Instead he moved them down into the crevice of her ass, finding the puckered ring of her anus and circling it with a fingertip. A bolt of lust shot through her so strong it contracted her body. She drew up her knees, leaving herself more open to his touch and he didn’t disappoint her. Slowly he pressed one finger inside the dark tunnel of her ass, easing it in a little at a time, pulling out then back in again.
Clint nipped her earlobe. “I’m going to take you here, chere. I’m going to fill you up with my big cock and give you more pleasure than you’ve ever known.”
“Please, please, please.” She tried to push herself back onto his finger, take it deeper inside herself.
“I wish I had two cocks,” he murmured in her ear, his voice a low, sensuous rumble. “That way I could fill every bit of you and fuck you until you lost your mind with the pleasure.”
“You already do,” she whispered, rocking against his hand. “Oh god, Clint. More. Please more.”
“Like this?” He wiggled his finger in a little deeper, his other hand moving beneath her to find a breast and cup it.
“Yes. Just like that.” Her mouth was dry and every nerve in her body was focused on the sensations his finger was igniting.
“How about this?” Two fingers grasped a nipple and pinched it while he worked a second finger into her ass. “Am I hurting you? We don’t have any lube. I don’t want to damage your sensitive tissues.”
“You’re not.” By now she could barely speak, her whole being in the grasp of sensual heat, everything focused on those clever fingers. But she had the answer to his problem tucked into her cosmetics case along with the secret pleasure that went everywhere with her. “But…I have something.”
His fingers stilled. “You do? With you?”
Sophia was glad she was turned away from him because she was sure she was blushing. “Let me up and I’ll get it.”
“Uh-uh.” He licked the column of her neck. “I’m not letting you out of this bed. Tell me where it is.”
Oh god, he’ll see it.
Then the shreds of her brain said, Now you’re worried about being embarrassed?
“My cosmetic case is on the vanity in the bathroom. It’s in there.”
He eased his fingers from her and slipped from the bed. She heard him in the bathroom running water. Heard the zipper rasping open on the case, a sound unusually loud in the stillness. Heard the sound of pleased surprise. Then he was back, pulling her against him again, his thick, rock-hard cock branding her skin where it touched her. And she knew he had more than just the lube with him.
“I’m much better than this, chere.” He rubbed the dildo along her arm. “But I’m so glad you have it. The possibilities boggle the mind.”
Tiny convulsions rippled in her pussy as images flashed through her mind. She pressed back against him, silently urging him to stop talking. To get on with it. She was so aroused she was sure she could come just from the things she was imagining. Things he was hinting at.
His laugh was low and deep, a rich sound as he lifted one leg and pressed the tip of the dildo into the opening of her cunt. As he slid it inside her body her womb contracted and her pulse beat thrummed.
“Now I can really fill you up,” he rumbled, his words electrifying her.
She waited, holding her breath, for him to touch her there again, but instead he turned the little dial at the base of the dildo and a familiar hum vibrated through her. She clenched her thighs together again, squeezing the toy with her internal muscles.
Clint shifted position and in the next moment he was rubbing the lube into her sphincter muscle then into the hot channel of her rectum. As the dildo buzzed away in her pussy Clint’s well-greased finger insinuated itself into her ass, rubbing the lube into her tissues. The movement was a caress, a carnal stroking of the hot, tight tissues. He added a second finger, scissoring to stretch her even more and prepare her for his thick shaft.
And all the while the dildo was buzzing away, stimulating her, driving her crazy.
Sophia heard the ripping of foil and in seconds Clint’s fingers were replaced by his latex-covered cock, moving inexorably and steadily into her with a slow, steady glide.
“Deep breaths, sugar,” he murmured in his low sexy voice. “Easy, easy, easy.”
He kept up a low, erotic murmur as he filled her more and more. When he was completely inside her, his balls slapping against the backs of her thighs, he held himself still. Giving her a chance to adjust. Between his shaft and the vibrator she felt completely filled, every nerve snapping in response beneath the surface of her skin. She was hot, so hot, she was sure she was going to incinerate.
And then he moved, slowly at first, his arm around her waist, his hand pressed firmly against her tummy. The dildo hummed inside her and Clint’s thick erection drove into her again and again. Sophia began to shake from the inside out, every part of her trembling. She gripped Clint’s arm to steady herself as the wave of sensation built and built and built inside her.
“Now, Sophia,” he growled, his fingers pressing hard on her clit, his voice tight. “Come for me now.”
His big body tensed, he drove into her one final time and took her over the edge with him. Every muscle in her body spasmed, shaking her like a leaf in the wind. Colors exploded behind her eyelids and she felt rootless, anchored only by the dido still humming away and Clint’s thick cock pulsing in her ass. The contractions went on and on until Sophia was sure her body would break apart.
And then they were still, panting, heartbeats so loud they were like drumbeats in her ears. Skin so sweat-slicked they were stuck together.
They lay like that for a long, long time. At some point Clint reached between her thighs to turn off the vibrator and tug it from its wet grasp. And long after that he slid himself from the clutch of her muscles and headed into the bathroom. When he came back she held herself still, waiting for him to dress and give her a kiss before he left. But instead he lay down beside her and pulled her into his body, his arms strong around her.
“You know I’d stay the night with you if you just said the word.” His voice slid over her like warm honey. “I think it’s important, though, not to put you in an awkward position with Logan.”
She laughed. “I think that ship has sailed. He made a cute comment or two earlier.”
He hugged her. “Want me to beat him up for you?”
She smiled, even though he couldn’t see her. “I don’t think that would help.” She sighed. “But you’re probably right. It isn’t just Logan. People would see us together in the morning, people who come to The Crown and might make remarks to you and—”
“Hush.” He turned her so she was looking at him. “It has nothing to do with me. But you’re here to do a job and we don’t need to make you the object of gossip in town.” He kissed her cheek. “And you know how Yankees love their gossip.”
“You’re right,” she admitted with reluctance.
“So get this taken care of fast so we can figure out where we’re going with this, okay? You know, once I get Frenchy on his feet again, literally, I can go anywhere.” He paused. “If I want to.”
Sophia wanted badly to ask him what he meant by that but she sensed he wasn’t ready to answer her yet. Not until she had taken care of business and they both had a better perspective on things.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Count on it.” He seemed to be searching for something to say. Something on his mind. “Tomorrow night, chere, let’s see if we can spend a few minutes talking. I want to know more about this killing and the story goin’ ‘round.”
Sophia tensed. “Story? What kind of story?” Oh, hell, was someone blabbing? They were trying so hard to keep a lid on the Chupacabra theory maybe until they actually killed the beast.
He stroked her cheek. “Tomorrow night. We’ll talk then. I have some things to run by you. And Sophia?”
“Yes?”
“Be very careful tomorrow.”
The kiss he
left her with was more powerful than his usual goodbye kisses, scorching her with its intensity. But he also left her with a very unsettled feeling.
Chapter Eight
The beast crawled out of its snow cave and stretched. Its belly was still full from yesterday’s meal and it was well rested. But deep inside, where it simmered endlessly, was the lust for human blood that drove it. The hunger that subsided with a fresh kill but never went away.
It licked its lips, almost tasting fresh blood. It was almost time. Now came the challenge of selecting the appropriate prey in the right location and getting down to business. It wanted to find its target before dark so it could prepare for the delicious moment of the kill.
It had to be somewhere close to the previous one. And also a place where a third prey could be identified. The indicator implanted deep in its brain signaled that the kills should be close together and always in a group of three.
The beast flinched for a moment as a sharp pain stabbed through its head. An elongated claw came up to press against the throbbing, rubbing it until the worst of it had eased. It had waited too long since the first one, and the little mechanism that controlled its lust was sending signals raging through its body.
Finally it reached a point where the pain was tolerable. Inhaling deeply and blinking its eyes, it called up the internal resources it would need and took off in the direction of civilization.
But not too much civilization.
* * * * *
Elaine Warren hurried into her house and closed the door, leaning against it to catch her breath.
It has to be my imagination. That’s all it is. No one is following me.
Today was her day off from the hospital where she worked in the pharmacy. Her husband usually tried to take his days off when she did, but the last couple of weeks he said it hadn’t worked out. He was part of the private security team for Xeniplex, a manufacturing complex halfway between Houlton and Presque Isle, so hours weren’t always static. His shifts rotated and he could be called out for extra shifts at any time. And that was what had been happening.
It was good and bad. On the one hand it left her free to do the things she needed to, as well as extra time for those she wanted to. But the past two weeks she’d had the distinct feeling someone was following her and it made her nervous.
The story about Darrell Franklin being killed by some crazed stranger was all over the news. Darrell lived off the main roads, the way Elaine and Harland did. The ten acres had looked wonderful when they’d bought them. Close to town but plenty of space for privacy. As time wore on the privacy had its drawbacks and now she wondered if it made her a sitting duck for a killer.
She hadn’t actually seen anyone. It had been more like a feeling. The tension you get when you know something was not quite right. Of course, it could be her guilty conscience, too. Elaine pushed that thought out of her mind as soon as it popped in.
Don’t go there. Don’t even think about it.
She waited until her heart stopped racing then opened the door, peered around outside to see if indeed anyone was there. But all she saw was the stark trees and the frozen white snow. She looked nervously around as she hurried back to the car, gathered the grocery bags and rushed back inside with them. She wished the garage was attached to the house but Harland said the one they had was good enough and there was no sense wasting one when they didn’t need to. Today it would have given her a greater sense of security. The entire time she put the food away she kept looking nervously over her shoulder and out the window, as if she expected someone to be lurking there.
Maybe it was the image of the strange man she’d seen in the parking lot at the grocery store, wandering from vehicle to vehicle as if looking for a ride. Or maybe something to steal.
When the last item had been stored she took down a glass and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. Leaning against the counter, she sipped it steadily, waiting for the warmth to course though her system and settle her nerves.
I have to get out of this mess. I’m driving myself crazy. I’ll get myself killed if I’m not careful.
* * * * *
Bradley Howard plucked the mail from his mailbox and slogged back to his house. He’d pulled a double shift at the hospital at the last minute and he was more than ready to be home. Although it was only late afternoon the winter dark was already stealing in. He wanted to get inside, build a fire in the fireplace, pour himself a drink.
One that he badly needed.
He’d been jumpy all day, chalking it up to lack of sleep. But when he got out of his car he had the distinct feeling someone was watching him. A feeling he’d had off and on for the past few days. And when he pulled into his driveway out in the middle of nowhere the feeling had gotten stronger.
Ridiculous! If anyone was out here you’d see them.
He tried to tell himself it was the news of Darrell Franklin’s death that was affecting him. That he was seeing skulking killers behind every tree and bush. If he hadn’t been keeping a secret he might have settled for that.
But his secret gnawed at him. Unsettled him. Made him anxious.
He knew he couldn’t go on like this much longer. He’d have to bring things to a head. Probably sooner rather than later.
And how that was going to turn out he had no way of knowing.
Closing his front door, he locked it securely. Then, telling himself he was being paranoid, he checked all the other doors and windows before finally pouring himself that drink and lighting the fire he’d already laid in the fireplace. A couple of shots of whiskey and a good night’s sleep were all he needed to chase away the nerves.
At least that’s what he kept telling himself.
* * * * *
Chuck Whittaker loved the winters. Which was a good thing because living in Maine the winters were damn long. But he had his camp, which he ran for fishermen in the summer and hunters from September through November. He made good money, enough that he could just tend to himself from January until April when he worked to get the camp ready to open again. Where else could he take that kind of time off each year and just goof off?
Those were the months he and Loraine could just hang out and do what they wanted to. Sometimes all they did was sit in front of the fire and read or watch television. As long as the weather didn’t screw up the satellite.
But at the moment Loraine was in Boston. Their oldest daughter had just had her third child and of course Loraine had gone to help. She’d been there about a week and Chuck was getting damn lonely. He didn’t begrudge her what she was doing. What kind of father would he be if he did? But he’d sure be glad when she came back.
He’d planned to get some work done around the cabins but it had been so damn cold, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. And not many hands were looking for work in the cold months. Any able-bodied ones worked the ski resorts or in the towns, picking up part-time stuff. Well, maybe if the temperature climbed a little and they didn’t get any more snow for a few days he’d get out and do what maintenance he could.
He was glad to see the roads were not only plowed but staying that way. One thing he could say about Maine—the road crews knew how to handle weather. Living out by the bend in the river it made it a lot easier to get to town. Oh, he could always take the snowmobile in a pinch, get to the convenience store on Route 1 for emergencies. But with Loraine gone, a trip to town occupied a good bit of the day. Filled the hours.
He was glad he’d stopped in at The Crown for a late lunch. That old dog Frenchy had finally put in an appearance and Chuck was damn glad to see his friend up and around. Not that Clint hadn’t held down the fort. Done a good job keeping things going. Still, Frenchy and Chuck were almost the same age and Frenchy’s broken hip and extended rehab period had made Chuck feel every one of his years.
He wished Loraine would get home soon. He knew it was selfish of him, but the house was so empty without her in it. Maybe if he didn’t feel so lonely he wouldn’t have stopped for the man
trudging along on the shoulder of the road just outside town. Not that many people would call Left Branch a town. Named for the spur of road that veered off Route 1, it had little to recommend it beyond the convenience store/gas station, a bar and a dry-goods/drug store. Everyone did their shopping in Presque Isle.
It wasn’t usual to see someone on the side of the road. Especially in winter. No vehicle, not even a snowmobile.
How the hell did he get here?
Chuck had been home the day before when Rebecca Black stopped by on her snowmobile to ask him if he’d seen any strangers in the areas. Warn him about strangers and stray wild animals. Chuck had been hunting wild animals when Rebecca was still in diapers so he was sure he could handle anything that came along. And strangers? They got a lot in season, hardly any otherwise. And this guy who looked like he was freezing to death in his jeans and parka sure didn’t look dangerous.
Chuck slowed the truck, reached into the console and took out the Glock he had a permit for and put it on his lap. He stopped on the plowed shoulder and pressed the button to lower the window on the passenger side.
“Hey!” he called out.
The man, who’d been walking in the narrow space between the road and the piled-up drifts of snow, kept walking.
“I said hey,” Chuck hollered again. “Didn’t you hear me?”
The man finally stopped and turned to him. “What do you want?”
He was tall and thin, the old parka wrapped tightly around him to ward off the cold and his collar turned up to protect his ears. His worn jeans flapped against his legs in the wind and beneath them he wore an old pair of work boots. His eyes had a sunken look to them, his cheekbones slashes beneath them. To Chuck he hardly looked dangerous.
“What are you doing out here walking?” Chuck asked.
The guy shrugged. “Had a ride to Caribou. Guy got mad at me for some reason. Made me get out.”
“In this weather?” Chuck’s eyebrows raised. “Not very nice of him.”
“Not a nice guy. Listen, I gotta get going here.”
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