A Lock Of Death by Beena Khan



A man without a conscience lived unapologetically.

He had no heart, just an organ inside of him, beating.

This wasn’t a story of a good man.

It was a story about a human predator.

Dimitri Nikolaev glanced at the message he received from his Pakhan, his Boss, and his older brother Alexander Nikolaev.

Nine is a special assignment. Be careful with her.

He texted a reply before glancing up at the blonde hair on the floor bobbing up and down on his shaft.

Her white-blonde spilled over her porcelain skin, draping around her. One of his hands fisted her hair. He liked the softness of female hair, but this one was rougher.

Perhaps because it was bleached.

Tilting his head, he stared at her nude body.

He liked staring at their bodies when they were on their knees for him. The way their mouths formed the perfect circle shape. The way spit dribbled from their lower lip as they sucked. The way their fingers couldn’t fully wrap around him.

He noticed everything in his zone, and his climax was near, only a few seconds away. As his pleasure increased, so did his grip on her hair.

A moment later, she glanced up, her glassy eyes meeting his, and he dropped the hold on her. Not because he was hurting her but because she wasn’t supposed to look him in the eye.

She was one of his casual partners, one of the women he fucked regularly. Blue eyes, long blonde hair, thin, and tall. A walking, talking real-life Barbie. His blue eyes fell on the dribble coming out of the side of her lip before she wiped it away with the back of her other hand.

Taking his manhood out of her mouth, she spoke.

“You do know, you could say encouraging things, right?”

Her voice was soft, unlike her hair.

He only blinked.

“Why do you all just grunt and not say anything else?”

He blinked again.

“It’s like you’re robots.”

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.

Fionna’s eyes cowered before—that was her name—she glanced down at his exposed thighs, at the bulging head. He was close to releasing but she ruined it by opening her mouth. His erection lessened at the sound of her voice.

Why couldn’t sex be simple for them like it was for him?

They looked for annoying feelings, trying to stir something in him, and connect with him.

Rule 1: No eye contact with him.

Rule 2: No talking.

He made that clear before he touched any woman.

So why talk and ruin the mood?

She broke both of his rules.

Now, he was thinking about different ways to behead her and make it look like an accident.

“Should I call you, my slut?” Dimitri spoke.

His voice wasn’t soft at all. It was so harsh and deep that it rumbled every time he spoke. It was too thick, and he always talked in a low voice and never raised it. Sometimes people had trouble understanding him because of it.

The female shivered at the tone, but her pupils dilated like she was hungry for the filth coming out of his mouth. Her eyes became round, and her lips parted.

Dirty talk wasn’t in his dictionary because he hated talking. Her need was different from his own. Hers was emotional, his was only physical. This is how he was wired.

“I don’t like talking,” he continued, dismissing the idea.

She only nodded before working him again.

She mindlessly went on like this for a few minutes, but his erection didn’t return. Sighing silently, he leaned his head back on the couch and rested, staring at the ceiling.

“You’re getting soft,” she muttered below him.

He ran a long hand down his face in irritation.

Eyeing her, he replied, “You don’t get me hard.”

Her blue eyes flashed with hurt, and he didn’t care at all. He had no warmth in him to give her, only ice in his veins. Her eyes flared, darkening before accepting his challenge. Her mouth moved even harder on him, licking and slurping him, but it wasn’t the same anymore. She broke his rules.

Tomorrow, he would call another female to come in. No more clingy Fionna. She performed like a champ when she wasn’t talking, now he just wanted her gone. He was just about to end this spectacle and tell her to leave but his phone pinged again.

Alexander’s reply came, this is Nine.

Dimitri opened the attachment and stared at the photograph.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

And he hardened. His manhood came to life.

The erection he’d lost had returned. Ignoring the female in between his knees, he stared at the portrait, trailing the features with his eyes like he was in a trance.

The female bobbed on him again, and he released in her mouth. Before she could pull away, he grabbed the back of her head, holding her there, still staring at the photograph.

He didn’t have to look to know that Fionna choked on the white fluid dripping down her mouth to her tits. She always gagged, which didn’t make sense to him as to why she came to him at all when she knew what he preferred.

Again, feelings and shit.

Rule 3: Always swallow.

And she did.

Satisfied, he sagged into the couch, closing his phone before placing it on the couch next to him. He was just about to shift, turn, and bring her to orgasm with a fuck, but she opened her damn mouth again. “Dima, why don’t you ever talk to me about your feelings? Why can’t we be in a relationship?”

He paused, his hands clenched the sofa underneath him, his knuckles turning white. Exhaling a breath, he turned to her, looking her dead in the eye.

Immediately, she glanced to the floor. Oh, now she wanted to look away besides bickering for the past ten minutes.

He faked a smile and softened his harsh voice. “Feelings?”

She glanced up and her eyes brightened.

“Do you love me?”

Why did they think they were different enough to change him? He continued smiling through his teeth, sincerity pouring out of him even with his eyes hardening with every second that passed. Charm. It was so easy to fake charm, and the other party turned putty at your hands.

She was so oblivious, she didn’t notice it at all. He cast his gaze down, appearing to be shy before meeting her hopeful eyes again. Leaning in, he grazed a finger on her chin, and she shuddered beneath him.

Just a single gentle touch melted females.

He could never understand why.

He didn’t like intimate touching at all.

Both of his hands were on her face, touching her soft cheeks before trailing down to her neck. She sighed under him, content, giving up control of herself.

It was a stupid move to trust him when she knew exactly who he was and what exactly he had wanted from her.

“I don’t have feelings,” he mocked, no longer smiling.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and before she could pull away, he gripped the sides of her neck and snapped it with a swift movement.

His body stiffened at the musical crack in the air.

Her body sagged before it collapsed on the floor before him. Empty blue eyes peered at him with her lips still parted.

Dimitri hadn’t planned on executing her. It was an unnecessary kill, but an impulsive erratic need surged through his veins, compelling him to end her.

Rule 4: If you get emotionally attached, you die.