The smirk on his face was infuriating and she wanted nothing more than to smack it off. He was dressed simply in a button-down striped shirt, blue jeans, and Italian leather shoes that probably cost more than she made in a month.
He leaned in. The look in his eyes sent chills up her spine as he growled, “Let me tell you something, little girl. I don’t know what your game is, but you work for me now.”
“Excuse me!?”
“You heard me. I’ll put your ass under the jail if you don’t do exactly what I tell you to.”
“Let me get this straight. You’ve been up to God only knows what in this town, and you’re blackmailing me?” she asked, horrified at the thought and wishing she had stayed home.
“You’re damn straight, I am. You wanted me? You got me. You fucked with the wrong guy when you came after me with your spyware and your ridiculous attempt to be my pen pal. I’ve got money and connections you could only dream of, and I won’t tolerate anyone trying to control me.”
“Yet, that’s what you’re trying to do to me.”
“I’m not trying to do anything. It’s done.”
“You’re doing what?”
“Anything. I. Want. You really don’t get it, do you?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair. “You belong to me now. Every inch of you.”
A battle of wills ensued and she looked away first, gulping audibly as she scowled and tried to think her way out of the situation. Okay, maybe she needed to go about this differently. She took a sip of her coffee, leaving a trace of froth on her upper lip. He leaned over and wiped it off with his thumb, then licked it off his finger with a flick of his tongue. His gaze shifted down to her breasts and he drawled, “I’ve got all kinds of things planned for you, little girl.”
When a blast of heat shot down between her legs, his nostrils flared and his gaze drifted lower as if he somehow knew. He ran his bottom lip between his teeth and spoke his next words so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “You might find you like me more than you think if you give me a chance.”
“I hate you right now!” she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone noticed.
“Good, you’re a hellcat, I can tell. I do love a good fight.” His eyes narrowed as a slow smile tilted his lips. “Ah, even better. From where I’m sitting, you have a secret yearning to be taken. You crave a show of strength. You are desperate to be conquered.”
“I am not desperate, and I have no intention of having anything to do with you physically,” she sputtered with another look over her shoulder.
“You don’t have a choice. Really, what part of blackmail don’t you understand, sweetheart?”
“How. Dare. You.” This guy couldn’t be serious.
He leaned in once again speaking so low she had to really listen. “Here’s the thing, Miss Crugar. I don’t have the time or the patience for dating and since you’ve made yourself so readily available by wanting an up-close-and-personal look into my lifestyle, I’m going to give it to you. All good things come at a cost, of course. You’re going to work for me, play with me, and do any damn thing I demand of you.”
He tossed a business card onto the table. “I expect you to be at this address by six o’clock tonight. Alone. You will be dressed formally for dinner. You would do well not to disappoint me or underestimate me.”
She watched in disbelief as he stood and stepped around the table toward her. He lifted a strand of her glossy black hair between his fingers and admired how it caught the light. That slow smile reappeared, and in the next instant he leaned down and grabbed a handful of her hair, flicking his wrist twice to tightly wrap the strands around his hand. With a hard yank, he tugged her head back as far as it would go, ignoring her gasp of fear. As he leaned over her, a bystander could have been forgiven for assuming he was about to kiss her goodbye, but that wasn’t his plan at all. He brushed the side of his nose along her jaw, then laved the delicate column of her neck with his tongue as a low purr of approval escaped his lips. “Your neck is so soft and delicate. It would surely break with no effort at all.”
Unexpectedly, he bit down on the side of her neck, hard enough to leave a pink impression of his teeth. Teegan groaned low even as she squeezed her thighs together, desperate to not cry out at the confusing sensations that flooded her core. He stood but still didn’t release her hair, instead using it to tug her head to the side so he could admire his handiwork. Another lazy smile, then, “Have a good day, Teegan.”
She raised her hand to her neck as she watched him walk away, too shocked to say a word. As her fingertips traced the faint impressions of his teeth along her skin, she couldn’t help but notice that every other woman was equally enthralled with the sight of him as he stepped onto the sidewalk before the door closed behind him.
He couldn’t be serious. He’d done everything but come right out and tell her he was going to use her sexually and bend her to his will in whatever way struck his sick fancy. No…that couldn’t be what he meant. Surely not. He could have any woman he wanted. He would have no need to blackmail someone for sex. What if he was some weirdo that got off on shit like that?
Maybe he was just angry because she tried to spy on him and he was just trying to scare her. That had to be it. No biggie. She could handle him. She’d just go over there and apologize and make sure he understood this was all a big mistake on her part. She’d stay for dinner and cleverly ask him questions about his unconventional lifestyle, he’d forgive her, and then she’d go home. Simple. Nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d just need to swallow her pride, that was all.
How in the hell had he known she’d attempted to install spyware on his computer in the first place?! Perhaps he had some firewall or some cutting-edge digital scanning software that had alerted him someone was attempting to hack into his computer. When she’d persuaded one of her geeky college friends to do it, he’d used her computer and it had led Thomas Wentworth right back to her. Damn it.
She could understand him being angry. She just needed to admit she was wrong and try to explain to him why she did it. Surely he’d understand. She’d do just about anything for the sake of research for her writing. Maybe he’d just see her as an overzealous writer and they could just put this nightmare behind them and get on with their individual lives. She wouldn’t go to the police with her suspicions about who he was. They’d just think she was crazy anyway.
But what did he want from her? She laughed at herself and rolled her eyes as she sipped at her tepid coffee. What he wanted was to have her under his control. Why was beyond her. Maybe he just felt the need to keep an eye on her.
He sure didn’t look like a serial killer. If he was it must be easy for him to lure prey to his evil lair with his good looks. She laughed at that image in her head, then abruptly sobered. Was she really going to the house of a murderer tonight? Was she going on some kind of crazy date with a serial killer? The thought scared her and thrilled her at the same time.
She pushed the coffee cup and saucer aside. What the hell was wrong with her? She had gone well out of her way to play with fire and now it was too late to undo her own undoing.
Chapter Eight
“Shhh, you of all people know my penchant for depravity. I wonder, my dear Melanie, do you think I was born like this?” The smirk on Charles’ face made it clear he was having fun playing with his favorite toy.
She could only nod her head and mumble an unintelligible response. Her hands were tied above her head and the gag in her mouth was far too tight to allow her to make any sounds other than animalistic moans and groans.
“It must have been such a surprise when I captured you and showed you that the same deviant nature resided within you. I’ll never forget how horrified you looked when I showed you the evidence of your desire for me, glistening there on my finger. Just like now.” He slid his fingertip through her slick folds and held his finger up to demonstrate his point. “After me, there was no one else. Isn’t that right?” he asked as he twirled the knife e
ffortlessly between his fingers, then lowered it to the apex of her thighs.
Another frantic nod. She shivered as he ran the tip of the sharpened knife over her porcelain skin of her inner thigh. “You still fucking love it so much, don’t you? Now, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Don’t move, no matter how good it feels. We both know I keep my knives razor sharp. And your skin is so very, very soft.”
His cock was almost painfully swollen and rigid from seeing the sharp edge of fear in her eyes. He fed off that fear and so did she, devouring the aphrodisiac effects of it like a delicacy. They were each other’s escape from the wickedness and brutality of the twisted world they had created together.
He tossed the knife onto the bedside table, folded her legs back, and rammed his cock home in a single, commanding thrust. Her eyelids fluttered in pleasure as he nearly split her in two with the force of his possession. If she could let him climb deep inside her and take over every cell in her body, she would. Even after so many years together, she craved him and couldn’t get enough of him. Truth be told, they couldn’t get enough of each other.
His thrusts became more urgent until she could no longer resist the relentless coiling that tightened her lower abdomen. With a ragged cry of pleasure she came, pumping her hips hard against his as the climax rolled through her body. The two lovers locked eyes. His movements became erratic as his neck flushed and his jaw clenched in anticipation of that final, lunging thrust. With a snarl that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he went rigid and poured himself deep within her.
They collapsed into each other’s arms. He reached up and easily released her wrists from the restraints and removed the gag as he kissed her lips.
‘I’ll never tire of having you under my control,” he murmured as he ran his hand over her flat stomach and slid his fingertips through her folds, gathering his semen from her inner thighs. Some he pushed back inside her where it belonged, and the rest he massaged into her skin, marking her with the very essence of himself.
“And I’ll never tire of being under your control, my love.”
“I hate to change the subject, but what’s your take on this killer?” he asked on a deep exhale, lazily lifting his head and looking at her through hooded eyes.
“Charles, we could know the man and not even realize it. It’s obvious he’s into kink. He could be mixing with the fetish community and no one would have any idea. It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal has used kink to find victims. It’s the perfect venue for finding someone who’s looking for adventure and the chance to take risks. You have to admit, it draws its share of weirdos too. Criminals see it as a way to pick up novices. You’re talking about websites that promote submission. A psychopath can easily find some naïve creature and use her submission as an excuse for abuse, and then convince her that it’s just part of the lifestyle.”
“Maybe we should go to some kink events ourselves and scout them out. See if anybody there raises any red flags.”
“We haven’t discussed contacting Agent Turner.” Agent David Turner was an FBI agent who walked a fine line between upholding the law and understanding the vigilantes’ killing sprees. Black Rose had been surprised when the FBI agent had seemed to be turning a blind eye a few years back. He had been able to see a difference in the agent over the years. Perhaps years of bureaucratic bullshit had taken their toll on him. Turner had started out following every rule, only to find that when he needed support the only person there for him had been his longtime partner and lover, Rene.
“I worry about that, Charles. The bond you and Turner share is odd. I just don’t know which way he would go if push came to shove. You can’t take years of training and act as if they don’t exist. I think there’s a part of him that wants to see serial killers off the streets at any cost. If he blatantly knew we killed someone I wouldn’t trust him to hide it for us. Once a cop, always a cop. I won’t risk losing you. There’s an event at one of the gay bars downtown tonight. I think we should check that out and deal with this on our own if at all possible.”
“Okay.” He leaned over, gripping her arm. His eyes were intense and seemed to bore right through her. “I don’t want you out of my sight. Do you understand me?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m going to be sitting right there, being deliciously entertained.”
“Ah, I forgot about your love for the drag queens.”
“Hey, if it hadn’t been for the girls I wouldn’t have had babysitters as a kid. You know I love my drag queens and it’s been forever since I’ve seen the Queen Bee.”
“Well, a date it is then, my love. Sleep now. I’ll wake you in plenty of time to get ready.” He kissed her on the forehead, grateful for another day with the love of his life.
As he listened to her steady breathing next to him, he contemplated what lay ahead. Each serial killer had their own signature; a unique way to alert the public to their conquests. They needed an identity to set them apart from all those who had gone before them or would come after them. They usually had quite an ego, carrying a sense of pride in the minute details of their killings. For Charles Wentworth and his wife Melanie, that arrogance could be just the thing to cause the Mummy Man to make a mistake. He was leaving a trail of clues for them without even realizing it.
Chapter Nine
“Queenie, girl, are you excited about debuting your new routine tonight?” Goldie asked as she leaned against the wall next to the main stage at the club. It was quiet. A few employees were milling around but customers wouldn’t be arriving for a couple of hours.
“You know it. I’m gonna set this room on fire tonight with what I’ve got planned. I just got a call from my girl Melanie, and she’s coming to see me tonight.”
“Squee!” Goldie clapped her hands and lightly bounced up and down. “Baby, I’m so excited for you! Your bestie is coming to see you.” She flicked her signature gold hair over her shoulder dramatically as they turned to walk together down the hall that led to the backstage area.
“You know she never lets me down. And she’s bringing that hot husband of hers with her.”
“Ooh, that man just oozes class.”
“And sex.”
“That, too. He looks like he should be on the cover of a magazine.”
“Are you kidding? He looks like he should be starring in a porn flick,” she said laughingly as she thought of the gorgeous man Melanie was married to.
“You are so bad,” Goldie giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.
“You know it’s true. I bet that man’s a stallion. Anyway, he was in the background telling me we need to be careful. That Mummy Man asshole is still on the loose and they’re worried that he might be hitting up bars that cater to folks who prefer a little something special in their entertainment.” Queenie stopped at the dressing room door, resting a perfectly manicured hand on the doorknob. “Well, that little son of a bitch better not come after any of us or I’ll be mummifying his ass.”
Both girls laughed and headed into the dressing room to start getting ready for the evening’s show. The wall was taken up with a long, lighted mirror and an extended vanity countertop. Pink salon chairs were positioned in a tidy row in front of the impressive vanity, and elaborate totes filled with makeup were scattered along its length.
Goldie looked at Queen Bee in the mirror as they applied their makeup. Her own look was pretty outlandish compared to her friend’s softer, more natural appearance. Goldie lived up to her name with glimmering highlights that gave her hair a metallic sheen, and gold nail polish on her carefully manicured nails. Even her eyes were a distinctive cognac brown that practically glowed under the stage lights or when she was feeling emotional.
On the other hand, Queen Bee’s beauty wasn’t dependent on artifice beyond the usual cosmetics to enhance her features. Her long blonde hair had subtle auburn undertones. Her eyes were green but when she was onstage she sometimes wore contact lenses of blue or, when she was really working it, a soft lavender shade reminisce
nt of Elizabeth Taylor.
“What music are you using tonight?” Goldie asked as she eyed her special tube of gold lipstick. She was considering doing her James Bond review tonight, and the audience loved how the gold lipstick shimmered during her Goldfinger routine; at least, that’s what she’d been told by her adoring fans.
“‘It’s Raining Men’, of course, and I don’t know what else. Not sure yet.” Queen Bee lifted her chin and tilted her head from side to side as she looked in the mirror, checking the blending of her foundation along her jawline.
“I knew you’d do that one. Don’t you just love it when the club is full and it really is raining men?”
“You know I do, especially when it’s raining their hard-earned cash.” They both laughed at the thought of all the men they bewitched from the stage every night. The men came in search of a fantasy girl, and Goldie and Queen Bee were more than happy to accommodate them.
“Well, hey there, girls.” Jasmine strolled in and took the seat closest to the door, tucking her layered red hair behind her ears. “I had to get away from that bar.” Jasmine fanned herself with her hand. “I swear, I’m having a hot flash, honey.”
“It’s the hormones, girl.”
“Well, I can’t transition without them. All that counseling I have to go through is ridiculous, too. I don’t need anyone to tell me who I am. I’ve known I was a woman trapped in a man’s body since I was a child and I don’t need some damn doctor getting inside my head to tell me that.”
“You and the rest of us, baby,” Queen Bee said with a soft smile. “I’m a year in myself. All the hormones and counseling? It’s no fun. But it’ll all be worth it, ladies. I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m finally feeling like…me. You know?” Queen Bee looked over her shoulder. “Now, what happened out there?”
“All they’re talking about on the news is that Mummy Man killer. It makes me nervous. Then everybody at the bar picks up on it and starts talking about it.” Jasmine’s eyes became shiny. She blinked hard and cleared her throat as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. “It’s just scary, that’s all. The longer I sit around and listen to that shit, the more I worry that he may come here. Who knows, he could be sitting out there any night of the week, just watching the stage and picking out his next victim.”
Mommy's Dearest (Black Rose Book 3) Page 3
