Suicide Smut

     She awoke to his hand between her legs.
     “What the fuck are you doing?” she mumbled, slapping his slender digits made sweaty by the heat between her thighs. “I’m trying to sleep.” She turned over on her side, away from him.
     His voice was hoarse and hot in her ear. “I’m horny,” he replied. He slipped his hand under her nightshirt to fondle her breast. Almost casually, he pinched her nipple.
     She hated how her body so naturally reacted to his. Like a reflex, she turned over on to her back. “If you must,” she half groaned, half sighed. Anything to make him happy.
     But as she squinted her eyes open against the morning light beaming through her shades, she saw that he was not happy. Even as he positioned himself above her, his dick ready in his hand, the grimace on his face was not of the expected pain-pleasure, but just of pain.
     “Hey,” she said softly, reaching up with one hand to place one stray Superman curl behind his ear, “are you okay?”
     “Fine,” he grumbled as he slid into her.
     She gasped; the lack of foreplay was evident. But, as always, her body quickly responded. Soon, she was moaning, raising her hips in a rhythmic reaction to meet his own.
     As they fucked, she drifted above their gyrating bodies to look down at her bed. They were not a pretty sight. The noises she made shamed her. She could be their own morning rooster wake up call. Her teenage neighbor must be having a field day.
      She was close, she noticed from her hazy perch over them. Her body’s closed eyes and reddened face proved that. But she couldn’t see his face. She frowned, suddenly desperate with the need to see his eyes, his dimples, him.
     If she could have, she would have seen his big, shit-eating grin. She would have seen him wince just once, and then give a quick nod.      Instead, all she saw was his pelvis continue to thrust into her prone body as he balanced himself with one hand and, with the other, reach under his pillow. She saw him pull out a gun, small and sleek and black, and hold it in stark contrast against his temple pale and white. She saw him thrust, she saw her climax, and she saw him pull the trigger.