Jewels and Panties (Book, Thirteen): Mad Love Science

by Brooke Kinsley

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Mad Love Science

  Jewels And Panties Series

  Book Thirteen

  Brooke Kinsley

  © 2017 All Rights Reserved

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses per law

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  "Erotica is literature designed to be read with one hand...”-Brooke Kinsley

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  Contents

  Description

  Chapter One LINCOLN

  Chapter Two BERGER

  Chapter Three LINCOLN

  Chapter Four BERGER

  Chapter Five LINCOLN

  Chapter Six BERGER

  Chapter Seven LINCOLN

  Chapter Eight BERGER

  Chapter Nine LINCOLN

  Chapter Ten BERGER

  Chapter Eleven LINCOLN

  Chapter Twelve BERGER

  About The Author

  Description

  LINCOLN

  So many bodies.

  So much pain.

  When will it end?

  I think things will be okay.

  I’m going to ask her to marry me!

  Then I find her dead and my world falls apart.

  But it’s okay.

  I may be losing my mind but I have a plan that will bring her back to me.

  I’m a genius. I can do anything I want.

  Just as long as nothing else goes wrong.

  But then an old friend reappears and things can only get more complicated.

  Chapter One

  Lincoln

  I watched the body for a moment as it jerked spasmodically on the floor like a dying fish. It repulsed me and so I turned my back on it. Behind me, the guards were panicking.

  "Do something," the younger one told me. "You must save him. You can do that, right? We know who you are."

  Looking over my shoulder, I watched as Pinstripe's face turned indigo. The fear in the guard's eyes was real. What did he feel for this man? And why did he feel it?

  I made the empty gesture of crouching down beside the body, humming and hawing as I took his pulse. After opening his eyes and looking down at his pupils, I stood up and shook my head solemnly.

  "He's gone."

  The guards just blinked at me.

  "What does that mean?" asked the youngest.

  "It means you're free," I said and made my way toward the stairs.

  "Free?" I heard him repeat but I didn't want to hang around to hear what else he had to say.

  The smell of the place was sticking to my skin, my hair, the back of my throat. I knew I needed to stay to rescue these wretched, lost girls but right now this wasn't my battle. Right now, I had to find Etta.

  As I walked outside, I gulped down clean air and wiped the sleep across my stinging eyes. The smell of piss and fear had burned right through me and it was still clinging to my clothes.

  Descending the hill, I looked out for the old, rickety car that had brought me here but it never returned. I'd never see it again.

  So I kept walking, one foot in front of the other, traipsing through the sand as I listened to the call of the desert. Its voice whispered to me on the breeze, it pulled me in the direction of the pure blackness of the night. It drew me out from the fading lights of San Lucrezia until I was shivering in the wilderness with only the stars above.

  I couldn't explain it, couldn't even begin to straighten out my mind enough to articulate it even to myself but I just knew where I was going, even if that place didn't have a name or an image. Even if that place would destroy me.

  I didn't know how many miles I had walked, all I knew was that my legs were burning. Soon, the sound of the wind gave way to something more primal, more pained. Through the darkness, I could just about make out the sound of a voice. It was crying, wailing, howling like a wolf.

  Through the pure blackness, the pale light of the moon cast the silhouette of a tree across the landscape. Like a theater cut-out, it stood there and I waited until the stage hands slid it off behind the curtain. I walked closer and it didn't move. The voice grew louder and louder. It became shriller, more desperate. As I approached, the wailing began to form into words and I could at last hear "Lolita, my Lolita."

  There was the scraping sound of hands digging in the dirt and the metallic smell of blood in the air.

  "Lolita... No... No..."

  The sobbing grew angry. There was the sound of someone pummeling their fists against the ground, kicking up dust as blood stuck to the dirt.

  The voice fell quiet as I arrived at the tree. There was only the sound of my breathing in the air, punctuated by the noise of someone panting like a dog.

  "Bosworth..."

  The moonlight fell upon a face encrusted with sand and streaked with tears. An old man stared up at me with pure pain in his eyes. He was clenching his hands into fists over and over as though he couldn't control them.

  Then I looked down at the body he was crying over and saw the girl that had ruined everything. She was covered in black and it wasn't until I knelt down beside her that I realized it was dried blood. It covered every surface of her so that it looked like her skin was scaly. She wasn't a beautiful girl anymore. She wasn't even a human. She was just a dead, mythical creature in the desert with hard blood for skin and eyes that were sunk into her skull.

  "You did this," the old man rasped.

  I looked at him, confused.

  "I did nothing."

  "Your woman..." he said and shook his head. "Cunt!"

  Looking back at Lolita's face, I saw how she was still strangely beautiful in her death as though her true age was revealed now that she was free of that coquettish, acted attitude that only served to get her in trouble.

  "You know where Etta is?"

  His eyes shone with malice.

  "Back there," he said. "You will find
her."

  "She's over there?"

  I jumped to my feet and the old man stood shoulder to shoulder with me looking out over the horizon.

  "You see the buildings?" he asked.

  I followed the direction of his pointing finger and squinted. Beneath the stars was the faint outline of a rooftop.

  "I see it."

  "She's there," he said.

  There was that shine back in his eyes again. A glint I couldn't quite identify. I took one last look at the body before I kept walking. My steps soon broke into a jog, then a run, then a sprint. Hurling myself headlong into the darkness, I was propelled forward by the desperate need to hold her again.

  The smell of the farm loomed up on me and stung my nostrils. I could almost smell her too, feel her arms around me, hear her voice.

  "Lincoln!"

  I could hear her now.

  "Etta!"

  "Linx!"

  Her voice sounded scared but it was okay because I was here to hold her now and take the terror away.

  "I'm coming, Etta."

  "Linx, I can't see you."

  I ran faster and faster until I was tripping over branches. My body didn't stop until I reached a fence and fell into it ribs first. It creaked as it glided open and now I was stepping in mud, walking toward the front door with the smell of manure thick in the air.

  "Etta?"

  "I'm here."

  But I couldn't see her anywhere.

  "Honey?"

  Her voice seemed to be coming from the other side of the front door. I pushed it open and waited to see her smiling. I imagined her sitting at the table with a candle flickering soft, auburn light onto her cheekbones.

  "Honey, are you here?"

  Her voice stopped coming to me. There was no candlelight. There was no light at all.

  As I stumbled into the kitchen, there was the smell of something foul. I knew what it was.

  "Etta?"

  Chapter Two

  Berger

  Her waist had the curve of a guitar when I held her from behind. I entered her slowly and she let out a pained gasp before tumbling forward and sinking her teeth into the pillow.

  "Slow down," she whispered.

  I moved inside just an inch at a time until I could feel her loosen up. Her thighs gripped together as I went deeper. She bit her lip and looked up at me from the corner of her eye, her dark irises framed by her long eyelashes. Her makeup had smudged along the length of her orbital bone, giving her an almost tribal appearance and she'd never looked more beautiful.

  The heat grew within me until I knew I was about to reach the critical moment. Pulling out of her, I leaned back on my heels and wiped the sweat from my face.

  "Aaw, why did you stop?" she pouted.

  Her ass was still in the air, one side of her face still stuck into the pillow. I tickled my fingers along the bottom of her feet and she giggled.

  "Just... Just give me a second," I breathed.

  She rolled over onto her back with a sigh and opened her legs wide.

  "Come to me, Frankie."

  I couldn't say no to her. Not ever. Lowering myself down onto her, I cupped her breasts and buried my face between them. She guided me between her legs and once again I was entering her, this time as slow as I possibly could but I couldn’t halt the sensation of pure euphoria that was unfurling from somewhere deep within my gut.

  "Fuck..."

  She loved to hear me come, loved the sensation of my body trembling as I ejaculated.

  "Come, do it for me, Frankie."

  "No, not yet."

  She dug her fingernails into my buttocks and pulled me deeper inside her.

  "Fuck... you know that always..."

  I shook violently, yelling as I came. My legs and arms gave way beneath me until I was gasping for air between her glorious breasts with her hard nipples pressing into my cheek.

  "Jesus, fucking Christ," I whispered from her chest.

  She giggled and ran her fingers through my hair. Kissing the top of my head, she held me for a long while, the sweat on our bodies sticking our stomachs together.

  "I love it when you do that," she said.

  Hugging her tighter, I listened to the sound of her heartbeat.

  "I'm so happy you came back."

  "Me too," I said.

  Reluctantly, I rolled off her and flopped out, spread-eagled on the bed. The sun was still lingering late in the day and filtered through the blinds so shadowed stripes fell across the cream walls.

  "I thought you weren't going to come back."

  It's beginning again, I thought. She'd going to ask me about it all over again and I won't have a single thing to say to her.

  "You never did tell me what happened," she said.

  "It was nothing."

  "It was nothing so you ran away to Mexico."

  "It was nothing," I repeated and sat up.

  Catching my reflection in the mirror, I saw my cheeks were flushed a deep crimson and my hair was tousled. I looked ten years younger, felt it too. Just being away from Lincoln, away from that fucking house of tears had brought back my spark. And of course there was Miranda. She lit up my life.

  "Why won't you talk to me?" she asked as she sat behind me.

  Her nails ran down the length of my spine leaving a trail of goosebumps.

  "Please, I don't want to talk about it."

  "But why? We're going to have to eventually."

  "No, we're not."

  I pushed her hand away and stood up to pull on my boxer shorts. She watched me skeptically, lying on her stomach with her feet kicking up behind her.

  "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

  "You tell me all the time," she said with a smile. "But stop trying to change the subject."

  She wasn't going to give it up that easily. Everyday she asked me and everyday I told her the same thing. I didn't want to talk about.

  "You really are beautiful," I said.

  "I know," she winked. "But you're not getting off the hook so easily."

  She sat up on her knees so that her breasts came back into view. I reached out to hold one and she swatted my hand away like I was a naughty puppy.

  "No, you tell me what happened."

  "No, Miranda. Jesus! How much can I tell you I don’t wanna talk about it?"

  "You tell me."

  She narrowed her eyes as she seethed and pulled the bedsheets around her to cover herself. The fun was officially over.

  “Please, Miranda. Don’t start this again.”

  “If you hadn’t left in the first place I wouldn’t have to.”

  I sighed and perched on the edge of the window ledge.

  “Please, just stop.”

  “Just give me an explanation.”

  “I can’t.”

  She shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

  “You know most men would at least try to make up an excuse for disappearing.”

  “I’m not most men.”

  “I can see that.”

  She looked even hotter when she was angry. I found myself making my way back over to her and peeling back the bed clothes. She welcomed me with a kiss and lay on her back, pulling me toward her with her legs so I was pinned to her belly.

  “Don’t do it again,” she said. “You have no idea what was going through my mind.”

  “It won’t happen again,” I promised.

  Yet as I felt the warmth between her thighs and sunk myself deep down within her, I couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t leave again. Everything was perfect now, but for how long?

  Chapter Three

  Lincoln

  I touched my fingertips to her face but I couldn’t feel a thing. There was no way to describe it. I wanted to scream, to cry and fling myself to my own death but my body was numb all over. There wasn’t a single sensation within me apart from shock.

  Like an automaton going through the motions of being a human, I knelt down and kissed the only part of her face that remained. The res
t of it was sprayed against the wall behind her. Digging into the mess with the palm of my hand, I tried to gather it together as though I could place the fragments of her skull back together but there was nothing to be done. I’d been a doctor long enough to know there was no saving her.

  “I’m going to take you home now,” I said.

  I waited for a moment as though I was sure she was going to reply but of course she didn’t. Her left eye was cast up to the ceiling, the pupil barely existing. How many times had I looked into her eyes and thought they were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, miniature masterpieces in their own private universe.

  Now her one eye was just that. An eye. And she was no longer the woman I loved. She was a body. Or rather, pieces of a body.

  “It’s cold,” I said and pulled my shirt off.

  As I sat her up, I draped it around her shoulders to keep her warm. Her body made the noise of wet meat.

  “Come on. Don’t hang around. Your mom’s been so worried about you. She’ll be so happy to see you.”

  I kissed her blood cheeky and with a concerted effort and a great big breath, I heaved her up to her feet. When she flopped against me, I knew it was no use thinking she could walk home herself so I lifted her up in my exhausted arms.

  There were times when I’d carried her to bed just like this and lay her down before jumping onto her, kissing her until my lips burned. She was heavier now, as though she was the weight of two people.

  Her arms tickled the backs of my legs as I navigated my way through the narrow hallways of the house. Then something else touched my shin, the rough fur of a dog. I looked down and saw a mongrel staring up at me with sad eyes.

  He followed me out of the house until I reached the gate, his eyes looking sadder by the second.

  “Go!”

  He stopped at the end of the path and watched me walk out onto the main road.