Missing Hearts

by Wright, Kenya

  “Yes. I’m the one in charge.”

  “Are you?” She pumped my cock. Base to tip. Base to tip. The soap had made her hold slick and my length slide easily in her grasp as she stroked again and again.

  I groaned. “Goddamn it.”

  Two could play that game. The water beat over me, washing away the soap from my hands. The spray fell, not stinging my skin, but warming me. Tenderly, I left her breasts and caressed the rest of her body. Then, I dipped down to that lush pussy.

  “Mmm.” She widened her legs and let me in with a quick gasp. Her folds were slick from the shower and her own arousal. It would be so easy to lift her up. To take her against the wall with the water pounding down around us.

  God, she has to be mine.

  We made out within the rising steam and warm spray. The touches were soft. Tender. Our mouths touched. No voracious hunger this time. The lust was still there, but easy. Gentle.

  I kissed her, and swept my tongue against hers, enjoying her moans and most definitely loving the firm grip of her hands on my cock. Hunger built. Pleasure grew, and I touched her everywhere, falling in the sweet slickness of her silky skin.

  My fingers swept over her. I found the button of her need—her throbbing clit. I stroked it with feather touches and then I pushed my fingers inside of Haven. Not too fast. Not too deep. Just enough to make her hunger sharpen.

  And she pumped those soapy hands on my cock. It made me lose my concentration.

  The base of my spine tightened. My climax was coming, but I wanted to be in her. Needed her flesh surrounding my cock, clenching and holding so tight.

  “No.” I moved my fingers from her pussy and gently lifted her hands away. “I want to come from more than your hands.”

  Grabbing Haven by the hips, I lifted her up and positioned my cock against her. She gasped as I pushed my cock through those wet curls so I could feel her slick heat.

  There. Right there. That’s what I needed. So close.

  I kissed her. There was no more tenderness. No more sweet licks. The kissing turned hard. Deep. Craving. Lusting.

  “Oh.” She straddled me, taking my cock like a pro. I shoved and pushed inside of her wet pussy some more, and she gave me swift downward thrusts of her hips. Her eyes locked on mine.

  Her sex squeezed me. She rose and then slipped down. Fast. Balls-deep in a move that had her sex rippling around me. So tight. So perfect.

  I drowned in her.

  The warm shower sprayed onto us.

  It was an orchestra of lusty pleasure. Wet, soapy flesh moving against wet flesh. My hard, throbbing cock pumping within that sweet creamy pussy. Moving fast, the rhythm wild and driving us both toward release.

  Her breasts rose, bouncing lightly. I had to have a nipple in my mouth. My lips closed over her breast just as her climax ripped through her.

  “Oh!” Her sex contracted, milking my length as she rode her orgasm. “Oh!”

  A roar burst from my mouth. “Haven!”

  And I came, erupting, within her. So long. The pleasure wrung through me. Ripping me apart, owning me. Every muscle, every cell. So. Fucking. Good.

  My heart pounded like a fucking drum. And I could taste her. Smell her. Feel her. And still, I couldn’t get enough.

  As the last spurts of semen left my cock, her sex trembled around me.

  So good.

  I lowered her, and it took me a minute to regain my composure. I had been lost in her—in the moment.

  “Jesus.” She tried to move away.

  I brought her back to me and whispered against her skin, “You’re trouble.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “How?”

  “I fucking can’t get enough of you. I knew that would happen and still I took you.”

  She frowned. “I can’t get enough of you either.”

  “Then, we’re both screwed.”

  “We are.”

  “Fuck it.”

  The silence descended within the shower.

  We washed up. I helped where I could, knowing that I was completely barreling in on her shower time.

  When we ended, I gave her a towel and took one for my own.

  We both left the shower. However, she remained inside the bathroom, brushing and blow-drying her hair.

  I wrapped my towel around my waist and went into the bedroom.

  There was tons of things I had to do that morning. But no one had called yet. Vernon had not been caught. Forensics would still be analyzing.

  I’m going to enjoy the quiet while I can.

  With just my towel on, I lay in bed ready for round three. Every now and then, I glanced back at the bathroom and peeked at Haven.

  I don’t know why you’re doing anything to your hair. I’m going to mess it all up again.

  No one had called or knocked. At this point, I would take as much free time as possible, fucking Haven’s brains out.

  When the sound of the dryer ceased, my cock jerked to attention.

  Calm down.

  Haven stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair was in a perfect ponytail. Not a strand out of place. She’d applied some makeup, a light touch at the eyes and a sexy coat of red on her lips. She wore black pants and a white blouse.

  Perfect.

  Her grin deepened.

  I whispered, “Come here.”

  She sat on the bed next to me. “Are you going to get dressed?”

  “Not until someone calls.”

  She lifted her hand, raised it over my cheek, and trailed her fingers past my morning stubble.

  I pulled her in and kissed that lovely mouth. She groaned and moved closer to me. There, I tasted her delicious mouth. The weight of her breasts crushed against my chest.

  Ready to tear off her shirt, I pulled back. “Well, that settles it. Agent Barron, it’s time for you to get undressed.”

  She smirked. “Alexander.”

  “I need you.”

  “Need?”

  “Want. Crave. Desire. I’m addicted. Heal my suffering.”

  “Damn.”

  “Damn is right, Haven. Come back to bed.”

  “We should be. . .” She bit her bottom lip.

  “No one’s called just yet. Trust me. All will call soon. Until then. . .let’s spend an hour doing wicked things.”

  “That does sound. . .wonderful. Much better than what I was thinking.” Her voice stroked right down to my cock. “Fucking you sounds like fun, but we’ve had our fill.”

  Just when I was about to attack her, she tried to rise.

  “We should—”

  I gently grabbed and pulled her back to me. “No. I’m the one in charge.”

  “Oh really?” She came back down on the bed.

  I caught her hand and brought it to my lips. “You do understand that there’s no going back with us?”

  Our eyes met.

  “I was falling for you, long before I saw you naked.”

  She giggled.

  “Now. . .” I pulled her closer. “Now, I’ll never let you go.”

  She gathered her arms around me.

  I loved her embrace.

  She sighed. “But what about the rules?”

  “It’s time for the rules to change.”

  “Can we change them?”

  “I don’t give a damn either way. I must have you and that’s in all ways—in my unit and in my bed. I won’t have it any other way.”

  She blinked. “I was thinking about this too, and I didn’t want you to leave the unit.”

  “No one’s leaving. We’ll just hide this, when it comes to the agency. Other than that, we tell the world.”

  “For how long can we keep it a secret from the other agents?”

  “As long as necessary.” I shrugged.

  What else could I say? I needed her and not just for today. I found I liked having her in my room. I enjoyed investigating cases with her at my side. I loved the sound of her voice. And the vast hugeness of her brain. I reli
shed in her pussy and the scent of her skin.

  She frowned. “But—”

  “No buts.”

  When her lips parted, I knew I caught her by surprise. And, just for the hell of it—just because her lips were so soft—I devoured that mouth again. She groaned, telling me that she yearned for me just as much as I did.

  I lay her down on the bed.

  She stayed in my arms, nestled against me. Soft and warm. The sweet floral scent of her soap teased my nose. She breathed, slow and easy.

  And we made love again.

  Chapter 33

  When God Calls

  Haven

  After a lot of hot sex that morning, we slept in bed.

  I woke up shocked that we had been so exhausted.

  Alexander is a fucking beast. Who knew?

  My clothes lay wrinkled on the floor.

  Yawning, I checked my phone.

  Shit.

  There were several missed calls from Brett, Tina, Mom, and even Pastor Miller.

  I rose from the bed and shook Alexander. “Baby, we have to wake up. Everyone’s been calling us.”

  Groaning, he turned around, pulled me down to him, and kissed my forehead. “Good morning again.”

  “Actually. . .good afternoon.”

  “We slept that much?”

  “We did. Lots of missed calls from everyone.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Yes.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Six missed calls from Brett.”

  “Not good.” He let me go, sat up, and grabbed his phone. When he picked it up, he paused and turned to me. “Hold on.”

  “What?”

  “Did you just call me baby?”

  I parted my lips.

  He quirked his brows.

  “I. . .may have.”

  He licked his lips. “I like that. No one has ever called me baby before.”

  I giggled. “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve never stayed around long enough for them to call me anything. I like quick and noncommitted situations.”

  I frowned.

  “However, that won’t be the case with you.”

  I scowled. “It better not be. I don’t play that, and I’m pretty good with my gun.”

  “Are you threatening your supervisor?”

  “No, I’m threatening my baby.”

  Turning on his phone, he winked. “Threat noted.”

  I stretched.

  “Yes, Stein. It’s me. I’m fine.” Naked, Alex rose from the bed. “Good!”

  I stared at that perfect, muscled ass.

  He covered the phone and whispered to me, “They grabbed Vernon.”

  “Holy shit.”

  He went back to the phone. “Good job. Has anyone questioned him? Good. I’ll be there soon. Yes. Don’t worry. I know where Haven is. I’ll bring her with me. What? Stop being nosy. You are being nosy.”

  He walked off to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

  I checked all my messages.

  The first few were from Brett. First, they had a track on Vernon through his phone. He called the Millers, crying. He asked them to pick him up at an abandoned parking lot in Colesville. Pastor Miller and his wife said they would get him fast. In the next message, Brett said they beat the Millers there and grabbed Vernon.

  I shook my head.

  For Vernon to be so meticulous with not getting caught on the Fullbrooke Six, using his phone had not been the smartest move.

  Tina’s message confirmed traces of all the victims’ DNA on Vernon’s paintings. Forensics believed he used their saliva and mixed it with the painting. Each victim’s DNA was on a canvas of a religious event. This would be the top evidence and putting Vernon in jail. Additionally, in the back of the canvases, there were small strands of each girl’s hair tied in a bow.

  Vernon did it. We were right. Thank God.

  Tina’s last message wanted to know where I was at and that they couldn’t reach Alexander.

  Mom wept on her message asking me if I was sure it was Vernon. She wondered if I might have missed something. She wanted me to call immediately.

  I pressed on the last message, dreading Pastor Miller’s words.

  His voice came on the phone, full of grief and sadness. “Haven. . .we need to talk. I. . .I know you were put in a difficult situation.”

  I’d never heard him sound so sad and destroyed.

  “But Haven. . .maybe if we talked, I could explain everything better. I’m downstairs in the lobby of St. Mary’s Inn. Please meet with me today, and don’t bring Agent King. I don’t want to say this to anyone who isn’t family.”

  He’s here now?

  I checked the time of the message. It was barely twenty minutes ago.

  Sighing, I put on my clothes that Alexander had yanked off and thrown on the floor.

  I’ll just be wrinkled today.

  The sound of the shower came on.

  I scribbled a quick note to him.

  Downstairs talking to Pastor Miller in the lobby. I won’t leave the inn until you come.

  —Haven

  It took me a short time to get completely dressed. I wasn’t happy about having this conversation with Pastor Miller, but he might have more to add to Vernon’s story.

  Did he have an inkling of what his grandson had been doing? Or would this be a plea to let Vernon go? Did Pastor Miller think that we were mistaken and simply profiling him because he came from a troubled past?

  Whatever the discussion would be about, I knew Pastor Miller would try to get me to pull some strings.

  I’m sorry, but I’m not my father. I won’t let Vernon off this time.

  I headed downstairs. Each step raised my sadness. The lobby was decently packed. Lots of people in there whispering. Some looked to be news reporters hoping to get a crack at Alexander.

  Thank God I wasn’t the face of this investigation. I maneuvered around them with ease, spotted Pastor Miller sitting off in the corner. Holding his hat in his hand, he gazed out of the inn’s large windows.

  Damn. This is going to hurt.

  As if he could sense me, Pastor Miller turned my way and then stood. “Haven, I didn’t think you would come down and talk to me.”

  “How did you know I was still here?”

  “I demanded to see you at the station. You weren’t there. Then, your mother figured you was in your room.”

  “You called her?”

  “I did. We’re family.”

  I blinked. “I know, but. . .”

  He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said what I did when you all came to the house. The stuff about your father—”

  “You were upset. I completely understand.”

  “Haven, don’t let them take my boy. I may only be his grandfather, but he is more my son than anything.” His eyes watered.

  “I’m sorry, Pastor Miller.”

  Rubbing his eye, he stepped closer. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Haven. God is. . .what does God want me to do?”

  Not sure if this was the right thing, I closed the distance and hugged him. “I’m sorry, Pastor Miller. I’m so sorry.”

  He held me back. His voice hoarse with sorrow. “Are you sure it was Vernon?”

  “Everything points to him.”

  “But, are you sure, Haven?” He wrapped his arm around my waist too tight.

  I tried to lean back. “Uh. . .Pastor Miller—”

  Something pricked me. A sharp jab, right near my neck.

  I blinked and then staggered a bit.

  Pastor Miller kept his hold on me. “It’s okay, Haven.”

  My vision blurred. “What was that?”

  Every now and then, I could make out some images in front of me. I stayed in his arms, utterly confused and instantly feeling intoxicated. Light swirled. Sounds went in and out. The lobby swayed.

  He pulled me close. “Just think about the Lord, little one.”

  “What?” I tried to open my sagging eyelids. My tongue thicke
ned, making my words came out slurred. “I’m. . .this. . .wrong.”

  “You are wrong, Haven.” He started moving me along. His arm had shifted somehow—to my side or. . .I wasn’t sure, but I was stumbling forward with his guidance.

  The lobby chatter blended together. I couldn’t pinpoint who talked or where. My vision remained distorted.

  “No,” I slurred. “I. . .don’t. . .wanna. . .”

  Cool wind hit me.

  Are we. . .outside?

  Pastor Miller whispered in my ear, “Everything is going to be just fine. God been watching you, girl. And now it’s time to come on home.”

  No. I don’t want to go home or. . .Alex! Alex, help me!

  We walked or more like I stumbled forward, drunkenly. Pastor Miller’s arms remained around me. Heavy and hard. I couldn’t speak anymore. I couldn’t see. I barely could process thoughts or smells. It was like how victims described the date rape drug—distorted memories of movement and senses, but nothing clear. All confusion and oddness with no full control.

  “Too much to drink! Let’s get you on home now!” Pastor Miller kept his voice raised as if to tell any onlookers that he was being a good Christian and helping out the town drunkard. “Lord knows your mama has been worried all day!”

  All I could do was mumble, “Bawha.”

  “No more bottles for you now. Let’s get you to your mother’s. You need to lay on down now.”

  My knees buckled.

  He lifted me.

  “P. . .”

  “Shhh. You’re going to be okay.”

  I made out a car door opening.

  “Here you go.” Pastor Miller guided me down into a seat. “You’ll be just fine.”

  I tried to lift my hand, but no movement came. Shutting my eyes, I slumped against warm leather. I put all my focus on moving my arms or opening my eyes. Nothing happened. It was like I had taken a strong horse tranquillizer.

  The door shut.

  N-o. . .A-lex. . .

  My stomach twisted.

  D-on’t. . .fall. . .a-sleep. . .

  A car door slammed.

  Pastor Miller hummed a song. I knew it, but I couldn’t pin it down. All my thoughts were hard to grab onto.

  The engine rumbled.

  I felt tears fall from my shut eyes.

  Pastor Miller sang out loud, “His eye. . .is on. . .the sparrow. . .and I know. . he watches me.”

  More tears fell from my shut eyes.