“You won’t know where I am or how long I’m gone.” He stroked her shoulder. “You won’t know if I’ve come back or I’m still away. You’ll lose all sense of time and place.”
She had read about subs entering some kind of state where they lost track of time and lost sense of themselves. Sub-space? She had read about it, and she understood how that could happen and she wasn’t sure she wanted to go through it herself.
“I’ll see you later.” He kissed her shoulder. She wanted to shake her head but she couldn’t the way she was tied down.
She tried to calm herself. If she didn’t she might hyperventilate and that wouldn’t be good.
For a long time—at least she thought it was a long time—she lay over the ottoman. Thoughts of anything on the outside just seemed to vanish. It was like the hood blocked out the world and it was just her alone. Somehow that was peaceful and calming.
She came back to herself as she heard voices, more than one. Maybe even three.
The sounds made her heart start pounding. The voices sounded close but she couldn’t make out what they were saying.
John wouldn’t have brought anyone into the room with her lying naked and bound, would he?
No. No way.
But the voices seemed to get louder until it felt like they had to be in the same room as her. She heard male laughter.
Fear made her freeze up. What was happening? What was John doing?
Even though the voices sounded like they were close, she still couldn’t understand what they were saying. They had to have been talking about the naked and bound woman in the middle of the room.
More laughter, and then she clearly heard John as he said, “Have at it, guys. Go ahead and have some fun.”
Roni screamed behind her gag and fought against her bonds. They had to see that she was here unwillingly. Would they care?
She had always liked the fantasy of being used by more than one man. But it had been a fantasy. Now she couldn’t do anything about it.
With everything she had, she struggled but couldn’t move.
Her breathing came faster. She really was afraid she was going to hyperventilate.
Then she heard John’s voice, close to her ear. “Keep trying to get out, Roni. I love watching the futile struggle. I will enjoy watching you with my friends.”
She felt a hand stroking her thigh and skimming her folds and she stilled. One of the men was touching her.
Despite her fear and the fact that she didn’t think she wanted to be fucked by more than one man, she grew wetter than she had been and felt an ache in her pussy. The thoughts of the men taking her and the reaction her body was having shocked her into breathing hard again.
Then someone worked at unfastening the blindfold. The light was bright at first but then she saw John with a smoldering look in his eyes.
“How do you feel now?” he asked. “Scared?”
She made a muffled sound. He had to see by her eyes that she was terrified.
He raised an iPod and showed it to her. She blinked and tried to make sense of why he was showing her an iPod. He pressed the on button and she heard the sound of muffled male voices coming from a stereo.
She sagged in relief. He had been screwing with her. She was going to punch him when she got free. One thing that she had to admit was that he got her good. It was probably the most scared she had ever been.
He adjusted the way that he was sitting and she saw that he had put a large mirror in front of her and she could see just how bizarre she looked.
“I’m not finished with you yet.” He moved away and she didn’t feel his presence anymore.
She waited in her confined world he had her secured in, so thankful that he had only been carrying out what she loved to feel… Fear. Maybe she’d had enough fear for a while.
A hard strike across her thighs nearly had her choking on her gag as she cried out. Again he did it and again. He swatted her with what felt like a riding crop, just enough for her eyes to water from the pain. The sensations, mixed with how she had been feeling moments ago left her feeling raw… And incredibly excited.
He stopped swatting her and moved behind her and between her thighs and she watched him in the mirror. He grabbed her by her ponytail and he pulled her head back. She felt the press of his cock against her and then he drove into her.
She watched in the mirror as he fucked her hard, slamming up against her, so hard that she felt as if the motions could break her bonds. He rode her, holding onto her ponytail.
Harder. Harder. Harder yet. It felt so good, so intense as he took her and being able to see herself like this added to it all. She felt the slide of him inside her, his thickness and his length and felt the butt plug filling her up. She felt all of him and she didn’t want him to stop.
But her orgasm was coming. It charged toward her faster than she wanted. She tried to hold off but she couldn’t.
She climaxed hard, her whole body vibrating beneath him. He kept on fucking her, causing her body to shudder with aftershocks.
His shout was muffled through her hood as he came. She felt him throb inside her, felt him pump in and out a few more times. Then he relaxed, bracing his arms so that he was over her, his cock still inside of her. She felt the sweat of his skin over her own hot flesh.
She sighed with exhaustion and relief and she watched him as he unfastened her wrist cuffs and removed the spreader bar from between her ankles, and removed the plug.
When she was free, he brought her into a sitting position on the ottoman and pulled off her hood.
She felt dazed for a moment as she returned to the present and the real world, and a sense of euphoria overcame her, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She looked up at him and smiled.
He sat next to her, brought her into his arms, and held her.
Chapter 9
It wasn’t possible to get tired of sex like this. How would it ever be possible to settle for plain old vanilla?
Roni smiled to herself as she rolled out of bed around ten. Before dawn John had received a call and he’d had to leave his apartment for some kind of emergency. She had lain around in bed for a while after waking up, enjoying the pleasant afterglow of great kinky sex before she had to decide how she was going to spend her Sunday.
Decisions, decisions.
She headed into his bathroom and took a shower, enjoying the feel of warm water pounding down on her skin. His shampoo and shower gel reminded her of him and she loved the scents.
When she climbed out of the shower she toweled herself off in one of his thick burgundy towels, then used his brush on her long wet hair. If she had known she was going to spend the night, she would have packed a little bag.
After she was dressed, she wandered from the bathroom and through his apartment. It was comfortable and homey, a feeling that wasn’t always possible in an apartment, especially for a guy, from her experience. It had three bedrooms, one of which he used for an office and the other for an exercise room. That explained his ripped body.
She wandered to his exercise room and pictured him working out on the weight machines or jogging bare-chested on the treadmill. Very nice visuals accompanied those thoughts.
As she was passing by his office she noticed the door was open. It hadn’t been yesterday. She wasn’t planning on going into his office because she didn’t want to invade his privacy. Even though the door was open she didn’t intend to look, but something caught her eye. She pushed the door open and her heart started thundering.
There were pictures on a corkboard on one wall.
Pictures of dead women. Women who looked like her.
She couldn’t stop staring at the pictures even as her stomach churned. Almost in a trance, she walked closer and saw the sightless eyes, the naked bodies bound in white ropes.
Her whole body trembled as she held her hand to her stomach and started to back out of the room. Before she could get through the door, she noticed the large map with red dots on an ad
jacent wall. She paused and looked more closely. Dots punctuated the map in areas across three states. Her mind spun through it all as she mentally notated the cities where the red dots were. All cities where women with her description had been murdered.
Slowly her gaze moved to the desk. On it was John’s iPad. Her hand shook as she reached for it. She wasn’t sure why she had to look at it but something compelled her to pick it up. When she powered it on she saw what he had been looking at the last time he used it.
On it was a picture of her.
Chills rolled over her body and she held her hand to her chest. According to the date on the digital photograph, it was taken sometime before she had met him. The image was of her leaving the building of the manufacturer that she worked for.
Everything fell together.
John had known exactly who she was before he met her.
He had pictures of dead women who looked similar to her.
He had an aerial map showing the three states where the murders had been committed with red marks signifying the location of each killing.
She clasped her hand over her mouth, holding back a scream.
John was the serial killer.
Terror ripped through her and a crawling sensation went up her spine. She dropped the iPad on his desk and slowly turned around, praying that he wasn’t behind her.
He wasn’t. She bolted for his bedroom where she had left her purse. Her hands trembled as she tried to find her phone. When she finally located it, she was shaking so badly that she fumbled with the phone and dropped it on the floor and it bounced under the bed.
She looked to the doorway and then got down on her knees and reached for the phone. When she picked it up she saw that the screen had cracked from having hit the floor hard. Still on her knees, she punched in 9-1-1 and prayed that it would work.
A tiny measure of relief when through her as an operator answered and asked what the nature of her emergency was.
“I know who the serial killer is, the one killing women with red hair.” She felt herself hyperventilating. “I’m in his apartment. I’m afraid he’s going to come back soon.”
“What is the address you’re at?”
“I—I don’t know.” She looked around frantically, like it would suddenly appear. She couldn’t think, couldn’t remember what his address was even though she had driven to it multiple times since meeting John. Then it came to her. “I’m in an apartment at 555 Bal—”
The phone was suddenly ripped from her hands. She looked up to see John standing over her as he pressed the OFF button.
“Don’t kill me.” She scrambled away from him and her back hit a corner wall. “Please.”
A concerned look overcame the grim expression that he’d just had. He crouched in front of her. “I’m not the serial killer, Roni.”
She shook her head. “I saw all of the pictures and the map on your wall. Women who look like me.” She pressed herself farther back into the corner. “And you have a picture of me. From before I even met you.”
“I can explain all of that.” He held his palms down, like telling her to calm down. “I’m FBI. It’s my job to track down the killer. What you saw was my work.”
“FBI?” She looked at him, her mind not able to process what he was saying. “You said you’re in security.”
“You could say I am.” He moved a little closer and she tried to push herself back. He held his hands up to tell her he didn’t have anything in them and that he wasn’t going to hurt her. “I protect people and eliminate threats. Working in security is my cover.”
She shook her head trying to shake her thoughts in line. “But you have a picture of me, taken before I even met you.”
“I can explain that, too.”
“Was I an assignment or something?” Things just weren’t computing. “I didn’t think someone in a law enforcement career could spend twelve grand in a charity auction.”
“It depends,” he said. “As for me, I had an inheritance about three months ago. It’s more than I can ever do anything with, so I like to spend it on charitable causes.”
“Why would you be working then?” She was still having a hard time processing.
“Because I like my work.” He sighed. “Come out from there and trust me, Roni. If I was going to hurt you I would have by now, don’t you think?”
Her fear was starting to lessen. It was true—if he was the killer she’d probably be dead right now and be a picture on his wall.
She flinched as he reached into his back pocket and pulled something out.
“Shhh.” He drew out a wallet. “I’m just going to show you my credentials.”
She watched as he opened the wallet and she saw a badge and his picture along with his name.
“Come on, honey.” He stood, pocketed his wallet and held out his hand. “Let me explain everything. We’ll sit down and I’ll get you a drink and we’ll talk.”
Her legs trembled as she stood, using the wall for support as she rose. When she was standing she still didn’t want to go forward and didn’t want to take his hand.
“Come on, honey.” He extended it further. “It’s okay.”
Her pulse was slowing and reason was starting to come back to her. She trusted John. She knew in her heart that he would never hurt her. Just seeing those pictures and that map had shocked her. It never occurred to her that he could be in law enforcement and be working on the case.
She took a deep breath and reached for his hand. When his hand grasped hers he drew her to him and enveloped her in his embrace. At first she stiffened but then she relaxed and pressed her face against his shirt and breathed in his comforting scent.
“I don’t blame you.” He rocked her a little as he held her. “Those pictures are shocking and not just anyone would have them on his wall.”
“I guess you’re not just anyone.” Her words were muffled against his shirt.
He drew back and her gaze met his. “No, I’m not.”
With his arm around her shoulders, he escorted her to the door of his office. “Stand here. I don’t want you to have to see the pictures again but I want to show you a couple of things.”
She remained in place, a part of her still wondering if she should run. Her heart was still pounding but the adrenaline rush that had powered her fear was starting to subside.
He returned and he showed her an FBI award certificate and a plaque, both with his name on them. “These are just a couple of things. If you want more, I can show you more.”
“That’s fine.” She took a deep breath. “I think I’m okay now.”
“Good.” He put his arm around her shoulders again and guided her to the kitchen and then to the table where he helped her sit down. “First things first,” he said as he drew his phone out of his pocket and then he punched in a number.
“This is Special Agent John Taylor,” he said to whoever was on the other end of the line. “I need someone to contact Baltimore police and let them know that a call that came from my home address to 911 and it has been taken care of.”
He listened to whoever was on the other end of the line then proceeded to give more detailed information. When he was finished, turned off his phone and pocketed it again. His gaze met Roni’s. “How about that drink now?”
She gave a deep, shuddering sigh. “I don’t care how early it is, that’s exactly what I want.”
“It’s almost noon.” He took a bottle of vodka out of the pantry, along with a few other things, and tomato juice out of the fridge. “Good enough time as any.”
He made her a tall bloody Mary and handed it to her then fixed one for himself.
The glass was cold in her fingers, condensation already forming on its surface. “Can you start from the beginning?” she said after she took a long drink and felt the burn of alcohol as it made its way down her throat.
“The beginning?” He leaned back in his chair and pushed his hand through his hair. “I was called in after the third murder was committed. It
became an FBI matter once the killings extended to three states.
“I specialize in serial killers,” he went on. “I have a pretty good record, but this one has been a bitch.” He shook his head. “Not that they aren’t all bad.”
She swallowed more of her bloody Mary before she asked, “How did you end up with a picture of me?”
“You were in the auction pre-program as being one of the women and men who were to be auctioned off.” He gripped his drink. “Two of the women murdered were in KC, the only connection we’ve been able to find so far. If the other three were involved in any way, we haven’t been able to determine the links. You did match the profile of the woman he likes. Red head. Mid-thirties. Curvy. The only things that are a constant are what you’ve read in the paper.”
“So you followed me?” She gripped her glass with both hands. “Or had me followed?”
“Yes.” He gave a slow nod. “I followed you.”
“So what was this?” She held her hands out. “You bought me to protect me? And had sex with me to keep track of me? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“No, that wouldn’t make sense.” He looked at her with the same kind of expression he’d had when she’d met him, when he’d looked like he’d gotten over his head. “Something about you made me want you and I didn’t want any other man to get his hands on you.”
“And then you didn’t know what to do with me.” She couldn’t help a little smile. “But then I showed you.”
“Yes, you did.” He shook his head. “This—you, me—went places it never should have gone.”
“How do you feel about that?” Her voice softened. “Do you think it was a mistake?”
“No.” There was a fierceness to his tone. “Nothing about you is a mistake, Roni.”
The way he looked at her made her heart beat faster. “I’m glad,” she said. “I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”
“I don’t have a single one.” He reached out and laid his hand over hers. “Well, maybe one.”
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