by Tess Oliver
"Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we blow it. Maybe your dad just never fit the serial killer profile. It threw them off." I know the group surrounding us are getting restless but frankly, I could stand and talk to him all morning. "Kane, what's happening here? I know that girl was not your actual hostage. I've seen people on first dates look more terrified than her. What are you doing? Were you trying to get caught?"
His eyes are as blue as the sky behind him. "Caught? No. Noticed? Yes."
"And the blue eyed man is talking in puzzle pieces again. Even sober as a Sunday school nun, I can't understand you." The breeze pushes a strand of hair across my face. It sticks on my lips.
Kane moves slowly, not wanting to jar a trigger happy officer behind us. The eight scars stand out on his tanned skin as he reaches across to push the hair off my face. He makes a point to drag his finger along my bottom lip, staring hungrily at my mouth as he does it. Crazy as it is to feel aroused in front of an army of police, heat surges in my pussy.
"Well, Sweet Sin, it seems my touch still means something. I'm glad."
"Detective Tennyson"—Greene's voice is even harsher through a megaphone—"Can you give us an update on the situation."
Kane is still holding my arm. I stare down at it and am temporarily transported to my posh bedroom in Lace Underground where I sat dressed in skimpy lingerie and leather cuffs waiting for him to come. There were moments when I was near tears in anticipation, waiting for the door to open and Kane to walk into the room.
I swallow to relieve the ache in my throat and breathe in the musty river breeze. There's just enough brine mixed in to remind me that the ocean is just around the bend, the bend where the bodies ended up after their violent fall from the bridge.
"They're getting restless. What should we do, Kane? I'm sure you have your surrender planned to the minute like you do everything else."
Kane nods. "I do. You were part of the plan too. I just needed to see you once more."
"I'm afraid you'll probably see me in court too."
He shakes his head and releases me discretely so that no one else sees. "I don't think so."
Without warning, he hoists himself up onto the railing behind him.
"What are you doing?" I move toward him but stop, afraid it might cause him to fall backward off the six inch wide rail. "Kane. Stop. You're scaring me. They only have scant evidence against you. Just get a good lawyer."
I can hear feet moving behind me, slowly, cautiously, like we're trained to move in on a suicide attempt. But this can't be attempted suicide. I refuse to let it be that.
I move closer. He doesn't flinch. But then he never flinches. "Just get down, Kane. Please."
I sigh with relief when he reaches for my hand. Before I can figure out my next move, he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. He releases me and pushes to his feet. "Remember Sweet Sin, reality is merely an illusion." He spins around and jumps.
My hands cover my face, stifling my scream. Clark's voice is the first familiar sound.
"Tennyson?" His hand lands on my shoulder.
I lift my face and hold back the tears. I'm a professional, but this isn't the way I planned to restart my career. At least six officers are at the railing staring down into the river. It takes all my courage to join them.
The drop seems impossible to survive. There is no sign of Kane.
Clark joins me at the railing. "It seems life failed him so often he just couldn't take it. I guess that's why he led us to this bridge."
"The bend," I blurt and look ahead at the curve in the river. It disappears around a corner that is overgrown with trees. "We should head to the bend and see if we can find him." My entire body is shaking. After the long terrible night, it's one more blow to my composure. I'm finding it nearly impossible to keep it together. Clark senses it.
"Angie, you had a long night. Why don't we let the others finish this? They can search for Freestone's body without us."
"No, the bend. Let's head over there."
Clark turns and yells to Greene. "We should look for him at the bend in the river."
Greene calls back. "A vehicle is going that way right now."
I run to catch up to the jeep before they take off. I climb into the backseat and rest back. My heart is still thumping in my chest as the jeep waddles over the rough road running along the river. It would probably have been easier and quicker on foot. The young officer in the passenger seat stretches his neck up to keep an eye on the river. I roll down the back window and stick my face out to do the same. There is plenty of storm debris but no sign of a person. I know I'm holding out too much hope that he survived the fall but it's too hard to accept that he's dead.
We reach the bend in the river. I'm out of the jeep before it's stopped completely. I run for the bank and slide down it toward the water. Up close, the river is murky with silt and debris. A dead tree juts out several feet into the river. The water rushes up over it like a makeshift damn.
"Do you see him?" I ask the two officers who've joined me on the bank.
"Sure don't see him," one answers.
I tightrope walk along the dead tree to get a better look at the middle of the wide river.
"Be careful, detective," one officer says. "That current will take you straight out to the ocean."
I look up river and down. No sign of him.
"Hate to say it but I think the guy is dead," the officer says almost blithely. "You'd have to be a professional cliff diver to survive that jump."
I snap my face toward him so fast I nearly lose my balance. "What did you just say?"
The officer who doesn't look more than twenty seals his mouth shut, certain he's said something wrong.
"Cliff diver," I repeat for him. "You'd have to be a cliff diver." I hop off the tree. "Take me back to the bridge. Now."
We climb back in just as two other vehicles join us. The driver waves them back. "He's gone." He calls to them. "Halfway to the ocean by now," he adds.
Probably, I think wryly.
We reach the bridge and I climb quickly out of the jeep. The others have cleared the bridge. Clark is talking to Greene next to her patrol car. She has a pair of binoculars around her neck.
"Any sign of him?" Clark asks.
I shake my head and try to look properly stunned and dismayed.
Clark gives me an empathetic look. "It seems he's gone, Tennyson. Officer Greene was just telling me that when the river is swollen, the current carries stuff to the ocean quickly. It's a hundred and fifty foot drop. Just no way to survive that impact."
"Yes, I'm sure you're right. Captain, I'm just going to take a little walk. Need a little time by myself to absorb this."
"All right. Don't be long. Officer Greene is going to drive us back to the helicopter."
"I won't be long." I point to her binoculars. "Do you mind if I use those for just a minute?"
Greene is slightly baffled by the request. She removes the binoculars from her neck and hands them to me. I stroll along, looking as sad and dismayed as I can for a person anxious to get down to the river bend and look for signs of life. I wander back along the dirt road that the jeep just traveled until I reach the bend. I look back. No one has followed and some of the vehicles are pulling away from the bridge site. As far as they're concerned, the wanted criminal just saved the legal system time and money.
I reach the submerged tree and climb onto it. I lift the binoculars to my eyes and sweep the river from side to side. The sun is glaring off the water but the binoculars are strong. It takes me a few seconds until the lens passes something in the distance that is not consistent with floating debris. It's a small raft. I focus the lenses and stare at the raft as it floats farther away. It's easy enough to make out Oscar's gigantic silhouette at the front of the raft. Kane's dark head pops into view. I can't help but smile. Staging your own suicide right in front of the police. That's one way to get them off your tail.
I watch as they get smaller and smaller. Just befor
e I lower the binoculars, Kane looks back over his shoulder. I stare at him through the lens. As always, his blue eyes find me and stay on me until they are too far away to see.
27
Angie
Four months later
I take one last look in the mirror. The silky teddy barely covers my breasts. It parts down middle. The matching panties are no more than a piece of lace holding a triangle of silk. It makes me hot just to be wearing it. I hear the shower turn off. My pulse races at the possible erotic scenarios that will play out once he walks into the room. My nipples press urgently against the silky fabric. My knees turn weak in anticipation. I sit at the foot of the bed and wait for him. I don't need nectar or any drug. Just thinking about him touching me, kissing me, fucking me takes me to the height of arousal.
I've reached a new level of comfort with my life. He's helped me with that. I keep and cherish the independent, tough and occasionally stubborn side of me, the Angie Tennyson side. But in the bedroom, when I'm alone with him, I summon the vulnerable, uninhibited girl I left behind in Lace Underground. When I'm with him, I crave his obsession, his control. I want him to know I'm his, that I belong to him and to no one else.
The door opens. The gasp that's been waiting to be drawn sticks in my throat. I release it on a shuddering breath and stand up from the bed. Water from his wet hair drips on his broad shoulders and runs in seductive crystal beads over his pecs and along the ridges of his rock hard stomach. He is so striking, sometimes I have to convince myself he's real . . . and he's mine.
The scent of shampoo wafts off his naked skin as I near him. His hungry gaze doesn't leave my lips as I hop up on toes and kiss him lightly on the mouth. I kiss his scars. He groans quietly as I drop to my knees in front of him. My mouth teases the already wet tip of his erection.
My fingers wrap around his thick cock. He reaches down and tangles his fingers in my hair as I push the fleshy tip between my lips. I draw my tongue along him, coaxing even more pre-cum from him. My hand cups his heavy sac as I move my mouth back and forth over him.
A deep feral growl fills the room. He reaches down and grabs my arms to lift me to my feet. He pulls me against him so hard, it knocks a chirpy breath from me. He stifles the sound with a heavy, deep kiss. His mouth doesn't leave mine as he moves me to the wall.
He spins me around. I lean back against his hard chest and reach my arms up and back to circle his neck. He slips his hands beneath the skimpy silk fabric. He teases and pinches my nipples until I cry out in delicious pain. He reaches back and takes hold of my wrists. He presses my hands against the wall in front of me. The plaster feels cool on my palms but the rest of my body is on fire with a need to be fucked.
"Tell me," he whispers against my ear as his hands smooth down and push the tiny panties free. "Tell me what I want to hear."
"I'm yours. I belong to you," I say on a long whisper.
He pushes his foot between mine and spreads my legs wider. His chest is warm and still moist from the shower as it presses against me. His hands slides over my belly and down between my legs. I've been so ready, I bite my lip to stifle a cry of relief. His fingers slip between the moist folds, sliding teasingly past my clit. Instinctively, I rock my hips forward to feel the pressure of his hand. He impales me first with one finger and then two. My arms shake as my hands stay pressed above me against the wall.
His deep groan against my ear sends me nearly over the edge as his fingers slide deeper. He draws some of the hot cream out. My knees give way as he slips the natural lubricant into my ass. Before I crumple to the ground, he grabs me and steadies me on my legs again.
"When you're like this, so fucking hot and delirious that you can't even stand without me, it makes my cock ache with wanting you." His gritty voice coupled with the dirty talk makes my pussy tighten.
"Please," I beg.
His hand returns to my pussy. As his thumb strums over my clit, he finger fucks me. His free hand takes hold of my hip and he holds me firmly. The slick tip of his cock teases my ass. I brace my arms and push my bottom toward him. I scream out in pleasure as his cock impales my ass. His skilled touch plays my pussy so well, a second orgasm pulses through me.
"Fuuck," he groans as he comes.
My arms collapse and my naked body is sandwiched tightly between him and the wall. He wraps his arms around my stomach to keep me from falling to the floor. He nibbles my shoulder and neck as our heart rates return to normal.
My legs solidify beneath me again. I turn in his arms. I peer up at him. His long black lashes lift and he gazes down at me with green eyes.
"James," I say quietly.
"Baby." He lowers his mouth to mine for a kiss.
Dirty Shame
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About the Author
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Tess Oliver lives in Southern California, the land of perpetual sunshine and traffic, with her husband, kids and a small herd of pets. Her titles have hit both New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists. Now that you've finished the Lace Underground Trilogy, you're ready for a new book! You can get a copy of her sexy, angsty romance Dirty Shame as a free bonus when you sign up for her newsletter [Sign up here!]
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