by Chiah Wilder
“I don’t think I can hold it any longer,” she panted.
“Don’t come.” He pulled away.
Her throbbing mound felt empty. She was mad with desire, and he kept teasing her. Did he want to drive her crazy? He sure was doing a good job of it. “I need to come and feel you inside me,” she whined.
He smacked her ass and she jumped, the sting making her hornier. Then his warm tongue licking her ass cheek soothed the sting, and her sex throbbed like mad. She heard rustling and turned to look over her shoulder. He had another plastic bag in his hands. “What’s that?” she asked.
He smiled devilishly and took out a bright pink object that she recognized immediately as a butt plug. Chewy had put one in her a few times, but he’d been so rough that she didn’t find the experience pleasant. “You ever try a butt plug?” He pulled out a tube of lube.
“Yeah. I hated it. Do you always keep sex toys in your drawers?”
He laughed. “I got this one for you. Notice the color? I bet the asshole who tried one on you didn’t know what the hell he was doing.”
“You’re right on that.”
“I know what to do. If it gets too painful, let me know. Remember, our word is ‘checkers.’ You say that and I stop, okay?”
He seemed fascinated with her ass, so she’d allow him this one time to prove it was worth her giving it to him. If she didn’t like it, she’d definitely let him know. “Okay, but be gentle.”
She watched him slather lube on the pink plug before he leaned over and kissed, bit, and licked her firm globes, kneading them with his hands.
“I love your ass, babe. I’m not gonna fuck it tonight, but I’m getting you ready for when I do. Your ass turns me way the hell on.” He slapped her cheeks a few more times, then pulled on her chain. She ground her butt against his rock-hard dick as she moaned and threw her head back. Tangling her hair around his hand, he jerked her head back and kissed her neck. “I love watching you squirm and wiggle from pleasure. You like the pain, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” He yanked hard on her chain and she cried out, the sweet agony hitting her drenched mound.
“Here we go, babe. Just relax and breathe. It’ll be good, I promise.” She felt him part her cheeks. When the slippery tip of the plug entered her puckered opening, it felt so good. “Your hole is so damn tight. Love that.” He pushed further until it was inside her ass. “How’s it feel?” he asked as he rubbed his hands over her rounded globes.
“It feels good but weird. Like I’m all full up.”
“Wait ‘til you come. You’re gonna love it.” He wiggled the base and her insides lit up like a blowtorch. Then he slipped his finger between her swollen lips and stroked her sweet spot as he pushed his cock through her slit.
“Oh fuck, that feels good,” she rasped, pushing her ass higher.
In and out he thrust while his finger stroked the side of her hardened nub. She slipped her hand under her and tugged the chain, her nipples bursting with sweet pain.
“You want it harder?” he growled.
“Yeah. Harder.”
He rode her rough and hard, and each time his balls slapped against her ass it felt amazing with the plug inside. The scent of their arousal surrounded them, and her moans and cries filled the room as they both neared their climax. Then her pussy and ass pulsed and her wet walls clung to his stiff dick as she burst in thousands of pieces, her muscles contracting, her nerves zapping crazily. As she rode her orgasmic rapture, she felt Throttle stiffen, then grunt deep and loud as his hot streams filled her up and her muscles tightened around him, milking every last drop. Not able to stop the quivering in her legs, she collapsed on the bed with Throttle covering her back as he came down from his own euphoria.
They panted in rhythm and soon their breathing returned to normal. She couldn’t believe how intense her orgasm was; she’d never experienced one of such magnitude before. He rolled to his side and moved her to her back. Smiling, he kissed her deeply. “How was it?” he asked as he nuzzled her neck.
“Fucking awesome. The butt plug rules.”
He laughed and mussed her hair. She reached to take off the clamps but he grabbed her hand. “You can’t just take them off because you’ll be in a lot of pain as the blood rushes back in. Let me do it. It’ll hurt for a second, but then it’ll be okay.” He gently took off the first clamp and a searing pain stabbed her nipple and she yelled out, but it went away as he sucked it in his mouth, licking it. He did the same with the second clamp. “Do you wanna take out the butt plug?”
“No. I’ll leave it in until tomorrow. I like the way it feels.”
He kissed her. “Good girl.”
She turned toward him, kissed his chin, and hooked her arm around his waist. That night was perfect; they’d been connected through passion, understanding, respect, and love… at least for her. Kimber still wasn’t sure if Throttle was in love with her, but the way they connected that night made her suspect he was. If only he’d tell her.
She leaned over and turned off the lamp, then snuggled back against him. The moonlight lit up his face. Even with the swelling, bruising, and cuts, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever met. She couldn’t lose him—she’d waited thirty years to have him in her life. He’d fallen asleep right away, and she’d presumed it was from the long trip and their intense lovemaking.
She closed her eyes, happy he was back and she was in his arms—exactly where she belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Detective McCue chewed his gum as he looked at his board listing the similarities of the women who’d been killed. He was stumped; they all appeared to be random. The glaring inconsistency was that two of the women who’d been murdered had been out of the killer’s usual area. There had to be a clue in that. It’s probably staring at me, ready to bite me in the ass. Damnit! I know there’s something here that links some of the victims. He sat on his desk staring at the board, willing the murdered victims to tell him something.
The women who had been raped or sexually molested had not proved to be much help in aiding the artist in drawing a composite of the perpetrator. The attacks had been at night, usually moonless ones, and the women had been so terrified that all they could remember was that he was about five eleven and had a soothing voice. Not a whole lot to go on. He poured another cup of coffee and went over the facts of each case again.
The evidence they’d collected—a couple footprints and some semen—didn’t pan out either. The DNA results were plugged into CODIS—the National DNA Index System—but there wasn’t a hit, indicating the murderer wasn’t in the criminal justice system, which stumped him more. How could someone burst onto the crime scene with that level of depravity and never have come in contact with law enforcement?
McCue’s gaze stopped on Deputy Manzik. Every time he looked at her picture, his chest would grow tight. She didn’t deserve to die the way she did; none of the victims did.
“Find out anything?” a voice asked from behind him.
He craned his neck and his gaze fell on Sergeant Stichler—Sharon’s nemesis. A knot of muscles on the side of his jaw pulsed. “Nope.”
“The case stumping the big-city detective?” Stichler laughed, and McCue gripped the side of his desk to keep from punching him.
“You want something?”
“I had to talk to the chief about something. I knew being a police woman was going to get her in trouble.” He pointed to Deputy Manzik’s photo. “Men don’t like it when women take on their roles. It’s not natural, you know? Like that woman who works at Thunderbird Motorcycle Repair shop. She’s a mechanic. Now that’s just crazy.”
He wanted the ignorant sergeant to get the hell away from him. “What’s your point?”
“Men don’t like that shit. It makes them feel like less than a man. You know. I can’t think of the word I want to say.”
“Emasculated?”
The sergeant’s face lit up. “Yep, that’s the word. I think women should stick to what t
“I don’t ride so I don’t know the shop, but are you saying Deputy Manzik didn’t do her job as well as the other deputies in the department?”
“I cut her a lot of slack because she was a woman. She was always leaning on the guys to do the tougher stuff. She didn’t belong here.” His eyes narrowed.
“That isn’t what I heard from her colleagues.”
“People feel funny talking shit about the dead.”
“And you obviously don’t.” They locked gazes, both of the hard and steely variety. “I’m busy.” McCue pushed away from the desk and went over to his filing cabinet to pull the robbery case he’d worked on the previous day.
“Okay. Just wondering what was new with the investigation.” The sergeant picked up a muffin from the tray the clerical staff had brought to the investigators, unwrapped it and took a large bite, then ambled out of the office.
Sparks burned through McCue as he watched the sexist man leave. It was people like Stichler who gave the department a bad name. He shook his head and opened the robbery file. After many phone calls, computer searches, and reviews of the file, the detective believed he had a couple suspects in the rash of robberies at several gas stations in and on the outskirts of town.
“How’re things going?” Carlos asked. Detective Ibuado and McCue worked well together, both of them bringing different perspectives to the cases that fell into their laps.
“Good on the gas stations robberies. I’m about to leave to interview one of the witnesses we spoke to the other day. Randy Hillman, remember him?”
“Oh, yeah. He was the one who was bending over backwards to be helpful. I never buy that shit.”
“Me neither.”
“Did you talk to Josh down in the evidence room?”
“Josh? No. Should I?”
“He’s got a theory about the murders. Something he spotted when he was cataloguing all the evidence.”
“Really? I could use all the help I can get. I know not all of these murders are random, especially the one outside his usual area. I’ve been obsessing so much about this case that I can’t figure anything out.”
“You need to take a break from it for one day. I can field anything that may come in. You’ll have a fresher look in a day.”
“Good advice. I’m going to visit Josh and then see what Randy has to say about the robberies. I think a day away from the Lingerie Bandit should give me a fresher perspective.” He picked up his notepad and grabbed a poppy seed muffin. “By the way, how well do you know Sergeant Stichler?”
Carlos shook his head. “Not very well. Why?”
“The guy’s a real asshole. How long has he worked for the department?
“Long time. Before I came, and I’ve been here for almost seventeen years. I think he came in when he was like eighteen or nineteen years old. What’s going on with him?”
“I’m not sure. The gals brought muffins. Help yourself. Later.”
McCue walked the four flights to the basement and flashed his identification to the clerk. “Josh Sender,” he said to the woman. She buzzed him in, and he made his way down the narrow hallway until he stopped in front of the evidence room. He turned the doorknob and went in.
The room smelled dank and musty, and the overhead fluorescent lights flicked and hummed. A man in his late twenties with a mop of dark hair came out. “May I help you?”
“I’m looking for Josh Sender.” McCue shoved a stick of gum in his mouth.
“I’m Josh.”
“I’m Detective McCue. My colleague, Detective Ibuado, said you got some theory or something about these murders?”
Josh’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes, the Lingerie Bandit murders. Don’t you just hate that, when the press comes up with these names? It trivializes the victims.”
“Agreed. So, what’ve you got?”
Josh motioned for McCue to sit down, and then he shared his ideas and findings.
An hour later, McCue rushed back up to his office, adrenaline coursing through him. He headed over to the board with all the victims on it. “I think I just got my first major lead in the case. If this pans out, we may catch this sonofabitch before he kills again.”
“I thought you were taking a break?” Carlos said as he came near McCue.
“No time. You busy?”
“Not for this.”
“Good. We got our work cut out for us.” He rolled up his sleeves and settled in his chair in anticipation of a long day.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I’m banking on you understanding that, until finals week is over, I can only see you for a few hours. Absolutely no sleepovers. I have to ace these tests to keep my scholarship in place.”
“Okay,” Throttle said.
“Yeah, you say that so easily, but last night, the night before, and the night before that, you stayed all night.”
“I don’t remember any complaints from you.” He chuckled, the deep tone making her skin pebble.
“I know,” she groaned. “That’s the problem.”
“I don’t see any problem in it.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” She smiled; she was just as guilty as he was because whenever he was near, she couldn’t stay away from him. She craved him and wanted her skin pressed to his as they slept. He was her elixir, and she needed it like an alcoholic needed a drink.
“You gotta eat, right? I’ll come in a few hours and bring your favorite Chinese food. You can take a break, and then I’ll leave so you can study.”
The only reason he was acting so nonchalant about not spending the night, was because he knew she’d cave in like she had for the past three nights. But she had to study; she’d blown off too much time. “Okay, but come a little later. I’m going to start studying now.”
“No problem. I have church, and then I’m gonna play a game or two of pool. Do you want egg rolls and Kung Pao chicken?”
“Yes, but make sure the egg rolls are veggie this time. Tell them extra spicy on the Kung Pao.”
“You’re extra spicy, babe. Can’t wait for dessert.”
“You see? That kind of talk is deadly to a student during finals week. Dessert tonight will have to be a fortune cookie.”
He chuckled. “Be there in a few hours. If you need anything, call me.”
She placed her phone on the coffee table and slumped on the couch. She was hopeless; she knew damn well he’d crumble the fortune cookie over her naked body and nibble it up. Sighing, she decided to get a hard few hours of studying in before her good-intentioned plans went to hell.
The sun shining through her large window blinded her and she went over to close the curtains. As she pulled them, she noticed a police car driving slowly by her house. It was the second time she’d spotted the car in the last hour. A shiver ran up her spine. She closed the drapes and set the alarm. Taking out a bottle of sweet tea, she plopped down on the kitchen chair, opened her new laptop, and began to study.
Two hours later, she rose from the table and stretched, lolling her head from side to side to work out the kinks in her neck. She walked around for a few minutes before heading back to her studies when the doorbell rang. For a split second, her nerves snapped and her pulse quickened. I’m not expecting anyone. She padded to the door and looked out the peephole, relief washing over her. A big smile replaced her tight look, and she disengaged the alarm and swung the door open.
“Dr. Redman, how are you?”
He smiled. “I was hoping you’d be home. I knew I wasn’t going to see you until your final exam on Friday. I have good news. I found your laptop.” He produced her computer, his beaming face infectious.
“Great! Where did you find it? Did someone turn it in?”
“No. I found it in one of the supply cabinets in the classroom. Isn’t that strange? I have no idea how it got there.”
“That is strange. Maybe someone was taking it and stashed it when they were interrupted.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I watch too much TV.” She opened the screen door and took her computer. “Thank you so much for bringing it to me. I had a bunch of notes on it that I didn’t backup. This is great timing.”
“Glad I could help.” He turned and began to walk down the stairs.
“Would you like an iced tea? I was just taking my study break.”
He glanced at his watch. “I guess I can spare twenty minutes. I told my wife I’d help her with one of the committees she’s on.” He came back up the stairs. “Should we have it out here?” He pointed to the wicker chairs.
“It’s too hot out, and the mosquitoes are awful in August. We can go inside. It’s nice and cool.” He followed her inside. “When you’re dean of the college, your wife will have to be on a lot of committees, won’t she? That’s what I’ve heard.”
He sat on the couch. “Yes. It’ll be demanding, but she loves all the social stuff. Much more than I do.”
From the kitchen, she called out, “I also have lemonade. Would you rather have that?”
“Lemonade is great. You have a nice place here.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“Are you doing okay with your studying? Do you have any questions?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” She handed him his drink, grabbed her notebook, then flopped on the couch at the other end. “Let’s see. Oh yeah, how do you get the formula for productivity to balance out? I’m still confused about that.”
Dr. Redman explained how to arrive at the answer, and Kimber wondered if she’d ever be as smart and knowledgeable as her professor.
* * *
“You might as well give me the thousand bucks ‘cause I’m gonna win the game,” Throttle said as he sank two more balls in the far-left pocket.
“Fuck,” Bones said under his breath. “Just a damn lucky shot.”
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