The Man With The Twisted Lip Novels & Stories

I swallow hard, pressing my lips together, my hands in my lap, playing with my nails. “Please? He is…” “I know,” I whisper. A knock comes on the door, and I frown when the man bows his head before looking up at me. He looks like he spends all day in the gym. Big, broad shoulders, a buzz cut, a heavily scarred face, and tattoos on his neck going up to the shoulder. The only way I know he has tattoos is because he is in a fucking black tight vest with cargo pants and combat boots. “Ms. Leon, Ms. Stephanie”

His intuition screamed. A couple of minutes later a fleck of light happened with the ignition of a lighter followed by a puff of smoke. A faint sketch of a man from the lower part of his face came out displayed. Fredrick had a rush of adrenaline to his throat in fear peering at the devilish aura of the person. He had a chiseled jaw so sharp like it could cut anything to two. Those soft thin lips were very beautiful in a cupid's bow yet everything about the man left out esoteric feelings that spoke vile, abominable and dreadful about him.

He withdrew from her when he felt a quick, intense ache in his bottom lip. "It seems that Mrs. Conrad not only likes to bark, but bite as well." He extended his arm to dab at the blood on his lips. He was an extremely attractive man who liked to frown, which accentuated his rough features. When he did grin, it accentuated his remarkable features even more. But the grin that lit up his face was as terrifying as a lion realizing what it was hunting.

Finally, He kissed me. It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry and desperate, the kind of kiss a man gives when he’s starving and doesn’t know why. He tasted of red wine and frustration. Frustration from realizing he had starved himself of intimacy for months, probably because of Olivia. I kissed back, pausing at intervals to let him believe he was devouring me, when in truth, I was consuming him. Every touch, every sigh, every tremble of his hands belonged to me. He pulled back, whispering “This is wrong.”

"When you kiss me. I'll remove that cuff if you kiss me senseless." She looked at him. He was sticking out his tongue and she couldn't help but swallow. His lips seemed redder than hers. She knew his lips were natural, and hers were natural too, but they weren't that red, and they really needed lipstick or lip gloss. She stared at his lips as he spoke. "Don't stare at my lips like that, baby, unless you want me to claim you again," the man said teasingly. "I'm already in pain, so please let me go..." she pleaded.

Janice's reply shocked me to the bone marrow, so I looked at him to be sure I heard her correctly. "Concert? Stylist?" I asked and turned to look at the man who looked like he was in his late twenties. From his appearance, he looked like he would be the same age as Chase. He had blonde hair, and long eyelashes which I mistook to be artificial at first but realized later that it wasn't. Thick eyebrows, a pointed nose, and cat-like eyes which I was sure he must be wearing lenses. Wait! He was fucking wearing lipgloss. Pink fucking lipgloss at that. Now that I took my time to check him out, he looked feminine and I was even more disgusted when I saw his painted nails.

'Going out was really a bad idea, huh? “You’re finally awake,” one of them smile disparagingly, leaning down to meet his gaze. The man was broad-shouldered, with a long scar running from his temple to his jawline. He looked like he fought countless battles—and won most of them. “Great,” Tales muttered arrogantly, wincing as he tried to adjust his position. “Did you drug me because you couldn’t handle me sober? I’m flattered.” The scarred man didn’t react to the provocative words. Instead, he straightened up and crossed his arms. “You talk a lot for a dead man walking.”

He stands up and walks to me, making me take a step back in dread. “If you want me dead so much, sunshine, you can do it.” He repeats, and encircles his arms around my waist. “You mad man.” I whisper, gasping in disbelief. Is this what it feels like to be around twisted people? “Sweetheart, I missed you. How about you? Did you think about me?” He whispers, caressing my face. I spit at him. But to my greatest surprise, he licks the saliva that trickled down to his lips, not offended at all. What's wrong with him? Why doesn't he get angry no matter what I do to him?

He smiles and he rushes to claim my lips. I love the feel of his lips against mine, I open my mouth, granting him access, our tongues collide, twirling his touch with mine. Sucking on my tongue, I rake my teeth over his tongue, he forces my mouth to open wider and he pushes his tongue further into my mouth. I moan into his mouth as he pinches my nipples. Our tongues stayed locked for what feels like forever, Rod finally breaking the kiss, we both panting. His eyes fixed on my swollen lips, “are you ready to scream my name Rey…”, an evil grin plastered on his face.

I moved quietly and sat in the same chair I’d been in yesterday right before I got arrested… by him. He talked for a while, casually, like this was just another day at the office. Then he ended the call, turned his chair, and finally faced me with that annoying little smirk plastered on his face. His ugly—ugh, I couldn’t even finish that thought. Because oh dear Lord, the man looked hot. Handsome as hell, in fact. And that pissed me off more than anything. Why was I always catching myself thinking something nice about someone I was supposed to hate?