Monstro- Roxxy Foxx 2 Excerpt

DISCLAIMER: It has been a while since I have worked on Monstro, Roxxy Foxx 2. I was pretty gung-ho with writing the second book in the Roxxy Foxx Series and then I hit a snag. I made promises before the product was completed and I should not have done that. I am the kind of person who prides themself on doing what I say will do.

So from now on I will not promise the product until the product is complete, but you will receive random excerpts from the book. They are sneak peaks, without edits and may or may not be the finished product. I hope you enjoy the read below.

Michelle Wishart

Bell

Monstro

Prologue

1967

The note read; “Deus me perdoe, (God, forgive me).”

On the bank of a tributary of the Rio Negro, in the small village of Santa Maria in the Amazon forest, a young Portuguese mother and her newborn baby boarded a small fishing boat.

Anna heard the splash of a small Yacare as it entered the swampy water. Anna and the two-week-old baby were on their way to the nearby city of Manaus. Anna tried to love her baby but didn’t know how to care for a newborn baby born with two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

At the altar of the Diocese of Amazonas, she blessed herself with the sign of the cross, murmuring; “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”

Anna bowed her head as she prayed to her God for guidance. “Como posso amar um monstro? (How can I love a monster?) Mostre-me o caminho (Show me the way).”

As she breastfed him with each suckle, his tiny razor teeth shredded her nipples like the teeth of the radius jungle sickle used by the Brazilian natives to hack away at the bamboo undergrowth of the Amazon jungle.

Sister Maria found the two-week-old baby left on the front steps of the Diocese of Amazonas. The note read; “Deus me perdoe.”

Sister Maria’s evil eyes darted around to see if anyone was watching as she scooped the baby up and hurried back to her quarters.

Current Day

He parked the van next to the river under a stand of cottonwood trees. The light delta breeze lifted the cotton from the branches, a hundred feet above, floating down like snow. Walking around the back of the van, he stopped next to the sliding door. The moonless sky made for a perfect blanket of cover.

He watched the cotton float and dance in the breeze for a moment longer. Savoring the anticipation before preparing his “Pure Prey”.

Inside the van, he found his “Pure Prey” still sleeping. He crawled into the van on his hands and knees, sliding the door closed with a clunk. He opened a small medical bag with the tools of his trade. He removed a syringe and a vial of Zemuron, and a pair of medical scissors. He administered ten milligrams of Zemuron and then went to work. He began by cutting off her clothes.

He displayed her on her back with her arms stretched out on either side. He spread her legs wide, kneeling between them. He secured her ankles with handcuffs bolted to the floor of the van. He then cuffed her wrists on either side of the van. He caressed her bright red pubic hair. Tempted to touch her deeper, but he restrained himself and whispered, “There will be time for that later.” He placed a small pillow beneath her head. He tore small pieces of grey duct tape from a roll, then put the roll back into the medical bag. He meticulously opened each of her eyes and with his practiced hands placed the tape on each eyelid, making it impossible for her to close her eyes. When the moment was right, he would reveal himself to her and she would be able to see the monster that he was. She was about to witness her own horrors.

Ashley thought of her dad. During her dad’s talks of preparation, he always said, fight, never give up, fight to the end. Ashley kicked and thrashed and screamed, but only the screams were real. Her body was betraying her as she lay there helpless. Her father’s voice was in her head again. Ashley, you have to be smarter than them. She stopped screaming. It was futile. In a small voice, she said, “What can I do to help you?” He smiled behind his N-95 mask and said, “Nada minha presa pura” (Nothing my pure prey).

Ashley realized she couldn’t blink or close her eyes. At that very moment, Monstro removed his mask and put it in his bag. He then removed the sports mouthguard he purchased from Big Five the local sporting goods store, and tossed it in his bag with his other tools. Ashley screamed in terror and tried to slam her eyes closed; again nothing happened.

Removing his O’Neill t-shirt, then yanking on the belt at the top of his jeans, with whip of the leather he set it aside for further use later. He was bulging with anticipation of sharing himself with his “Pure Prey.” Removing his pants, still between Ashley’s legs.

He licked his lips, cutting his tongue on his razor-sharp teeth, blood and drool at the corner of his mouth. She turned her head to look away from the monster. He knew it was time to fully reveal himself. The Zemuron was wearing off. She clenched her fists. Her fingers were tingling, but she was able to move them. She tried to sit up, but nothing happened. Her head was throbbing. She was dizzy again. She heard her father’s voice, FIGHT! NEVER GIVE UP! Her arms were straight out on either side. She clenched and opened her fists repeatedly. Her legs were spread wide. 

He grabbed his belt and crawled up her body, lingering at her pure pubic to take in her aroma. He looped the belt around her neck. She turned her head from side to side. She knew he was on her but couldn’t quite feel him, just pressure from his weight. She lifted her head a couple of inches; her breathing became more labored.

It was time. In one motion, he slipped himself inside her and tightened the belt around her neck and flipped the dome light on. The blood-curdling screams from the full sight of Monstro were squashed by the leather of the belt tightening more around her neck. He was looking into her wide-open eyes. She wouldn’t look away in her defiance. She knew she was going to die, and she was going to take a little of him with her.

She willed her arms to move, but nothing happened. She realized she was handcuffed to the van. She fought to the very end; she lifted head to the nape of his neck. Monstro paused; he never had this happen before. Ashley nuzzled his neck. Monstro tightened the belt as he moved more rapidly inside her. Ashley was fading. She knew this was it; she was about to die. Before she went unconscious, she bit Monstro on the neck, taking a chunk of Monstro with her.

He couldn’t contain the fury any longer and came inside her lifeless body. He remained on top of her, suckling her breasts. Ripping the skin off her breasts as he suckled them.

Monstro had an overwhelming affection for Ashley. She was different from the others. The moment she nuzzled his neck, he knew she was special. He lay with her, cuddling her cold, dead body. After the euphoric afterglow of sex lifted, Monstro became angry. He was angry Ashley bit a chunk of neck as blood flowed down his chest. He smiled a wicked smile; he was proud of his “Pure Prey” for fighting back.

                                                                                                                 Monstro

One Year Ago

Chapter One

Early morning, I was sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. I heard sounds coming from the second floor.

Thrump-shuffle, thrump-shuffle. I then heard the roll-up door of the dumbwaiter slide up and then again as it slid down as it was closed. A moment later, the hum of the small electric motor as the dumbwaiter headed south to the butler’s pantry.

Then I heard a ding, and the sound of clanking metal and the hum of the small elevator that ran from the basement to the third floor.

Granny thought replacing the old, dilapidated elevator original to the house with an English birdcage elevator was fun.

On each floor, an intricate outer cage of the elevator was made of welded iron. Designed to look like ivy climbing up the wall with gold inlay on each leaf.

The interior birdcage is polished black ceramic-coated iron with copper inlay. The copper had turned a beautiful shade of green patina. On each floor, a little ding announces the arrival. The only thing missing was a Liftman wearing a red wool coat with brass buttons and gold embroidered trim, and a brimless top hat with a little gold tassel.

A moment later I heard, ding. The outer cage slides open, and then the birdcage opens with a clunk. With a thrump-shuffle, thrump-shuffle, Goth exited the elevator on the main floor behind the massive staircase centrally located in the old Victorian house. Thrump-shuffle, thrump-shuffle. She piloted her walker around the corner to the front of the staircase landing. When she finally arrived in the kitchen, her face was pale, and her hair was plastered to her head, damp with sweat. She had beads of sweat on her upper lip from the exertion.

I started to jump up to help her to a chair. With a stern expression but a small voice, Goth said, “I’m okay, Roxx. I need to move around to get the blood flowing.” I sat the rest of the way down and watched her continue to the butler’s pantry. I heard the roll-up door to the dumbwaiter open and the tray with dishes from last night’s meal being removed and put on the counter. Then the roll-up door closed with a thud.

Thrump-shuffle, scrape, thrump-shuffle, scrape as Goth moved along the counter, dragging the tray to the sink. After loading the dishwasher, thrump-shuffle, thrump-shuffle, into the kitchen. I said, “Goth, I get you want to get the blood flowing to heal your body, but you should take it a little easy. You don’t have to do it all in one day.”

When I first met Goth, she had jet-black hair, black fingernail polish, and a lot of black eyeliner. She was wearing black parachute pants, tied tight at the ankles with a drawstring and shiny silver zippers all over the pant legs, and a black tank top.

Now her hair is sporting light golden-blond roots. Her flawless ivory skin glows without a trace of makeup, and her nails at the tips of her delicate, thin fingers are trimmed and free of polish. She was wearing a pair of my old Air Force sweats and a Sacramento Police Academy tee shirt.

Goth shrugged and said, “I’m fine. I’m just trying to get well enough to return to my camp if I have a camp left. Maggie texted me when I was in the hospital. She said she and her dad moved onto a houseboat and were anchored across from Crawdads. Without Sam watching over my camp, I’m worried the homeless assholes have stripped it clean or moved into my tent altogether.”

I smiled weakly and said, “About that Goth, we need to talk.”

Goth looked frantic. Her eyes were welling with tears as I sat her down to talk to her about her camp. I softly said, “Goth, do you prefer to live in a tent?”

Goth’s face turned from smooth ivory to blotchy red as tears rolled down her cheeks. She said, “No, but it’s all I have.” I said, “I hope you don’t mind, but when you were still in recovery at the hospital. Connolly and I found out Sam and Maggie were moving onto the houseboat, so we broke down your camp and put everything in a storage unit.”

Digging into the my front jeans, I pulled out a key and set it on the counter in front of her. I said, “Now that you have been staying here since your release from the hospital, I’ve kinda got used to having you around and was hoping you would consider staying.” Goth was staring at the key sitting on the counter in front of her. Her shoulders were shaking as she cried. I stroked her hair and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Goth. I might have overstepped your boundaries. I’ve just become attached to you. I don’t have any family, and you have become like a little sister. I…”

Before I could finish, Goth fell into me, sobbing into my chest like a small child. With tears and snot rolling down her face. She said, “Thank you. I was feeling the same way, and you’ve been so nice to me. I was afraid I was overstaying my welcome, and I have no family. Besides my crackhead bio-mother, and she doesn’t count anyway because she would sell me to the first asshole for a hit of crack in a heartbeat. I mean, like, you really want me to stay here?”

Goth looked around the kitchen as if seeing it for the first time.

I said, “Yes, I very much would like you to move in permanently.” Goth started crying uncontrollably. She said with a stammer, “I can’t; I can’t afford a place like this.” I said, “Did I say anything about rent or payment of any kind? I don’t know how it works with most sisters, but I’m quite sure payment isn’t involved. I don’t need nor want money. It’s just these last couple of weeks helping you get well. I got attached to you.” Goth cried again, then suddenly stopped, sat bolt upright with a big goofy smile, and said, “I have a big sister.”

I laughed and said, “Yes, yes, you do.”

The Russian Hit, The Men Behind the Red Door

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