The Accursed_A Dark Psychological Thriller Novel Read online

  Misa returned each time with a sly smile. Chase looked between the two women.

  “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

  Misa put a hand on her hip and looked up at him. Always delicate, always deliberate.

  “You know she wants to fuck you, right?”

  Nonplussed, recollections of feverish masturbation pulsed below his belly.

  “Yeah. Okay,” he laughed as he sauntered towards the complimentary booze.

  He poured two cups and filled them with ice. Passing one over to Misa, he questioned her, “I thought you were my girlfriend? You wouldn’t be that worried if you just put out?”

  Fingers wavered, and he bit.

  “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  Misa didn’t balk. She didn’t seem to breathe.

  “What did I tell you about the apologies? Besides, what kind of girl do you think I am, putting out on the third date?”

  She waited for a reaction.

  “Are you sure you didn’t mean it?” Her countenance was sinful.

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “One of two things. Either if you hit me, or if we’re still heading to your place after,” he tried to say in a sexy voice. He failed.

  Grace returned. Misa addressed her with a ha-ha, I win, smile.

  “Ms. Whitmore, I can’t thank you enough for the exposure you’ve given my boyfriend. If there was any way I could return the favor.”

  Grace looked down her nose at Misa, who stood almost a foot shorter.

  “I know you would. I can smell the sweet avidity on your tongue.” she hushed. “But your boyfriend already has, haven’t you, Chase?” she smirked and twirled auburn locks between her fingers.

  Misa looked moved. Chase darted back and forth between the two women.

  “I did?”

  Grace brought her lips to Chase’s ear and whispered.

  “Three times. If only I was there.” Her tongue swept over his earlobe as she drew back.

  All color flowed from his face, an icy blade stabbed his gut and chilled his core.

  “As agreed,” she said and presented a slip of paper.

  “All new artists receive seventy percent. You just sold the Bumblebee Man.”

  Chase couldn’t pick up the conversations over the rumble in his ears, nor see the check she offered as he probed for how she perceived what he did in the emptiness of his own apartment, or the privacy of his own mind. He didn’t feel the peck on the cheek, nor the throttle of his hand from Misa.

  “Think of me when you celebrate, darling,” she said with a wink. “You two can head out. If there’s anything else I need from you, I know how to find you,” Grace finished.

  Chase trembled.

  VII

  “What are you thinking about?” Misa said as she poured Scotch into a pair of high-ball glasses.

  Chase didn’t answer. He remained, hands pressed against the enormous window of the suite and beheld the vista of Downtown Manhattan’s reflection upon the shimmering East River and that world of fire, passion, and desire, without mercy, without end.

  He swung around and watched Misa step around the glass coffee table and leather sectional couch towards him.

  “Here you go, Mr. Professional Artist. Deep in thought,” she said and passed him the glass.

  He reconsidered the view. “Yes.”

  Misa ran her hand under his shirt on the small of his back.

  “What about?”

  Chase put his arm around her, and she snuggled in.

  “This. You. The gallery. Everything. I’m trying to take it all in before it goes away,” he said.

  He took a sip and sighed.

  “Blue? Wow. That is good. Only had it once. Never thought I’d taste it again.”

  “Why would all of this go away?” she said and tiptoed back around the couch.

  Chase remained reticent as he followed her.

  “So, you were asking about one of my pieces before,” he said.

  “Nice change of subject. Okay, I’ll go along,” she smirked. “The Reaping Hour. Where did it come from?” she said.

  Chase sipped his scotch.

  “Nightmare.

  “All of them are. My paintings. Why?”

  “I bought it when you were still presenting. Paid double the asking price. I wanted to make sure no one else snatched it up. I asked Grace’s assistant, that Emo-looking hottie, not to let you know until tomorrow. Surprise. I just can’t get it out of my head.”

  His mouth went slack.

  “No way! You’re shitting me!”

  Waiting, hunting for the meaning behind her asymmetrical visage, he held his breath.

  “I shit you not, Romano.”

  He arose and ambled back towards the wet bar, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Double? I can’t take that. I would’ve given you that piece for free if I knew you liked it that much. I’ll call Grace tomorrow afternoon and—”

  “No, you won’t.”

  Chase halted in mid-pour. His moue drew a titter from Misa.

  “You won’t call, you won’t give me my money back, and you won’t give it to me for free. You’re amazing and you deserve every cent,” she said.

  “Thank you. But you really didn’t have to do that,” he said, stepping back to the couch.

  “But can I ask you something? You said your dad set you up early in life. What does that mean? I mean, look at this place, your car, buying exquisite art for double prices,” he smirked. “I’m not looking for anything, but—”

  “My dad has a seat on the market. Every year for my birthday and Christmas, he purchased stocks and bonds under my name. He figured that if he bought the fun stuff for me, like toys and dolls, it wouldn’t amount to anything. It was better in the long run.

  “He started doing this when I turned five.”

  Five. He thought of the last day of Spofford and the less than delightful O’Connor family.

  “Usually my dad would buy me a hundred shares at a time. Until I turned thirteen. Then he’d buy three hundred.”

  Thirteen. Not me. I was busy getting stabbed.

  “He started letting me pick what I wanted. Typical teen girl, I picked Disney. And Apple. I liked the Apple logo. It reminded me of…”

  She paused.

  “It reminded me of first grade. George Washington and the cherry tree.”

  “Um,” Chase shifted.

  “Yes, I know an apple isn’t a cherry. Shut your face and let me finish. So, many years later… Yeah, I’m comfortable enough to make decisions based on desire rather than necessity,” Misa said.

  Chase leaned in close. Misa withdrew.

  “Is your dad looking to adopt?”

  “Then what about us,” Misa said. “This is our third date. If you were my brother, we’d have to break it off. Or live in sin.”

  Chase ran his fingers down Misa’s cheek.

  “Nah. Your beauty is worth more. You’re too hot to resist. Inside and out.”

  A school-girl innocence flushed her cheeks.

  “I’m not playing you up, but other than your beauty, I just knew at the laundromat that I needed to say something to you. I needed to get to know you. I can’t explain it. It’s like you came out of my dreams or something,” he said.

  Silence blanketed the room. The distant hum of the cars along Columbia Heights permeated the hollow of reticence.

  “Somehow, Chase, I think you’re right. This is supposed to happen.”

  Misa straddled Chase’s lap and tucked her feet under his legs. Her denim skirt rode up. Chase felt the heat and immediate pulse from between her legs. He smiled.

  Misa took his glass and placed it on the coffee table. As she arched back, his eyes absorbed her lacy bra beneath the limpid, white blouse.

  She reached for the stereo remote and pushed play.

  Misa ran her hand down his cheek and drew whimper. Running her fingers across the back of his neck she snatched him b
y the hair and yanked him in close.

  His already hungry mouth found hers. He whimpered again and felt another pulse from below.

  Misa slipped Chase’s t-shirt off and held her breath. She drove her nails down his chest to his belt and read the goosebumps across his flesh. He arched back and vocalized his delight.

  Chase slid a shuddering hand under Misa’s blouse and flicked at the clasp of her bra. She leaned back and permitted him to remove it.

  She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him to her breast. He took her into his mouth.

  She drew back. Chase studied her perfection and swept his thumbs across her nipples. She gasped as he took her in again. She clutched his hand that gripped her other breast.

  Her other hand ran through his hair and drew him away. His mouth gaped in disapproval. She plunged her tongue into his mouth once more as her hands made their way down towards his navel.

  Misa pushed off from Chase’s lap and knelt between his legs. Eyes fixed on each other when her delicate, deliberate fingers slid down his belly to his belt.

  Her eyes pleaded for permission.

  One by one, Misa unbuttoned his fly and pressed against his long thickness. A hand took her wrist and tugged it away.

  Waves of dread and excitement coursed through him.

  Chase demanded, lusted for her soft skin, her glacial eyes, her honey and jasmine scent and the delicious cherry on her breath.

  Misa took to her feet and drew down her skirt. She didn’t wait long for Chase’s insatiable leer. She tossed the skirt over his face.

  “Stay,” she commanded.

  She walked around the couch, stroking him as she passed, goosebumps met her fingers. With one hand, she reached into the ceramic bowl atop the rear couch table. Chase shifted his head at the turbulence.

  Coming full circle, she rested between his legs and tugged at his jeans. He seized her wrist again.

  Misa slipped the skirt from his head and leaned forward. Eyes squinted, and the side of her mouth crinkled upwards as she examined him.

  He glanced away.

  Delicately, deliberately, she caressed his cheek and returned his gaze to hers. Lightly, she kissed his lips and drew back.

  “I get it,” she whispered and remained focused on him. He felt her fiery ice of her soul penetrate his fear and soothe his heart.

  “Come.”

  She took Chase by the hand and led him around the room, down the hall, and into her bedroom. Chase stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Misa continue along one side towards the nightstand.

  She spun around, reconsidered his gaze and inclined forward. Her fingers slid beneath the band of her panties and glided down. His heart leaped as she flowed upwards, ran her fingers back up along her thighs to her hips and skate across her midriff as she crossed her feet. She remained transfixed as she tossed back the duvet and slipped under the satin sheet. She smiled and gestured with a finger.

  Chase slid onto the bed as he slipped off his jeans and boxers. He crawled on all fours above her.

  “Lose the socks,” she whispered in his ear.

  Misa caressed his cheek as he nipped at her lips.

  “I want you inside of me, Chase,” Misa said. He nodded.

  Her hands roamed down his back, over his buttocks and around to his front. He heard the tear of foil before she grasped him with one hand.

  She folded her legs around his hips, ushered him inside of her, and let out a long sigh as she pulled him tighter, deeper.

  Chase held back and considered her as she continued to rock her hips.

  She raised her arms, arched back as she drew him in as far as he could be, and drove her hands through her hair. Chase rocked her forward and back and swayed his hips in opposition to hers.

  Chase came down on his elbows and slipped his hands under her. His breath broke off, his hips froze, and he held tight.

  “Come,” she exhaled.

  “No.”

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  He remained still.

  “Come,” she begged.

  He thrust along with the rhythm of their entrained heartbeats. Deeper he pushed. Harder he thrust. Thicker he became as he verged on the edge.

  Misa grabbed him by the back of the head and forced her tongue past his panting lips.

  His climax shuddered his entire body and his unrelenting moan filled her mouth that refused to release.

  Like a steamship drifting into the harbor, Chase’s hips relaxed to an end.

  He lifted his head from her and stared into her eyes. Still trying to capture her breath, she grinned at him.

  “That was nice,” she panted.

  He kissed her. Deeply.

  She rolled on top of him in their hushed embrace. She kissed his lips and cheeks.

  “Don’t go,” she said. “Stay the night.”

  He nodded as emotion held onto his lids.

  VIII

  Morning light bathed Chase and Misa within its radiance and passion through the slatted blinds and sheer white drapes. Chase stirred and folded his arm around Misa as his hand cupped her breast.

  Misa stretched and pushed her buttocks against his morning erection. She heard his childish accepting moan.

  “Round three?” he said.

  “Hey... You’re still here,” she sighed.

  Chase stretched. His grasp tightened before he settled back.

  “You asked me to stay.”

  Misa rolled over in Chase’s arms and embraced him. One hand slid down towards his hip.

  “I’m glad you stayed,” she hummed.

  Misa ran her hand down Chase’s cheek.

  “But you did ask me to leave.”

  Her head jerked.

  “You yelled out, you do not belong here! Took me a minute to figure out you were talking in your sleep,” he said.

  Misa recoiled. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Yep. But then you started mumbling other stuff. Things like— well, I couldn’t really understand. Except for Simon. That was clear as day. He an ex-boyfriend or something?”

  Her answer hesitated in her breath.

  “No. I don’t know anyone named Simon. Ever. That must have had a really fucked up dream. Wish I could remember,” she said.

  “No biggie. I’m still here aren’t I?” he said and kissed her on the forehead. “But you still haven’t answered my question,” he added.

  Misa rested her head on Chase’s chest. Her fingers traced his dragon Ryu tattoo.

  “My mother would have loved that,” she sighed. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Didn’t know it had any meaning. I just thought it was cool,” he said.

  “The Japanese see the Dragon as of wisdom and strength. A power that can change the universe,” she said.

  “Huh. Cool. Where is your mother?”

  Misa turned to him.

  “As she would’ve probably said, she’s reunited with her ancestors now.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss.

  Misa rested her head and traced the dragon once more. “You made love to me last night,” she said and kissed his bare chest.

  “I know. I was there,” he said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was your first time?”

  He looked away. She picked herself up on her elbows. He stared at her breasts.

  “Eyes topside, Romano.”

  He smiled. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

  Misa swatted him on the forehead.

  “No, no. It was perfect. You were perfect. I just didn’t expect it,” she said.

  “What were you expecting? The Chicken Dance or something?”

  “Don’t be an ass. I’m just surprised is all. Another layer I didn’t expect.”

  “You know, you’re starting to give me a stink complex with these onion references.”

  Misa laughed. She shoved his arm and buried her face in his armpit and sniffed like an excited dog.

&
nbsp; “Stop! That tickles!”

  Misa smiled from ear to ear. “What was the question?”

  Chase turned his body to hers. Misa’s hand dropped away from his building erection and across his hip.

  “Round three,” he said, and ran his hand down her back to her bottom.

  Her smile widened. “Does this answer your question?” she said and massaged his inner thighs. Her hand froze. She watched him as her fingers moved in investigative circles.

  “What’s that?” she said.

  He gulped as he pulled her hand away. He tried to turn when she forced his eyes back to hers.

  “Nothing.”

  Misa climbed on top of Chase. Her face commanded an answer.

  “You’re lying,” she said. “If it’s none of my business, fine. Just say so. All I ask is you not to lie to me.”

  “It’s a scar, Okay? From a fire,” he said. “Had it longer than I can remember,” he said.

  “Is that why you never—” she stopped herself. He nodded.

  “Let me see it.”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because now I have to know,” she said and pulled the blankets off him without contest.

  She moved down between his legs and rested her face on his lower belly. Fingers traced the raised contours of his healed flesh as he winced. He wished it was physical.

  “You don’t remember what happened? A little intense, no?” she said.

  “No. From what my foster family told me, I had it when I was a baby. I really don’t remember a thing.”

  Misa continued to sweep against his legs from his hip to his feet. His other leg similar, but not as marred. Fingers slipped up his legs to the inside of his thighs, skimmed his testicles before she moved up his pelvis and slid back onto him. She peered into his eyes as he looked away.

  “What would you say if I told you I thought it was sexy?”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she said.

  Misa gripped his prick in her graceful hand and stroked it. It accepted her touch.

  She rolled over to her back, taking Chase with her.

  “You made love for the first time last night. Now, I will teach you how to use that beast and fuck the hell out of me,” she said.

  IX

  “Are you sure?” Misa said.