“Okay. Also, I’ve never had sex before.” My voice was so quiet this time, it was almost a whisper.
“No problem. We’ll go slow. And anytime you want to stop, we stop.”
“Thank you.” I wanted to do this, but it was still kinda scary. What if I wasn’t good enough at sex? Would he throw me out? Would we just go back to how things were before today? I wanted to ask all these questions but didn’t want to spoil the mood.
“So spread your legs,” he told me again. This time, I pulled them apart, until my feet were close to the edge of the bed. “Mmm. Such a tidy little pussy you have.”
I wasn’t sure on the right thing to say when someone commented on my pussy, so I didn’t reply. He knelt between my legs and I was surprised he wasn’t bringing his face to mine, his hands to my breasts, or his cock to my pussy. Instead, he reached out and put his index finger to the tiny nub between my pussy lips.
A spark of electricity traveled straight into my core and I moaned.
“Anyone ever touched you there, before?” he asked. I shook my head.
“No, sir.”
I knew what was down there—roughly—but I’d never found anyone else I liked enough to do naughty stuff with.
He swirled his finger over my clit several times. Instant need filled my belly. As he kept going, I couldn’t think about anything else other than how much I wanted something inside me.
His finger moved lower, circling around my entrance, gathering up dew before he moved momentarily to my ass. I gasped and shook my head.
“You can’t go there!” I exclaimed in amazement. “That’s the wrong place!”
He chuckled, a low sound that started deep in his chest. “Oh, Avery, you’ve got so much to learn.”
His finger danced over my ass hole’s tight opening and delicate tingles lit up dozens of nerves down there. He never tried to force his way in or get me to open to him there. I felt safe exploring this stuff with him.
“One day soon, I’m going to show you what it’s like when your pretty little butt hole is filled with something nice,” he growled. The words made me moan softly. What he said was so naughty, so bad, that I didn’t know if it was even allowed. The idea made my clit throb.
“But for now, we’re going to focus on your sweet pussy.” His finger returned to my clit. I squeaked as he rubbed it more roughly than before, and it felt completely different.
With his other hand, he positioned a finger at my pussy entrance. I inhaled sharply and held my breath. This was it. His finger slid inside me and I let out the air in my lungs as my tight pussy clamped down on him. The feeling of having him inside me was incredible.
“That’s only halfway,” he told me. “I want you to have time to adjust.”
He pulled back out until only the very tip of his finger was in me. I raised my hips a little, wanting more, and he swatted my clit gently, sending heat coursing through my body.
“You’re not in control here. You don’t get to make demands.”
His finger went in again, deeper this time. He began to fuck me with it. The whole time, his other hand was playing with my clit, showering me with sparks. Inside my tunnel, it just felt better and better, until I was sure it couldn’t get any more intense.
That was when he pulled out.
“Please.” I couldn’t say anything else. I only wanted to feel him in me again. That delicate sensation of his finger sliding in and out. Nothing else mattered.
“Don’t worry, you’re getting taken care of,” he replied, and he took his pants off. His cock had tented his black underpants and all I could do was look at it, waiting for him to reveal it properly.
His underpants went the same way as his jeans and now I saw it. His cock. It was huge. That scared me a little. How would it fit? Could it hurt me? I knew he wouldn’t do that on purpose, but he was just so damn big, how could he ever not?
“Thoughts, babygirl,” he said and I flushed at the cute nickname.
“You’re so big. I’m not sure I’m big enough.”
“The wonderful thing about the vagina is its ability to stretch,” he told me. “If something hurts, we go back a step. Okay?”
I nodded, feeling reassured.
“Ready for my cock?”
I took another deep breath and tried to relax. “Okay.”
He repositioned himself, so his cock was lined up at my entrance, and I felt the tip of him swelling rhythmically through the condom.
“Here we go.” He slid in slowly, pausing every few seconds, gradually working his way in. By the time he got all the way in, I was feeling much less afraid.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“So stretched,” I replied. I wasn’t sure I could have taken even a millimeter more. He pulled out a little way then pushed back in again, harder than a moment ago. I moaned and he began to move, gently, slowly, carefully. He knew what he was doing. Somehow, even though he wanted me, he held back. Self-control. He had a lot more of it than I did.
“That’s it, just let me take control.” He gradually increased his speed and began grinding the base of his cock against my clit. My body was filled with heat and need. He was fucking me quite fast, now, and my pussy was squeezing tight against him. He felt so big inside me. He gazed into my eyes with his clear, honest, perfect blue ones. The pressure deep in my core was too much to hold in any longer.
I came apart. My pussy clenched hard around his cock. I threw my head back and moaned, biting down on my lip hard. My toes scrunched into the comforter and my hips seemed to take on a life of their own, pushing back at him, meeting his thrusts, taking him deeper. He lost himself in me, then, taking me at a furious pace until he came with a yell, his cock pulsing before it stilled.
He pulled out and rolled sideways, pulling me into a big hug as we lay on the bed and caught our breath.
We’d had sex. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. I wasn’t a virgin anymore, I realized. But I still had to live with him if this went wrong.
Could it go wrong? I liked him, he liked me back, surely things would be straightforward from here?
Chapter 11
Avery
The day after I lost my virginity, I went in to the precinct at eight to get on with my job while Rick took his second day off this week.
“Hey, I’m Sean.” A clean shaven twentysomething in police uniform got to his feet and held out his hand. I’d seen him around but this was the first time we’d spoken.
“Hey. Avery.”
We shook hands. It was a little awkward. After, I stood shifting from foot to foot.
“Somethin’ the matter?” Sheriff Bob was just getting ready to leave for the day, and he noticed my discomfort as he walked past me.
“I usually use Sean’s computer to work, sir,” I explained.
The Sheriff shrugged. “Use Rick’s.”
It made sense. After all, I was using his password to get into the system. I set myself up then went to the “to do” tray and pulled out a couple of papers that needed typing up. This would take maybe twenty minutes at most.
I got to work and had them done by eight fifteen. Sean was busy on his computer watching a video game walkthrough with his headphones on. I didn’t want to disturb him. What else could I do?
My mind went back to the cold case involving Mrs. Vanderhosen. I went to the record room and located the file, then took it back to Rick’s desk. My face flushed when I remembered how I’d bent over this desk a few days ago while Rick had spanked me for my naughtiness.
Opening the file, I went through the sequence of events. The Vanderhosens had been on their family farm, owned by Mr. Vanderhosen’s father. Mrs. Vanderhosen had gone out to the barn to look for a notebook she had misplaced the day before. She was about to call out to her husband when she saw him facing another man who had a gun. The other man shot him, threatened Mrs. Vanderhosen, then fled the scene.
The killer ran into the center of Snake Eye and brandished his gun before taking off in som
eone’s Mustang and a large bag of something. The Mustang had belonged to a Mr. Dwight Reginald. Mrs. Shawna Robinson and Miss Judy Robinson both saw the criminal running down the street. The three witness statements covered these brief moments in detail.
On a separate sheet of paper, I made notes. I’d never investigated a crime before but it seemed to me that there was still a chance we could catch this murderer.
Mr. Dwight Reginald – owned Mustang.
Mrs. Shawna and Miss Judy Robinson – saw killer.
Mrs. V. – main witness.
I was pretty sure nothing I was doing would get any results but I decided to try anyway. After all, I had nothing else to do today. Using the police database, I ran the license plate for the stolen Mustang. Surely almost fifty years later, the plate was long gone. Partly, I think I did it because I wanted a reason to try out the database.
There was a match.
I clicked on it and read the report.
Vehicle reported missing by owner, 11-22-72.
I went back to the report on Trevor Vanderhosen’s death and frowned. That didn’t make sense. The Mustang was reported missing two days before the murder.
I scribbled that fact down and might have thought about it a little more but the phone rang. Sean removed his headphones and answered. I stopped what I was doing to listen.
“A missing dog? Sure thing, Barrett, we’ll be out there ay-sap.” Sean put the phone down and looked over at me. “We got ourselves a missing dog.”
“Another one?” My brows raised in surprise. “You guys get a lot of those.”
“Do we?” Sean looked confused.
“Don’t you usually? So far I’ve attended two other missing dog calls at night with Rick. This is the third in a week.”
“Huh. That’s something to know. Let’s check it out.”
I tagged along and stayed true to the promise I’d made to Rick. I asked no questions. We turned off the main road at a sign that said Lemon Tree Ranch and we followed an unpaved road all the way to a little clump of farm houses with plenty of trucks parked outside. Sean seemed to know where he was going. Immediately, he jumped out, knocked on one of the doors, and was greeted by a muscular cowboy who was sweating a little in the heat, even this long after sundown.
Is every man in this town a hunk? I wondered to myself.
“We just got a puppy called Betsy. She’s a collie. We got her as a family pet.”
“What time did she disappear?” Sean asked.
“About nine-thirty. I put her outside while we cleaned up after dinner—she can be a little excitable around crockery. When Harper came to call him back in, she never came!”
Sean took notes. “Do you have a recent photograph that might help us identify her?”
I tried not to laugh. It seemed funny, though, like maybe things were so slow in Snake Eye that cops investigated missing pets and put their pictures on the side of milk cartons.
I tried to maintain a serious face. Someone’s beloved dog had disappeared. It was the third this week. Clearly a pattern. Probably a dog-napper.
Once Sean had all the information, we headed back to the precinct.
“Could you get me the reports on those other two missing dogs?” he asked. “Rick hasn’t typed them up, yet.”
“Sure.” They were sitting in a tray by Rick’s computer monitor. “You think the three are connected?”
“Definitely. And to answer your earlier question, no, this doesn’t happen often. We have very little crime here.” He glanced down at the reports. “Ah, one is Mrs. Vanderhosen.”
“She’s lost her dog.” The words were completely unnecessary but I had to say something.
“Did you notice anything common to all three missing dog cases?” Sean asked.
“Me? Uh... Rick told me to just stay out of trouble while he asked people questions,” I replied.
“But you didn’t, did you? You look like the kind of person who can’t stop pulling at a thread.”
I sighed. “The first two houses both had broken air con. Not sure about the third.”
“That all?” Sean deflated a little. “That happens a lot around these parts. The HVAC systems work around the clock in Snake Eye. They’re always getting busted.”
“If I think of anything else, I’ll let you or Rick know.”
I went back to Rick’s desk wishing I could figure out where the dogs had disappeared to, but since I couldn’t, I returned to my cold case. I probably couldn’t solve that, either, but at least it was full of things I could look into.
Chapter 12
Avery
In the morning, when my shift ended, instead of going straight back to Rick’s, I headed out to see Dwight Reginald who lived at a hastily scrawled address on the outskirts of town.
I knocked on the door and while I waited for him to answer, I put my phone onto record.
“Yes?” An old man wheezed through the screen door.
“Mr. Dwight Reginald?” I asked, suddenly very unsure of myself.
“Indeed.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m working up at the precinct and I was wondering if I might ask you a couple of questions about something that happened a long time ago.”
He gave me a long look, then nodded and pushed open the screen door. “Sure. Come in. Want a lemonade?”
“Thank you.” It seemed polite to accept.
He showed me into an old-fashioned living room with a couple of dusty chairs surrounded by lots of stacks of... records? I peered at one of them. Under a thick coating of dust, I just about saw the words, “ill Haley and his Comets”.
“You take care around my records. I’m a collector.” He was so earnest. I doubted any genuine collector would be caught dead stacking their records haphazardly around the living room like this. The only thing he was collecting here was dust.
“Yes, sir,” I told him, remembering how Rick spoke to people and trying to emulate it. Once the lemonade arrived—warm, and in a dirty tumbler—Dwight sat down opposite me.
“I’m going back over the Derek Vanderhosen case.” I thought that sounded very professional, like I was part of the FBI or something. “I noticed that the alleged perpetrator took your car.”
Dwight nodded. “He did.”
“When I ran the plate in the police database, it said you reported the car missing two days before the murder. Why was that?”
Dwight waved a hand dismissively. “Ah, you young ‘uns and your computers. Pro’lly someone typed up the report and made a mistake.”
“So you were definitely the last person to see your Mustang before the killer took off with it?” I asked him.
“Yep.”
I nodded and tried to think of anything else the police wouldn’t have asked him at the time. “You saw the guy, right?”
“I did.”
“Had you ever seen him before?”
“No. Although to be honest, until I’d heard about the murder, I thought the guy who stole my car might have been Derek.”
“Why was that?”
“Same height. Same build. Heck, they might have been brothers.”
“Did Derek have a brother?”
“No, he was an only child.”
“Cousins?”
“No idea. I know Derek inherited the farm off his folks when they passed. His dear mama, rest her soul, she always had time for the kids in Snake Eye. I reckon she would have had twenty babies if she could. But it wasn’t to be.”
I nodded and scribbled notes. “Thank you. One more thing, I was trying to find out where the other witnesses, Judy and Shawna Robertson, live, but I couldn’t find their address. Any idea?”
Dwight frowned, and rheumy eyes scrunched up as he looked off into the distance, trying to remember something. “Shawna Robertson... she’d be in her nineties by now. You checked the nursing homes?”
“Great idea. Thanks.”
“Any time, little lady. It’s nice to see that the precinct has hired someone to replace Mab
el, she was the glue that kept those cops together.”
I smiled and nodded, feeling pretty guilty that I wasn’t actually a detective. I was basically misleading this old man into thinking the police were investigating a cold case they probably hadn’t looked at in decades. I got up and left, still smiling and nodding as he chattered, and soon I found myself on the pavement again.
I was halfway back to Rick’s when I realized Dwight had completely sidestepped my question about Judy Robertson, and had only told me about the older woman. I assumed they were mother and daughter. Why did he think Shawna would be in a care home? And why couldn’t I find any details for a current address for Judy?
Chapter 13
Rick
I’d been getting worried about Avery when she finally rocked up at the house. I answered the soft but insistent tapping.
“Where have you been, young lady?” I asked immediately when I opened the door.
“I... uh... had something to do. May I come in?” She looked uncomfortable, like she’d been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. I weighed up whether to press her for answers or back off. I needed to know whether Avery was doing something illegal or not.
“I went to see a man about a car.”
She sounded reluctant to tell me this and I decided to probe further.
“What man?”
“Dwight Reginald, sir.”
She’d added that “sir” to placate me and make me stop asking her questions, and I knew it. That one thing made me push harder.
“And why did you feel the need to bother old Mr. Reginald?” I asked.
She shifted from one foot to the other, the way she often did when she knew she was going to be in trouble over something, I was learning.
“He filed a report about his missing car...” she trailed off.
I stepped aside to let her into the house. Partly, I didn’t want us to have a long conversation on the front step and partly, I wanted her to think I was letting this go.
I was not letting this go.
As soon as she sat at the kitchen table with fresh coffee in her hand, I picked the thread up again.
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