushions, leaning down over your body. His face was inches from yours as he told you, “I’ve never been desperate enough yet to resort to fucking girls who are too drunk to walk on their own.”

He raised himself off of you with a heavy hand on your stomach, pinning you down. He pulled a blanket over you from the back of his couch.

“If you still feel like thanking me tomorrow, maybe I’ll let you,” he stated gruffly as he walked from you to climb the stairs to his room.

****************************************************************************************************

Sun shone through a window, streaming across your face as you awakened, head pounding. You groaned as you rolled off the couch and stumbled into the bathroom. Still wearing Flip’s flannel, you saw your disheveled reflection and sighed dramatically at the amount of effort it would require to look presentable today. Foraging through some cabinets yielded some much needed Advil.

You redressed in your clothes from last night after brushing as much of mud off as you could. You begrudgingly rehung the flannel before fixing your hair and makeup sufficiently.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you realized you were alone. Walking outside, you saw that Flip’s truck was also gone. You were stranded here. In the middle of the forest. Miles from anything and anyone. Alone.

Exploring the property, you found a trail twisting through the woods in one direction and a large aging barn nestled among a stand of trees behind the cabin. A heavy logging chain secured the barn doors together, locked in place with a massive padlock. Windows that existed in another era were now boarded up. The entire structure was a stark contrast to Flip’s neat, well-kept cabin. A chill attacked your spine that had nothing to do with the frigid October temperature.

An impulse of curiosity begged you to venture forward for a peek through the windows, but you forced it away. You had already been a rude enough house guess to your host, sitting your bare ass on his dinner table while wearing his shirt. You didn’t need to make things worse by snooping around behind locked doors.

Choosing instead to excise more proper manners, you returned inside the cabin and oriented yourself enough to make a pot of coffee. You foraged through his fridge, finding enough ingredients to make simple omelets for each of you when Flip returned.

You had just dumped the first omelet onto a plate when you saw Flip’s truck returning through the kitchen window, towing your crippled car behind it. You had completely forgotten he told you that he would pull it out for you this morning. You smiled to yourself. Huge, handsome, and helpful.

Flip rubbed his hands together as he entered his cabin, shrugging off his tan shearling jacket after he closed the door.

“How are you feeling today?” Flip asked you, smiling as he continued, “Got a little too cold wearing only that flannel, huh?”

You felt your cheeks burn, “I found some Advil, so I’m not feeling too bad anymore. And the flannel was just fine.” You raised your eyes to him as you added boldly, “I could sleep in it more often.”

Flip cleared his throat as his smile broadened.

“Thank you for pulling my car out. I appreciate all your help,” you flashed him your first genuine smile. You can swear his breath hitched when he met your eyes.

His eyes cast themselves downward when he asked you, “You ready for me to take you back into town?”

“Are you going to book me for a DWI?” You lilted.

“I’m off duty until Monday,” Flip teased back at you.

“Then there’s no rush. I made breakfast,” you sat the first omelette on the table before cracking eggs for the second.

Flip’s smile broadened as he sat at the table, waiting to eat until you joined him.

Conversation flowed pleasantly and naturally as you and Flip talked and laughed together. The entire coffee pot was drained when you realized two hours had passed in the span of what seemed like no more than twenty minutes.

Flip reached a large hand across the table to stroke lightly along your forearm. “I didn’t get to give you a tour of the upstairs yet,” his jaw worked nervously.

“I didn’t get to thank you properly yet, either,” you smiled shyly.

“Think you can handle the stairs this morning?” His sarcasm making you smile wider.

“I can handle them. But, I really liked you carrying me last night.” Your thighs were already pressing together in anticipation.

That was all the encouragement Flip needed. He rose from his chair and scooped you up into a bridal carry as you tried to stand yourself. He grinned widely at you, the first time you had seen a wide genuine smile. He ascended the steps two at a time as though you were weightless in his arms. Taking you into his bedroom, he knelt on his large bed with you still in his arms, leaning down over you as he lowered you onto his sheets.

Your fingers reached into his thick hair as he paused to admire you before dropping his head to bring your lips together. His lips were hot and soft, his tongue twisting with yours, pulling sighs from you.

The buttons on his shirt came apart quickly under your greedy fingers. Shrugging his shirt off revealed his torso to be even broader and more powerful than you had assumed. You watched as the taught muscles in his arms and shoulders rippled with the simple action of balling his shirt up and tossing it across the room. His chest was impossibly broad and thick, accentuated more my his tapered waist.

Eagerly, you reached to undo his belt and jeans, helping him push them down. When Flip stood to discard his jeans and boots completely, he first removed his keys and wallet from his pockets, placing them on the dresser, before stepping out of his clothes. He then yanked your own jeans off in one firm tug. You pulled your top off over your head and threw it in the direction of his discarded shirt.

“Don’t stop there, gorgeous,” Flip instructed huskily as he palmed his cock through the fabric of his black briefs.

You removed your bra and extended your arms above your head, making a show of stretching and arching for him. Tilting your head back into his sheets.

When you lifted your head, Flip was completely naked and bending to yank your panties down. His cock was fucking enormous as it swayed between his massive thighs.

Wet kisses trailed you your body as Flip crawled back up to position above you, his thick body obscuring everything else from your vision. You reached a hand down to his huge cock, tracing the thick veins that ran its considerable length, feeling it throbbing in your hand. You couldn’t even close your hand around it. Flip groaned at your touch.

“Fuck, Flip, you’re going to make me scream with your cock,” you half spoke half moaned in anticipation.

Flip laughed at your words, “Be as loud as you fuckin’ want. No one will ever hear you screamin’ out here.”

He brought his mouth to your throat, pulling your sensitive skin between his teeth, leaving marks for you both to admire later. “How do you want me to make you cum? Before I make you fucking scream,” he smeared his words into your neck as he continued to kiss and bite.

“I just want you to fuck me,” you whined. “I want to feel you stretch me open with that cock of yours.”

A growl of ecstasy resounded through Flip’s throat as he dragged the thick head of his cock through your soaking pussy lips before lined his cock up with your entrance. You gasped as he pushed in slowly, the delicious feel of him perfectly skirting the edge of painful pleasure. Your nails raked his back when pushed completely into you, eliciting a heady groan from him.

“Fuck. Your little pussy’s just perfect. So fucking tight on me,” Flip’s words rumbled through his chest.

He began thrusting into you slowly at first, purposefully, while his amber eyes looked down at you. A huge hand closed around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken even more.

You arched into him, against his chest pressing down on you, against his hand pinning you down by your throat, against his hips, angling so his cock could reach even deeper.

You could already feel ecstasy pooling in your abdomen when Flip began pumping into you faster and harder, his thick cock hitting all the best places inside your pussy.

He saw your pleasured expression, “You like being pounded by my fat cock? Like me destroying your little pussy?” Flip grunted with each thrust now, pounding into you rough and perfectly.

“Fuck, yes, Flip!” Your voice rising, “Keep fucking me just like that. Make me cum all over that huge fucking cock of yours.”

“I’m still waiting on that scream, sugar.” Flip bared his teeth in a grin as he thrust into you. “Scream my fuckin’ name and I’ll make you cum.”

Your pussy was already clenching around him when you screamed his name the first time, his name falling from your lips over and over in time with the pulses of your orgasm. Flip fucked you through it, sending waves of pleasure through you with each stroke.

He came after a few more thrusts into you, pushing deep into you and clamping your throat in his grip as he came with a growl.

Flip bent down, kissing you ardently and stroking your hair as you both caught your breath and came down from your highs.

When he rolled off of you, he pulled you into his powerful embrace, holding you firmly against his chest.

“I never would have thought that crashing my car would turn out so well,” you murmured into his chest.

Flip responded by tightening his arms around you and kissing your hairline, “Better watch it, sugar. I’ll keep you here with me forever.”

You nuzzled into him, reveling in the feeling of him underneath you and around you, surrounded by his warmth and strength.

Flip spent all day with you. Spent all day fucking you, making you cum over and over and over again. You had never experienced anyone like him, but he was certainly a taste you wanted to acquire. You knew it wasn’t a serious offer, but even still, the thought of staying out here forever, with this man, was fast becoming a fantasy you realized as you fell asleep for the night in his arms.

****************************************************************************************************

You woke to an empty bed. It was still dark outside, the sky was just beginning to turn the darkest shade of blue as it transitioned from black. Your eyes and ears scanned the cabin for Flip, failing to locate him. Weird.

A dull thwack from outside drew your attention. Looking towards the source, your eyes came to rest on the old barn. A faint light shone through the cracks in one boarded over windows. Thwack.

You dressed quickly in your jeans, boots, and Flip’s warm flannel shirt. You inhaled his heady scent, still contained in the fabric, and smiled fondly.

You crossed the distance between the cabin and the barn quickly, the cold air fostering your haste. You saw the thick logging chain that had previously secured the barn doors was now hanging slack from one door handle, the lock hanging open hooked through one link. A slight opening between the doors allowed a soft light to escape. The noise was loud now. Thwack.

You slowed as you approached the doors, deciding on instinct to gingerly slip sideways through the opening instead of pulling the doors open further.

Once inside you froze.

The scene that greeted you pushed the air from your lungs, refusing to let it return. The inside of the barn was lined with dusty cluttered antiquity. Farm implements, parts of classic cars, tools, meat hooks and even large rusted steel jaw traps lined the walls, hanging like depraved ornaments. But what held your attention were the newer additions. Large oil drums, stained white, emitting acrid fumes. A large opened toolbox, as big as an armoire, lined with knives, saws, hatchets, and other unidentifiable sharp glinting cutlery. Centered in the barn was a long wooden oak table. The oak wood was wheaten blonde, stained a tapestry of oranges and browns now by countless rivulets and splatters of blood that had been washed across its surface. A scarlet tine of blood dripped from its edge even now, the blood pooling obediently, circling a drain in the middle of the floor under the table.

At the table’s head stood Flip, sweat beading on his brow, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black hair jostling with every violent swing downward of his meat cleaver. The remains of a dismembered body lay strewn across the table, most pieces now smaller than a baseball. Except for the remaining chunks into which Flip swung his cleaver. Blood splattered onto Flip, his arms, chest, face, hair, with each swing.

Thwack.

Each swing perfectly separated a segment of the mangled body apart of the rest. Each swing sent an electric jolt through your body, physically jerking with each wet slap of the cleaver. You were frozen in place by your horror, the ice in your veins rendering you motionless as you stood transfixed by the macabre display before you.

An amputation saw rested on the table, neglected you assumed, since Flip struck with enough force to cleave through bone with every strike. Well, not every strike you soon realized. Flip’s cleaver stuck in a large joint, a hip, some small functioning part of your brain registered.

“Goddamnit,” Flip cursed as he twisted the cleaver free. He sat it down to grab the amputation saw. When he returned to his crimson wet work, his eyes lifted to you, meeting your horrified stare.

“Y/N!” Flip shouted to you.

That jolted you into motion. You pushed back through the the heavy doors, slamming them both shut behind you. You could hear Flip’s heavy steps as he ran toward you through the barn.

With violently shaking hands, you quickly wrapped the huge chain back through both door handles and locked it in place. Just as you clicked the padlock, Flip hit the doors behind you, the force of it knocking the doors into you and on to your ass on the ground. But the chain held.

“Y/N, stop!” Flip yelled at you from behind the doors.

You certainly weren’t fucking stopping for anything. You pushed yourself up and ran as fast as your legs could propel you, fueled by adrenaline and terror.

Where the fuck were you going to run? You were miles and miles from anything. Flip’s truck was your only chance of escape. Keys. You need the fucking keys. The keys that you saw him place on his dresser upstairs before he fucked you for the first time.

You ran back into the cabin, shoving through the door and sprinting up the stairs, your legs burning and lungs on fire. A load crack told you that Flip had broken through the barn doors and was now charging after you. You had no chance of outrunning him, he was huge and fast, an innate predator.

Bursting into the bedroom, you found the keys easily, right where you remembered, you stuffed them in the pocket of your jeans and ran back out.

You reached the top of the stairs and slid to a stop, so fast that you fell back onto your ass again. Flip was already running up the stairs right at you. He looked ferocious, lunging at you, blood splattered over every inch of him, hair tangled and wild from blood and sweat, eyes feral and focused on you.

You backpedaled, scooting back on the floor until your feet found their way back under you, lifting you up and carrying and down the hallway in the opposite direction. You hadn’t been anywhere in the upstairs of his cabin other than his bedroom, so you blindly ran for a room that had a faint light coming from it.

You slammed the door behind you, locking the feeble bolt and appraised your surroundings. You found yourself in nothing but a spare room. A dead end. One lonely window looked out upon the expansive forest. There was no balcony. You wondered briefly if you could survive a jump out of it from two stories up. Not and keep running.

You heard Flip’s heavy boot steps slow in the hallway as he approached. He violently kicked the door open, splinters flying as the door slammed against the wall behind it.

He inhaled deeply as he eyed you, appearing to calm himself. He knew you were trapped. He smoothed a hand through his hair, ineffectively trying to push the blood-matted strands back into place.

Flip leaned in the doorway, his huge frame filling nearly the entire space. It was sarcastic, the way he leaned so nonchalantly after just chasing you and breaking his own door in. He was unnaturally calm, but his eyes glimmered dangerously and his positioning was such that he could spring into action at will, should he need to restrain or capture you.

“It would have been a lot easier on you if you would have just asked me instead of snooping around, don’t you think?” Flip smirked evilly at you.

You looked around the room for any possible chance of escape, utterly panicked.

Flip removed a buck antlered pocket knife from his back pocket, opening it slowly while keeping his dark eyes locked on you. He purposely began cleaning the dried blood from under a fingernail with the sharpened blade. “They’re all criminals, Y/N. Were all criminals,” Flip’s mouth turned upward in a sideways smirk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!?” Your voice shook as you spoke, but only half as much as your body. “You’re a fucking cop!”

“Yes. And I’m a damn good one.” Flip switched to clean another fingernail with his blade. “I know the criminals who are out there causing problems for good people.” He smiled now, “It’s my job to protect and serve. If I’m leaving criminals out on the streets, I’m not doing so good at that now am I?”

“You’re supposed to arrest them! Not fucking murder people!” You shrieked.

“I played by those rules for years.” Flip huffed, “I’ve had enough of fancy ass lawyers getting my perps off and setting their asses free to commit more crimes.” Flip paused, looking at the beautiful Colorado predawn light out of his window. “Now, I play by my rules.”

“You were chopping them up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?” You couldn’t keep the shrill hysterical edge out of your voice.

Flip only shrugged, unruffled, “Bears have to eat. They make disposing of evidence pretty simple. A good police dog can sniff a carcass out from six feet under, but the best dog in the world won’t pick up on a damn thing after the meats been eaten by the wildlife and everything else been scrubbed down with lye.”

“If you only kill criminals, where does that leave me?” You were on the verge of sobbing, using all of your remaining strength to keep tears from spilling down your cheeks. “Are you going to fucking kill me with your little fucking knife?!?”

Flip laughed cruelly, “You think I’d need this little knife to kill you, little girl?” He closed the knife, returning it to his pocket. “But, you’re right. We have a bit of a problem here, don’t we?”

You glared at him, still refusing to cry.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” his voice was softened now. “But I’ll have to leave that choice up to you.” Flip looked at you pointedly, his eyes boring into yours, “I can’t have a witness out there runnin’ around, can I?”

You shuddered, expecting him to lunge at you.

“One way or another,” his voice was dangerously low now, “you’re staying here with me. You can choose the terms yourself.”

Flip stepped forward into the room, he extended a large hand to you, “You can stay here as my girl, and I’ll be just as good to you and as sweet as anyone can. Or, you can stay here as a witness, out in the barn. With the others.”

Your heart stopped, as you looked from his outstretched hand to his cold eyes.

“What’s it gonna be, doll?” Flip appeared to be holding his breath as he waited for your response.

Having no choice, you reached a shaking hand toward his. Flip leaned in, closing the distance between your hands and gripped yours in his own. He gently stroked his thumb over your knuckles as he pulled you into him. His huge arms encircled you and held you tight against his chest, his hands now stroking your back soothingly.

You pressed your face into his chest as your sobs finally came, racking through your body.

“Settle down, gorgeous. It’s alright.” Flip whispered as he held you, “You need to compose yourself. I’m gonna take you out tonight.”

You raised your head to look up at him, a mixture of shock and fear.

Flip retrieved the knife from his pocket, keeping one arm locked around you, preventing you from shying away from him. He ran the closed pocket knife along your jaw, using it to tilt your chin up.

“There’s a little punk who’s been robbing people. He’s had a few chances now. I’m gonna take you out tonight and we’re gonna find him,” Flip propped your chin up higher with the knife into a hungry kiss, you could taste the splattered blood on his lips. “Then, when we bring him back here, you’re going to be the one who adds him to my collection.”

Flip pulled back from you as he trailed the knife down your throat and between your breasts. He brought your hand up between your two bodies. Placing the knife in your palm, he closed your fist around it before bringing your hand to his lips again to kiss the back of it sweetly.

You could do nothing but nod your assent.

****************************************************************************************************

That was last fall. This year, as October bleeds as orange and red as your stained work table in the barn, you feel a thrill of excitement as you sit beside Flip on the bench seat of his truck, nestled against his side enjoying the comforting feeling of his large hand warming your thigh. The heavy load concealed under a canvas tarp in the bed of his truck jostling and shifting on the dirt road to your shared cabin, your shared home.

Some people tell stories of meeting their soulmates over coffee, at work, at book clubs, a casual hookup in a bar, a blind date gone well. Your story was better than all of them. Not that you could tell it, of course. But you and Flip could speak of it together, reminiscing fondly in hushed whispers, under the sheets, in the darkness, where secrets as dark as yours are meant to be kept.