by Colbie Kay
Her thumbs hook into the thin straps of her thong, and she pushes them down her legs. Once they reach her knees, she bends forward to get them off the rest of the way. My cock hardens as her ass presses up against the denim of my jeans. Gripping her hip with one arm, I keep her bent over, running my finger from her slick folds back to her tight little asshole.
She moans a little louder this time.
I rotate us so that her hands can grip the bed, but she’s still bent halfway over. Positioning my leg between hers, I widen them as far as I can. Turning the vibrator on full speed, I press it against her clit; she jumps from the intensity. Rearing my hand back, I bring it forward so it lands perfectly on her ass cheek; she cries out loudly. She knows better than to move. Celeste freezes, succumbing to the feeling of the vibration.
I lay my hand flat on her back, pushing her upper body down further into the bed, her face smashing against the comforter. Her body quivers, her moans fill the quiet room, and her knees bend as she searches for the release that won’t be coming until I’m ready to let her have it.
Her body gives me the indication she is about to come, so I pull the vibrator away, dropping it onto the bed, not even bothering to turn it off. She mewls in protest, earning herself another hard smack, hard enough to make her body push forward. Placing both of her hands behind her back, I grab the rope and tie her wrists together.
Undoing my jeans, I kick out of them and grab one of the condoms. Rolling the latex down my stiff cock, I position myself and push inside of her hot soaking cunt. I hiss at the feeling of her walls clenching as her pussy sucks me in.
I grab the rope with one hand and her hair with the other as I thrust over and over, roughly and to the hilt. She screams in pain from my size and the rough intrusion, but her ass comes back anyway, matching me pound for pound.
The assault I’m inflicting continues and she once again grows closer to her orgasm with each rough thrust I pound into her body. Letting go of her hair and the rope, I pull out of her pussy. I remove the condom, grab another, and rip the wrapper open with my teeth.
Once sheathed, I reach for the vibrator again and place it back on her hard little nub. With my other hand, I wrap it around her chest and find her nipple, rolling the tight bud between my thumb and finger. I pinch and pull hard enough I know it will leave bruises, but Celeste is crying out for more. So… I give her more.
Applying more pressure to her clit with the vibrator, I move my hand from one tit to the other, pinching and tugging each nipple with as much strength as I have, her body shaking uncontrollably in response. Her screams and cries are loud enough that if we had anyone close in other rooms they would think I was murdering her.
It’s time. She’s so close to coming, and at that exact moment, I ram my cock into her asshole. There is no working her up to it, no slow rhythm; I pump into her tight brown hole so hard she won’t be sitting for a week. All the prolonged gratification and the feel of my cock in her ass, pushing in and out, has given her a rush of intense multiple orgasms. It goes on and on for minutes; just as one stops, another begins.
The heated buildup moves throughout my body; my balls tighten, my legs start tingling, and my cock pulsates as I thrust one last time deep inside her tight little ass. My head rears back. It takes everything inside of me not to roar like the beast I am as the condom fills with my cum. I take a second to control my breathing before I pull out and she falls to the bed.
I remove the condom, gather the other one and my jeans off the floor, and undo the rope before taking her mask off. I lightly touch her shoulder blade and take everything into the bathroom. I dispose of the condoms, remove my mask, and put everything back in my bag then zip it up.
I lay ten 100-dollar bills on the counter, turn off the bathroom light, walk out, and leave the room. Leaving Celeste in her sated glory, I know she’ll find the money when she is able to move, and the room is hers for the night.
Chapter 2
My phone blares, waking me out of a deep sleep. I fumble around, trying to grab it off my nightstand, and squint to see the time, as well as who’s calling.
Shit!
“Jones, this better be good. It’s three in the morning and after our sixteen-hour shift, I’ve had two hours of sleep,” I groggily tell my partner.
“We got another one,” he deadpans.
“Great. You better have coffee for me. I’ll call you back for the location when I get in my car.” Right before I hit end call, I hear him laugh. We have been partners long enough that he knows I like my beauty sleep, but it’s looking like another long day at the office. I rush around looking for my clothes; getting dressed in the dark is no easy task. I can only hope everything is on right, my shoes are matching, and my hair doesn’t look too horrible as I pull it into a ponytail.
The closer I get to the location, the better I can see the red and blue flashing lights and nosy neighbors on their lawns trying to catch a glimpse of the action. I park my car behind another officer’s.
I walk up to the suburban brick home, go underneath the yellow crime scene tape, and through the front door. Jones stands in the foyer holding his arm out for me to take the Styrofoam coffee cup and a pair of gloves.
“You do love me,” I tell him jokingly with a smile. “What do we have?”
“Come see for yourself.” Jones walks ahead of me, directing where to go. “Victim’s name is Tom Landry. Wife’s name is Pam; she’s the one who called it in. They lived a happy suburban life with two kids away at college. No enemies and she has no idea who would do something like this to her husband.”
I knit my brows in automatic suspicion. “Where was she when the murder took place?” I slip on my gloves.
“She works overnight at the hospital. Went to work at six pm the night before and was supposed to get off at six am, but a no-call was going to leave her working another six hours. She kept trying to call Tom, but he wasn’t answering, so her boss allowed her to come home to check on him and that’s when she found her husband dead. Her alibi checks out.”
“Could it be a setup? Unhappy wife wants out, feels she has no choice but to have husband killed?” I suggest as we walk through the house. It’s clean, not disheveled, and the scene doesn’t appear to be a burglary gone wrong. As we walk through the front room and dining area, family pictures still hang on the white painted walls and everything else is as it should be; I’m seeing no signs of a struggle.
“No, I don’t think so. She was distraught when we showed up.”
We enter the kitchen with several officers, a few more detectives, and the coroner. The kitchen is in the same state as the other two except for the splatters of blood around the room and the pool of blood coming out from underneath the tarp that’s covering our victim.
Watching where I step, I bend down and lift the tarp up to examine the body. I turn away for a moment; taking a deep breath, I turn back to the victim. “Male, multiple stab wounds covering his face and body.” It’s a gruesome scene. “He has defensive wounds on his hands, so he did put up some kind of fight.”
His eyes have been stabbed, mouth slit open ear-to-ear, and a deep slash formed a vile crimson gash across his throat. My eyes travel over his abdomen and torso; multiple stab wounds deep into his meaty flesh, some exposing the bone. I drop the tarp back down and stand.
“And…his penis was cut off.” Jones grimaces.
My eyes snap to his. “Just like the other?” I take the last gulp of my lukewarm coffee.
“Exactly—and no evidence left behind.”
“This killer knows what they’re doing. We need to figure out what the connection is between these two men; if it’s a scorned ex, if we have a serial killer on our hands. The multiple stab wounds and the dismembering both make this seem personal.” I look down one more time at the tarp and around the room. “Have the officers asked for any witnesses?”
“Yes, but no one saw anything. Everyone was sleeping until they heard the sirens.” Jones runs his hand down his tired face. I know he hasn’t had much sleep, either, since he’s been working just as hard on the other case.
Releasing a deep sigh, I tell him, “Let’s head to the office.”
“I’ll meet you there.” I throw away my gloves and coffee cup.
Pulling up to the police department, I park my car and head inside. The strong aroma of coffee brewing invades my nostrils as soon as I open the door. Just what we’re going to need. Walking over to the coffee pot, I pour two cups, then meet Jones in interrogation room three. He’s sitting at the wooden table with pictures spread out in front of him. Sitting on the edge, I hold out the cup and he takes it with a frustrated expression.
His tired eyes meet mine. “Thanks, we have a long day ahead of us.”
“I know.” My eyes scan over the crime scenes and victims’ mutilated bodies. “What is the connection?” I mumble, more to myself than asking Jones.
“Let’s go over what we have so far.” Jones runs his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. Some people might think Jones is older than he really is because of his greying hair, but he’s actually only twenty-nine and very attractive. His blue eyes sparkle when he smiles, but can penetrate right through a suspect and know when they are lying. His beard and mustache match his hair color and cover his defined jaw. His suits fit tight over his body, letting women know he takes very good care of himself.
I sit down in the empty seat next to him and look closely at all the pictures. “Our first victim is Alberto Sanchez. A 45-year-old Hispanic male. His criminal background check shows nothing more than petty theft and vandalism dating back to the eighties. He has a few tattoos, but they aren’t recognizable with the stab wounds. He lived alone in a small two-bedroom house five miles from our other victim.” I drop the last photo of crime scene number one.
Jones begins with crime scene number two from today. “Our second victim is Tom Landry; Caucasian male and 42 years old. He appeared to have some tattoos also, but just like with Mr. Sanchez, they’re unrecognizable. We are running the criminal background check as we speak.”
“We need to talk to the neighbors again,” I suggest. “Someone must have heard or seen something. Maybe they’re scared and not talking.”
The interrogation room door opens. “I have a new case for you.” Our heads shoot up to look at our lieutenant. He drops a file on the table in front of us, covering our photos. “I’m passing the case you’re working on over to Jeffers and Smith.”
I open the folder and spread the photos out. “Who are the victims?” I question as I stare at the women strangled to death, their eyes wide open as they lie on hotel room beds.
“Miss Magdalene’s girls,” he simply states.
“The escort service?” I ask stupidly, because I already know the answer.
“Yes. I need you, Detective Sanders, to go undercover. Here’s your ticket into the charity masquerade ball event in two weeks. Anyone with money will be there and, until then, get in good with the girls at Miss Magdalene’s to see if you can find out names of Johns.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hershaw has everything you need to go undercover. Now, both of you go home and get some sleep.” With that, he walks out of the room.
“Guess I’ll go home now.” Jones stands and stretches his arms above his head. “We can get some sleep and start fresh tomorrow.”
“Sounds good to me.” I smile up at him and watch him walk out of the room. My phone pings with a text. Pulling it out of my back pocket, I unlock my phone and see a text message from my best friend, Jessie.
J: Meet you at eight for drinks.
Oh, shit! I forgot we were meeting up tonight. That was before I had no sleep. I look at the time on my phone; it’s still morning, so I can get a nap in before I have to meet her. Thank God.
Me: I’ll be there.
For More High Stakes...
To keep reading, you can find High Stakes here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078S2R6SP
Acknowledgements
I made it to this point and I’m so unbelievably happy and emotional for the ride that Hacker and Sierra took me on. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I didn’t have the people I do standing beside me and pushing me.
Once again, I want to thank my husband for holding down shit while I was locked away working on this book. You are so unconditionally supportive through the writing process. I couldn’t do this and be living my dream without you.
Sonya, thank you for going with the flow of my deadlines and being there to keep me on track. Hopefully I don’t drive you too crazy. Love you, lady.
Becky, I could not have made this book what it became without you. Thank you for always being there to talk my issues out and helping me work out shit out.
Mari, girl, you are so amazing! You have always been there and work your ass off. You rocked another one out and I am grateful to have you there with me every step of the way. I can’t wait to hug you in person.
My betas, you ladies kick ass! I love every critique you give me, and I couldn’t do this without you all! I can’t wait for the next time.
To all the amazing blogs out there helping to support Indie Authors! What you all do is simply amazing, and we would not be able to do what we do without every single one of you.
Readers, thank you for your continued support, and I love each and every one of you. As long as you keep reading I will continue putting books out there! I hope to one day be able to meet all of you.
About the Author
Colbie Kay always had a love for reading and wanted to pursue writing. In 2015 she made that dream come true when she published her first book. Since then she has become a stay-at-home mom, writing full-time and bringing her passion to life through the words she creates.
The most fulfilling part of being an author for Colbie is to take readers into a fantasy world between the pages of her books. Becoming an author has also given her the opportunity to fill another passion of hers, which is traveling. She loves being able to attend book signings and meeting everyone that shares her love of books.
Colbie has many more stories to share with you, so be sure to connect with her and keep up with what is coming next.
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