Present
Mila Stevenson sped down the main street of Durham Heights, Louisiana at twenty clicks over the limit. She enjoyed driving, and like many things in her life, she liked to do it fast and hard. At twenty-five, she was a woman that lived life to the fullest, never holding back or denying herself any pleasure. As the daughter of Kent Stevenson, founder of Stevenson Winery—there wasn’t anything beyond her reach, and that was just the way she liked it. Growing up in a small town where her Daddy was considered royalty, afforded Mila the life of a princess. A self-proclaimed title that she lived up to every day.
Turning the dial on the radio up to ear-shattering decibels, she whipped her sleek black convertible around the corner and simultaneously slipped into a front row parking spot at Earl’s Diner. Deliberately sitting in the car for a few extra minutes allowed for all patrons to be subjected to her obnoxious display of blaring music, signaling her arrival. A quick look in the mirror confirmed she was picture perfect and she gave herself a sassy wink before exiting her vehicle. Closing the door with a pop of her hip, she sauntered into the diner.
“Well, Mila Stevenson—I thought that was you I saw sittin’ out there. What brings you in here this early?” Joan called out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Earl’s was a country style diner ran by Joan and her husband, Earl. The simple décor of red and white checkered tables and curtains, steel framed booths and wooden tables had Mila’s nose wrinkling in disdain, a look that didn’t go unnoticed by Joan. While not her first choice in establishments, she had it on good authority that Sheriff Brady James stopped in the diner every morning on his way to the station. That juicy tidbit of information was just the opportunity she was looking for.
“Just in the neighborhood, Joan. Thought I’d stop in and say a friendly hello. Perhaps have some breakfast,” Mila replied, as she breezed past the other customers and took a seat at the counter.
Breeding and manners had been hammered into her from a young age, preventing her from voicing her real thoughts—this was the last place she’d be caught having breakfast. She preferred the more upscale restaurants in town. However, a woman never revealed her secrets and being there that morning was all part of a larger plan to capture the attention of the very sexy Sheriff. She raised her brows in expectation as Joan strolled over and set a plastic menu in front of her.
“Hearty style eggs and toast is the special today, comes with a side of fresh fruit,” Joan informed her, not buying into the “in the neighborhood” excuse for a second. She too knew the young Sheriff’s habits quite well. Eyeing Mila, she took in the perfectly polished hair, immaculate outfit and hoity-toity manner that whispered of wealth and privilege. Yes, she was quite certain there was more to the story than a simple in the neighborhood drop in. And she would bet all her chickens that the very single Sheriff had something to do with it.
Mila glanced up at the kitchen, spying the large sweaty man flipping eggs on the grill with the skill of a man that had been doing so for years. With herculean effort, she managed to suppress her grimace at the scene in front of her. Forcing a smile, she said with phony brightness, “You know, coffee would be just fine. Black, no sugar please.”
Joan huffed and turned her back on Mila, heading for the coffee pot, muttering under her breath.
“Here you are, dear,” she said, depositing the mug of steaming coffee in front of her a few minutes later.
Before Mila could form a response, the bells chimed as the door opened. Turning slightly, she caught sight of Brady coming through the door, dressed in the Sheriff’s uniform that accentuated his muscular arms in the most delicious way.
Tossing her dark waves over her shoulder, Mila snuck a quick look down at herself ensuring that her tight fitting black halter top was presenting her breasts in best possible form. Satisfied, she slid off the stool and headed for her target.
Brady, who had stopped to chat with Mr. Peters, an elderly gentleman who reminded Mila of her late grandfather; looked up in surprise when he noticed her approach.
“Mila? What are you doing here?” Confusion was evident on his face as he straightened and quirked one brow at her, causing her muscles to clench. The man made even a scowl look sexy. Stepping into his space, she smiled up at him. She wasn’t short by any standard but even in her 3 inch heels she didn’t come close to touching his well-over 6 foot tall frame. Stretching up on her tiptoes she managed to wind her arms around his neck.
“Well, good morning to you too, Sheriff,” she breathed into his ear, delighting in the shiver that went through his body at her soft words. “I stopped in to see Joan and have a cup of coffee, I had no idea I would run into you here, precious.” She batted her green eyes at him in innocence, hoping he bought her quick lie.
The scent of her skin filled Brady’s nostrils, her lush body molded to every part of him, enticing a knee-jerk reaction to his cock that she was bound to feel if he didn’t get some distance. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of her arms.
“Well, great minds. I’m just grabbing a cup on my way to the station,” he offered her a dazzling smile as he passed her. “Joan? The usual please, to-go,” he called out as he walked to the cash register and drew out his wallet. Grinding her teeth, Mila followed him.
“Oh, you’re not staying? I thought since we’re both here, we might as well have a bite and catch up.” Running her hands over his chest, dangerously close to his hardened pecs, she let her voice turn seductive. “I bet there’s lots of things we could use a reminder of.”
Flashes of Mila rising above him, her tits filling his hands as she rode his cock at a furious pace crossed Brady’s mind briefly, before he gave his head a subtle shake, clearing the vision. Fuck, he thought. Mila was fucking fantastic in bed, but she was as dangerous as they came and he didn’t need any more danger in his life.
“I’ve gotta head in. They need me down there, things have been tense ever since,” his voice trailed off, leaving his unfinished thought hanging in the air—not wanting to bring up the subject and risk upsetting any of the townsfolk. Mila nodded, they both knew what he was referring to, ever since the mutilated body of Ava Marshall had been found on the outskirts of town.
The quiet county of Durham Heights had been rocked by the discovery, 6 weeks after her disappearance. Everyone but her family had assumed that she was just another runaway, but her father had pushed for an investigation, insisting that she would never do such a thing. The anguish, despair and fear that had settled over the town after her body had been found was almost smothering. With each passing day, the people grew more restless, demanding answers for such a brutal crime.
This was his first murder case since taking the job as Sheriff, and the pressure he felt to apprehend the killer and bring justice to her family was overwhelming. The ravaged remains of Ava haunted him. She was calling for retribution—for answers. The state she was found in…Jesus Christ, get ahold of yourself, Brady.
“Right. Well of course, I understand,” Mila’s grip on him changed, her hand resting on his shoulder in a comforting manner. Staring into her emerald green eyes, he almost felt himself get lost. She really was beautiful, but he knew better than anyone that they weren’t suited. Sure, they had an insane physical connection, but that’s all it was with Mila.
He just didn’t feel anything emotional for her in the way she wanted. Besides her fucking seriously hot body, she didn’t have anything he wanted. And as easy as it would be to take her up on what she was so blatantly offering, he knew what that gleam in her eye was all about. She was eyeing him like he was the special at the I Fucking Want That buffet, and being devoured by a woman like Mila was not on his list of priorities.
Fortunately for him, Joan came back over with his coffee ready in a to-go cup and a medium sized white paper bag. He looked at it curiously and Joan hurried to explain.
“You’ve gotta eat, Sheriff you hear? I know you’ve been working hellish hours on this case, but you need to take care
of yourself too. Living off coffee and Lord knows what else, is not healthy for a young man like you.” Joan crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a stern look, letting him know she meant business.
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed quickly, feeling as though he had just been chastised by his mother. He might have missed Mila’s eye roll at their conversation, but Joan, sharp as anything, didn’t.
“Now go on, git. And I better not hear about any of that food being wasted!” Her tone didn’t leave room for argument, and with a quick peck on Mila’s cheek, he disappeared out the door.
Mila bristled, anger creeping over her body. Rejection was not something she was used to and the taste of it was bitter in her mouth. Whipping around, she nailed Joan with a scathing look. The wretched old biddy had given Brady a push out the door—that much was clear from the smug look on her face.
“My check please,” she bit out, fighting to keep her temper in check.
Joan hid a smile and said sweetly, “But dear, your coffee. You’ve hardly touched it, and I believe I heard you mention something about a chat?”
Mila slowly raised her gaze to Joan’s, taking in the older woman’s grayish hair and slate blue eyes. Holding her stare for a moment she said coldly, “I’d rather not drink sludge, thank you very much. And I don’t believe you and I could ever possibly have anything in common to chat about. I prefer conversing with people a little more in my league.” Her harsh words had Joan’s smile faltering, but she kept her composure and took the bill Mila had thrust at her. Handing her back her change she met her gaze full on.
“Have a lovely day, and do come back soon, dear.” Mila seethed and marched out the door, without so much as a backwards glance.
“Lord help the man that ends up with that one, he’s in for a mighty fight.” Joan said under her breath as she watched Mila’s fancy black convertible tear down the main road.
Screeching to a halt at her sprawling home, Mila threw herself out of the car and stormed up the immaculately landscaped stone steps. “Fuck,” she swore as she slammed the door. Dismissing me like a cheap knock off pair of Pradas, who the hell does he think he is? It was a bitter pill to swallow as she wanted Brady back in her bed—back in her life.
The three months they had been together were complete bliss; she’d never had a better lover. Brady was the ideal man to be her husband—she would not fail again in her attempts to get him back.
They were the perfect match and all she needed was the chance to remind him of how good things were between them. Since approaching him on his turf had been a failure, she would just have to step up her game. A fact that didn’t displease her as she would much rather continue her pursuit of him in her own way, in her own element.
Fury swirling around her in waves, she stomped into her kitchen and leaned against the counter. Blowing out her breath, she stared ahead, surveying her home. Meticulously decorated in light beiges and creams, the vaulted ceilings and skylights gave it the feel of being a palace—a characteristic she to slide it into the conversations whenever possible. This house was her sanctuary, one she took full advantage of.
Growing up the only daughter and heiress to her father’s Winery empire, Mila was typically what most would call spoiled. And they would be right. With her mother’s death just before her second birthday, her father did his best to fill the void she left behind with money and material things. Kent Stevenson was known for many things, but a loving, caring attitude was not one of them.
His career driven focus had taken his business global over the years, and a daughter was baggage he didn’t need. Mila had given up years ago acting out to seek his attention, instead focusing her energy on spending exuberant amounts of his money and giving in to her wild inhibitions. Leaving Durham Heights had never appealed to her, why leave a town where she was a princess?
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, she kicked off her heels and padded into the living room. A blur caught her eye through the floor-to-ceiling glass sliding doors, freezing her in place. When she begged her father to buy her this house 6 years ago, fear of living alone never crossed her mind—she immediately had the best security system money could buy installed and called it a day. Her favorite feature was the invisible lasers zig-zagged across the glass, triggering a silent alarm when activated. Her home was as secure as Fort Knox. Come on you motherfucker, just try to break in.
Anticipation was a dark thrill in her as she visualized him or her barging into her home. Approaching the window to inspect further, she peered through the glass, eyes darting around the yard. After a minute, not seeing anything—she shrugged and turned away to head to the couch. Just as she sat, again there was movement outside. Mila could just make out the dark outline of a figure inching along the edge of the hedges. Heart pounding, she grabbed the lamp from the coffee table and with a vicious yank, pulled the plug from the wall. I don’t know who’s out there, but they picked the wrong house.
Quickly typing in the security code on the keypad by the door, Mila slid it open and slipped outside. Armed with the lamp like it was a M20 Super Bazooka, she crept along the grass in the direction she had seen the intruder heading. Fear made her feel alive with excitement, invincibility running through her veins. Spotting her prey, which she now knew without a doubt was a man, a few feet away, she hunched over and raised the lamp. Just as she was about to strike, he moved and she caught a glimpse of his profile.
Gasping, she realized it wasn’t a potential burglar, but Alejandro, the gardener. Her very delectable, foreign gardener. Feeling foolish, she stepped back, giving her racing heart a minute to calm down. Considering him, she tapped her index finger on her lip. He might be just the distraction she needed to release the tension coiled tightly inside her.
Tall, muscled and tattooed—his olive skin and dark eyes appealed to her. Cocking her head, she studied him as he bent over a rose bush, pruning the branches with care. His cargo pants stretched tight over his ass, causing her back to arch like a cat, eager to pounce on her prey.
“Alejandro? I didn’t know today was your day to work,” she called out to him. Her bare feet sunk softly into the grass, the sun was just starting to heat up and was a delicious warmth on her in the mid-morning light. Startled, Alejandro turned quickly towards her, the pruning shears raised as a weapon. Eyes widening with recognition, he dropped his arm and apologized. “I am sorry ma’am, I did not know you were in the house.” He had the decency to look contrite and his mild temperament sent a wave of pleasure through Mila.
Licking her lips, she ran her eyes down the length of him. Oh, this is going to be fun.
“Nonsense. No apology necessary.” Her eyes traveled over his thick build and tall frame, licking her lips in arousal. He was magnificent, he couldn’t be more than a couple years older than her. Her fingers itched to tug his head close to her, to have those dark intense eyes locked on her as he made her scream in pleasure. She was a little surprised that she hadn’t thought of such a distraction before. He smiled at her reply began tending the gardens once again.
“Alejandro honey. You must be thirsty. Come inside, I’ll fix you some lemonade,” she said each word slowly, dropping her voice to a seductive level. Trailing her hand lightly down his arm and back up again, she savoured the feel of his hardness, the bulge of veins. With his shaved head and dark tribal tattoos, he was a walking wet dream and she was more than ready to dive right in.
Catching her lustful gaze, Alejandro knew what she was offering was a lot more than a glass of cool lemonade. Electricity flowed between them like a current, desire thick in the air. Lowering his eyes to her lush tits, he reached for her, breathing heavy. She swatted his hand away with a smirk. “Follow me, big boy.”
Turning, she sashayed into the house, adding an extra sway to her hips, knowing that his eyes were glued to her short white skirt and the way it molded to every inch of her ass. Alejandro barely got the glass door closed before she was on him. Gripping his cock through his pants, she rubbed him up and
down, satisfied when she felt his hard length. Her lips touched his neck as she whispered, “You want to fuck me? Think you can handle it?” He responded by claiming her lips with his, running his tongue along to her ear.
Dark pleasure filled her, soaking her panties in seconds. Pushing him down on the sofa, she straddled his hips, fumbling with his belt as he buried his face between her tits. His tongue made a slow, leisurely stroll over her breasts, seeking her nipple and tugging on it with his teeth. A helpless moan escaped her as he nudged her halter aside to take full possession, his hands lifted both of her heavy tits to his mouth and he expertly drew her pink nipples into his mouth, sucking with the fierceness of a starving man.
“Don’t stop, precious—that feels amazing,” she panted, tossing his belt over her shoulder and tugging his zipper down. Springing his impressive cock free, she wrapped her hand around him pumping up and down. A shudder ran through him, and she relished in the feeling of power it gave her.
“You are so beautiful, mami. Show me more of you. Show me your dripping cunt, I want to feel your heat,” Alejandro’s words came out muffled as he kept up his furious assault on her tits, every nip and suck was a lightning bolt to her core, igniting a fire deep inside her.
“I’m gonna come, keep going.” She commanded, writhing on his lap. The friction of rubbing her panty clad pussy against his cock had her teetering on the edge, so close to her release. Grabbing his hand, she shoved it into her lace panties, pleased when he took her hint and slipped through her warm wetness plunging two fingers deep inside her.
“Oh God, yes,” she cried out. Searching out her clit, he pinched it hard, repeating the motions over and over while she bucked against him. Pumping his cock harder and harder, in time with his finger fucking, she crashed over the edge into an explosive orgasm. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue sweeping inside. His taste and scent were spicy and exotic, fueling her passion.
Her control snapped and ripping her skirt from her body, she pushed him roughly back on the couch. Straddling his face, she watched through a haze of desire as his eyes gazed over at the sight of her pink, glistening pussy.
Malevolent Page 2
