Kray

by Brooklyn Jones

  Kray plunged into me, my tightness spreading around him. We both moaned at the top of our lungs as he filled me up. His cock bore into my core, going deeper than ever before.

  His hips met my sore ass and I completely lost it. “I'm coming, Kray!”

  He stayed still inside me as my body bucked and rocked on the bed. That moment of pure euphoria was something magical. I only wish it lasted longer.

  I came down from my peak and Kray started to thrust in and out, pounding my ass hard. “I love it when your pussy clenches around me.”

  “It feels so good,” I replied. “Fuck me harder. Give me that big cock of yours.”

  Kray picked up speed, his body crashing against mine as he fucked me relentlessly. Every thrust pushed my body forward on the bed. I lost my balance and couldn't hold myself up any further. My head went into the pillow and Kray held me up by my hips. He didn't miss a beat, continuing to hammer his cock into me.

  “I'm close, Natasha,” he howled.

  “Fill me up, husband!”

  Kray exploded, triggering another orgasm deep inside me. His warm cum sprayed out until it was overflowing out of me.

  Our bodies became one and we both collapsed onto the bed together, our limbs entangled. All the adrenaline had been spent.

  “I could do that with you forever,” I said, my heart still pounding in my chest.

  Kray collected me in his arms and we spooned, his flaccid penis against my back. “I won't let anything stop that from happening.”

  I truly believed him when he said that. If we could get past a Raxom trying to murder us, we could get through anything.

  “Are we going to be okay with money?” I asked.

  Kray nodded. “The syndicate won't be able to ask for as much. They'll be happy with whatever I give them which will leave us some leftover. Now about the farm itself, I don't know. We might have to sell the place and move.”

  I settled my chin on his hard blue pec. “I actually have an idea on how to make some more money. Then you might not have to sell the farm.”

  “I already told you, Natasha, I can't have you working in the fields with me. A Raxom female can never get her hands dirty like that.”

  “Well that's not what I meant. What I was going to suggest was a cookbook.”

  “I'm not sure I follow you,” he replied. “How will a cookbook make us money?”

  “It's a jungto and Earth cookbook. Recipes that will combine the two cuisines so both human and Raxom will be happy. If it's a success, sales of jungto will rise again.”

  Kray's eyes lit up. “You think that could work?”

  “With the explosion of Earth cuisine, I'm sure there are a lot of Raxom that would like to incorporate the traditional food. And since I have experience with both...”

  Kray squeezed me hard. “Did I tell you that I loved you?”

  I shook my head. “Not in the last few minutes.”

  “I love you, Natasha.”

  “I love you too.”

  The End

  Razor Sharp

  Copyright 2018

  All Rights Reserved.

  Disclaimer: This ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is coincidental.

  No section of this book may be copied or reproduced without the author's permission.

  Description

  Karen

  I was on the hunt of a serial killer of women and the trail led me back to my hometown. I didn't mean to fall in love. I was looking for any clues and that brought me to the Eight of Spades Bar.

  Trevor Kent was just like any other biker I'd ever met: trashy, full of himself, and a criminal. We barely talked before he kissed me. But I wasn't that easy.

  And more importantly, I had a case to solve. But Trevor knew this underworld better than I could ever know. I needed his help no matter how much I wanted to slap him in the face.

  Trevor

  Karen walked into my bar and she wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. She didn't belong here with her nice clothes and entitled attitude. She was a challenge. A mountain to conquer.

  Nothing would stop me. Not even the fact that she was a cop.

  I'd help her find the killer and make Karen mine in the process.

  Razor Sharp

  Chapter One

  Karen Taylor ran through the hallway of FBI headquarters, her long brown hair bouncing off her shoulders. She rounded a corner and bumped into another agent. A pile papers flew into the air.

  “Sorry!” Karen yelled as she ran from the scene, her heels clacking on the polished floor. She was late yet again for another meeting with her superiors and nothing was going to stop her.

  Karen made it to Room 301 and took in a deep breath at the closed door. She brushed her disheveled hair as best she could and opened it.

  Four old men with varying degrees of baldness sat around a round oak table. It reminded her a little of King Arthur and his knights. A mug of coffee sat next to each man. Karen smelled the brew in the air and wished she had time to go to the break room and get a cup.

  “Nice of you to finally join us, Ms. Taylor,” Agent Brand said.

  Karen didn't even have a good excuse this time. There was no traffic, she didn't oversleep, nor did she lose her car keys. She just lost track of time. It was best not to apologize and just move on.

  She sat down and her chair creaked as she took out paper and pen from her briefcase.

  Agent Brand looked to the other old men and nodded. “We can begin now. I called this meeting this morning to go over the recent murders in Jimstown, Arizona.”

  Karen perked up. Jimstown is where she grew up.

  Agent Brand continued, “The sheriff over there have sent us all the files and we believe there is an active serial killer there.”

  One of the old men took a sip of coffee. “What's the rundown?”

  “So far we have four murders of women all in their early twenties.” Brand hit the lights and the room went dark.

  Karen could barely see now as she furiously wrote down notes. The projector in the room flicked onto the white screen.

  A picture of a young woman with short blonde hair popped up. She was clearly dead. The photo most likely taken in the morgue. “First murder was Teresa Cullen on June 25. Student at the community college.”

  Karen hadn't been to Jimstown in years, ever since she left for Quantico. The community college was being built and had only opened just two years ago.

  Brand put the next photo on the projector. “Second was Jane Warner. Four days later on June 29. Another student at the community college.”

  Agent Brand showed them two more victims. They looked very similar and died only a few days apart.

  Karen tried to sear their images into her mind. She wrote down their names and circled college on her notepad. Each victim was a student. The next one would likely be the same.

  One of the old men coughed. “How are they being killed?”

  Brand put up another picture on the projector. This was a closeup of the neck of the first victim. A gruesome red slash was painted across her neck. “The killer used a knife to make one single slice across the victim's neck.”

  The projector showed a photo of a long knife with a black hilt sitting on the pavement with a ruler next to it to indicate its size. “A knife was left at every crime scene. No prints or DNA evidence was left behind.”

  Karen put her pen up and Brand stopped talking. “Were the knives left at the scenes all the same type?”

  Agent Brand nodded and showed pictures of the knives from each crime scene. “Our experts tell me this is a fairly common knife that could be found at any pawn shop.”

  “Any evidence of sexual contact?” another agent asked.

  Brand shook his head. “None that the local police were able to find. The motive is still unknown.”

  Karen's notepad filled up quickly with scribbles all over her paper.

  Brand turned to Karen. “Since you have ti
es to that town, we'd like you to head the investigation with the local police.”

  Karen was speechless. She'd never headed an investigation before. She knew they weren't picking her for talents though. They needed someone who knew the area. And someone who would follow protocol.

  Brand interrupted her train of thought. “Karen, will you take the job?”

  She blinked once and realized she'd been staring off into space. “Yes, of course I'll take the position.”

  Brand flicked off the projector and turned on the lights. He passed a file folder across the table. “Everything you need to know about the case is in that. Along with a flight to Arizona. Any questions?”

  Karen opened up the file and saw the same photos of the victims. There was also a plane ticket for tomorrow morning. The FBI wasn't known for being patient.

  “I think I got everything.”

  “Good. Let us know if you need any help when you get there. Agent Vargus is here if you need backup.”

  Karen cringed at the name. Vargus had been in her graduating class at Quantico and used every chance to hit on her. He was a complete tool. It would take a lot for Karen to have to ask for his help.

  “Don't worry, sir. I'll find this killer.”

  Brand clasped her hand. “Good luck out there.”

  The rest of the old men stood up as Karen left the office. She couldn't help but smile.

  She was finally moving up to the big leagues.

  But there was a knot in her stomach. She'd have to solve these crimes all by herself.

  And Karen didn't know if she was ready for that.

  Chapter Two

  Trevor Kent sat at a large table made from reclaimed wood. The members of the Dog Soldiers MC sat around discussing the current events that were affecting the club.

  “And what are we going to do about the guns with the Devil Hearts MC?” Cameron Danver, the Treasurer asked.

  Cameron was the brains of the operation. He'd been with the MC for ten years now, working the books, making sure that the club had enough money to operate. Every member understood that without Cameron, the Dog Soldiers wouldn't even exist.

  “Fuck those Irish bastards. We shouldn't even be talking to them, let alone selling them weapons just so they could kill us later,” Trevor said.

  Flash York put his hands up to settle the table down. He was the President of the Dog Soldiers and had been for fifteen years, making him the oldest member. “I know the Irish MC aren't exactly our allies. But let us not forget that we're sitting on crates and crates of unsold guns. The Mexicans don't want them. The other chapters don't want them either.”

  Cameron nodded. “He's right. Our money is extremely tight right now. If we can unload the guns, that would greatly help the club.”

  Gunner Vallen, the Vice President, leaned forward in his seat. “This club is going to need more than just money. We are in need of new members. We lost our Sgt-at-Arms last year and Wilder is going to be in prison for God knows how long.”

  The entire table looked down to the end at the new prospect, Jett Rockwell. He was the only one in the last few years who had taken an interest in joining.

  “I call for a vote on selling guns to the Devil Hearts MC,” Flash began, “All in favor?”

  Gunner said, “Aye.”

  Cameron echoed the same.

  They all looked at Trevor. He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it on the table. He wanted nothing to do with the Irish. But he couldn't go against the club. “Aye,” he said.

  Flash ignored the prospect who didn't have voting rights yet. “I vote the same.” He banged the wooden gavel onto the table. “It's settled then. I'll reach out to Aiden at the Devil Hearts and set up a deal.”

  Trevor exhaled sharply. He knew that this could go very wrong. The Devil Hearts couldn't be trusted. They had been hated enemies for years.

  But he was only a member. It would've done nothing to vote against the group.

  “We have some other matters to attend now,” Flash said, looking to Gunner.

  Gunner had a big smile on his face. His cheeks were flushed from a little too much booze too early in the morning. Gunner had a problem but nobody wanted to admit it. Least of all Gunner. “We've been in need of a Sgt-in-Arms and I think we can all agree that we found our next one.”

  Flash threw something across the table at Trevor. He picked it up and flipped it over to see the Sgt-at-Arms patch.

  “Are you bullshitting me?” Trevor asked.

  “We wouldn't bullshit about this,” Flash replied. He took a long hunting knife out of his belt. The silver blade was attached to a worn black hilt. “The Dog Soldiers MC are promoting you to Sgt-at Arms.” He opened his palm and sliced the knife across the skin, leaving a trail of red. Blood trickled down onto the wood table as he closed his fist and squeezed.

  As the Vice President, Gunner was next. “Congratulations, Trevor.” He quickly sliced his hand and let the blood flow.

  Cameron did the same before handing over the knife to Trevor. He held the blade in his hand remembering the last time he cut himself for the club.

  It was the best day of his life. Trevor had been a prospect for the Dog Soldiers for two years when they finally patched him in. He almost cried at the table as the ritual blood sacrifice began. He gladly cut himself and let his blood join the club.

  Now he was just as happy as he was that day. But he knew he had a ton more responsibility now. He nodded to the other members and cut himself. Trevor watched as the red dripped from his wound and joined with the others.

  Flash smiled. “Let's welcome our new Sgt-at-Arms.”

  Chapter Three

  Karen landed at Phoenix International Airport with just a backpack filled with a change of clothes. She only needed the outfit she was wearing; black pants and a black blazer, the chosen uniform of female agents.

  A taxi picked her up outside.

  “Where are you headed?” the driver asked. The cab smelled like cigarettes and take-out food.

  “Jimstown,” Karen replied.

  The cab driver turned back to Karen and took his sunglasses off. “You sure?”

  She laughed. “Yep. Jimstown.”

  “Sorry. It's just I don't get many fares that want to go there.”

  Karen spent the drive in silence. Her parents could've picked her up at the airport but she hadn't told them she was coming home yet. She thought about it but couldn't get herself to pick up the phone.

  She actually thought that she might stay at hotel. She hadn't talked to her parents in a few months. Karen hung up on her mother the last time they spoke. Her mother wanted Karen to come home for Christmas but she was too busy on a case. She understood how her mom felt but there was nothing to do about it. Some things were said by both parties that they probably wished they could take back.

  Karen wouldn't be able to keep her appearance in Jimstown a secret. Word would get around to her parents and that would only make things worse.

  The cab pulled up to an old Victorian-style house. Tall slanted roof with long windows on both levels. A large white porch wrapped around the entire house. Karen had a lot of memories attached to this place. Some good and some bad.

  Karen paid the cabbie and he grunted a thank you. She stood on the sidewalk, unable to move. “Come on, Karen. It won't be that bad,” she told herself.

  She forced her way to the front door and knocked. Footsteps coming down stairs could be heard. The door opened and Karen's mother stood there with her mouth open.

  “Karen? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

  “Hi Mom. Everything is all right. I'm in town for work and I was wondering if I could stay here.”

  Lindsay Taylor smiled, wrinkles showing below her eyes. “What a surprise! Come in. Come in.”

  Karen walked past her into the entryway and Lindsay closed the door behind her. Everything looked exactly how she remembered it. The wood floors, the chandelier hanging from above, the side table against the stai
rs that held the phone.

  “The house looks great, Mom.”

  Lindsay led the way into the kitchen. Nothing had changed. The white-tiled island, the wood cabinets, and the appliances were all from the early 90's. “It's been a long time since you've been back home, Karen.”