Corrupted: Saint Cecilia Slayings Book Two

by Blanco, N. Isabelle

I sigh and scrub a hand down my face before turning—very slowly— toward her. “What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, Ruby. How many times do I have to drill it into you before you stop with the annoying questions?”

  She drags her chair closer, hard enough to almost send it colliding with my own. “Listen, everything else aside, we’re fucking partners, okay? And I would like to think that, if something were wrong with me, you’d freaking check in on me.”

  I would like to think along those lines as well, but she’s made her desire for me too blatant for me to believe this is just one work partner checking up on another. “Thanks for the concern, but it’s personal. Family matters.” Add another lie to my ever-expanding web. Normally, I’d care.

  At this moment, I’m struggling with both gratitude and guilt.

  Gratitude, because the footage is missing. The very same footage that could lead to an IA investigation, the end of my career, and my following in my father’s steps by ending in jail.

  Guilt, because I shouldn’t be fucking grateful at all. Someone else is going to die soon and I’ll be partially to blame. Not only have I allowed the killer to escape twice, but one time I purposely got rid of the evidence. This last time? I’m internally rejoicing that it’s gone.

  “There you go. You’re spacing out again!”

  I groan at Ruby’s comment and push my chair back. “I gotta go for the day. I’m heading to find the Lieutenant to let him know.” Leaving her there, hazel eyes locked on me, I hurry to put distance between us.

  Fifteen minutes later, after throwing out another lie about my mother having an emergency, I’m hopping into the Uber outside. I left my car in the parking lot by the terminal the night before.

  The only spot of rational thinking I had all night, if you ask me. God knows what would’ve happened had I gotten behind the wheel like that. I’ve made enough bad decisions in the last week, thank you very much.

  Knowing me, I’m not done making them.

  The Uber drops me off in front of the parking lot. I thank him and exit, head down as I focus on giving him a good rating on my phone. Walking into the lot, I nod at the attendant inside the small station. I had the foresight of paying for an entire night when I came yesterday, so I’ll just have to show my receipt as I head out.

  Bringing out my keys, I disengage the locks—

  The white slip of paper beneath my windshield wiper could be anything. Could’ve been left by anyone.

  Then why does my skin go cold? Why does my stomach drop with this sickening sensation?

  Rushing forward, I snatch it up and turn it around—

  In bright, bold letters, two words are printed neatly on the other side.

  Two words that’ll forever change everything.

  Two words that solidify what I’d already known and remove any and all doubt.

  I’m a target of the killer. Whether she plans to kill me or just toy with me is irrelevant. What matters is that I now know.

  Staring at those words, I can no longer deny it: she really is after me.

  YOU’RE WELCOME.

  * * *

  Bottle in one hand, that typed note in the other, I’m staring up at the ceiling above my bed in a mindless daze. Correction, in a mindless, tipsy daze.

  There wasn’t enough in the bottle for me to drown.

  The paper, now crinkled into a ball, burns my palm as I roll it around. I can still see those two little words so clearly, it’s almost like they’re painted on the roof.

  You’re welcome.

  She did know she was saving my ass while saving her own. I don’t know what to make of it. Why? Why would she help me when she’s clearly targeting me?

  To ensure you don’t end up behind bars so she can kill you, that little voice taunts.

  But why would she want to kill me? What on Earth could I have possibly done? I don’t fit the profile.

  You’re trying to lock her up, you idiot, that’s what.

  I shoot up with a gasp, eyes wide in realization. The bottle slips from my grip, landing on the rug beneath my bed with a thud before rolling away.

  You know—the silent words she’d mouthed to me last night make perfect, twisted sense. She’s targeting me because I’m after her, because I’m the only one who’s been remotely close enough to catch her.

  That means she has to be the killer from over eight years ago. She just has to be. I was adamant on finding her then, even more now. There’s no way she’s a copycat which means she’s had her eye on me for years.

  Was I the reason she went dormant? Did she use that silent period to study me? To analyze me? To fucking stalk me?

  The new revelation leaves me shaken to my core.

  I’m a dead man walking, and yet it’s not death I’m afraid of.

  What I’m afraid of is never getting to see Kiera again, to hold her again, kiss her again. To say goodbye if death is truly in the cards.

  “Fuck this.” I’m on my feet, thrusting the note onto the floor as if it were on fire.

  Shoes. My keys. I’m out the front door in sheer seconds, racing down to my car with a quickness. I know I shouldn’t get behind the wheel right now, but I need to see her.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m parking across the street from her home. It’s not lost on me that I’ve memorized her address—and how to get here from my place—but it’s a fleeting thought. Not one of importance in the slightest when the woman my entire being begs for on a daily basis is just within reach. My dick practically springs to life in excitement, and yet, with no plan in place, I can’t seem to get out of the car.

  I mean, what am I supposed to say when the housekeeper answers the door?

  What could possibly be my excuse for showing up here after hours and without Ruby? Sure, I’m still in my work clothes, but that’s all I’ve got.

  Fuck it. I’ll figure it out later. This pull is more than I can handle, more than I can resist with my mind in shambles like this.

  Heart thudding, I exit my car, eyes on the DuBois mansion. Most of the lights are on behind the curtains, slivers leaking through the windows. Running a hand over my hair to smooth it some, I head across the street to the front door. My hands feel slick with sweat as I ring the doorbell. Still haven’t come up with an excuse to give the housekeeper.

  Again, fuck it. I’ll let them think what they want and just ask for Kiera upfront. I’m risking my job more than ever, but—

  The front door opens, revealing the woman herself, standing there with her pretty lips parted in a shocked O.

  I take her in, dressed in black dress pants, a simple black shirt, and sexy black heels, and my mind splinters further at this visual. I’ve only ever seen her in light colors. That one time on her Facebook profile in the red lingerie.

  “Maverick?” Her murmur is full of disbelief and I don’t blame her.

  I still can’t believe I’m here myself.

  “Does this qualify as finding you?” Not the exact opening I was going for, but my mouth runs ahead with me regardless. I meet her stare again nervously, becking her with the crook of my finger. “Come here, I need you.”

  Kiera rushes out onto the landing, letting the door close behind her, and in a split second she’s on me.

  Luscious lips smashing against my own.

  “Mmph!” I grunt, gathering her into my arms, our tongues connecting in a seismic blast of fucking lust.

  Blind, teeth clashing against hers, I lift her off her feet and throw her into the wall besides the door. She lets me, whimpering frantically, writhing against my dick.

  Fisting the fabric of my blazer along my back, she bites into my lip as her legs lock firmly around my waist.

  “Oh God, yes. I need this, Kiera. I need you.” I tilt my head, kissing her deeper, our tongues a wet mess of need.

  She meets me thrust for thrust, lick for lick, my name on her lips the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. “Can’t stop thinking about this, Maverick. About you. You’re all I want.”

  “Same,
baby, fucking same.” More kissing. More grinding. My dick aches like it’s never had her before, yet at the same time consumed with the memory of what being inside her is like.

  The absolute bliss that obliterates everything but that perfect pleasure.

  Tugging at the hair on my nape, she nips me again, before easing back to mumble against my lips, “Take me away from here, now. Take me somewhere you can fuck me hard with that big cock. I need you inside me.”

  “I won’t make it,” I confess, forehead against hers, hips still working her.

  “You can and you will. Then you can eat this pussy the way we’ve both been dying for you to.”

  Shittttt. Okay. She wins. All I can think about now is getting my mouth on her cunt.

  Near hyperventilating, I grab her hand and lead her away from her front door. “My car’s across the street. Let’s go. I’m taking you to the first place I can find.”

  “The mouth of forbidden women is a deep pit; he with whom the Lord is angry will fall into it.” - Proverbs 22:14

  Ten literal minutes later, I’m pulling up to a motel. Considering the area, it’s a nice place, not too crowded, either. I’m just about to climb out and tell her to stay put while I sort everything with reception, but her small hand meets my chest before I can even slip off my seatbelt.

  Our eyes meets and she shakes her head, a devious smirk curling her lips. “I got this,” she tells me.

  “But, I need to—”

  “Shhh.” She leans in and pecks my lips. “I got this, trust me. I’ll be right back.”

  Despite the questions running through my mind, I don’t fight her. I should, but I don’t. Instead, I fish out my wallet from the back pocket of my slacks and hand her several bills. She eyes them momentarily before stuffing them into her bra and pushing out onto the pavement.

  I watch her saunter to the office with confident strides through the rear view mirror, barely containing myself. The entire time she’s inside, I’m grinding my teeth, clenching and unclenching my fists. I’m gonna tear this girl apart tonight, lavish every goddamn inch of her.

  I can feel it.

  It’s been a mere week since the last time, but it feels like a century. I’m lost in the memory of it when a tap at my window jerks me back into the present.

  Kiera holds up a key, that salacious smirk of hers set firmly in place.

  With a flick of my wrist, I shut off the engine and shoot out of the car. She practically drags me through the lot and up the stairs to our room.

  I knew this was a nice place just from the exterior, but what awaits us behind that door literally leaves me in shock. This isn’t just any motel.

  It’s made for sex—red tinted lights, mirrors above the bed, floor to ceiling mirrors on the walls surrounding the bed. There’s even a pole near one of the corners. Benches, chairs, everything.

  My dick swells to life.

  I’m. Going. To. Rip. Her. Apart.

  I can already imagine taking her on every surface available.

  Evidently, Kiera can, too, because the second she peeks at me from over her shoulder, I see those same exact images flashing through those silver irises.

  Mine.

  The thought crosses my mind before I’m slamming the door and rushing her, pushing her backward into the room until I’m tossing her on the bed.

  Her pants are first to go, revealing creamy legs encased in nylon. Fuck, she’s all wrapped up beneath her clothes, like that damned Facebook profile image I’ve never been able to erase from my mind. My hands work in double time to get the rest off, discarding each article of clothing behind me without a single fuck.

  Red.

  She’s in all red except for those black thigh-highs. It’s like she knew I’d be coming for her tonight, encased herself for me like my own personal birthday present.

  I almost don’t want to take it off her.

  Almost.

  Fingers slipping into the edges of her thigh-highs, I tug her legs apart. Breaths rushing, I dive straight for that covered, wet spot that I can’t stop thinking about.

  Kiera yelps as I sink my teeth into her pussy lightly. “Holy shit.”

  My tongue laps at her. Even through the thin thong, her slick lips are bared along the edges. Sucking on one and then the other, I force her to remain still on the bed, as she twitches beneath me. “This fucking taste.” Vision hazy, I release one thigh-high.

  Her panties are shoved roughly to the side.

  “M-Maverick—” My name’s choked off by a rough gasp when I kiss her swollen clit, humming against her flesh.

  I’ve tasted her before. The memory of her dripping fingers in my mouth never left. But this?

  This?

  It’s like I lose every ounce of my humanity. My mind rushes in warp-speed, pornographic images, all the things I want to do to her tormenting me. Pulling away from this pussy is nearly impossible, but one image is stronger the rest.

  More irresistible than the rest.

  Kiera whispers my name in awe one more time as I force her off the bed. Ignoring her confusion, I spin her around, onto her knees.

  Then, one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, I force her upper body flat on the surface.

  All around us, depicted in a multitude of cruel reflections, is the image of me, fully dressed, so much larger than her, dominating her lingerie-clad body from behind.

  I look like a fucking monster, as if every torment I’ve carried in my sinful soul is finally making itself known on my face.

  Groaning at the sight of her ass now that I have her bent over again, I finish tugging that tiny red thong off. Glistening, plump lips. That small, pink opening above them, tempting me to take her ass just like I’m planning on taking everything else.

  Kiera presses her hands on the bed and tries to lift herself up. The move makes that juicy ass rock in ways that threaten my sanity further. “Not this time. I want to do you.”

  I slam her back onto the mattress using my hold on her nape. “This is fucking mine and I take it however I want.”

  That’s the last coherent thing I can tell her.

  Spreading her ass cheeks, I dive between, licking her from ass to pussy. More ravenous than ever. I hear her frantic cries, but it’s her taste, the way her hips work back to offer me more, that becomes the center of everything. I alternate sucking her pussy, tonguing her ass, face lost against her.

  Her juices coat every part of my lips. My chin.

  “Oh fuck, baby. Yes . . . Eat me.” She spreads her legs wider, rubs against my face faster. “Eat everything, all of me. It’s yours.”

  I cry out against her, spearing her with my tongue, practically mauling her alive. Moaning, mewling, she’s flooding for me, and I’m loving every single goddamn minute of it.

  But I want her wetter.

  I want her to drown for me, just like she’s drowning me. Jameson has nothing on her, on what she can do to me. How she can make me feel.

  Bringing my thumb up to that tight little hole, I push against it gently, massaging the rim as my tongue continues on with its assault. I’ve not even circled her clit three times when her legs begin trembling against my shoulders.

  “Mav . . . I’m so close,” she warns, arching back further.

  That’s my cue. As badly as I want her to fall apart on my tongue, I need to feel those silken walls clamping around my dick even more. Sucking me in, marking me in the same way I’ve marked her every time I’ve taken her.

  Essence coating my face, I ease back and rise to full height behind her, cutting my eyes to the mirror before us. Once again, I hardly recognize myself, chest heaving, eyes fucking rabid. Who am I? What is happening to me?

  She’s corrupted you, that insidious little voice jeers. She’s leading you astray.

  Perhaps so, but if my soul is the price I have to pay to taste such sweetness, to have this whenever I want, however I want, then my soul be damned.

  “Mav, please,” Kiera’s whimper draws me back into the moment.<
br />
  I glance down at her, still on display for me, her pussy swollen from my feasting.

  Dripping.

  Creamy.

  Fuck.

  With quick hands, I undo my belt and drop my pants, taking hold of my aching cock. “You want it, baby?” I slap it against her cunt a few times.

  She nods, but rushes to answer as soon as I drape myself over her and grip her by the hair. “Yes, God, yes. Give it to me, all of it.”

  I don’t even have to align myself with her slit. My dick’s already there, throbbing, fucking waiting to own that heat.

  “Take it, baby, take it! Fuck me like you own me!” She fucking whines it, and that’s when I lose it, filling her to the hilt until she’s gasping beneath me.

  Hell, I gasp, too, throwing my head back, eyes clamped shut. It’s Heaven and Hell all over again, exactly like I remembered, yet somehow better, warmer, tighter.

  She’s so goddamn tight that, after a few mere strokes, I can already feel my orgasm building at the base of spine. Her hair fisted in my hand, I yank her back with me, lifting her on her knees as I impale her at a steady pace.

  “Whose pussy is this, Kiera?” I grit in her ear, bringing my fingers to her clit.

  Skin slapping, pants and moans filling the air, she squeezes her eyes shut. “Y-yours, i-it’s yours!”

  “Say it again . . . whose”—thrust—“Pussy”—thrust— “Is”—thrust— “This?”

  That last thrust is almost punishing, fingers attacking her clit like an F5 tornado. The tremors that wrack her body, I feel them echo through me as she attempts to answer my manic question.

  “Oh God. Oh God.” She keeps reciting it, tears leaking from the corner of her beautiful eyes. Brow furrowed, she throws her head back against my shoulder, stare pleading. “Kiss me, Maverick.” My hand on her hip is tugged go to her chest—flattened against her heart. “Make me feel it here for once.”

  Letting the visual of us fucking from eighteen different angles go is painful, but the warmth that inundates my chest is undeniable.

  Cupping her jaw, I give her my lips. She eats at them instantly, greedily, as if sucking up her own taste and loving it.