Such A Good Guy

1. Luke

CHAPTER 1

Luke

T he ship rocks gently as I stalk this man down a dark hallway.

Music spills from a nearby bar as cruise ship passengers grind up on each other with sweaty pelvic thrusts.

A woman heads into the party with a drink in her hand, stopping right in front of me.

“Ooh, hey there gorgeous. Want to come in and dance with me?”

“No,” I say, my eyes still locked on the man I’m stalking.

Good, he’s past the security cameras now

“Aw, but you’re sooo hot. Like you literally look like a model. Want me to give you a blowjob? I swear I’m so good at it.”

I shake my head and brush past her.

My brain didn’t even register what her face looks like.

There’s no point. Seeing her naked would be approximately as exciting as watching paint dry.

That’s because in my entire life my cock has only ever worked for one woman.

And this fucking scumbag I’m stalking had the fucking audacity to insult her within my hearing.

Imagine not thinking he’d be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman of her fucking caliber.

Of course, I’m going to kill him for not appreciating her, but I’d also kill him if he appreciated her, too. I guess that would be kind of funny, if I understood the concept of humor a little better.

Humor is hard for someone like me, but Luna said a sense of humor in a man in important to her, so that I’m working on.

This jackass is headed to the restroom because he thinks he’s going to get a nice relaxing piss in.

But I’m afraid that’s not possible after I heard him call Luna a goddamn seven and made a comment about her ass and how he might if he got drunk enough.

Not about my girl.

It’s not that I have ‘anger problems.’ A lot of people want to kill the shitheads they meet. I just have the ability and total lack of normal human morality to do it whenever I want to.

And this guy absolutely signed his death warrant when they were dancing together and I saw his hand slide down to the ass he was snickering about.

Nothing is going to intrude on my plans for Luna Gallagher, and definitely not this overgrown grunting frat moron.

The boyish grin and warmth in my eyes that I use to disguise what I am goes off like a switch. I don’t need it here.

This guy is stumbling drunkenly as he reaches the bathroom door.

I close in on him as the knives always in my brain start to multiply. There’s no real thrill to me in killing. It’s just a matter of fucking up anyone who stands between me and Luna.

I reach down to the shorter man’s collar and throw him back against the wall.

My hand is steady. I never drink. I don’t know what it would do to my mind.

“What. . . what the fuck is your problem, man?” he grunts, looking blearily up at me.

“I heard you back at the Tropicana Room. Not very gentlemanly to talk about a lady like that,” I say as I take him by the throat and crack his head against the concrete.

I don’t feel the white-heat of anger at all. Just a total disinterest in having him continue on as a living entity on this planet.

There’s only one person who can make any heat flow into the natural ice-cold indifference of my veins, and being a gentleman is very important to her.

“What the fuck, bro?” he wheezes as I tighten my fist and slam it into his face, moving my other hand away so the blood from his shattered nose won’t get on my shirt.

This shirt says Plant Daddy on it and Luna bought it for me last Christmas because one time she went on vacation and all her house plants looked like a goddamn botanical garden when she got back after I took care of them. It’s not that I give a fuck about plants. But anything she cares about, is my obsession too.

I wrench his arm from its socket with a wet pop, then I stand and watch it dangle.

“I didn’t know she was your girl,” he moans as piss dribbles down his leg. “I don’t give a shit about her. Leave me alone. It’s not like I was going to slip something in her drink.”

A lot of things don’t compute in my brain, but the words ‘I don’t give a shit’ referring to Luna Gallagher definitely don’t compute.

“How could you look at her and not want her more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life? You’re a goddamn liar.”

I wonder how I should kill him. Maybe I should throw him overboard.

But my life is ruled by one fucking simple rule.

How would this affect Luna

If I throw him overboard, they might stop or delay our cruise ship route, and I know Luna has been looking forward to reading her book on a sunny beach with white sand tomorrow.

However, if I incapacitate this guy and shove him in the boiler room, it’ll be put down to an industrial accident and him being a drunken jackass.

And I’ll make it impossible to identify me.

That’s good, because with my musical career taking off, it’s harder to remain anonymous.

There’s always a knife in my pocket to match the ones in my brain, and I draw it out, trapping this guy against the wall with my hand on his throat.

“Who the fuck are you, man?” he rasps.

“I’m the guy who takes anything said about Luna very personally,” I say.

Then I take my knife and cut into his eye sockets, popping both eyeballs out. I turn to toss them overboard, and realize I’m too far from the railing.

I’m not one of those psycho killers who wants to take little mementoes of his victims. This is just because Luna deserves a world in which there are no men who have disrespected her.

As I’m judging the distance to the deck, he stumbles toward me, and I grab his head and drive my kneecap into it without thinking.

Fuck, godsdamnit. Now he’ll have to go overboard for sure. Luckily for me it’s in a deep part of the ocean and he’s not likely to resurface. I look both ways to make sure no one is on the deck and I drag him across it and throw him and his eyeballs overboard, making sure not to let his body touch the railing.

I may not be one of the genius type of killers, but at least I know you’re not supposed to leave fingerprints.

I wash my hands in the bathroom, then turn and head back to the Tropicana Bar, walking up to Luna where she’s in the corner drinking something fruity with a little umbrella.

My skin instantly starts buzzing like a fucking chainsaw like it always does around her, her presence raising the hairs on the back of my neck, sending goosebumps skittering along my arms, then my stomach twisting painfully as my whole body craves getting closer.

“Oh Luke, have you seen that guy I was dancing with anywhere?” she asks, her plush full lips turning down in a frown. “Kind of tall, I mean, not tall compared to you , but like 6 feet tall? Dark hair?”

“What do you want him for?” I parry, moving closer, the buzzsaw of my lust ringing in my ears so loudly even the heavy pulsating music in here is dulled.

I try not to lie to her, because relationships are built on trust and Luna absolutely can trust me to do what’s best for her.

“Just trying to get fucking laid on this goddamn family cruise,” she huffs.

“I don’t think he was a good guy,” I say. “Come dance with me instead.”

She takes another sip of her drink and moves into my arms, with the easy, total confidence of knowing me for years, leaning against my bicep, her full lips searching for the straw. She’s a tiny bit tipsy, even looser and more relaxed than her usual introverted, quiet self.

“Men are dogs,” I say, and I’m rewarded with her throaty little laugh.

“Except you, I guess,” she replies, and I sway on the dance floor with her, my hand on her lower back, her tits smashed against my stomach.

I love holding Luna like this, feeling her body relax into mine, totally unselfconscious and trusting as she sings to the music.

She’s leaned back with an arm in the air, moving back and forth to the music, her full, generous hips grinding up against my legs with each beat.

Reaching down, I flick open the knife in my pocket and press the tip against my thigh. There’s already a hole in my jeans, because I have to do this a lot.

Then I dig the knife into my flesh, pressing until I feel a burst of pain.

I view the pain with clinical detachment. I don’t have any emotional reaction to it, but it’ll be enough to keep my cock from hardening.

Hopefully.

I don’t want anything to keep Luna from laughing in my arms, raising her drink in joy, pressing her heavy tits in the air, as if I don’t burn to touch them, lick up every drop of sweat going into her cleavage, cover her body with cum, bite her thigh so very hard, but gently too, so that I can taste everything sweet about her.

But I don’t do any of that.

Luna told me all women want is someone to respect them and be a gentleman.

So a gentleman is what I am attempting to be.

“it’s like guys don’t want families anymore,” she says in that melodic voice that would be going right to my cock if I didn’t have the tip of a knife digging into my thigh. She’s wearing a tight black tank top, just a touch of sun on her creamy skin, and she’s still arched backwards, so I can see the overflowing curves just inches in front of my face. Her stomach is soft in my palm and I can feel my cock begin to twitch despite the blade bursting my flesh open. I press harder with the knife. I don’t want to stop holding her.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

My lips feel numb, the desire to kiss her throat, put my teeth over that pulse, almost uncontrollable.

Fuck

My usual methods aren’t working

My self-control is weakening

“I mean, I’m 27 now. I want to start a family. I want babies . But guys don’t seem like they want that.”

She raises her body up so it’s flush against mine now.

I can tell she’s not wearing a bra with the way her nipples brush against my stomach. They’re a little pebbled now, her face flushed, but I want to stroke and pinch them until they’re hard and tight. She shakes her heavy dark hair, the smell slapping me across the face.

“Romance isn’t dead,” I say. “You might find what you want where you least expect it.”

The words don’t sound right in my mouth, because I got them from a Hallmark Christmas movie we watched together, and she said it was cute.

The words I want to fucking say are:

I’m trying to control myself

But you’re mine

And if you want a family, baby girl, you are going to get it

“Want to get out of here and watch fireworks on the deck and then play cribbage?” I ask, since I know all of her favorite things.

And I lead her from the room as she tucks her hand into my arm, before my cock on her belly gives away that feral need for her that I have to exert every fucking muscle in my body to hide beneath the surface of my good-guy persona.

A baby?

I’ve never given any thought to the entire concept before, but the more I think about it, the more I want to give her the family she’s dreaming of.

It would tie us together for always.

And what better way to convince her to love me than to give her what she wants, what she’s craving ?

In a gentlemanly manner, of course.

Later, her bedroom is quiet as I move silently toward Luna’s sleeping form.

I’ve broken into her room so many times that my breaking and entering skills are second nature to me now, as is the automatic habit of swiping her extra room key every time I see one, the slick plastic disappearing between my fingers the moment her cute little back is turned to squeal as she looks out the window at the sight of sunshine on bright blue waves.

I don’t give a shit about the scenery, though. Never have. The only thing I care about it her.

Even though I know all the burglar tip to get silently into a room now, it never fails to thrill me every goddamn time , my skin breaking out in goosebumps as I near her bed and I can inhale her scent with a deep, shuddering breath.

The whole room smells like her perfume, like the sun on her skin, her apricot shampoo, like that exquisite taste that can only be enjoyed when you lick down her neck.

I can’t wait until she smells like creamy, silky, full-bodied milk.

And once she’s round with my baby, she will.

I met my best friend’s little sister when she was a freshman in college and I was a senior, and nine years later I’m still obsessed with Luna Gallagher.

The ground under me shifts slightly as the cruise ship makes its way through the sparkling waters of the Caribbean Sea.

It’s the annual family cruise, of course, and the Gallagher family wouldn’t dream of going on their vacation without me. I’m practically part of the family and have made sure of that since the day I first saw Luna.

Unfortunately, being the golden boy of the family hasn’t worked to make her fall in love with me.

Yet.

But I have a plan.

I carefully pull the covers off her, and Luna is lying there before me in panties and a big loose T-shirt, one curvy leg draped over a pillow, her arms sprawled out so the thin fabric of the shirt clings to her heavy, luscious breasts.

I can feel the drool begin to pool my mouth and I try to calm my physical reactions to her.

I cannot fuck this up.

This is my chance to give Luna what she’s wanted and show her I’m a family man who wants nothing more than to be the best husband a goddess like her could ever have.

I’m aware there’s something not quite. . . standard about my brain. I know what my band members and guys like Luna’s brother say about women. They want to fuck as many women as they can, don’t want to be tied down to any one woman. They don’t respect women except as booty calls.

But I respect the fuck out of Luna.

Which is why I’m going to be as gentle as possible when I do this.

I don’t have the same emotions and feelings that other people seem to have, the passion they feel for their sports teams and their hobbies, their religion, their parents.

I don’t have any of that, I don’t feel any of that.

For me, all the space that might be taken up with ambition, friends, one-night stands, parties, money, fame, is all replaced with one thing: the woman lying totally unknowing and innocent in front of me, her long dark curls spread out over the pure white of her pillowcase.

Even though there’s a lot of complex equipment this time and I must stay focused and not let lust take over, I can’t resist taking out my scissors. They’re well-worn, the metal heavy and reassuring in my palm. My breath starts to hitch, my balls instantly flooded with hot cum, swelling with heavy, urgent pressure against my legs.

My body wants her badly, so badly.

My heartbeat pounds in my ear because I know what’s happening next. I bend over Luna on the bed, my long legs taut as I carefully fan her hair out. It’s heavy and thick in my hands. The feel of her hair between my fingers is my favorite thing in the world: deliciously silky and soft.

Just one snip.

She’ll never notice.

My cock is straining against my sweatpants, precum leaking down my fucking leg with how badly I want her.

Snip

Clutching my prize in my hand, I take another second to smell Luna, put my nose right under that hollow behind her ear that always smells goddamn amazing. Once I’m there, my mouth on her long dark curls, I inhale like a fucking drug lord, wanting to coat my insides with this scent.

My hands tangling in the sheets around her, I open my mouth and allow myself just one tiny lick. Just down her delicious throat.

But her skin is so soft, so decadently soft, tasting clean and fresh and succulent.

I allow myself another lick as a little shiver goes across her throat and arms. The goosebumps raise on her chest and I have to tighten my fists in the sheets to stop the spear of hot, needy lust that goes through me.

It takes an effort to drag myself away from her.

It’s become harder and harder to resist the siren call of her body and softness.

But Luna has said that being a gentleman is the primary qualification for the man she plans to marry.

And because that man is going to be me , I’ve done everything she said was a green flag and everything she said a good guy does, and that’s been true since the day I saw her with her nose buried in Pride and Prejudice .

It’s not been easy.

But only a few more months now.

I grab my backpack, which is full of the equipment I stole from the doctor’s office on-board the cruise ship.

I know it’ll take the first time. Look at her gorgeous curves, that soft little belly, the round hips I want the dig my fingers into.

This is going to happen on the first shot.

And she wants this

I just need to move her a little bit.

Forcing my breath to slow, I move down her body. My fingers gently trace the outline of a little scrape on her knee, where she tripped over a gnome on the mini golf course today. I caught her before she hit the ground, but the sharp figurine still cut into her soft, delicate skin.

There’s a little drop of blood squeezed out still, and before I can control myself, I bend down and lick it up, having to repress a moan as the salty-sweet taste bursts on my tongue.

Shit

I barely have a chance to grab the jar and rip my sweatpants down before I can pour my boiling hot lust into it.

Shit

Luna always has this effect on me.

But today is about her soft little belly and me putting a baby into it.

My brain doesn’t seem to work like other people’s.

Because what she said today gave me the perfect idea to make her fully mine.

Guys always just want casual shit

No one wants a family anymore .

Guys just want booty calls or situationships. I’m sick of it.

Not me. There’s nothing casual about what I feel for her. I want Luna to be mine, forever.

And if she wants a family, I am happy to give it to her.

First step is removing what stands between her and her desire to have a family. And me and my desire to give her a family.

I open my bag and pull out forceps.

They’ve been carefully triple-sanitized. When it comes to Luna there is no precaution too much for her.

I warm them in my freshly washed hands.

I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable at all.

Then I bend over her.

It said online she could get pregnant right away.

My breathing sounds so loud, the blood rushing to my ears, inflaming my face.

My blood is something I can consider clinically. It’s useful to me. It keeps me alive. But I’d spill it all over the floor it she needed it.

I’ll give her anything she needs, hell, anything she wants .

And if she wants a baby? I’ll give her that too.

The more I think about this idea, the more I like it.

So tonight I can’t listen to the throb of my cock, the urgent need to be inside her. Tonight, I have to focus.

I check to make sure she’s in the perfect position, with her curvy legs sprawled apart.

Extending the forceps, I gently move them into her perfect pink pussy, my breath ragged in my throat, feeling her cunt grip the forceps with mouth-watering little clenches.

I cannot wait to have my cock in here.

She’s already soaking the hard metal with slick wetness, and I know by the delicious, savory smell of her that she’s ovulating.

Inch by inch I move the forceps.

When I feel the string I extend my tool, then tug gently. Oh so gently. Then I pull.

Gently.

Very gently.

I don’t want her to wake up.

I want to do everything oh so tenderly with Luna.

That’s what she says she wants, after all. A perfect, old-fashioned gentleman.

And if I can keep my dark reptilian urges in check for 12 more weeks, I can make her mine.

I’ve never loved anyone like I love Luna.

In fact I’ve never loved anyone or anything but her.

My parents died when I was young, but I only remember them with vague neutrality. Like everyone else in the world, I feel neither hate nor love toward them. Just pure neutrality. It’s like all of the emotion I’m supposed to feel toward other people is only channeled toward Luna.

It comes out easily, just like I read online, and I hold the T-shaped piece of plastic up to the light. It’s glistening, dripping with the wet slick of Luna’s ovulation. I stick out my tongue, running it over the ridges and corners of plastic. Her taste explodes on my tongue and I have to tighten my fist on my jeans to keep myself from howling like a fucking werewolf.

I’m going to lick up every drop

Oh my god, she tastes like nothing else on earth. Infinitely sweet, full-bodied, dripping with fertility. Her body is so ripe and ready for my seed. When I’ve cleaned every drop off with my tongue, I dump it in the plastic bag I brought.

No evidence.

I have to sit for a moment and calm myself again. My cock is throbbing so hard it’s aching.

Then I reach for the funnel.

Because I’m not taking Luna yet. She’s going to be awake when I do that.

But I do need her pregnant.

It’s easy to load the funnel full at the very cusp of her sex. And then again. Way too easy. I’m losing control when it comes to her. Even my usual strategies to control myself aren’t working. Ever since she said she wanted a family, it’s like that heated feral monster inside is getting closer to the surface.

My body wants Luna’s. Badly.

And I’m fraying between being the kind of man she wants (apparently Mr. Goddamn Darcy, the Regency Dream) and the kind of monster I know I am inside.

My T-shirt is stuck to my back with sweat with the effort of holding myself back by the time I’ve carefully tipped every bit of what’s in the funnel into her sweet forbidden channel.

Then I sit there like a fucking hawk, just watching her beautiful spread legs.

Every time I see a drop of cum, I use my finger to drag it all the way up her slick pussy lips, and gently push it back inside.

By the time I’m convinced not one drop is getting out of her, I’m shaking with the effort.

I want to tear open her pussy, sink my cock so far inside her that my cum runs down her legs and plugs up her asshole.

But now I have about 12 weeks.

12 weeks until she’ll definitely start to show.

12 weeks until baby’s first ultrasound.

12 weeks to put the other parts of my plan into motion.

12 weeks to make her mine forever.