Mr. X Read online

  Clarissa Wild

  Mr. X

  CLARISSA WILD

  © 2014 Clarissa Wild

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Mr. X Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of FIERCE

  Books by Clarissa Wild

  About the author

  Synopsis

  *Author Note: This is not your average romance story. Some people will kill for love.*

  He’s come to kill me.

  I’m a user and abuser of my own body. In my darkest hour I sold my soul to the devil and now I must pay the price. With his gun to my head I have no choice but to listen and obey, but I refuse to go down easily. Nothing is stronger than the will to survive. My instincts kicked into full gear the second he stepped into my motel room.

  Except when I look at him I see my own heart staring back at me. A history tainted by blood.

  I don’t know his name, but I know he wants me. To save myself I’ll sacrifice my sanity. My body. My soul. Something tells me the x-shaped scar that marks his eye is the only escape I have. He is Mr. X: the man who comes to claim my life. Can I save myself before he demands my heart?

  WARNING: This book contains very disturbing situations, breath deprivation, strong language, drugs and alcohol, and graphic violence. 18 and older due to explicit content.

  No cliffhanger. Stand alone.

  Want to get an email when my next book is released?

  Sign up here and receive a free story: http://eepurl.com/FdY71

  Books by Clarissa Wild

  Fierce Series

  (FREE!) FIGHT (#0.5)

  FIERCE (#1)

  FURY (#1.5)

  FLAME (#2)

  ~ ~ ~

  Blissful Volumes 1-3 (Boxed Set)

  Which includes:

  (FREE!) Blissful Vol. 1

  Blissful Vol. 2

  Blissful vol. 3

  ~ ~ ~

  The Billionaire’s Bet (Boxed Set)

  Which includes:

  (FREE!) The Billionaire’s Bet #1: A Seductive Deal

  The Billionaire’s Bet #2: A Hot Call

  The Billionaire’s Bet #3: A Risky Raise

  The Billionaire’s Bet #4: A Final Game

  ~ ~ ~

  Enflamed (Boxed Set)

  Which includes:

  (FREE!) Raveled By You (Enflamed, #1)

  Hooked By You (Enflamed, #2)

  Cling To You (Enflamed, #3)

  Cherished By You (Enflamed, #4)

  ~ ~ ~

  Doing It (Boxed Set)

  Which includes:

  Doing It Wild (Doing It, #1)

  Doing It Risqué (Doing It, #2)

  Doing It Free (Doing It, #3)

  ~ ~ ~

  Short Stories:

  First Dance With You

  One Helluva Christmas Romance

  Visit Clarissa Wild on Amazon for current titles.

  Dedication

  This is for everyone who needs a little evil every now and then. So evil, you realize life isn’t so bad after all.

  Mr. X Playlist

  “Russian Roulette” by Rihanna

  “Illuminated” by Hurts

  “Mercy” by Hurts

  “We Must Be Killers” by Mikky Ekko

  “The Human Stain” by Kamelot

  “My Superman” by Santigold

  “Burning Desire” by Lana Del Rey

  “Cola” by Lana Del Rey

  “Right This Second” by Deadmau5

  “Crave” by Duology

  “One Eight Zero” by Grendel (Life Cried Remix)

  “Ich Will” by Rammstein

  “Afraid” by The Neighbourhood

  “Don’t Let Me Go” by Reign

  “Quutamo” by Apocalyptica

  “Breaking The Habit” by Linkin Park

  “She Wants To Move” by N.E.R.D.

  “Punishment is justice for the unjust.” - Saint Augustine

  Prologue

  Jay

  Thursday, August 15th, 2013. 10:30 p.m.

  Life is not continuous. Every path we take ends it or prolongs it. Millions upon millions of paths lie in front of us and we choose only one. Each step we take means cutting off a possible path. One by one they all disappear. The choice can’t be changed. Accepting the consequences is a must, but impossible for most, including me.

  Life is a string of events, each leading to another. One man. One choice. One deadly weapon. It all adds up to this one moment. The gun this man is pointing at my head. The gun that could end my life in a flash.

  This man wants to kill me, and I don’t know why.

  In order to survive I must pass this test. I have to find out what story hides behind his scar. I believe it’s my only way out. My life could end any second, but I won’t allow it. I’ll fight until the very end. Whichever path I choose, I will survive.

  ***

  X

  Tuesday, August 13th, 2013. 2:00 a.m.

  He was innocent. Or so he said.

  The scratch marks on his face tell a completely different story. Not only is he a scumbag, he’s a lying scumbag too. Luckily, I know just the thing to do with liars.

  Twirling the knife in my hand, I step forward. Sweat drops trickle down his face, making his hair stick to his forehead. He whimpers against the soaked cloth in his mouth, choking on his words. My eye slowly takes him in from top to bottom as I twist the sharp point of the knife softly against my finger, creating a bead of blood. His Adam’s apple moves up and down in his throat as he visibly strains his muscles at the sight of my toy.

  Yes, toy.

  I have many, not all of them equally painful, but some more fun than others. Especially the screwdriver; it’s one of my favorites.

  But alas, this is a rush job and this Swiss knife is the only thing I have on me.

  My victim takes in a deep breath as my eye zooms in on his, the fear settling in his eyes. It’s breathtaking. I love that look in their eyes, those begging lips, those sweaty palms, the twitching and jerking muscles as they try to free themselves. It excites me to see them powerless, to know that I can do anything I desire. To know they can see it coming, all the things I will do to them.

  The horror that fills their veins as they realize their death will not be quick but painfully agonizing.<
br />
  A smirk forms on my face as my eye narrows and I savor the moment. Each step I take makes him squirm more, but he and I both know he’s not going anywhere. The knot I tied is impervious. Blood stains the fibers of the rope as he twists in his seat, trying to escape his looming fate. It makes me laugh.

  Innocent. Right. There’s no such thing as innocence. Not in this world.

  I lower the knife and draw a line from his hand up his arm. He moans into the cloth, shaking his head, uttering words again.

  “Now, you know I won’t take it any easier on you if you keep twisting like that,” I say.

  Putting pressure on the knife, I slide it up his shoulder, drawing blood. He screeches, shaking profusely as I create a few nice lines across his shoulder. Each stroke a little deeper, until his flesh rips and blood pours out. His screams become louder and louder, which only makes me want to continue. I love hearing the sound. Love the squeals of agony as I cut them open.

  “Fwop! Fwop! Pwease!” I hear him beg through the cloth.

  “You know I can’t do that,” I mutter.

  “I will pway the debt! I swear!”

  Pay? He wants to pay?

  I raise an eyebrow and lean over him to look him in the eye. “Pay? You think this is about money?”

  “I’ll give you anywing!”

  I laugh. “So you really don’t know what this is about? And here I was thinking you were lying.”

  “Pwease, tell me, I can fix it.”

  “Nope. Too late for that.” I draw another line from his shoulder down to the other hand and smile when I see the stain in his pants. Poor man; pissed his pants. Can’t blame him. Actually, I can. It’s dripping down the chair and it’s soiling my favorite kill spot.

  “Sad. Really sad, you know?” I say. “You pissed yourself.”

  He whimpers again.

  Frowning, I flip the knife around and wipe it on his trousers. “Oh, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Let me go, pwease, I swear, I won’t tell.”

  “Hmm … you seem to be under the impression this is about something that can be solved.” I lean forward and grab his arm right where the wound is. He jerks in the chair from the pain. “Sadly for you, that’s not the case.” I squint. “It’s so unfortunate you can’t remember, because that forces me to tell you. See, I don’t like it when my victims don’t know what they did before I cut their faces. They need to know what they did wrong so they see it coming. There needs to be some kind of morality, you know? Some kind of retribution.”

  I smirk, and then press my finger into his wound, muddling his flesh.

  He squeals and bites his tongue, blood seeping from his mouth.

  “Now listen, you fucked-up piece of shit, do you remember that night a few months ago when you went to a children’s playground? Remember that little girl with the blue dress? Remember that chloroform in your pocket?”

  His eyes widen. Fuck. It’s so fucking awesome when they realize why they’re here. It’s like a little slice of God falling into my hands. It riles me up, gets me started, feeds my soul.

  If I had one.

  I laugh, shaking my head as I look down at his crotch. Drips draw my attention. This fucktard pissed himself again.

  So I decide to kick him in the balls.

  He makes an oompf sound and turns completely red as he gags on the cloth.

  He deserves it. If only for making a mess of my property.

  No, screw that, for putting his hands on that little girl. Assholes like him don’t deserve to exist.

  “Yeah, I know all about what you did, which is unfortunate for you. I know everything. That’s my job. It’s too bad for you her family was rich. Lucky for me I get paid well.”

  I raise the knife again, right in front of his face, showing him what’s in store. He shakes in place, his eyes filling with tears. “Aww … you’re gonna cry now? And what about that poor girl? Did you hear her cries too as you sodomized her?” Even though I didn’t know her, just the thought of anyone doing that shit to a little girl angers me. I might be a bastard, but I’m not that much of a bastard. Nobody gets to use kids. I know firsthand what it can do to them.

  Fury besieges me, and I let it. With fiery passion I raise the knife and jam it right into his other hand.

  He screams so loud my ears pop. The noise echoes in this huge hall, but nobody will hear him here except me.

  His fingers spasm, but I give him no time to rest. Pulling it right out of him, it takes me two slashes to create my signature mark on his eye.

  Scarred for life.

  Not that it’ll last long.

  As my victim screeches and jerks in his chair, desperate to get loose, I step away and admire my artwork before I grab the jerry can and drench him in petrol. I throw the can away and grab a cigarette. Nothing like a cigarette after a good mutilation.

  I watch him writhe as I fish the lighter from my pocket and light the cigarette. Not one second after my first drag do I throw the lighter and set him ablaze.

  The x that marks his face burns brighter than any of the previous ones I’ve done.

  Such a nice piece of work.

  “I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil.” – Marilyn Monroe

  Chapter 1

  Jay

  Thursday, August 15th, 2013. 10:00 p.m.

  Show me that money, baby. It’s all I live for. All I’d die for.

  Okay, maybe not die for, but I’d sure as hell do anything for it.

  My body moves along with the music, while I lick my lips like the slut I pretend to be. The man behind me is staring at my ass and I give him every reason to keep on doing just that. Bending over, I wink at him while giving him a real show. His dropping jaw tells me he likes what he sees. Most men do. I know exactly how to give it to them, how to push their buttons, and how to get them to spend more money on me. Of course, that’s what it’s all about.

  They can call me whatever they want; a whore, a slut, a stripper, a bimbo, a bitch. I don’t give a crap. Their opinions don’t say shit about me and I’m earning all the money I need to maintain myself. I think I’m doing fine for a twenty-three-year-old. I earn more money than any other girl my age. Plus, I love the attention. They’re on me like bees on honey, and I love the thrill of it.

  The red velvet room and flashing lights put me in a trance as I dance to the sultry music. I sway my hips back and forth, showing the audience my best bits. I’m high as fuck, which only adds to the sensation of not giving a fuck and just enjoying the ride. I honestly don’t give a shit, which is exactly what the drugs do for me. Not a care in the world and I can just keep on doing what I’m doing.

  I bite my lip and push my chest forward. Hugging the pole, I lick it and drag my tongue up and down. I know they’re imagining it’s their cock: I can see it in their eyes. All. The. Time. There’s a bulge in his pants and it’s growing bigger and bigger. If I keep doing this I might even be able to take him back to my hotel room. Two birds with one stone.

  Grunting, he pushes himself up from his chair and lunges forward onto the stage, wrapping his hands around my waist. A squeal escapes my mouth, but it’s more from surprise than fear. The manager steps out from the back, frowning, pointing his finger at the dude grabbing me.

  “Get your hands off her.”

  “It’s okay, Don, I’ll take him.”

  He squints. “You sure about that, Jay? He’s been nothing but trouble.”

  “I can handle it.”

  The guy puts me down on the floor, twirling me in his arms. “I want you.”

  “Well, you can have me, babe, as long as you keep paying.”

  “Oh, I’ll pay all right,” he groans. Biting his lip, his hands drift down to my ass and squeeze.

  I peel away his fingers one by one and wink. “Now, now, let’s get to the room first.”

  “I wanted you minutes ago.”

  “You can wait another five minutes,” I say, and I turn around. “Don, I’ll be back in th
irty, okay?”

  “Make it a quickie.”

  I raise my thumb and grab ahold of my customer’s hand. “C’mon, cowboy.”

  I walk to the exit and put on one of the long coats hanging on the coat stand for occasions like these where we, the girls, have to go out into the street still wearing our outfits.

  “So, what’s your name?” I ask.

  “Billy.”

  I squint and give him my cheeky smile. “Darn, Billy! I guess I’m doing a real cowboy today then.”

  “You can do me all day if you want,” he says with a low voice.

  “I bet you’d like that. Hmm … But you know what I offer.”

  He winks. “Yes, I do, ma’am.”

  “A suck or a jerk, that’s all you’re getting, okay?”

  “Fine by me.”

  He smirks and lets me drag him out of the club. My motel room is just a few blocks away, which isn’t a coincidence at all. I knew when I started working for Don that there’d be more involved than just dancing naked. Just because it’s illegal here in Waco doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. And it’s not like I’m giving myself to some random dude or something; I’m only going to blow him, nothing else. It’s a cheap way to earn an extra buck or two. If I’m lucky, he’ll throw in a tip as well. I know how to suck them dry, financially as well as the juices.

  I stop a cab on the street and we get inside. Billy tries to fondle me in the car, but I swat away his hand each time he tries. Just because he could touch me in the club doesn’t mean he can do it anywhere he wants. I want to see some money first.

  When we finally get to The Town House Motel I go to my usual room number seven and make sure nobody saw us before I close the door. The owner knows we do this, but he turns a blind eye to it all. They ignore any weird noises. So long as we pay for the room and clean it before we leave, it’s all good. I suppose it’s a kind of beneficial agreement he has going with Two Minnies, the club I work for. Whatever it is, I’m cool and I’m definitely not passing up the offer to earn some extra money.