As the water from the showerhead cascaded down on us, Eddie walked around me. Facing me, she took my cock in her hand, gently sliding it up and down. I snaked one hand around the back of her head, pulling her closer. I wanted to feel her body against mine. She raised her head as I lowered mine. My hand tightened in her hair as our lips met. I heard myself growl a little as her teeth bit down on my lower one. She swiped her tongue over my lip before parting hers and allowing me in. Our kiss deepened the harder she gripped my cock, the faster she slid her hand up and down. I groaned as my stomach tightened and as the desire to fuck her hard increased.
Before she could make me come, I grabbed her thigh, raising her leg so she could wrap it around my waist. She had to hop a little as I forced her back against the tiled wall. Using my body to support her, I lifted her other leg, then cupped her ass. She reached between us, rolling the condom down my cock before positioning it at her entrance; without breaking our kiss I pushed into her.
I ground into her, slow and deep at first. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, gripping the hair at the nape of my neck. She broke our kiss and her head rolled back, resting against the wall. Her moan was all the encouragement I needed to pick up the pace, to fuck her hard. Her tight pussy contracted around me, more so when I ran my tongue up the side of her neck, sucking her earlobe into my mouth. My biceps began to ache as I held her, pulling out until just the tip of my cock was inside her, then slamming back in and jolting her against the wall. She cried out and pulled hard on my hair, her fingernails dug into my skin.
“More, Mich,” she said, between gasping for breaths.
Without pulling out, I elbowed open the shower door and walked her to the bedroom. My wet skin chilled in the cool room as I lowered us to the bed. Eddie wrapped her legs tighter around my waist, until she was on her back. I took her wrists, holding them above her head and gave her what she demanded.
I fucked her hard, fast, matching her breathy moans and feeling her stomach quiver with her impending orgasm. Her pussy pulsed as she arched her back. I lowered my head, taking a nipple between my teeth, and bit down hard as she screamed out my name. I fucking loved to hear that.
Eddie relaxed her legs, letting them fall to one side as she came down from her orgasm; I was nowhere near done with her though. I pulled out and held her hips, forcing her to roll to her front. I pulled on them until her ass was in the air and she brought her knees up. Fucking Eddie from behind was one of the things I liked to do the most. Maybe it was taking that little bit of control away from her that had my cock so hard that it was almost painful. I pushed her head to the pillow, leaving my hand between her shoulder blades forcing her down as I pushed, roughly, into her. I watched her hands grip the sheets as she gave herself to me, conceding for once.
Eddie exerted control over everything, everyone, but not in my bedroom. It was always a battle, one we both enjoyed; one I always won.
Eddie pushed her ass back toward me on every thrust, my balls slapped against her as I upped the pace. Every time we fucked it was fast and furious, we never made love, to do that would mean admitting some form of emotion, something she seemed incapable of doing.
I punished her, regularly, for that. I wanted to bring her to the utmost point of pleasure, of desire, of want and need. I wanted to hear her beg me to fuck her more, to get deeper, faster. I needed to hear that from her, and when I did, I stopped. I denied her the orgasm she so desperately wanted.
“Fuck me!” she screamed.
“No.”
I stayed still, fighting my instinct to pump my cum into her. Battling with my desire to finish off.
“Mich,” she whispered, rotating her hips, trying to fuck my cock.
I held her still. “What do you say?” I whispered back.
“Please. Please, Mich, make me come.”
The hardness in her voice had gone. “You need me to make you come, don’t you?” I said.
“Yes, you know I do.”
I reached under her and very gently ran my fingertips over her opening, coating my finger with her juices. I circled her clitoris as I pulled my cock slightly out. She moaned. She cried out when I shoved two fingers inside her, joining my cock.
“Oh, God,” she said, as she buried her face in the bedding.
My fingers slid against her wall and my cock, teasing us both at the same time. My heart rate picked up as her hot cunt contracted around me. I wrapped my free hand in her hair, forcing her head up, as I gave in to my need and allowed her to come. As my body rocked against her, as my fingers and cock teased harder; she came apart around me. She cried out, over and over.
My cock pulsed, my balls tightened, and I pulled my fingers from her to grip her hip. I needed to mark her; I dug my nails into her skin as I came. When I pulled out, as Eddie slumped to the bed, I watched her cum drip slowly from her.
After I'd removed the condom, I lowered myself to the bed; we lay on our sides, facing each other without touching. I’d given up wanting to hold her in my arms; she’d stiffen at the touch. At first, she had her eyes closed as she fought to control her breathing. Eventually, she opened them at the same time as giving me a smile that brought a lump to my throat. Always, in that fleeting moment after sex, she dropped her guard and I saw the real Eddie.
I didn’t masturbate, normally. It was a sin to pleasure myself. However, as I stood outside the bedroom window, as I listened to the sound of skin on skin, of gentle moans escalating to screams of pleasure, I found my hand had slid under the waistband of the black joggers I wore. My cock was hard, it always felt alien to my touch, but as I listened, as I peered through the slightest gap in the sheer drapes, my body took on a will of its own. I didn’t want to fight against it.
I wrapped my hand around my cock, feeling it in my palm, and stroked. I hated that I loved the sensations flowing through my body, the tingling over my skin as static coursed, and the fluttering in my stomach. I watched as Mich fucked her from behind. He took control. Just that action had my cock pulse in my hand and hot milky fluid spurt over my fingers.
I wanted him to do that to me; I wanted to fuck her. I wasn’t gay; in fact I didn’t know what I was. I’d never had ‘real’ sex. For years I’d had a plan, and once that plan was executed, I vowed I’d find a woman, or a man, and I’d do what I just witnessed.
I knew I’d be back later that day; Mich had left something that I wanted in the trash.
Eddie closed down; her shield was up. I could hear her armor clink into place as she rose from the bed and headed back to the bathroom. Normally we’d fuck many times, but we were both on a tight schedule that day. As I lay with my hands behind my head and listened to her showering, I pushed away the thought that I should put a stop to whatever it was we had, or didn’t have. Many times, over the past months, I’d tried to bring up a conversation about a relationship. Every time, Eddie would either silence me with a kiss or change the subject. I sighed as I checked my watch. My plan for a couple of hours sleep would go by the wayside as I slid my legs from the bed and stretched out my back.
I caught sight of movement outside the window and strode over. Maybe I’d imagined it, as I pulled the drapes open all I saw was a guy in workout gear jogging past. Sleep deprivation was about the one thing I hated the most when on a case, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go home at the end of my shift and act as if nothing had happened. Maybe if I had someone to go home to, things would be different.
Dean had Jo; they’d been married for years, childhood sweethearts who were still very much in love. It was easy for him. He could go home, and although like me, he didn’t switch off, he had distractions. All I had was an empty house and piles of paperwork for cold cases, live cases, and dead people for company.
“There’s coffee,” Eddie said, as I joined her in the kitchen. I’d showered and slipped on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.
She was sat at my kitchen table with her laptop open, typing away. She hadn't looked up when she’d spoken.
“Thanks, I need it.”
“How’s the investigation going?” she asked.
“Nowhere just yet, well, I say nowhere. Casey wasn’t the most popular student, that’s about all we have right now. It’s frustrating.”
She hummed and I wondered if she was actually listening.
I sighed as I poured a coffee and took the seat beside her. I stared at a file on the table, an old case that I’d never been able to solve and one that I dipped into periodically. It annoyed me when a case went cold; it infuriated me when I couldn’t solve it. It felt like I’d failed the deceased, their family. I had to work hard on not opening it though. Casey, at that moment, deserved all my attention and focus.
“Okay, that’s the full report emailed to you, tox reports, internal damage, it’s not pretty reading,” Eddie said, then relaxed back in her chair.
She picked up her coffee with both hands, as if warming them.
“Anything different to what you’ve already told me?” I asked.
“No, cause of death is as stated already. Extreme blood loss after…” She didn’t finish her sentence.
“Blood results?”
“Other than a small amount of cocaine, which suggests recreational use, nothing untoward.”
“Anything that would give me a location?”
“Her body was exceptionally clean, which suggests she was washed prior to being moved to the school. And the wounds on her chest and stomach were done post-mortem, as you know. I believe those wounds were inflicted fairly soon after death, hence the small amount of blood.”
“So, those wounds were done after she was washed?”
“Yes, I believe so. Maybe he didn’t like how she looked on the cross.”
Eddie snapped down the lid of her laptop and placed it in the bag at her feet. She stood and stretched her arms over her head, her shirt rose showing a toned midriff.
“I need to get back,” she said, as she picked up her bag and headed for the kitchen door.
I nodded as I sipped my coffee. “Eddie…”
She turned her head to look at me. For a second, I saw a fleeting look of apprehension cross her face.
“Yes?”
There was a pause as I looked at her. “Nothing, call me later,” I said.
That look of apprehension was replaced by one of relief.
When the case was over, if it was over, I would sit down with her and we would have the discussion I’d been trying to have for some time, whether she wanted to or not.
I grabbed my keys, phone, and a clean t-shirt then headed for the station. I’d had no missed calls or messages, so I knew there were no new developments on the case. I wanted to study the report Eddie had sent over. She’d never write her thoughts or even try to give an opinion in that document, it would be facts and nothing more. Those would be saved for a separate email.
I trusted Eddie’s opinions, she’d seen more death than any of us, some natural, some not. She’d learned over the years to read a body and beg for the smallest of clues. At forty years old, she was one of the youngest medical examiners in our state, and I often thought the fact that she was older than me was one of her issues about us forming a normal relationship.
“Any news?” I asked, as I walked into the incident room.
Dean and a few of the team were sitting at some of the desks with photographs spread out.
“House to house is still going on, so far, nothing. I’ve faxed over details to all our neighboring forces to see if anyone had anything similar in the past year,” Samantha said.
“Okay, widen the search area. I want to look more rural, somewhere that has, say, a barn or workshop for making the cross. Eddie believes the body was cleaned before it was brought to the school. Let’s also look at industrial sites, somewhere clinical maybe. There was not a shred of evidence on her body, other than splinters from the cross, there’s no fibers, nothing.”
“Which suggests someone knew exactly what they were doing,” Dean added.
“Yes. I don’t believe this is his first kill, so I want someone to go through all databases we have access to and see if there is anything similar. Look at religious killings, rituals, that kind of thing.”
“Can any of your friends help?” Pete asked.
“I’m on to that today.”
I took a seat at a vacant desk and made a call to an old colleague in the FBI. I left a message for him to call me back when he didn’t answer. I wasn’t a profiler, although I’d started to build a picture and wanted some professional input in that.
“Curtis.” I heard my name being called. “Mich,” I hissed under my breath.
The chief was standing at the open door. I followed him after he’d turned and walked away to his office.
“Press release,” he said, sliding a piece of paper toward me. I got on well with the chief but often got annoyed at his clipped tones, his two word sentences.
I scanned through, it was basic, which is what we wanted, and omitted some facts. We didn’t need to give out all the information; we’d already had the usual call-ins from the local wannabe celebrities, claiming to be the murderer.
It was as I placed the piece of paper back on the desk that I heard the sound of running feet along the corridor.
“Mich, Mich, we’ve got another one!” I heard, from a breathless Dean.
I stood, abruptly enough to have the chair topple behind me.
“Where? What?” I asked once he’d gotten to the office door.
“Another kid, he was in a fucking dumpster, but… Shit, Mich, the garbage truck came…” Dean didn’t seem to be able to finish his sentence. It didn’t take a genius to understand what he was saying.
We ran to the parking lot and climbed into a car. Once again with lights blazing and sirens wailing, we headed to the diner.
The area was already cordoned off and the first sight that hit me was a man sitting on the curb, spattered with blood. His face was as pale as the white truck that stood in the middle of the road, and he shook, his whole body shook. Another sat beside him in blue overalls.
I made myself look inside the back of the truck. It was a warm day, and already the stench of rotting food caused my stomach to roil. The sight that greeted us had me want to physically throw up. The sides of the truck were splattered with blood and clumps of, well, flesh I guessed. There was a metal plate the size of the truck, which had started to compact the trash, it was halfway closed and I could see an arm. I had no idea if that arm was attached to a body though.
“It’s a compactor truck,” I heard. The man in the overalls had spoken.
“What’s behind that plate?” I asked.
“Rotary blades.”
There was silence, and then a sob as we contemplated what had happened.
“Fuck!” I heard; one of the sheriff’s team was standing to the side of the truck.
“Don’t touch that fucking dumpster,” I said, as I caught sight of it.
A blue plastic industrial dumpster was left on the ground, after it had been unloaded into the back of the truck. On the front was the name of the diner that we were parked behind. Thankfully, we were on a service road, but I still wanted the whole area taped off. I fired off instructions.
“How does this open?” I called out to the man in the overalls.
He shook his head, not wanting to come forward but pointing to a panel of red buttons, just inside the truck on its metal wall.
Gears engaged, metal ground together as the mechanism went into reverse and the compactor panel rose. An arm rolled forward, and then, what remained of a body covered in waste food joined it.
I pushed another button to silence the blades and tried my hardest to breathe in deep through my mouth. I wanted to quell the nausea without inhaling the smell.
Dean was crouched in front of the two truck operators. I could hear one speaking, telling him how they loaded the dumpster onto the arms. It was only as the compactor panel started to close, and blood spurted, that they realized ther
e was a body inside. Whether that body was still alive at the time, they had no idea.
A crowd had formed at the kitchen entrance to the diner. I instructed a deputy to move them back inside, get details of the owner, and any CCTV, although there didn’t appear to be obvious cameras. I pulled my phone from my pocket, and as I dialed Eddie, I took a look around the dumpster. Scratched into the back was one word.
G L U T T O N Y
I wasn’t at the scene so had no idea how Mich was doing. I could only hope my plan had come to fruition. I knew, of course, that he was there; I’d heard the call over the radio. I’d smiled at the panic in the voice that reported a body had been found. I’d had fun with that one. Dale Stewart, quarterback jock, piece of shit. It had been so easy, it often amazed me how dumb these kids were, how trusting. Hadn’t they been taught anything? He was a greedy cunt, always wanting more. I held my hands over my mouth at my expletive. Mother wouldn’t be pleased. “Cunt, cunt, cunt,” I giggled as I said the words out loud. Mother would say, “Men don’t giggle,” but I didn’t care what she said. Not anymore.
I wondered if Mich would understand the reference, the little clue I’d left him. Casey was a slut, boasting about the men she’d slept with, sleeping around to get what she wanted. Lust was a sin. Dale was never satisfied, always wanting more, demanding, threatening; gluttony didn’t just apply to food, you know. It was an overconsumption of food, drink, or luxury items to the point of extravagance or waste.
Dale was garbage; it made perfect sense for him to be chopped up with the trash. Oh, that would make a mess! My stomach fluttered at the vision that popped into my head. I regretted my decision to not be at the scene when he was discovered, but I had to move on, time was running out, and people were getting restless. I had a plan to stick to, no more deviating. But I was having so much fun.
I watched the truck as it was loaded onto the back of a tow truck, there was no way Eddie, or any of us, could work the scene there. I had no desire to climb inside and pick out the pieces of whoever it was. I guessed a man simply from the clothing he wore, black pants and what looked like a blue t-shirt with some form of logo on the front. The shirt, however, was soaked through, darkened by blood, slashed in places. There wasn’t much left of a face.
A Deadly Sin: An epic dark thriller that will have you wanting to leave the lights on. Page 4
