by Angela Foxxe
Heather’s lips were strongly pressed against his. Her hot mouth breathing in and out of his own, her tongue probing as if searching for the perfect spot to titillate, but every single part of his mouth it wanted to touch was perfect as far as John was concerned. He used his own tongue to pin hers down, enjoying the sensation as she wiggled back and forth.
He relented, allowing her tongue to break free and go on the attack against his own. John began to move his hands over her body, slowly allowing his fingers to linger and move fluidly across her smooth flesh. She moaned softly, encouraging his thoughts.
His hands wandered up under her shirt to her bra, teasing her with the idea of popping it open, but instead choosing to begin a back rub. He knew that backrubs turned her on more than just about anything. She groaned accordingly as he began to apply stronger pressure, moving into deep tissue territory.
Meanwhile, his lips never left hers. The kisses were turning wet and a bit sloppy now; they both loved those passionate, long, somewhat sloppy kisses. He just wanted to ingest as much of her as he could, sucking on her tongue, allowing it to move deeply into the back of his own throat and just do its thing as it attacked the back of his tongue, which occasionally sprang to life. If John could have crawled deeply inside of her mouth right then, he would have.
He was getting so hard. His thickness was ready to pop free from its cage. It had been waiting and ready for a while now, and it was well aware that it was going to get what it wanted. Finally, it was going to get what it wanted.
“Pop it!” Heather moaned.
John slipped his finger beneath her bra strap, and with a flick of his wrist, the bra was loose. He slowly pulled it off, his hands grazing her smooth, large breasts under her shirt.
Heather quickly removed her shirt, pulling it over her head. She was standing in the kitchen right then, topless, in a pair of tight jeans. It was the most erotic sight that John had ever seen.
Heather quickly unbuttoned her jeans and pulled her pants down to reveal that she wasn’t wearing panties. The jeans fell to the floor, wrapped around her ankles. She quickly turned around and leaned against the counter, her beautiful ass stuck up in the air.
John was caught like a deer in the headlights for a moment. He had been wondering how Heather felt about him just an hour ago, and now the only woman he had ever really loved was bent over the kitchen counter of her father’s house with him in the next room. She was naked, and she was begging John to enter her.
John stood there for what felt like thirty seconds, admiring the sweet body that was standing before him. He could see clearly in the crack of her ass. Her secret crevices were on fine display. She was wet and glistening, begging him to enter her and satisfy her deepest urges.
John couldn’t wait any longer. He quickly undid his own pants and took out his throbbing piece. It felt so good to be free from its cage, and it was ready to take on whatever was being asked of it.
In a moment, John was deep inside of Heather. She was like the most delicious piece of succulent fruit—soft, sweet, and juicy. He slid into her perfectly, almost like the two of them had been custom designed for each other.
The moans were getting louder from each of them as John continued his thrusting deeper and deeper into her. He thought about her father in the next room and wondered if he could hear them. They could not have been bothered to move upstairs to her bedroom. The lust was just too strong, and it had overtaken them right then and there. It had been a long time since that had happened to him.
“Oh! That’s it!” Heather squealed.
John placed a hand over her mouth gently to stifle the loud moans, but she was not to be denied. She only squealed louder. John felt a mixture of intense pleasure and extreme embarrassment as he thought of her father waking up in the next room to hear his little girl in the throes of passion. She was a young woman, but in a father’s eyes, his little girl would always be a little girl. John tried to block these thoughts from his mind and focus on his building explosion, but the thoughts were there.
He suddenly felt something strange come over him. He realized that it would be funny for her father to know what he was doing to Heather. Wasn’t it every high school boy’s dream to show a girl’s father that his little girl was not so innocent anymore? He wasn’t sure what it was about a fantasy like that, but it suddenly breathed new life into his motion, and he began to thrust harder and harder in long, deep strokes.
He was going to fill her up with his man seed. She was going to be overflowing with it. Normally this was the sort of thing he tried to avoid, as he wasn’t in a point in his life that he wanted to risk fathering children, but with Heather for some reason, none of that really mattered. He just wanted to let it release as deeply inside of her as he could. Was that the underside of love? Where subconsciously you wanted to father children with a woman, even though you would avoid this at all costs with any other woman? John wasn’t sure anymore. He just wanted to release his bucket of lust inside of Heather. He was getting so close… so close!
“AAAGGH!” John groaned as he erupted inside of her at the end of an especially hard thrust. His stiff rod was poking the farthest recesses of her beautiful wetness and hitting something hard. He hoped that she wasn’t being hurt by that, but he had gotten a bit carried away with how good this all felt, and he just wanted to come hard inside of her.
“OH!” Heather moaned as she braced herself hard at the mercy of his action. She smiled as she gritted her teeth. John felt her own orgasm being triggered by his only a split second after.
As their bodies began to calm down, John released his grip on Heather’s hair. He had been starting to pull it, but she didn’t seem to mind. The both of them were so caught up in the moment and the passion of it all that they were just allowing it all to happen to them.
John tilted Heather’s head slightly toward him and kissed her gently on the lips. Her mouth was so warm and inviting. He leaned forward, his arms wrapping sweetly around her soft body as he felt himself slowly starting to get soft inside of her. He just wanted to stay there for as long as possible. It felt so good to be one with this angel.
John Wild knew right then that he was, in fact, in love.
He had been in love all along.
He’d just refused to admit it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She was so peaceful. How was it possible for someone to be so beautiful? How was it a reality that he was in bed with the most perfect woman on God’s green earth?
John had been lying in bed for about ten minutes admiring Heather’s peaceful sleep when he heard the buzz on his phone. He ignored it for a few moments, continuing to watch her. He had actually slept through most of the night, which was extremely rare for him. As a creature of the night, he didn’t require rest the way normal humans really did. If he allowed himself to transform every day, he would never need sleep because he was energized by the experience. John often felt like he was some sort of robot. He wasn’t a human being, but he also didn’t feel entirely like he was a monster either. He was himself. But at times, he really didn’t know what himself was or what the word even meant.
He picked up his phone off the night stand and clicked on the Facebook notification. He had actually received several notifications from various news sources that he followed. He liked to keep tabs on weird things and happenings just in case it became possible that he was actually to blame for some of them. He typically only shifted to where he was not able to control it on the full moon, but occasionally, he had blacked out at other times and had woken up not knowing what he had done or what had happened. But he would be in the same place. He believed that this meant he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but he couldn’t really know that. Was it just him being lazy at times? He thought that yes, it could be that.
He pulled up the notification. It was a live news feed.
“This is the most horrific crime that the city has seen in quite some time,” reporter Natalie Johnson was saying. “For those of you just joi
ning us, I will repeat the top news story of the hour. Investigative journalist Michelle Patton has been found murdered. Her body was found this morning by a jogger off 12th Avenue and Main Street in Cincinnati, Ohio. Her throat was slashed, and there were several other deep lacerations over the majority of her body. Police do not have a clear cut ID of the cause of death, but it would appear at this point to be some sort of a large animal attack. Occasionally, bears do make their way into the city, but it is very rare. Could this have happened to controversial journalist Michelle Patton? Our prayers are with her family, and we will have more information to pass on to you throughout the day. Stay tuned.”
John turned his phone off. He had broken out into a cold sweat. He kept hearing the reporter’s words ringing in his ears, echoing the fact that Michelle was dead. She wasn’t just dead—she had been mauled by a large animal. Could it have been a bear as the police believed? Or was it something much more dangerous?
It couldn’t have been him. He quickly dismissed the thought from his mind. He had been with Heather all night long. He had fallen asleep briefly, but he had woken up in bed right beside her. There was no evidence that he’d had anything to do with it.
But he was the last person to see her alive. Was it possible that someone might have heard them arguing?
Her body had been found just two blocks from his hotel in Cincinnati. What was she even doing there? Snooping, most likely, he answered himself. She was the type of woman who would never let anything go. Maybe she had been spying on him, and while distracted, she had not realized that she was about to be preyed upon by a wild animal.
Or it might have been a psycho crazy person roaming the streets. Maybe someone who was on some PCP binge or something? Would they look at him? It was possible, if someone knew that he was the last person with Michelle. He had told Keith everything, so he had that.
John quickly slid out of the bed and walked into the bathroom where he dialed Keith. He picked up on the third ring.
“You’ve seen the news?” John asked.
“Oh, shit. Yes. I’ve seen it. That’s tragic,” Keith said. John could almost hear the grin in his voice.
“Don’t sound so choked up about it,” John said.
“I’m sorry, but this is great news for you,” Keith said. “You realize that, right?”
“Well, it seems to be a mixed bag. On one hand, we don’t have to worry about her spilling her guts to the media, but on the other hand, the mystery of her death is going to be public fodder for a bit, especially if everyone finds out that I was the last person to see her alive.”
Keith sighed heavily. “Okay, well, that is a distinct possibility. Here’s what you do; ignore it all and go about your business as usual. If anyone has any questions, then you simply answer them that you saw her a few nights ago at your hotel and you rebuffed her advances. You want to make it seem like you are the good guy here.”
“Keith, I am the good guy. That’s pretty much what happened, more or less,” John replied.
“Well, it’s the more or less we want to stay away from. We need to move the hell away from the town of More or Less. That is dangerous territory because it can be misconstrued so violently. Especially if the media gets ahold of it.”
“What are the chances of that happening?”
Keith laughed. “It’s so funny that you still think it’s 1975. I have no idea where a guy as young as you got such an old brain from.”
“I was being sarcastic,” John said, rolling his eyes. He hoped Keith believed that, but the truth was that John wasn’t the most tech savvy or social media savvy guy in the world. He had Facebook, and after a lot of prodding and pushing, he’d set up an Instagram and Pinterest. But Keith actually used those accounts to connect with the fans far more than he did.
“Why am I getting the feeling you think I’ll be paid a visit by the cops?” John asked. “I told you everything that happened. You do believe me, right?”
Keith laughed. “Of course I believe you, good buddy. But I’m always one to err on the said of caution. You have to learn to be that way, too. When you expect the unexpected, you’re never surprised.”
“You’re right. I’ll do that,” John said.
He hung up the phone feeling better than he had a few minutes ago. But he still felt the anxiety welling up in his chest in a tight ball.
The clock on the nightstand said it was just after six. The first rays of daylight were just starting to appear over the horizon. The temperature outside was a beautiful sixty degrees. John decided to slip out while Heather was asleep and get a nice run in.
It felt great to stretch his legs and just let his speed carry him. The traffic there at that time of morning was still pretty sparse; it didn’t start picking up until about six-thirty when the school traffic started up. So he had a nice little bit of time to get a couple miles of running in, starting with a warm-up jog and then breaking into some intervals of sprinting and jogging. Truthfully, he didn’t need to do any of this to maintain his conditioning since he had the curse on his side. It did have a few advantages, after all, but he always tried to use that as a last resort in anything. He hated the curse with a blind passion and never wanted to get hooked on it. The curse—or gift, depending on how you looked at it—could become a very strong drug, and it was easy to become addicted to the unlimited amount of power he could have if he were so inclined.
But that just wasn’t the way John Wild was wired.
He finished his run at about 6:45 and hopped into the hot shower. There was still no sign of life at Heather’s house. John could hear her father’s loud old-man snores as he passed by his room on his way upstairs. Heather was also sleeping like a baby, looking just as beautiful as anyone could ever look. The peace that was spread across her sweet face was so inviting and uplifting.
John stepped out of the shower and walked into the bedroom still nude. He loved the feeling of the cool air against his skin right after a hot shower. It felt so liberating. He, at times, wished he could be naked all the time. There was something so damn confining about wearing clothes all the time. But that was part of fitting in with modern society. He was reminded about how he was always wearing clothes, even when his body was naked, by keeping his true self buried deeply inside of him.
Heather was now just waking up, and John caught her glancing at his wet, toned body with an approving look in her eyes and a naughty smile on her face. The blankets had fallen away from her body as she leaned forward, propping her head up on her arm. Her large breasts were vividly on display, and John couldn’t help but become aroused as the mass between his legs began to stand at attention.
Heather began to lick her lips, adding to the lustful exchange.
Before he knew it, he was under the covers, buried deep inside of her yet again.
And when they came together, it was like the universe being set on fire.
***
They were almost done with breakfast when John received the phone call.
He and Heather had decided to go to Bob Evans’ restaurant for a sweet, down-on-the-farm style breakfast. It was one of the few things that John really missed about Ohio. Bob’s was his favorite restaurant. There was just something about the home-cooked style of the food that really made you feel like you were on a farm. And their breakfasts were legendary. They just didn’t have those things out west. So, after working up a hell of an appetite, they decided they had to try some Bob’s while he was in town.
He didn’t recognize the number right off, but he decided that he would go ahead and answer it. He figured that Heather would think it odd if he didn’t answer the call.
“Hello?” John answered quickly, swallowing some pancake.
“John Wild?” The voice on the other end was stern and gruff. It was all business.
“Yeah. Who is this?” John asked.
Heather furrowed her brow as a look of concern swept across her face.
“This is Detective Shane Peters with Cincinnati PD. We got your
number from your agent after we failed to find you at your hotel room.”
“Okay, what is this about?” John asked.
“We’d like to speak with you about Michelle Patton. I’m assuming you’ve heard what has happened to her?”
“Just a little,” John said. He smiled at Heather. He needed her to ignore this call. He’d had nothing to do with Michelle Patton’s death, and he didn’t want Heather to know that the woman had been practically stalking him. Everything with her was going so well and they were having such a great time rekindling the old flame that he was afraid this would complicate things into something very messy.
“Well, we need you to come down to the station this afternoon.”
“Okay, I guess I can do that.”
“You guess? I guess I didn’t make it clear that you don’t have a choice. We will expect you by four.”
The line went dead.
That’s a happy camper, John thought as he put the phone back in his pocket. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Keith had told him this would probably happen and that he would just have to get through it as a routine thing. How had Keith known? The man was a genius. John had never really thought the cops would question him because even though he worried about it, deep down he knew that he had no connection to Michelle, or at least none that anyone knew about.
But with today’s media circus around every corner and almost every aspect of our lives documented by cameras and social media, it was highly probable the more he thought of it. There must have been a camera in the hotel hallway that had seen Michelle leaving his place. The hotel most likely notified the cops, and they’d cleared all other angles to determine that John was very likely the last person to see Michelle Patton alive.
But the camera should have also seen that he did not leave his hotel room. Although it was possible that he could have climbed out the window and down the fire escape that was not far from his window. He had noticed it when he’d first checked in. He remembered remarking to himself how rickety and unsafe the thing looked, but it was probably still serviceable, and he found himself without a credible alibi for Michelle’s murder.