by J. C. Wilder
His leather-clad hands lightly caressed the sensitive undersides of her breasts through her shirt. Her nipples tightened and she leaned toward him, her breath quickening as an involuntary sound broke from her lips.
Her rational mind might be telling her to object, but her body was leading her elsewhere.
He chuckled. “I thought so.” He captured her wrists, one in each hand, and reached to arrange her palms flat on the table behind her back. The position forced her body to arch like a bow toward him. “Do not remove your hands from the table,” he warned in his whiskey-rough voice. “If you do, I will stop touching you.”
Shai nodded. Though she was afraid, she’d never felt more alive in her life. Her skin tingled with anticipation.
His dark eyes glittered with heated desire as he traced a path of sensation along her jaw with a fingertip. “You’re very obedient and shall be amply rewarded…”
He dipped his dark head, his lips tracing a path of fire along her jaw, down her throat to where her pulse beat frantically. A lazy fingertip brushed the tip of her breast through her nightshirt and she shuddered as raw sensation poured through her body.
Dipping low, he took her erect nipple into his mouth, dampening the thin cotton. A cry was wrenched from her lips as a surge of primal lust surged forth in her veins. The apex of her thighs grew damp as he suckled. She arched against him, wanting him to take more of her into his mouth. Tipping back her head, she was helpless against him and the raging desire he aroused in her.
His hand traced a line of fire down her rib cage as he pulled back and blew on the moist cotton, torturing her aroused flesh. A sob escaped her lips and she struggled to keep her hands on the table. A leather-clad hand brushed her inner thigh when he reached for the hem of the shirt to draw it over her head. He raised her hands from the tabletop long enough to pull the shirt free then tossed it over a chair. He replaced her hands on the table then stepped back.
Sluggish with desire, she raised her head, her breasts heaving as she gulped for air. A smile curved the corners of his sexy mouth and he drew the dagger from his belt. Shai tensed as candlelight gleamed on the wicked steel blade. He pressed the cold flat of it against her soft belly and she whimpered, raising her hands, trying to move away.
“No, little one.”
He shook his head as he forced her hands back on the table. This time, he positioned them closer to her buttocks, pushing her breasts forward, allowing him better access. He drew the flat of the blade slowly over one nipple, teasing, tempting, before giving the other the same attention.
He moved it down over her stomach, tracing a line of anticipation toward her white panties. His eyes sharp on her face, he slipped the blade under the strap at her hip and cut them away from her body, first one side then the other. Urging her hips up, he slipped them from beneath her and dropped them to the floor.
Their gazes met when his gloved fingers broached her damp curls to slip into her warmth. Shai sighed as he began stroking her clit. Shivering with need, heat, she hesitantly moved against his hand, her body overruling whatever lingering doubts she might have had. Watching her closely, he gave her a gentle, encouraging smile. Under the subtle ministrations of his hand, moisture spread as his pace increased.
He tangled the fingers of his other hand in her long hair, forcing her head back so she could no longer watch him. She moaned in protest. As his hands continued to work their magic, her groans grew louder as the pace increased. Her eyes closed and she struggled to draw enough air into her starved lungs.
Release beckoned and brilliant light flashed beneath her closed eyelids as she came. Spasms of ecstasy rocked her body and her arms threatened to collapse and drop her to the table. Her breath came in shuddering gasps as a strong arm slipped around her shoulders and pulled her against him.
Head sagging against the broad expanse of his chest, her mind swirled as her heart slowed. His hand traced a comforting path up and down her spine as she quieted against him and awareness returned.
She stirred, his leather-clad fingers still buried within her. Now what did she do? He hadn’t reached his satisfaction yet. What would Emily Post say about this situation?
“Better?” he rumbled.
“Mmm,” she sighed and nodded.
He leaned forward, pushing her back into her prior position on the table. She tensed as his fingers brushed her engorged flesh and desire reawakened within her. His eyes were dark as he gave her a gentle rub. Her hips arched to follow his movement to its delicious completion.
“You like that?”
Her eyes slitted as he took up a slow, finger dance centered directly against her clit. Wordless, she nodded as her hips took up the lazy rhythm, her thighs parting once more to allow him better access. Their gazes clashed as his breathing deepened and grew harsher, his eyes more feverish.
A low growl erupted from his throat and he pulled his hand away. She moaned in protest when his free hand tangled in her hair once more and he pulled her head back. She heard the rasp of the zipper on his pants, the sound mingling with his out-of-control breathing.
A soft glow of wonder rose within her chest as she heard him curse lightly. She’d driven him to this edge. She. Plain, little Shai.
All coherent thought fled as she felt the hard tip of his erection against her thigh. She moaned in torment, spreading her legs farther and lifting her hips, offering herself to him.
At once he was inside her. She sighed as he filled her, stretching her, completing her. Releasing his death grip on her hair, he grasped her waist and he thrust deep. His hands worked her hips, back and forth over his thrusting manhood, harder and harder even as her cries broke the silence of the room. Unable to remain still, she grabbed his arms and moved against him, taking everything he offered and giving back as good as she got.
Sensation tightened her muscles and within a few thrusts she came, hard. Sobbing, she clung to him as her orgasm claimed her body and soul. Dimly, she was aware of him still inside her, hard as a rock. Her arms trembled and she almost fell to the table when they gave way. He pulled her back into his arms, cradling her against his chest as he brushed her hair from her damp skin.
His lips were cool against her throat. “You’re mine now.” He sounded breathless.
She nodded as he raised her arms, urging her to wrap them around his neck and shoulders. Secure in his arms, he swung her off the table. She gave an inarticulate grunt as his cock rubbed against her clit.
She arched her hips when he turned and braced her back against the kitchen wall. The plaster was cool against her heated skin but she barely had time to appreciate it when he pressed into her. Slowly he rolled his hips and began to thrust.
“Say it,” he breathed against her throat as he pounded into her. “You’re mine.”
“Yes…” She groaned as sparks flashed and danced against her eyelids. She was so close, so very close…
“I am your master.” He increased his thrusts.
Her grip tightened as ecstasy beckoned, so close yet so far away. “Yes, you are my master.”
He pulled her higher, changing his angle ever so subtly, his grip bruising on her waist as he picked up the pace. Within seconds he brought her to the precipice and tumbled her over the edge. As her body exploded into a million shining pieces, she felt a faint stinging at her throat, then a warm openmouthed kiss. He sucked her flesh and her body tingled as if on fire, the intense ecstasy increasing as she was consumed by their mutual lust.
Seconds later, he drove his own climax deep into her body.
The shrill ringing of the telephone brought her straight up in her bed. Disoriented, she glanced around her bedroom and noted that everything was in place. The candles were gone, the pillows were back on the window seat and the drapes twitched with the breeze. She ran a hand through her tumbled hair.
“Wow…what a dream.” She turned to scowl at the offending phone on the nightstand when it shrilled again. She reached for it.
“Hello,” she grunted.<
br />
“Shai, where are you?” Mariah’s voice barked in her ear.
“What do you mean? I should think it’s obvious where I am.” She glanced at her clock. “It’s only 7:30. What’s the big deal? I just went to bed a few hours ago.”
“Shai…it’s 7:30 at night.”
She blinked and looked at her window. Sure enough, the sun was riding low in the Western sky. “I slept seventeen hours? How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know, but you did it! You missed the city council meeting you were supposed to write up, damn it. Lucky for you Jenny was willing to pick up the slack and she saved your butt. I don’t know what’s up with you lately, but you’re blowing it. You used to be one of our most reliable reporters and now I can’t count on you for anything.”
Mind scrambling, Shai straightened, her heart thudding in her chest. “Mariah, I’m really sorry—”
“So am I, kid.” Resignation weighed heavily in Mariah’s voice. “I know these murders have you on edge—”
“This has nothing to do with the murders,” she cut in. “I’ve been working hard lately and my birthday was only two days ago and I had some late nights—”
“It’s more than that and you know it. These murders are messing with many of us here at the paper but you seem to be almost obsessed by them.”
“But—”
“I want you to take the night off and reevaluate your career here at the Times. You’re a great reporter but I need you here in body as well as spirit, Shai. Not half-assed and halfhearted.”
“Mariah—”
“Do it and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Shai slumped when the receiver was dropped on the other end and the dial tone sounded in her ear. Tears stung her eyes as she, too, dropped the receiver into the cradle. She wasn’t obsessed with the murders, she wasn’t. She had a professional curiosity that had nothing to do with her mother being killed in a similar manner many years before. Her unsolved death had nothing to do with these incidents.
Nothing.
She stumbled to her feet when the phone rang again. Thinking it was Mariah, she snatched it up then headed toward the dining room.
“I really don’t need—” Shai began.
“I know who killed them,” a low, masculine voice purred in her ear.
Ripples of shock filtered through her body. She blindly pulled out a chair and sank into it. “W-w-what did you say?” she stammered.
On the floor next to the chair, she found a scrap of lace, lace from the panties she’d worn to bed last night. Perplexed, she ran a finger over her shirt-covered hip. She blanched. Panties she wasn’t wearing now. Her hand clenched in a fist around the material as her mind scrabbled for a reasonable explanation for them being on the floor.
“You know who I am,” he spoke again.
“Yes.” Her throat felt suddenly dry and she concentrated on drawing deep, even breaths. It was him.
“I know the killer’s identity, the master of these soiled doves. Meet me this evening at ten p.m. at Lindy’s on Broadway and please come alone.”
Alone? Is he nuts…
“I…”
His voice turned coaxing. “I have information you need to solve these crimes. Think of the lives that you alone can save. Who was there to save your mother? No one. You can’t change history but you can make a difference and help me stop this madman.”
Her blood turned to ice and her heart began to race. Just how did he know about her mother? Who was this man? She dropped the lace onto the floor, the delicate flowers mocking her. Was this man her fantasy lover, Val? Could he be a murderer?
No…
She had to know the truth.
“I’ll be there,” she murmured.
He chuckled. “I knew you would be.”
Chapter Five
Shai dug through the bottom drawer of her desk at the newspaper. Where in the devil was her spare tape recorder? She pulled out a crumpled bag of a once-popular snack. Heavens—how long had that been there? Didn’t they quit making those about five years ago? It hit the trash with a dull thud.
She located the errant recorder under a stack of yellowed newspapers and a brittle package of chewing gum. Retrieving the recorder, she replaced the batteries while she told herself for the hundredth time that she was a complete fool to meet this man alone even if it was a public place. But a multitude of questions still ran through her brain. First off, how had he found her? She wasn’t listed in the phone book and Jennifer wouldn’t have given her number out without letting her know first. Secondly, what, if anything, did he know about the murder of her mother?
Kicking the drawer shut, she tucked the recorder into her pocket. It was rare that she ever spoke of her mother, even to her best friends. In her mind, her mother was sacred emotional territory and her rocky childhood was a stone better left unturned.
“Shai.” Leonard, one of the senior reporters, popped his head into her office and broke her train of thought. He tossed a manila envelope onto her desk. “This came for you this afternoon. It’s the preliminary report from the coroner on the autopsy of one Regina Williams, the woman found outside the theatre last night.”
“Did you read it?” She snatched up the envelope.
“Of course.” He moved into the office, his near-skeletal body swamped by jeans and a button-down Oxford shirt. Leo had been the original reporter on the murders and had acquired a good deal of insider information.
“Snoop,” she muttered without heat.
“It’s how we make our living, doll.”
He took a huge bite from a shiny red apple and continued speaking around it, spewing tiny bits of apple and spit. “Cause of death is massive blood loss, not to mention the fact that most of her throat was missing. She was literally drained dry. Of course, now the question of the hour is where did all that blood go?”
Shai frowned and flipped through the pages. “That’s a good question,” she said, not looking up from the report. She’d noticed the lack of blood last night and still no one seemed to have any answers. All of the victims had been drained of blood yet none of the coroner’s reports could shed any light on why or what happened to it. The bodies had shown no evidence of being moved, they’d died where they were found.
“Once again, there were spots, but none of them were big enough to equal the amount drained.” Leo chomped noisily on the near-decimated fruit. “It’ll take days until the results from the lab come back which will determine if all of the blood found at the scene belonged to the victim.”
Dropping the report on her desk, Shai met his gaze. “So, no one has any clue? No scuttlebutt, no nothing?”
He shook his head. “Not a word. The police are stumped, the detectives are clueless and there are rumors of calling in the Feds.”
She bit her lip. Now that was news. No one hated calling the Feds more than New York’s finest. If they were contemplating such a step, it had to be because they were out of leads. In each murder, little to no physical evidence was recovered. From what she could gather, the authorities had only one leather glove and a single spot of blood from the second murder. That one spot had had some peculiar characteristics and they were still trying to determine if it was human or animal. So far, the theory was that it was human and very old, possibly from another unreported crime in the alley from years before. All in all, it was a perplexing series of crimes.
“The police mentioned something about the possibility of a satanic cult or some such silliness.” Leo took another huge bite, spewing almost as much as he swallowed.
“A what?”
“The killings are methodic, almost ritualistic in nature.” He tossed the decimated core into the trash can. “We definitely have a new breed of serial killer on the prowl in our town. The one is quicker, more efficient and fastidious. One detective said he was the best of the best. According to the police it’s nearly impossible to commit the perfect crime, yet, after several killings, this one is coming as close to the perfect crime as
they’ve ever seen. This one manages to kill healthy young women, ladies who could fight back yet each time there is no evidence left behind. No hair, no skin, nothing. That just doesn’t happen every day.”
She gave a slow nod, her mind whirling with possibilities. “Who or what do you think is doing this, Leo?”
“If you ask me, I think it was vampires.” He left her office, his laughter echoing in the hall.
Her neck began to tingle and Shai rubbed it absently, her gaze returning to the coroner’s report. Despite his laughter, he was probably serious about the vampire nonsense.
* * * * *
Lindy’s was a trendy restaurant in Manhattan, right off Broadway. When she arrived a few minutes early, it was packed from wall to wall with people. After telling the waiter she was expecting someone, he led her to a tiny table in the back of the long, narrow room and sat her facing the wall, away from the other patrons.
Uneasy, she glanced around the room. Large crowds made her uncomfortable even though her job required a lot of social interaction in all sorts of situations. This was an especially well-dressed crowd, which made it worse.
She tugged self-consciously at her worn blazer then patted her pocket reassuringly. Her tape recorder was in place and ready to go. Now, if she could just survive the confrontation.
Please, please don’t let it be him.
She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and dropped them onto the table. She didn’t smoke often, but now seemed like a good time to renew her acquaintance with Mr. Marlboro.
Strong hands landed on her shoulders as a voice whispered into her ear. “Missing me?”
Shai almost jumped out of her chair as cool lips brushed her ear, sending icy chills rocketing down neck. The newcomer released her then moved quickly around to the empty chair on the opposite side of the table.
Her eyes widened when he relaxed into an elegant sprawl in the miniscule chair. Who was this man? Val definitely didn’t have blond hair nor were his eyes so icy. Who the devil was this stranger?
Whoever he was, he was quite handsome. Thick blond hair brushed his shoulders and he wore a black turtleneck teamed with immaculate cream-colored trousers with knife-sharp pleats. His features were fine, almost feminine, and his eyes were a hypnotic, icy blue. A smile curved his finely sculpted mouth, but couldn’t be considered remotely friendly.