“What?” she snaps, holding the neckline of her top to her breasts.
“Just admiring the view.”
Sloane rolls her eyes. “Actions speak a lot louder than words, you know. I’m—”
But once again, I don’t let her finish the thought, springing forward and replacing her hands with my own. Hooking my fingers on her top, I rip the cotton material down under her breasts.
My heart thunders against my ribs, my pulse thick in my throat as I bring one hand up, cupping the underside of the left swell. She sucks in a harsh breath of air when my thumb swipes over her nipple, the pink peak pebbling at my touch.
“Christ.” My voice is strained, needy. Betraying just how badly I want this. “You’re perfect.”
Another nervous laugh, and she arches into me when I smooth a circular pattern along her skin. “You haven’t even seen all of me.”
“Let’s remedy that.”
Pushing her tank top farther down so it rests on her hips, I shake my head, splaying one of my hands across her stomach. I feel dizzy when I shift her back, bending her over the counter, and dip my head down.
Coasting my lips over her, I inhale her sweet scent, reveling in the goose bumps that sprout in my wake. She shivers, her elbows catching on the granite, head tilting toward the ceiling as she waits patiently.
I’m vibrating with need by the time my mouth descends to her collarbone, my lips tracing its ridges, and finally I pause at the valley between her breasts, glancing up.
Her eyes are glued to the ceiling, neck completely flushed, and I grunt as I move inward, taking a nipple between my teeth and tugging.
She cries out, the soft sound making my dick jerk behind my pajama pants, chin snapping toward me.
“Sorry.” I smirk. The crazed look in her eyes makes me feel like I’ve been struck by lightning, and I lave the flat of my tongue over the peak, craving more of it.
More crazy.
A hand comes up to tangle in my hair, and she grins. “Don’t be.”
Kissing and sucking my way between both breasts, I lavish them with attention until she’s panting, pulling at my roots with an iron grip. The bursts of pain where she holds tight set my nerve endings on fire, and I fit as much of her right tit into my mouth as I can, letting my palm slip down between her thighs.
“Oh, fu—”
Tsking, I release her with a pop, a string of saliva connecting me to her as I pull back. I lick it off, making her shiver, and use my index finger to tease her pussy.
“What’s gotten into you, killer?” I ask in a low voice, swallowing over the knot of arousal in my throat. “I’ve never heard you swear before, and yet you’ve done it three times tonight. Are you maybe not the good, sweet little detective you pretend to be?”
She bites down on her lip as I slide my hands up, curling my fingers around the elastic waist of her gray yoga pants.
“That’s not possible, right?” I taunt, pulling down as she lifts her hips wordlessly. My nostrils flare and my fingers shake when the pants pass her thighs, revealing the swollen, crescent shape of her bare pussy.
“I am good,” she breathes.
“Maybe so. But sweet?”
Grabbing her hips, I lift so her ass is perched on the edge of the counter, her pants hanging around her ankles. She hisses at the contact of the cool surface on her skin, but then I’m yanking her bottoms the rest of the way off and dropping back to my knees.
“I’ll have to investigate further.”
“Lincoln...” she says, hesitation lacing her tone, although I’m not exactly sure why. “I don’t know...”
She opens her legs wider, anyway.
My fingers hook beneath her knees, pulling them over my shoulders.
“Just a taste,” I promise, leaning in, my nose butting against her clit. She jerks forward, and I look up at her. “Then I’ll give you what you need.”
I dive in before she has a chance to say anything else, the angle of her legs spreading her apart for me. Licking up her seam, the tip of my tongue swirls around her second pulse, absorbing the shocks before dipping down and lapping at her like a man starved.
And I am.
Starved, that is.
For this perfect, infuriating woman.
Burying my face between her legs, I suckle and tease, trying to imprint the feel of her silken flesh on my tastebuds. The dainty musk of her arousal sears itself into my nostrils, the tang of her essence hot as I drink it up.
Digging her heels into my shoulder blades, she pulls hard at my hair, mewling as I feast. She brings a hand up, rolling and pinching one of her nipples, bucking her hips as much as possible into my movements without slipping from the counter.
“Jesus, fuck. You’re dripping, sweetheart. Look how you’re soaking my chin.”
“Oh, my god, Lincoln.”
Precum bubbles from the tip of my cock as it strains heavy against my pants, my name on her lips entirely too enticing. I want to hear her say it all fucking night.
Scoring my teeth over her swollen clit, I can feel that she’s right on the edge. Tearing away, I sit back on my heels and meet her gaze; it’s hungry, livid, and dangerous, and suddenly I want nothing more than to sink inside her and put the flurry of emotion to use.
“Pretty sweet.” I push to my feet, not bothering to wipe her juices from where they stain my lips and scruff.
“Glad it lived up to your expectations,” she grumbles, beginning to slide from the counter.
I trap her against it, wrapping her legs around my hips, bringing her sopping core to the uncomfortable bulge in my pajamas.
She swallows, glancing between us, then back up. My dick throbs painfully, twitching at our sudden contact, and she tightens around me, gliding her hands up my chest.
“What’s it taste like?” She bats her lashes, and I swear I almost come on the fucking spot.
“Heaven,” I say, once again crushing my mouth to hers, moaning at the way she laps at me, at herself. She rubs a palm over me, squeezing, and I feel faint. “Shit, Sloane, I need to be in you.”
“Yes, yes.” She nods, frantic and frenzied, locking her arms around my neck as I lift her from the counter and sprint to the bed in the corner.
A bubble of nerves flashes across my vision as we reach the mattress, something wary pulling tight in my chest. I set Sloane on her feet, soaking in the sight of her naked body as she rips off her tank top and stares up at me.
Her eyes are wide and heavy with lust, but they’re still so fucking unnerving. So reminiscent of things I want to stay buried, and I’m not sure going through with this is the best way to make that happen.
I’ve only had one taste, but I know already I’m fucking addicted to this woman.
This stranger.
The enemy.
“Lincoln?”
I swallow, and she watches me with a curious expression. Nothing malicious, nothing suspicious. It’s the real Sloane here with me now, not the detective. All her defenses are down, all pretenses forgotten.
It’s just us, and for whatever reason, that thought makes it easier to push through.
“On your hands and knees,” I command, voice low and dark.
She obliges, quickly taking position on top of the mattress, presenting me with the perfect curve of her ass. I exhale, smoothing my hand over the taut flesh, giving a light swat that makes her giggle.
Tugging my pants down, I fist my cock, jerking at the shaft as I watch her squirm with anticipation.
Then, I swear.
“Is... everything okay?” she asks, twisting her head to look back at me.
I pinch my eyes closed, knowing that even if I look in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, I won’t find any protection. I’ve never needed it here, because the only other person who steps on my boat is Gabe.
Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I sigh. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Oh.”
One syllable, falling to the floor with a thud like a lead balloon. Silence eb
bs around us, thick as it mixes with the lust in the air, disappointment a close companion.
“Fuck. I’m sorry, Sloane, I—”
“It’s okay.”
My breath stalls in my chest, and I squeeze tighter around my dick. “What?”
She glances at me upside down, crimson searing her cheeks. “I said it’s okay. I’m... good, if you are? We get routine physicals, and I’ve been on birth control since high school. I’m assuming you are too, but if not...”
“I am,” I say quickly—too quickly, my dick jumping with eagerness before my brain has a chance to compute. “But, I mean, is that a good idea, anyway?”
Sloane lets out a shaky breath, dropping to her elbows and jutting her ass farther into the air. Her pretty, pink lips glisten between her thighs, and I groan under my breath.
“Who cares?” she rasps. “I just want to feel you.”
Still, I hesitate. I’ve never been bare with anyone before.
“Please, Lincoln.” Sloane whines. “Fill me. Fuck me.”
And for some reason, her begging is my undoing. Gripping my cock in hand, I step up behind her, putting one knee on the mattress. A bead of precum drips from me, and I spread it around the tip with my thumb, using my other hand to knead her ass cheek.
“I have one condition,” I say, moving to line up with her entrance. “Keep saying my fucking name like that, killer. All night, I want to hear it on your lips. Got it?”
“Yes, I—”
She cuts off on a moan as I press inside her, my length splitting her open as it disappears between her lips. I watch the phenomenon, sinking in until my balls rest against her, and then retreat, repeating the motion with another forward thrust.
My throat constricts as her inner walls spasm around me, already on the precipice of release. Goddamn, this feels amazing.
Tight and impossibly wet, without a barrier to dull the sensations, I can feel myself unraveling quickly. I place my palm on the dimples just above her ass, encouraging her to bend more for me.
“How’s it feel?”
“Incredible,” she pants, fingers twisting in the sheets as I pick up my pace, fucking her harder. “You’re so big.”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, my eyes glued to my cock as it saws in and out, glistening with her. “I wish you could see me squeezing inside you. I barely fit in this perfect pussy.”
She chokes out a moan, pushing back into my movements. Her shoulders tense, her inner muscles tightening as her release builds.
Sweat beads along my hairline, dripping onto her ass as it jiggles with each thrust. My palm cracks against one cheek, the skin immediately reddening, and she cries out again, shaking as she tries to hold off.
“Already?” I tease, even though my own orgasm is cresting, biding its time. My balls draw up with each slap against her, my breathing growing erratic.
“I can’t help it,” she snaps, her hair falling over her head.
Digging my fingers into her ass, I piston harder, sure that I’m rocking the boat in a no-wake zone and not giving a single fuck. A gruff, guttural sound draws itself from her throat as I drive in and out of her pussy, and she buries her head in the blankets as her body shudders.
Pulling out for a split second, ignoring her angry protest, I pull a pillow over, push her hips into it, and drag her legs together, the new angle making her even tighter than before. She clamps down around me in a vise grip when I’ve worked myself back in, and I reach down, grabbing her arms and putting them up above her head.
My fingers encircle her wrists, locking them in place. She bucks back, trying to meet my thrusts even though she’s pinned to the bed, whispering “yes, yes, yes” into the blankets.
I can feel my orgasm barreling through me as hers begins, electricity pumping through my veins and spreading outward, blurring my vision.
“Say my name,” I say in her ear, commanding through sweat-matted hair. “Say my name when you come on my cock.”
“Fuck,” she peals out, thrashing as she detonates. “Lincoln.”
“That’s it, sweetheart. Take it all. Take my cum,” I hiss, stilling on a final thrust, her walls coaxing me. I can feel the hot bursts of semen painting her insides, searing myself into her flesh, and she shudders violently, coating me in her release.
I collapse with my chest against her back, my dick still lodged inside her, and let out a heavy breath, pressing my face into her hair. Slowly, I disentangle our limbs, giving her back free rein of her body as I roll over onto the other side of the mattress.
“Okay, I lied. You have no issues with follow-through.”
I smirk, staring up at the ceiling as I try to catch my breath. “Goddamn right, I don’t.”
After we take a few silent moments to collect ourselves, I get up and head to the bathroom, wetting a warm washcloth and bringing it back to the bedroom. But when I return, even though it’s only been minutes, Sloane’s passed out in the bed, exhaustion coating her sweat-slicked face.
Sighing, I walk over and clench my jaw, sitting on the edge of the bed and contemplating if I should clean her up or not. Selfishly, the sight of me dripping from her swollen, abused pussy fills me with pride.
So instead of erasing the evidence, I set the rag on the built-in nightstand and pull a fleece blanket up over her, wondering what it was that woke her up tonight.
And when I head up to the main deck of the boat, I wonder if it’s her demons that keep her up, too.
Chapter 18
“Where are you again?”
My mom’s voice floats over the line and wraps around my chest, making my heart jerk with nostalgia; wishing I was back at their place wrapped up on the couch, eating buttered popcorn and drinking hot chocolate while I watched true crime docs on the TV.
I have no clue what I’m doing lately, and the way that my emotions—my actions—are so out of control has me unsettled and aching for the comfort of familiarity.
Besides, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen my parents in person. But life has a funny way of making you forget to make time for family until it’s too late.
A fact I’m reminded of as I watch a couple walk up the front steps of the precinct, the woman in tears and the man’s arm wrapped around her middle, as if he’s the only thing keeping her together.
I’m not one hundred percent, but I’m fairly confident they’re the family of the newest body that turned up in the water this morning.
Floating right next to Lincoln’s traps again.
He should have been the one to find it, most likely would have been, if it weren’t for the fact that he didn’t go out like he should have because I was asleep on his boat.
My sore thigh muscles spasm, reminding me of why I was on it in the first place. And then my heart pinches after remembering how he wasn’t there when I woke up.
Not that I should be surprised.
And I’m the stupidest woman on the planet for thinking that falling in his bed would get him out of my head.
Because now he’s there worse than ever. And now there’s a third body that’s shown up.
I sigh, leaning back in the seat of the car, my eyes following the crying woman as she disappears inside the building.
“Hello?” my mom says.
I snap out of my daze. “Skelm Island.”
“What?” She inhales sharply.
“I said Skelm Island. You know, that little lobstering town?”
“You’re on an island, and there’s a killer on the loose?” Her voice trembles slightly, and I pull the phone away from my ear, my brows drawing in.
“It’s my job, Mom.”
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
She’s quiet for long moments before she blows out a heavy breath. “They’re calling him the Fate Reaper.”
Irritation swims through me. If my mom knows, then that means it’s been leaked to the press. Great.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “You know I can’t talk about an
open investigation.”
“It was in the papers, honey. It’s not exactly a secret.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. “We don’t know if it’s a ‘him’, and they always call them something. The media thrive on fear, Mom.”
She huffs. “Well, sometimes their fear is warranted.”
The back of my skull bangs against the headrest. There’s a sharp rap against the car window, making my heart jump in my chest. I twist, seeing Alex grinning at me and pointing at his watch. “Listen,” I say. “I gotta go. I’ll come visit as soon as I get back in town. Love you, Mom. Tell Dad, too.”
Click.
Alex opens the door, his hand popping out in front of me to help me out. I cringe, not because I’m uncomfortable, but because I feel guilty, worried that if I get too close he’ll smell Lincoln on my skin.
And I don’t want to hurt Alex more than I already have. Besides, sleeping with someone while we’re working on a case is the epitome of unprofessional.
Even if it was the best sex of my life.
My stomach flips at the memory of how it felt to have Lincoln inside me, his breath in my ear, and his body pinning mine, his rough hands skimming against my skin.
“You okay?” Alex asks.
Forcing a soft smile on my face, I shake myself out of the vision and place my hand in his, standing from the car and closing the door. I squeeze his fingers. “Yeah, just tired.”
“You’re telling me. There’s nothing worse than having to stare at an old, crumbling tower and the cottage that houses the town’s psycho.” He twines our fingers together, swinging our hands between us as we walk to the front of the precinct.
“Don’t call him that.”
His forehead scrunches. “What?”
I clear my throat. “Just—don’t call him that. It’s not nice, and we don’t know anything about him.”
He cocks his head as we walk up the steps to the entrance. “Yeah, why is that again? Don’t you think it’s weird we’re still waiting on a warrant to search his place?”
Sighing, I shrug. “I’m not surprised by anything that happens in this town anymore.” My lips turn down. “We could always go to Sarge. Letting Stoll run things still is honestly just us being nice, and I’m getting a little sick of being taken advantage of.”
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