Otherworldly [McKnight, Perth & Daire 1] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Beth D. Carter

  “I want you, Charlotte,” he said. It was like all the blood rushed from his head to his dick, rending him completely useless.

  “Yes, I know.” She giggled and wiggled her hips.

  His hands encircled her hips, sliding around to nestle against her already wet pussy. His middle finger found her clit and gently rubbed. Charlotte arched her body, practically purring. Then he pushed one finger in, followed by a second, in and out he pumped. She moved with the motion of his hand, panting with excitement, and it didn’t take long for her body to convulse with pleasure.

  “You’re the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered in her ear. He wanted more, no he needed more of her.

  He pulled out his hand and flipped her over onto her back. She moaned as he moved on top of her, kissing his way down until his mouth found her sensitive pussy and lapped at the fresh cream. She tasted like ambrosia. His lips trapped her clit. He bit gently, tugging a little and then sucking so hard she almost leapt off the bed. He alternated with licking, using his tongue to settle her for a moment before sucking her clit once more into his warm mouth.

  Over and over he repeated the process, each time bringing her to the edge of orgasm and then backing off. He loved teasing her, tormenting her, until he had her begging for release. Last night had been frantic, and this time he’d like to go slow, but she was making it damn difficult to stick to that plan. When she pushed up on her elbows to look at him, her eyes unfocused and her lower lip red from her teeth biting it, all he wanted to was possess her until there wasn’t any cum left in his balls.

  He could smell the musky bite of their sex in the air, and it smelled like heaven.

  He sat up. His fingers trailed up her torso, between her breasts, and around to her neck until they tangled in her hair. He pulled her face up and fitted his lips securely over hers, teasing her lips apart to allow his tongue to dance in and twirl with hers. Charlotte raised her arms and encircled his neck, allowing his body to press down into hers. As the hard ridge of his cock settled between her thighs, her legs opened fully, letting him get a glimpse of her sexy cunt. Her labia was a shade darker than her skin, but inside was the prettiest pink he’d ever seen. And holy fuck, so wet!

  He settled into her, his heartbeat striking forcefully against his chest. She moaned a sexy sound that hurled him closer to losing all sense and control. Jonas pulled away from her mouth to trail hot kisses over here cheek toward her ear. He sucked on her earlobe, tracing the shell with his tongue. She shivered and clutched him tighter as he worked his way down, until he settled on her breasts.

  Charlotte arched her back, urging him, and he wasted no time as he feverishly sucked first one nipple and then the other.

  “Mmm,” she groaned, her hips moving to grind against his cock. “I want you now.”

  That was about as much foreplay as he could take. He reached over and opened the drawer on his nightstand, pulling out a foil packet. Jonas rose up on his knees as he opened it and rolled it onto his swollen cock. Then he flipped her over and pulled her to her knees.

  He rose behind her and slid his fingers over her slit, holding her pussy lips open as he fitted himself to her. In one thrust, he entered her, sliding all the way forward, impaling her, stuffing her full of his thick, fat cock. Her pussy sucked him in deeper as she used her walls to milk him. She was so wet that a syrupy sound accompanied each thrust.

  Each time he penetrated further, his balls slapped against her clit, as if spanking her. Her arms collapsed as if unable to hold her up any longer, and she fell facedown. Jonas held her ass up by curving one hand around her waist and the other on the bed.

  “Yes, oh god, yes,” she panted. “Harder.”

  She pushed against him as much as she could, reaching under to flick her own clit against his onslaught, brushing against his balls. The mixture of her hand and his force was simply too much for him, and with a load moan, his climax shot out of him. He stiffened, jerking once, his ragged cry triggering her release.

  He collapsed on top of her, pushing off to the side so as not squish her. He nestled his nose into her neck.

  It took a long while for his heart rhythm to settle and the sweat to cool off his body. He reached down and held onto the condom as he pulled out of her. Then he pulled it off, tied it off, and tossed it into the trash can. Just as he settled and pulled her into his arms, their stomachs rumbled through the quiet bedroom.

  “What would you like to eat?” she asked and smoothed his hair off his forehead.

  “I don’t want you anywhere near the kitchen,” he said.

  “Hey, I’m a good cook.”

  He pushed up on his forearms and smirked down at her. “Not according to my smoke detector.”

  “It’s a love-hate relationship, I think,” she answered.

  He chuckled and rose, holding his hand down to her. When she took it, he pulled her up and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “You go shower in your bathroom,” he said, “and I’ll shower in mine.”

  “Not together?”

  “Bathtub, remember?”

  She shuddered and pulled back. “Very well. Twenty minutes, Detective Daire.”

  “Yes, Miss Perth.”

  She wiggled her butt as she left the bedroom.

  Chapter Twelve

  They spent the rest of Sunday wrapped up with each other, but still, in the back of her mind, lurked Zach. She would glance at Jonas and catch him staring out the window or picking at his food. Then he would look at her, smile, and the brooding spell would be over. But she knew.

  How could she not know?

  Jonas didn’t own any of Zach’s possessions, so she didn’t feel his pull. But there were photos of him stuck in various places of the house, which kept him visually alive, and it made her feel helpless. Of all the jobs she’d had, of all the victims she’s found, this one hurt the most because it hurt Jonas.

  Early Monday morning, as Jonas was in his bathroom showering and getting ready for work, her cell phone rang. Charlotte looked at caller ID and smiled.

  “Al! How are you, my favorite brother-in-law?”

  “And only,” he replied in a deep baritone. “Don’t forget that, especially around Christmastime.”

  “Ah, yes. Remind me again which you prefer, Old Spice or Aqua Velva?”

  “Do you want this report or not?”

  “All right, all right. God, you drive a hard bargain. I’ll buy the Aqua Velva.”

  Al chuckled. “I just e-mailed you the preliminary report and photos dated yesterday evening of Rita Villarosa.”

  “Hold on,” she said and reached over the side of the bed for her bag, pulling out her tablet. “Luckily I’m at a place with Wi-Fi. Just a sec…okay. Are you sure she’s alive?”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  She sighed. “No, that’s not it. It’s just, if this is Rita, then who’s the girlfriend?”

  “Any leads?”

  “I don’t know about the police, but with me I need to figure out why the coroner didn’t report about a wound on Zach’s arm.”

  “Too much decomp?”

  “Could be. But combined with a mysterious girlfriend and the fact that there weren’t any defensive wounds makes me think—”

  “Someone he knew.”

  “Right.”

  “I can’t come to Washington, but I can send you my field agent in Seattle, if you want.”

  “I don’t know. Can I get back to you on that?”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh, Al—”

  “Do not Peggy Bundy me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said contritely. “Sometimes I can’t help myself. But I just want to say thank you.”

  “And?”

  “I owe you one.”

  “Damn straight. I want the Aqua Velva shaving cream as well.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Goof. Say hi to the boss for me.”

  He snorted and hung up.

  As she hit the end button on her phone, a motion
out of her eye had her turning to look at Jonas, who stood in the bathroom doorway, a towel riding low on his hips as well as a towel draped around his neck.

  “Oh good,” she said. “Look, Rita is alive.”

  His eyebrows pulled together as he stepped to the bed and looked down at her tablet. “When were these taken?”

  “Either yesterday or today, not sure,” she said. “So you were right about Degas not hurting Rita.”

  Jonas didn’t say anything as he swiped through the photos. “Did you hire a PI?”

  “No, my brother-in-law is head of Hawke Securities.”

  Jonas blinked at her. “What?”

  “I thought you did a background check on me.” At his glare she held up her hands in an innocent gesture. “Alastair Hawke is married to Holly, and they currently reside in Athenia, Wyoming, the home base of HS. Hey, do you want their help? You know HS has amazing labs, and Al said he’d send his field agent.”

  He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “Being family, you could authorize—”

  “No,” he said, turning away. “I trust my department. I trust my partner.”

  His abrupt departure into his closet, and the stiff set of his shoulders, had her feeling as if she’d done something wrong. But exactly what she didn’t know.

  She’d only been trying to help. So why did his response make her feel guilty?

  Chapter Thirteen

  She waited by the precinct office, watching until Detective Degas Villarosa walked out the front for lunch. Charlotte had taken a risk, not sure if he’d even be at the office or out pounding the pavement, tracking down leads on Zach’s case, but she knew she had to resolve the spirit attached to him.

  He and Jonas were walking together when she approached them. She immediately felt the same pull as yesterday.

  “Miss Perth,” Degas said with a tight smile.

  “Detective,” she answered, shooting a quick glance at Jonas, who watched her with steely eyes. She took a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

  Degas looked at Jonas, eyebrows raised.

  Jonas sighed. “Let’s go someplace private. She’s got something she needs to tell you.”

  “All right,” Degas said, but she could hear the cautious note that entered his voice.

  He walked them to a nearby park and sat on a bench. Jonas sat next to him. Charlotte smiled at Degas.

  “You’re not going to believe a word I say,” she started. “At least, not at first.”

  Degas sighed and folded his arms. “You can tell me how you did it, Miss Perth.”

  Charlotte frowned and cocked her head. “Did what?”

  “How you murdered Zach.”

  She gasped. “I did not murder him!”

  “You didn’t? Because I was thinking of the time line, a friend flying into Santa Fe to console the death of a loved one before the loved one was found.”

  Jonas gave an amused snort.

  “This isn’t funny, Jonas,” she said.

  “You’re flustered,” he answered back. “You’re pretty cute when you’re flustered.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “Oh, that’s mature,” he said.

  “Wait!” Degas said. “If you’re not confessing to the crime, then what did you need to tell me privately?”

  She snapped annoyed eyes off Jonas to address Degas. “You have a spirit attached to yourself, and I’d like to bring it forth so he or she can finally rest.”

  Degas looked from her to Jonas and back again. “Is this a joke?”

  “She was my anonymous tip,” Jonas told his partner, crossing his arms.

  “So you’re what, a psychic?” Degas asked doubtfully.

  “I’m clairvoyant. I get visions from the dead.”

  “From murder victims,” Jonas clarified.

  At that Degas paled. Then, very slowly, he held out his hand. As she took it, cold settled into her chest, and the world disappeared around her.

  Instead of the park in the sunny afternoon, she stood on a sidewalk in the middle of winter. She shivered and looked around.

  “There’s graffiti on the concrete walls. And some walls have barbed wire.” She looked around. “I think I’m in a neighborhood, but it’s very scary here. I feel…threatened.”

  She sensed someone behind her, so she turned around and came face-to-face with a young man.

  “Hello,” she said softly, not wanting to scare him off. “Is this your vision?”

  The ghost nodded, and then he turned around, putting his back to her. Charlotte looked over the ghost’s shoulder and saw a young boy, perhaps nine or ten walking toward him.

  “Who’s that?”

  When the kid came closer she noticed he was a very young Degas Villarosa.

  “Degas?” she asked. “You’re so young!”

  And then his eyes widened and he ducked. Perplexed, Charlotte turned around and saw a gun pointing out a passing car window. The past is playing out like a bad movie. From his belt, the teenager pulled a gun, dark and lethal. He dove to cover the young Degas, bringing up the gun to return fire.

  “No!” Charlotte cried. But it was too late. The returning bullets didn’t miss, hitting the teenager across the chest. Blood blossomed, soaking through his coat as he fell back in the snow. A second later, it was over and the young Degas grabbed the dead boy, crying.

  As Charlotte watched the scene, she felt the teenager appear next to her, and she looked up at him, rising slowly. He pointed and the scene changed to a mortuary where a crying mother and Degas placed the teenager’s ashes into an alcove. Then scene changed again, and now Degas has graduated high school. She went through several more scenes of Degas Villarosa’s life before she realized what the ghost was trying to say.

  “All right,” she said to the teenager standing next to her. “I’ll tell him. You can let go now and rest.”

  The teenager gave a sad smile, shimmered, and faded away. When he left, the vision ended.

  Blinking, Charlotte realized she still clutched Degas’s hand. The coldness and pull had left him. Slowly she unclenched her fingers and freed him.

  “He had a spider tattoo right here,” she said and brushed the area behind her right ear. “Was he your brother?”

  Degas nodded, clearly shaken and upset. “Carlos. He was, uh, gunned down on the street next to our apartment complex.”

  “He wanted to tell you that he’d been watching over you all these years,” she said. “And that he was proud of you, proud that you didn’t follow in his footsteps.”

  Degas closed his eyes, said something in Spanish, and blessed himself. When he looked back at her, his eyes were red rimmed. “Carlos was in a gang who fought over turf. He was gunned down when I was ten. I saw it happen. The—” He cleared his voice and started again. “The cop who came to take my statement was kind and considerate, and that was when I decided to become an officer, like him. I just don’t understand how you knew.”

  “Carlos has been clinging to you since that day,” she answered. “Waiting for an opportunity to tell you he’d been watching over you.”

  “Oh my god,” he muttered and swiped a hand over his face. “Are you for real?”

  “She’s the real deal, Degas,” Jonas murmured. “I didn’t believe at first but…there are too many things she knows.”

  “I have to, um, think,” Degas replied and stood. “I’ll be back later.”

  Jonas nodded, and they watched him walk away.

  “Is Carlos gone?”

  She nodded. “That’s what usually happens when I’m called in to find the body. The spirits finally can rest, knowing they’re found. But every once in a while I come across a lingering spirit who wants or needs more.”

  “Like Carlos.”

  She caught his gaze. “Like Zach.”

  “Zach was always hardheaded,” Jonas told her softly.

  “Then let’s go talk to the ME about the cut on his arm,” she replied. �
��Let’s start finding out the answers. Unofficially, of course.”

  Jonas took her hand and squeezed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Funeral homes topped the number one spot on Charlotte’s list of places never to visit, followed closely by hospitals. She decided a coroner’s office ranked number three. As soon as she stepped over the threshold several different pulls came at her, all from different directions. Usually she had to be in the same room with the object, but newly deceased victims were more powerful than souls who had lingered. Her head began to hurt, and she tried hard to block out the calls, but it took almost all her concentration and strength.

  Jonas handled the details of greeting the receptionist and arranging to talk to Doctor Mark Roozie, the ME on the case as well as Zack’s boss. As they waited in the lobby, Charlotte fidgeted.

  “Are you all right?” Jonas asked her in a subdued tone.

  “No. Personal belongings are here.”

  “Well, this building also houses the forensic laboratories, so there are a lot of items here. Do you know whose?”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “How should I know?”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “I don’t like it here,” she told him sulkily. “I don’t like not being able to help people.”

  “How many?”

  Charlotte closed her eyes as she tried to analyze what she felt. “Five.”

  “Zach?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t tell. There’s too much happening. But ask Dr. Roozie if you can pick up any personal items he left here.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Excuse us,” a voice from behind them said.

  They both turned and saw three people watching them. Each wore scrubs with white lab coats that had the police department logo on the pockets. The leader was a small man, probably around middle age, with graying hair and glasses. Next to him stood a very striking woman, dark skinned with kind eyes. Behind them, barely visible, was a young girl. Her mousy brown hair was slicked back in a ponytail, highlighting her pale features. Her brown eyes were wide and round, dark circles under them giving her a bruised, tired appearance. The white lab coat didn’t hide the small bump in her middle.