by Jo Davis
His seduction was too much to resist. So wicked.
One well-oiled finger dipped inside her channel. Twisting slowly, stretching. She felt him move without removing his hand and suddenly his breath puffed against her slit.
“There you go, baby. You’re all mine. So pretty, writhing on my hand, begging for more. And you do want more, don’t you, my love?”
“Please, more!”
“More what?”
“Your fingers and your m-mouth. Clay . . .”
The feeling of fullness increased, burning a little, as he added a finger or two. It felt so good. Made her feel connected in more than a physical way.
Belonging to this man made her complete.
His hot tongue licked her slit. Just the tip and nothing more. Teasing, like a feather. Light enough to drive her insane as he worked her, turning her into a ball of mindless sensation.
“You want my mouth, honey?”
“Yes, dammit!”
His chuckle floated in the darkness. “Anything for my baby. You’ll have my mouth, and I’m going to eat you until you come so hard you pass out. But I won’t be finished with you just yet.”
“Clay!”
“Know what I’ll do to you next? I’m going to fuck you, honey. Right here,” he said, twisting his fingers. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream, and you’re going to come for me again.”
With that, he lapped at her sex, tasting. True to his word, he ate her like a starving man, leaving no spot unattended. The storm built fast and she tried to hold back for a bit, but when he latched on to her clit and began to suck it like a piece of delicious candy, she came undone.
Forgetting about his order to keep her hands over her head, or not really caring, she reached down and buried her fingers in his hair. Her orgasm splashed over her in luxurious waves and she cried out, riding the pleasure.
When the last tremor subsided, she felt him withdraw, and reached for him automatically.
“I’m just getting myself ready. Not going anywhere. You can watch now if you want.”
Melissa opened her eyes to see a pagan god kneeling near her feet. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he fisted himself, making the shaft nice and slick.
He scooted forward and scooped his hands under her bottom. With little effort, he lifted her up. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”
In this position, she was more exposed than ever, if possible. She loved being bared to him, for his pleasure. The languid haze spread to every limb once more, as if he had her enchanted.
Spreading her cheeks, he brought the head of his cock to her opening. Began to push, his face suffused with hunger.
“Oh!”
“Doing good, baby.” More, inches at a time. “How do you feel?”
“Full,” she moaned. “So full.”
“Almost there. I wish you could see my cock splitting your pussy, claiming you.” And then he was balls deep. “Ah, yes.”
“Move, do something,” she begged, clutching the sheets on either side of her body. “I need you.”
He began to pump, slowly at first, letting her adjust. This was a fire that had never consumed her before and she was helpless as it built. Burned higher.
“Fuck, yeah. Sweetheart.”
She thrashed, lost in how wonderful it was to be impaled on him. Owned by him. “Harder!”
Her demand flipped the switch and he gave her what she wanted. Fucked her with abandon, hips driving like a piston. Keeping her steady with one hand, he reached to her sex and massaged the tiny nub, relentless.
To her amazement, a second orgasm unfurled, shaking her apart. “Oh, fuck! Yes!”
Clay thrust deep and held there, throwing back his head with a hoarse cry. Heat warmed her inside, completing the circle. She’d never seen a man more beautiful in the throes of orgasm.
His cock twitched a few more times, and he gradually relaxed. Came down off the euphoric high and opened his eyes, smiling. “You were wonderful.”
“Me? You’re the gorgeous man who seduced me.”
“Your man.” He slipped out gently and stretched out beside her.
She rolled to face him. “You are my man.” Reaching out, she touched his face. “And I love you.”
His eyes widened and he snatched her into his arms, pulling her on top of him. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He laughed, the sound of sheer joy, and pulled her down for a lengthy kiss. When they broke away, he said, “I love you, too.”
Yes, life was almost perfect.
The shadows could wait until tomorrow.
• • •
Monday pretty much sucked, as they tended to do.
The idyll of her long weekend with Clay had passed, and it was back to the grind. The day dragged on, and so did her cases. For hours, her thoughts strayed to her uncle and his visit. Something was still bugging her, something she couldn’t put her finger on.
But she’d figure it out. She always did.
By the time she left, she was grouchy and tired. Clay was on shift, so he wouldn’t return until seven the next morning, right before she had to leave for work again. Such was the life of being a firefighter’s girlfriend, and the reality hit her more at that moment than ever before. Probably because things between them were serious. This was the real deal.
But she wouldn’t trade Clay for anything. She loved him, and schedules sometimes clashed. They’d make it work.
At home that evening, she’d just popped a frozen dinner in the microwave when her cell phone rang. Picking it up from the counter, she saw that it was her nearest neighbor behind the far acreage of her property. She frowned. What was that about?
“Hello?” she said in greeting.
“Melissa, honey, this is Jane Fowler,” the woman said.
“Yes, Jane, what can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s what I can do for you,” the woman replied wryly. “There’s been some goings-on at the back of your property for a couple of nights now, and I thought I’d better let you know.”
A chill gripped her heart, but she managed to keep her voice even. “What kind of activity are we talking about?”
“Lights. Vehicles. I’ve spotted at least two different ones. Not at the same time, though. Both were trucks, and they entered through a break in your fence at the back of your place where there shouldn’t be a break. I don’t know what these men are up to, but I didn’t want your horses to find the spot and get loose.”
“Thank you, Jane. I appreciate you letting me know.”
“No problem. And Melissa, honey, don’t go crawling around out there by yourself,” the woman said with worry. “Call one of your detective friends to come over.”
“Good advice. I’ll do that. Have you noticed anything tonight?”
“Not yet, but it’s a bit early. They’ve been showing up later.”
“Okay. Thanks again.”
“No problem. Us neighbors have to look out for each other.”
Melissa ended the call and chewed her lip. Calling for backup was the best plan. But what if the trucks were nothing more than teenagers using her place to have a beer bash? Wouldn’t be the first time.
Something told her the reason was more sinister. And that James Ryan was behind it.
She tried phoning for backup, but couldn’t reach a single one of the guys. Shane was still healing and she didn’t want to bother him. The others were either out or not answering.
“Fuck it, I’m a cop. I can find out what’s going on by myself.”
Outside, she saddled Biscuit, one of her brown mares. She wasn’t as fast as the gray gelding, Boss, but his coat would shine at night like a beacon.
Before she mounted, she took stock. She had her cell phone, flashlight, and her sidearm in the holster at her belt. I’m ready.
Once she reached the back of the property, it didn’t take long to find the cut in the fence. The bastards had left a hole large enough for a truck, or two, to pass through. She followed the tire tracks, and they seemed to disappear as they reached a small clearing.
Making a decision, she dismounted and moved Biscuit closer to her house, out of earshot but near enough to run to and ride home should she need the mare. Then she returned to the spot and waited.
She crouched low in the darkness, secure in her hiding place at the edge of the tree line where the rolling fields of her property met the thick woods. Kneeling in the newly green vegetation, she thanked God it was cool enough at night to keep the mosquitoes from launching a full-scale attack. She could only pray she wasn’t sitting in something that would have her scratching miserable, hard-to-reach places for days.
She watched and waited. Yawned. Damn, this was boring, sitting out here playing detective on her own place. Probably for nothing, too. Since she’d committed herself to taking up the vigil tonight, the assholes probably wouldn’t show.
Then, a low noise. The whine of a faraway engine, coming closer. She sat up straighter and leaned forward, peering into the night.
A pair of headlights topped the rise, cutting through the gloom. She could barely make out the shape as a pickup truck, which didn’t help much. Three-fourths of the males in Cheatham County drove pickup trucks. Before she could move, another pair of headlights topped the hill following the first. Two trucks. Relief mixed with a healthy dose of anger spurred her into action. One truck? Maybe James’s men. But two?
“Teenagers,” she said, wishing she could be so sure.
Hopefully that’s all there was to the suspicious activity Jane had seen. Kids coming out here to drink and raise hell where they wouldn’t be discovered. They’d been a nuisance in the past, leaving beer cans and assorted litter in their wake. One of the drawbacks to inheriting her aunt’s acreage well outside of town.
The taillights she’d been watching suddenly disappeared at the edge of the woods. Melissa suppressed a shiver. No lights meant they’d stopped and she couldn’t see them anymore. She consoled herself with the knowledge that they couldn’t see her, either. Not until she revealed her presence.
Creeping closer, she thanked God that the ground was soft and pliant under her boots. A few moments later she stopped even with the pickup trucks. No one seemed to be nearby, and a chill zinged down her spine. This wasn’t right.
No blaring music, no teenage revelry.
Low, masculine voices snared her attention. A laugh in the darkness, harsh and crude. The glow of a cigarette and some other dim light deep in the woods ahead. The steady, muffled rhythm of something striking the earth, digging in.
A shovel.
Melissa knew the sound. Belatedly, she cursed herself for not holding out until one of the other detectives could accompany her. She was an idiot.
Keeping to the shadows, she moved ahead, skirting the area where the voices penetrated the air. At the center of the clearing, three men stood backlit by a heavy-duty halogen lamp. One man was bent over a shovel, a large black garbage bag on the ground at his feet, intent on his task while the other two watched.
Melissa squinted against the glare, but could only discern their forms. The men were of a strong, slim build, except for the one with the shovel. His shape was heavyset. One of the men watching wore a cowboy hat, but the other two were bareheaded.
“Did you two get the rest of the bags?” Cowboy asked the men beside him.
“We carried the last one, asshole.”
Last one what? She was afraid to find out.
The heavyset man stopped digging. “Wait, he told us to—”
“Yeah, fuck that, and James. He ain’t here stumbling through the woods at midnight with that fucking cop—”
“Shut up, moron,” Cowboy snapped. Then to the heavyset man he said, “Let’s just get it done. Who wants to run around all night hauling that and risk getting caught?” The heavyset man hesitated, then swore, pitching the shovel onto the ground. He pulled a flashlight from his back pocket and led the way, leaving the lamp on the ground. Melissa watched the trio move off into the darkness together, apparently to go fetch whatever they’d brought with them to dispose of.
Her attention went to the trash bag and she did a quick mental calculation of how long it might take them to make it to their vehicles and back. Five minutes, maybe less. Enough time to take a quick peek inside the bag to see what had them in such a hurry to complete the task for her uncle and get out of here.
She didn’t like this. She should leave now and sneak back to the house. She should call Austin Rainey for help and he’d send someone. She could bring him back here when it was safe to see what the trespassers had left behind. Except . . .
They would be long gone by then and she would lose any chance of getting a better look at them and gather more evidence. Maybe she could circle around to the trucks and get the license plate numbers. She would investigate first, then ride for home and call Austin. Her mind made up, she stood on trembling legs and picked her way out of the brush.
In the small clearing, she knelt by the bag and glanced at the hole. What could the plastic contain that her uncle would want to bury it back here where the thing probably would never have been found? Drugs? Worse? Her mouth flattened into a grim line.
Fingers shaking, Melissa worked at the twisty tie, aware she’d wasted far too much time. She got the tie free, then slipped it into the front pocket of her shirt. The plan was to secure the bag afterward so they wouldn’t be alerted that someone had been poking around. Opening the plastic, she shifted slightly to the side to allow the light from the lamp to illuminate the contents . . . and looked inside.
“Oh—Oh my God.”
There, in the bag, was the decomposing head of Officer Ron Nelson.
Just the head.
She shoved the bag away and shot to her feet, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to escape. Bile rose in her throat, heart slamming so painfully in her chest she thought it might explode. She couldn’t get sick. She had to get out of here. Now.
Never, until this moment, had she known how truly evil James Ryan was.
“Hey, bitch!”
“Who the fuck is that?”
Shouts and curses sounded behind her, bodies crashing through the woods. Survival mode kicked in, overriding the shock. She plunged headlong into the darkness and ran. Ran as never before.
A series of pops followed, pelting the trees and brush all around her. A stinging pain caught her near the left shoulder blade, but was lost in a burst of pure adrenaline.
Branches clawed at her face and arms, and she tripped over a rotting log. She went sprawling, the breath knocked out of her lungs, but sprung back to her feet and ran as though the very devil was in pursuit.
After a time she stopped and leaned against a tree, panting. Listened. She must’ve lost them, but wasn’t taking any chances. Keeping to the cover of the woods, she made her way back to where Biscuit waited.
The shortest route home was over the fields, but she couldn’t risk riding into the open. She’d have to go the long way, but at least they couldn’t follow through the woods in their trucks. With any luck, they hadn’t gotten a good look at her and didn’t realize she was James’s niece.
But that was a slim hope.
As she rode carefully through the trees, the burning agony in her shoulder penetrated her numb brain. Switching the reins to her left hand, she reached up and felt her shirt. Sticky warmth soaked the front, and she felt the wet material clinging against her back as well.
Shot. The realization amazed her in a way that was strangely detached. Almost as if it had happened to someone else. A weird fog descended over her, and she recognized it as a serious warning signal. She needed help, fast.
Fighting to stay conscious became nearly impossible. Slumped in the saddle, Melissa let her mount guide them. When the horse stopped, it took her a full minute to realize she’d ridden into her backyard. The door leading into the mudroom was a mere ten feet away. It may as well have been a mile.
Melissa hoisted a leg over and slid out of the saddle, landing in a heap on the ground. Determined, she pulled herself upright by using the stirrup, then the edge of the leather seat. She couldn’t pass out. If she did, she could very well die on her own lawn. Glancing around, she saw the three men hadn’t intercepted her here. She was alone.
Aiming for the back door, she put one boot in front of the other. Her rubbery legs nearly gave out, but she kept walking until she reached her goal. Leaning against the wall for support, she dug the key out of her front jeans pocket, unlocked the door. She wobbled inside through the mudroom and into the kitchen, flipping on the light switch.
Phone? In her pocket.
She dug it out and made her way to the living room, collapsed on her sofa. Everything was distorted now. Call Clay. Get help.
Somehow she managed to punch his number. It rang three times. Please, pick up.
“Hey, baby! What’s up? I miss you.”
“Clay,” she croaked. “Help me.”
“What?” Fear colored his voice as he went on alert. “What is it? Has your uncle been back?”
“Shot,” she whispered.
“Honey,” he said, deadly calm. “It’s going to be okay. Stay on the line, we’re coming to you. Do you understand? Are you at home?”
“Yes.”
A pause as he shouted to someone, maybe Six-Pack. More shouts, some at Melissa. She tried to answer, but her tongue was too big. Heavy.
Then she heard nothing at all.
• • •
Clay didn’t recall much of the frantic race to Melissa’s place.
He simply followed Howard’s barked orders, knowing his captain had routed the call through dispatch, letting them know they’d received a plea from a gunshot victim. They were officially assigned to the call, and were making their way to her as fast as they were able.