Nicholas
Having dinner with a serial killer was an unnervingly pleasant experience. We limited our conversation to architecture and construction, but I made a point to complain about being out of shape. He offered vaguely helpful advice and hid well the feeling of superiority. It was useful to appear weak in front of certain murderers. It was one of my favorite techniques to get them to make mistakes.
My own interaction with Skye bothered me a lot more. She was too good at pretending to be my daughter. When she talked to Dvorak there were no traces of flirting in her voice or her body language for the most part. She appeared innocent, oblivious that a man might want more from her than a running partner. Whenever she talked to me, my mind was clouded and I couldn't even tell if she was flirting or if she was just more relaxed around me. It made me feel dirty that my body reacted in such a deeply sexual way to her behavior.
I realized how tense I was only when she excused herself to go the toilet. A half forgotten memory arose - the tension I experienced during first dates in high school. I remembered the dread that the cute cheerleader would see the weirdness underneath my mask. I did well in high school because of an innate talent for basketball. It helped me cover up how much I read, how smart I was and how strange I was. It helped me cover up that my family life was a nightmare.
Anna Dvorak brought our dessert and Skye showed up soon after. For someone who had been in the bathroom for over fifteen minutes, her makeup was not looking great. Whatever she had done, she had not powdered her nose. Her ponytail wasn't as sleek as it had been at the beginning of the evening and if I looked closely enough, I'd say that her mascara was smudged.
"Are you ok?" I asked.
Her eyes welled up when she looked up at me.
"Mom used to love tiramisu," she said.
I reached out to her across the table and squeezed her hand. My eyes lingered on my fake wedding ring.
"My wife passed away recently," I told Leonard Dvorak.
"My deepest sympathies. I know how hard it can be. I lost my wife, too."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Nick said.
I let go of Skye's hand. She returned to her desert, and I started on mine.
"If you don't mind, I have to retire for the night. Thank you for the company, and, again, welcome to the neighborhood," Dvorak said.
We watched him talk to his daughter before leaving.
"I planted the tracking device on his car," Skye said when he was gone.
"That's great. No one saw you, right?"
She rolled her eyes and spoke in an exasperated whisper.
"Yes, Dad, I'm sure that no one saw me."
She sounded so disrespectful, I had the urge to put her across my lap and spank her. The thought started in annoyance and ended in arousal. I did not need to think about spanking my young colleague. I couldn't wait to be back inside the house where I could stop pretending to be her father. I needed a cold beer and a game on TV to clear my head of any such images.
"My turn to pick what we watch," I said.
"Ok. What do you want?"
That was a loaded question. Unlike her behavior around Dvorak, I couldn't tell if she was coming on to me or not.
"There's a baseball game I want to see."
Baseball was supposed to be a safe choice. She clearly didn't enjoy the sport so she mostly squirmed on the couch making me constantly aware of her body. The idea of putting her over my knee and spanking her was gaining momentum. That way she'd have a reason not to sit quietly in her spot and I'd release some of my frustration. The thought of her body squirming in my lap and under my hands ruined the game for me.
The next morning when she went out for her jog, I stayed glued to the window with the phone in my hand until I saw her come back. It didn't get any easier the next day or the day after that. I learned to live in a state of arousal and frustration, but I couldn't learn to live with the tension of knowing she was alone with a murderer.
Chapter 14 Poking a sleeping dragon
Skye
After a whole week with nothing happening, I was losing my patience. It did not help that the more time passed, the worse I got at controlling my arousal. Note to self - have sex before you go undercover! It probably wasn’t worth turning into a rule. I wasn't horny because I was undercover. I was horny because I spent time with the first man I found insanely attractive.
"Woods, we have to do something to provoke this guy. Renting this place costs the city a month more than I make in a year. They won't let us go on for too long."
"We can't-"
"I'm not talking about framing him or anything like that, for God's sake," I interrupted him. "But sometimes there are months between murders, and we don't have that sort of time. If he were to become… interested in someone he shouldn't… Maybe because she lives too close and he'd be the prime suspect…"
"That is exactly the sort of thing I don't want to happen," he said severely.
"He won't come after me. You're here, his whole life is here. The risk would be too high. But he would go out again."
"What if he kills someone because of you?"
"Hey, I could parade naked in front of him and that still wouldn't be an excuse to kill someone," I answered irritably. "Better he tries to do something when we're ready than in a few months when we're no longer watching him."
His shoulders slumped. I read cases in which he put himself out there as bait for monsters. I knew that there had been a few occasions when he hadn't been able to stop another murder happening during his investigations, sometimes caused by the questions they asked during an investigation. If he felt guilty for any of those, he was an idiot. I wasn't going to feel guilty that a monster acted according to his nature, no matter what my role was in the process.
We went to dinner with Leo Dvorak, like we did most evenings. And just like all the times we were at dinner, he and Woods talked about so many incredibly uninteresting things.
I looked around at the other tables, and a hot young man who stared at me caught my attention. He was handsome, tall and lean, with thick black hair arranged in that new urban chic that came right off the cover of trendy magazines. His eyes roamed over me and I relished the low-level tingling over my skin. I smiled back and I wasn't disappointed. His gaze heated up a few degrees and the smile widened. Nothing about him was making me uncomfortable. Not even the fact that he was probably younger than me.
The other reaction I got pleased me even more. Leo's attention slipped from his conversation with "my dad". He tracked the source of my smile to the handsome boy on his right. Woods had a similar, but much more understated reaction. I didn't worry about him. Whatever he did, it was an act and I didn't worry about him giving off the wrong signals. His undercover experience far surpassed mine.
I excused myself from the table, but instead of going to the bathroom I went out on the restaurant's terrace. The young man showed up right after me.
"Glad to see new faces in Gracenote," he said. "And such pretty faces."
"I'll be sure to tell my dad that you think his face is pretty. He doesn't seem convinced when I tell him."
He chuckled and proffered his hand. "I'm Alex. Welcome to the neighborhood."
"Sophia. You're like the third person my age I've seen since we got here. What's the deal?"
"Most people our age can't afford this place."
"How about you then? Are you an internet millionaire or something equally shameless?"
"Nah, I'm the exception. Actually I'm house sitting for an internet millionaire."
"So, no job? You're paid to live in someone else's house?"
"I'm a writer. Not that it pays the bills."
"Ah, an artist," I said and laughed.
The high throaty laughter was such an obvious signal, I worried I might have overdone it. Or maybe not.
"I can show you the house, if you allow me to escort you back to your place."
Woods was not going to like that. More importantly, Leo Dvorak was not going
to like that.
When I got back at the table with a mysterious smile on my face, I was pleased to note a change in Leo's behavior. It wasn't much, but it meant I got under his skin. He left our table more abruptly than he used to.
"I'm going to come home a little later tonight," I said.
"Be there by nine or I'll have to come looking for you."
He didn't sound happy. He never looked happy when I left for my morning jog. It was a little insulting to see how little faith he had in my abilities.
*
The make out session started with an innocent peck on the cheek.
"Good night, Alex," I said, carefully brushing his cheek with my lips as I said it. He put an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. When he turned his head, I didn't hesitate. I met his lips with mine and things began to heat up.
His lips were soft and his body was hard. Muscles moved under the shirt so beautifully I couldn't help myself. My hand sneaked under his shirt and I started tracing the contours of his high relief abs. Sometime at the beginning of the kiss I had moved to the best spot on our front porch where we could be seen from across the street. The lamp shot a web of yellow light over us. From that spot I couldn't see Dvorak's house, but I was sure he was watching and despite himself he couldn't take his eyes from my body and Alex's, from our limbs that snaked around each other. What would be the harm into having sex with Alex that night? Not on the veranda of course. Up in my room. A few feet away from Nicholas Woods.
Alex's hand was on my breast. I whimpered dutifully when he found my nipple through the t-shirt. I was somewhat aroused by his touches, but a wave of pleasure came crashing at the sudden thought of how it would feel to do this with Nicholas Woods. I didn't know how it came into my mind, but there I was, imagining Nick's mouth on the hollow of my throat. His beard scratching my skin. His hands touching the inside of my thighs. I got myself under control sharpish. I wasn't going to have sex with a guy a couple of years younger than me who was just eye candy, and I was certainly not going to think of my temporary partner/professional idol as a sex toy to kink up my pleasure.
The porch light came on and I pushed Alex away a split second before the front door opened. Woods looked scary as hell, all six feet four inches of him, his massive frame almost as wide as the door. He was wearing unflattering dark clothes that made him look like a grizzly bear on its rear feet.
"Hi Dad," I said in a squeaky voice. "This is Alex, he walked me home."
"Good evening, Sir," Alex said and to his credit he took a step toward the door. "I'm Alex Fielding. I live a few houses down the street," he offered his hand expecting a polite handshake.
Woods looked at his hand with distaste then he looked at me.
"You're late."
"Technically, I got here in time," I said, but my voice faltered.
The look in his eyes worried me a little. It was more intense than I expected. We talked about him pretending to be overbearing and controlling, but I expected to be able to tell that he was acting. It finally made sense why so many suspects ended up betraying themselves around him. I thought I was a good character actor, but he was a veteran of the game.
"Gotta go, Alex. See you."
I slunk inside the house, squeezing past Woods who hadn't moved from the door. I tried to get my bearings, to step out of character and be detective Walker. He said we shouldn't be in character all the time and right then, I didn't want him to be in character. It scared me.
Chapter 15 Daddy
Nicholas
I knew she was playing a role. I knew that she was kissing the boy outside the front door for Dvorak to see her. I knew she was acting and even if she wasn't, I had no right to be jealous. And I also knew I didn't care. All I wanted was for her to get inside the house.
"What was that?" I asked as soon as she stepped inside.
"What?" she asked sounding genuinely surprised. "Oh, the kissing. Well, we talked about nudging him a little."
"That was not what we agreed you should do," I said through clenched teeth.
"I improvised."
She sounded so casual, as if it was the natural thing to do.
"Did you like it?"
It was a stupid thing to ask because I knew the truth. I could read her body all too easily. Her pupils were small as pinholes, and her breathing was even. She reacted more intensely whenever I touched her accidentally, but right there and then, it didn't matter to me whether she had liked it or not. She had let that boy touch her, and it drove me crazy. It burned inside me, unreasonable and intense like wildfire. I towered over her. She was looking at me as if she didn't understand the question. I obligingly elaborated.
"Did you like kissing that boy? Did you like feeling his clumsy little hands pawing all over you? Did you want his clumsy pencildick inside you?"
I heard myself crossing the line. I heard her sharp intake of breath. I couldn't remember why I should care about any of that. There was no line, no reason to stop. I saw the red in her cheeks and I read fear in her body language. Fear looked good on her.
Her lips were bright red and swollen from kissing another man. I cupped her cheek and brushed my thumb harshly over her lips. This time I didn't want to brush away a few grains of sugar, I wanted to erase a rival's kisses. A sliver of reason told me that I was touching detective Walker inappropriately. One word from her at this moment could have still stopped me. The last remnant of my professionalism flew away when I saw the black expanding in her scotch colored irises. She was not speaking, not even breathing, every muscle in her lithe body tensed. When I pressed my lips against hers, she parted them willingly, eagerly, submitting to my kiss with reckless abandonment. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me deeper into her. My tongue plundered the sweet depths of her mouth and the more I took, the more she offered herself to me. I hadn't kissed anyone like that my whole life. I was drowning in sensations. My desire grew louder, lust like I had never allowed myself to feel flooded my body and all I wanted was to possess her.
I had no idea how we made it upstairs. All I knew was that we were in my room and she had taken off her top. That was a miracle into itself because I hadn't stopped kissing her from the first moment my lips touched hers. I didn't know when our roles had reversed, but I was the one being walked backwards into my own narrow bed. She straddled me confidently. The position gave me perfect access to her breasts. They fit deliciously into my palms, making me wish I had longer fingers to be able to get a hold of their luscious volume. I squeezed them and she threw her head back, in a silent roar of desire. I took advantage of the temporary freedom from her burning kisses to latch my mouth onto one of her breasts while rolling the nipple of the other one between thumb and forefinger. She clamped her legs tighter around me and rocked against my body. The layers of clothes between us didn't dampen the sensation. I grew harder and my sanity faded away. I wanted to bury my cock inside her up to the hilt.
I flipped her on her back and began grinding my arousal between her legs. Her breathy moans drove me beyond reason.
"Oh, yes, God!"
I unbuttoned my shirt with clumsy fingers and nearly came in my jeans when her nipples grazed my bare chest. I pressed her deeper into the mattress trying to satisfy the deep craving her body inspired in me. Her legs were now locked behind me, their pressure increasing, curtailing my range of motions. Her hand reached between us and for the second time in a matter of minutes, I felt myself on the verge of orgasm. I shoved her hand away from the dangerous area and I hooked my fingers in the elastic band of her panties. Obediently she angled her body to give me an easier way of removing them. A few seconds later, she was naked in my bed. Her tiny skirt was bunched up around her waist. I brushed my fingers along her slit and I found her warm, wet and maddeningly responsive to my touch. My index and middle finger slid deep inside her. The sounds coming out of my woman were low, guttural grunts of desire.
It took long, deliciously frustrating minutes until she undid my belt and unbuttoned my pants
. It was my turn to be the source of moans, and groans. I made my way up her body until my manhood rested on her lips. She licked the beaded precum from the engorged tip of my cock. My hips jerked and the mushroom tip slid inside. She welcomed it, sucking greedy. I could come in her mouth in the next couple of minutes but I didn't want that.
My wallet and my cellphone were on the nightstand by the bed. Out of habit, I had a condom in my wallet. It took all my self-control to take my dick out of her mouth. I reached for the wallet and it was then when I saw the lit screen on my phone. Her long fingers caressed my hard flesh, traced the blood vessels with her fingertips. It was torture to take the phone instead of the condom, but when I saw it was from Katherine I forced myself to read it.
'There are some questions about the Italian project. You have to go over the specifications with the client tomorrow at 10. Come first to the office, at 8.'
Translation - I was recalled to testify in a murder case involving the Italian mafia. I had to be in front of the judge at 10 but I should be at the station by 8.
"Fuck," I cursed aloud.
I rolled off Skye wishing I could scream my frustration away. I was painfully hard and just as painfully lucid.
"I have…."
My voice broke when she got down on her knees and took my whole length into her mouth. My hands fisted in her hair and my hips thrust forward instinctively. She coughed when it hit the back of her throat. She coughed and sputtered but didn't try to fight the iron grip I had on her hair. Her mouth gave me the most intense pleasure I had ever experienced. I clutched at her hair and pulled her head back without mercy. My cock popped out of her mouth and bounced on her lips. Mad desire burned me from the inside, but my mind was cold. If I let this go on, I'd no longer be the man I strived so hard to be. Her whimper of pain and pleasure touched the darkness inside me, fanning the dark flames of my needs. For a split second I wanted to dive back into her mouth, thrust deeper and deeper, feeling the abused muscles of her throat squeeze me. She looked up at me, her mouth agape inviting me back. Her mascara was messed up by streaming tears. Her eyes begged me to return before her voice whispered the request.
Darkening Skye (Under Covers Book 1) Page 6