The Filthy Series: The Complete Dark Erotic Serial Novel

By Megan D. Martin

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Filthy Series, Filthy: The Complete Serial Novel

Copyright © 2015 Megan D. Martin

Cover by
Najla Qamber Designs

Chapter Header Design by
JN Sheats-Illustrator

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

www.MeganDMartin.blogspot.com

First Printing, 2015

For Jade Eby.

 
My writing soulmate.
 

The hands pin her down

She’ll never get away

The rocks slice her flesh

She’ll always feel the pain

The lips take her mouth

She’ll never see the day

The darkness swallows her whole

She’ll never be the same

ONE

“Fuck, take it you little slut,” the guy growled behind me. I clung to the headrest of his relaxed truck seat while he pounded into me, my fingers sliding on the greasy fibers. “You like it?”

I moaned in response, acting like I was lost in some sort of amazing passion that only he could give me. I wasn’t though. My pussy was sore from the other five guys I’d already fucked today and my high was wearing off.

His meaty hands gripped my thin hips, biting into my exposed flesh. The little black skirt I always wore was pushed up around my stomach. He pumped his hips faster. I winced at the discomfort as he stabbed into me repeatedly. It would be over soon. His thrusts had become jerky, out of rhythm. That’s when you knew a man was going to cum. When he lost control of his body, lost himself to the pleasure. Men were a slave to that erotic feeling that made the world disappear.

“Yeah, baby!” He thrust one more time, burying himself balls deep inside me, pulsing his cum deep into my cunt. The warm liquid burned me, scalded me from the inside out. I bit down on my tongue.

He pulled out and moved to the driver’s seat. I turned over not bothering to pull my skirt down. His cum could drip on the seat, I didn’t care.

“Fifty, right?”

I glanced over at him. He was probably in his late thirties, practically twenty years my senior. Time hadn’t been kind to him though. His face was worn, creased like he’d done too many drugs and fucked too many prostitutes.

“You got it.” I nodded.

“You work around here often?”

I glanced outside, pushing my dark hair out of my face. Huge semi trucks lined the big parking lot, illuminated by dirty yellow lights.

“Sometimes.” I watched him dig through his wallet slowly.

Come on dude, just fucking pay me.
My fingers twitched against my palm.

“So you’re from around here?” I jerked my gaze up to his face. He was studying me. I knew what he saw. My long black hair was a tangled, wavy mess. I’d pulled it from the braid I wore it in earlier, so it would be loose. My Johns tended to like it better. My face was plain, no makeup, but I didn’t need it. I had a pretty smile, with all my teeth, straight, white, and still intact. I knew my big brown eyes stood out against my tan skin with natural beauty. At least that’s what people used to tell me, back when I had a life, a family.

“Sure.” I glanced back at his wallet.

“No time to chat?”

I wiggled my hips, his cum making my thighs slide effortlessly together. “It’s late. I’ve got plans.”
With a drug dealer.

He glanced up and down my body, a sneer covering his lips. “I’ll bet you do.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn’t know I had a knife stuffed down in the little purse slung across my chest. He didn’t know how many unlucky Johns had fallen victim to that very blade.

I flashed him a wide smile, knowing it made me look a little crazy with my big dark eyes. “I do.”

He pulled out the bills, finally, and started flipping through them. “How old are you?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Someone who didn’t know would think this was a strange question for a prostitute to be asked. The image Hollywood gave the hooker was one of either abused torture or sexy wonderland. In reality it was neither of those things. Most of the men I fucked weren’t psycho rapists, no, those men didn’t pay for their sex, they took it. The men I fucked were just lonely guys—truckers stopping for the night in good ol’ Texas, looking for some pussy and the chance to escape loneliness for the few minutes they could keep their dick hard. Most of them wanted to know more about me. This young girl who sucked their cock, and fucked them like it was their first time.

“I’m nineteen.”

“Really?” A frown creased his forehead while he looked me over again. “So young. What’s your name?” He handed me the money. It took everything I had not to snatch it from his fingers. My body ached, needing the high I would soon get now that I had the money for a good bump. I’d spent the rest of my money for the day on food and cigarettes.

I rubbed my nose. “Faye.” I popped the handle on the door while I shoved the fifty in my purse.

“That’s a pretty name. Wait.”

I paused, my stiletto feet dangling over the seat, ready to clack against the pavement below. I glanced over my shoulder. He looked a little sad as he eyed me. Not annoyed and angry like seconds before. I could see it in his eyes, something new. Regret. This wasn’t uncommon either. When they first saw me they were ravenous. Ready. Their dicks hard and pulsing in their dirty pants. Ready to fuck my young pussy. But once it was over, once they shot their load and their dicks were limp again, they looked at me with wonder, with sadness, and finally regret. Regret for letting down the wife and brood of children they had at home. It was always the same.

He rubbed his hands up and down the steering wheel. “Have you ever been in love, Faye?”

I blanched at the question. “Love?” The word tasted bitter on my lips, but it didn’t stop the visage that clouded my head. Blond floppy hair, a goofy, dazzling smile, green eyes so deep, perfect. It was
his
face. The only man I’d ever cared about. I pushed the image away, flushing it from my head. “There’s no such thing as love,” I said heatedly.

He looked pensive for a moment as if I hadn’t just answered his question with venom. “You don’t think so?”

“If there was, neither one of us would be here right now.” I slid out of the truck and shimmied the tight leopard skirt down my hips. It barely covered my ass. I didn’t glance back while I adjusted the black bandeau wrapped around my tits. I didn’t have to. I knew he was watching me.

I jerked my light sweater out of the floorboard before I slammed the door.

It was too bad that men couldn’t keep their cocks in their pants, that they couldn’t be faithful to the wives that waited for them at home. But that wasn’t my problem. I didn’t care about any of that stuff—about love. The only thing that mattered to me was my next high. I rubbed my nose again and sniffled, desperate for the tingle the coke would give me when I snorted it.

I’d taken my last bump a good three hours ago and I needed another.
Bad.
I could remember back when I could go longer between hits…but lately just a few hours had me on edge.

My heels crunched on the rocky pavement as I made my way out of the Truck Stop parking lot. I’d lied when I told my last John that I only went to the Stop occasionally. I was there all the time. Every day I fucked multiple men in that parking lot. Nearly every other day I walked the two miles from the stop to my dealer’s house to get the drugs I needed to survive.

I was going later tonight than normal. The dial in my John’s eighteen-wheeler had said it was after eleven. I usually made it to Jorge’s house by ten with enough time to be back at the Stop for a couple of late night fucks. I glanced over at my home as I passed it. There was a heavily wooded area just down the street from the Stop. I’d been calling it home for a good year now along with another hooker, Shauna. The shitty tent I dug out of the garbage wasn’t much, but it was good enough for us to call home. Shauna and I had parted ways earlier in the night when we headed out looking for Johns.

I knocked lightly on the torn screen door to Jorge’s house a little while later. My hands felt heavy, achy. The seconds passed slowly as I waited.

The curtains moved in the left window before the door opened.

“You’re late tonight, Faye.”

“Does it matter?” I snipped, jerking the fifty out of my purse. “I want what I usually get.”

He eyed me. He had his dark hair slicked back like always, baggy jeans hung below his waist, his white t-shirt too big. “I’m all out.”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.” I clutched my fingers against my palm.

He looked me up and down and smiled. “Maybe.”

“Just give me what I usually get, Jorge. Don’t fuck with me.”
Not tonight.
My cunt throbbed from the rough pounding I’d been taking all day. The daylight hours had been abnormally busy.

He rubbed his fingers over his lips. Fingers encased in gold rings. “I could give you some of my personal stash.”

Relief flooded my veins for a fraction of a second. I knew what he wanted. He didn’t do anything out of the goodness of his heart.

“But it’s gonna cost you more than a fifty. You know how this works.”

“Your wife and kids aren’t home?” It’s how I got out of doing this most of the time. When his wife was home she kept him honest, well, as honest as a drug dealer could be. But when she wasn’t he pulled shit like this.

“No. Went to her mom’s for the night.” He took a step closer to me. “I remember how good you used that mouth,
puta
. I’ll get you your coke.” He pulled the fifty out of my hand and brushed his other one against my cheek. “If I get to fuck this pretty mouth.”

There were moments in time like these, where I looked at my life and wished it was a little bit different. I wished that I wasn’t at a man’s mercy. Most of the time I got my way, even if I had to stab someone to get it. I could have stabbed Jorge and taken the cocaine. But I wasn’t going to. If I stabbed him today, where would I get my coke tomorrow for such a cheap price? Even if he had enough to last me a month, where would I get it after that? Just the idea of being without it made panic bubble under my skin. Skin that was already itching for another hit.