by Amy Faye
"I hope you don't mind pepperoni."
The guy rolled his eyes and a smile spread across his face. "Oh no—not pepperoni. What ever will I do?"
"I don't know. I guess you're just going to have to eat… me!" Erin shot her eyes open wide in mock-surprise at her own joke. He snorted out a laugh.
"I could do that, if you like."
"So, Craig. You got any family?"
He sat back and took the whiskey she poured him another two fingers of. Perhaps a little bit more. She was feeling generous.
"Not any more—well. No, I have an aunt, and I think I have a cousin, somewhere out in Florida. I've met the aunt… maybe once, at my mother's funeral, but I don't remember what she looks like. Heard she has a kid, but I've never met him." She filed that away for further investigation. "You?"
"Mom died a few years back. Dad went back to Minnesota, and my sister went with him."
Craig's face twisted up. "Yeah, about that. I need to come clean about something."
"What's that?"
He raised his eyebrows and then they lowered and got tight. "I was talking with your sister. Started a year ago, maybe? Last I heard from her was a week ago, when she was getting on a plane. Heading here."
"Is that right? I hadn't heard anything from her."
"Well, she said she wasn't real close to her sister or anything. She sure didn't mention you two were twins."
"I'm the prettier twin, anyone in our high school would have told you that."
"Oh yeah?"
No, they wouldn't. She was the bitchier twin, and Becca was the nice one, but neither one of them was pretty. But that didn't matter.
"You want to find out?" He leaned in to her, suddenly very intrigued. "Come here, tiger."
She let her legs fall open a little bit, and even though she was still wearing her bikini, the message was clear. He crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, his sharp teeth pressed into the soft, sensitive flesh of her throat. Tasting. Scraping his teeth across. Erin let out a soft moan, one she didn't have to fake for his benefit.
His hands wasted no time in untying the top of her bikini. It came off easier than it had gone on, and her tits were out and accessible within seconds. He took one already-hard nipple between his fingers and pinched. The pain and pleasure shot through her, mixed up and sending all the wrong signals.
The way that her brain started to buzz, though, maybe they were the right ones after all. She could taste the whiskey on his tongue as he pulled her in for a kiss. His knee planted between her thighs, tantalizingly close to her core. She pushed herself down against his knee, rubbing gently where she could still feel the tingle of pleasure remembered from the back of that motorcycle.
"What about my sister," she breathed out, her voice husky and ragged.
"What about her? Is she here? Does she want to join in?" His voice was teasing and cruel. He moved his knee a little bit, grinding it into her mound and sending another heady shot of pleasure through her.
"Shut up and fuck me."
He pulled his knee away, and Erin's body rebelled at the loss of sensation. How dare she want him like this, she thought. It wasn't god-damned fair. She lifted her hips to help him get her bottoms off, even as he stood before her fully clothed.
Then he dipped down to a knee and pressed his head between her thighs, and she didn't mind so much any more. His tongue explored her folds, tracing strange, pleasurable lines across her that she wasn't going to be able to forget for a hell of a lot longer than she wanted.
Her hands scrabbled for something—anything—to grip, finally finding his thick hair. She took two fistfuls and tried to stop the world from spinning around her by pulling his face in deeper. He took the hint and pressed his tongue into her, the feeling of it wiggling and probing sending strange but unbelievable sensations through her entire body. Even her fingertips seemed to buzz with pleasure.
He didn't ask her about Condoms, and he didn't say please. She heard his belt coming undone, heard his pants unzip, and then he pulled away from her, in spite of her hands in her hair, and pushed inside.
She was tight, even after Roy had fucked her so well. The feeling of Craig's cock inside her almost hurt, hitting a spot just a little bit too deep inside. He took a hard grip on her hips and used her. She couldn't think of it any other way. She felt like a fuck toy that he was pulling on and off his cock, like she was just some sort of masturbation aid. God damn it all, it felt good.
She couldn't stop her voice escaping with every thrust in, the pain only matched by the pleasure, each sending her spiraling higher and higher until she couldn't think or see or feel anything but the delicious friction between them. A pinch of her nipple sent another shock through her, enough to bunch up her entire body and explode.
He kept fucking her through her orgasm, kept moving hard, pushing himself in deeper and deeper with every thrust until he poured his cum into Erin's waiting womb. She let her head drop back just in time to hear the doorbell ring.
Oh, right, she thought dimly, unable to move from the overwhelming pleasure. The pizza.
Fourteen
Erin sucked in a breath. Had that been a confession? Or the start of one? She wasn't sure. But her sister had come up and she panicked. She had to make sure that she had him wrapped around her finger. If he started talking now, maybe she would have been able to handle it.
She tried to catch her breath. The pizza was cold now, and Craig had left after. He'd taken her number down. Two guys in a week, and both of them had her number, while she only had a dead girl's and the one number on earth she would never call.
There was something strange about it all. Maybe it was her, maybe it was how she was acting, but she wasn't about to worry about that. Not right now.
A call came a moment later, while she was trying to decide if it was worth the effort to finish the pizza, or if it should be moved to the fridge. Or the garbage, for that matter. She picked up.
"Erin Russo," she said, keeping her voice nice and light just in case the wrong person called. This was, she suspected, why people kept track of contacts in their phone.
"How are you holding up?" Roy sounded genuinely concerned, which only made her more annoyed.
"I'm fine. Is this a social call, or did you want to gloat some more?"
"I never gloated, Erin. I'm just doing my job."
"By not letting me do mine? How kind of you."
She could hear him take a deep breath and let it out slowly on the other end of the line. "I know you went straight home to do your own investigation."
"I would never do that, Special Agent Schafer."
"Erin, sometimes I can be distant, and sometimes I can overlook things—but I'm not an idiot."
"And of course I wouldn't say that you were an idiot. After all, you're a hard-working employee of our federal government and I respect the work you do."
"I'm sensing some sarcasm there."
"Oh, no, sir. No sarcasm, as long as your work is outside of Los Angeles."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he answered. "I'm about to hit lunch, and I wanted to know if you wanted to let me know what you've found. I might be able to share some things with you, as well."
Erin opened her mouth to say she'd already eaten, but with the lunch came the information, and she sure as hell wanted access to that. "Sure."
"I'll meet you somewhere, you got a recommendation?"
"Anywhere that isn't pizza," she said, looking sideways at the open box on her coffee table whose smell was slowly overtaking the smell of sex in the room.
"Okay, then. Uh. Chinese?"
"Fine by me." She gave him an address for someplace near the station. No reason to get him lost on his second day in town. It wouldn't get him pulled off the case, and would only make pumping him for information harder.
She got dressed. Nothing like the way she was going to get dressed for Craig. This wasn't a chance to show off her body. It was a chance to get information and give very l
ittle back. She let out a breath. It was a bit rude of her, she knew, but it didn't change the fact that she was going to do it all the same.
She took the straightest route, but there was no way that she was going to beat him there. It was half the distance for him, after all. Even still, she only pulled in a moment after him, parked in next to his car, and got out wearing a long dress. She only owned a few, for the rare occasion that they got her to go to a formal dinner, and even then she felt under-dressed. Now she felt over-dressed, but she ignored it.
Playing with Roy didn't mean getting him hot and horny and taking him back to her place. It meant convincing him that there was going to be something between them. She hadn't decided yet whether or not that idea was toying with him. Looking at him, he wasn't so bad, and she could certainly get used to him being around.
She scolded herself internally. It would be great. He was a good guy and all, but that didn't much matter, because he wasn't going to be around. Not for very long, anyways. So she had better not get used to the idea, because it sure as hell wasn't going to happen, like it or not.
She straightened her dress and fixed a smile as he came around. She could see that he wasn't sure how to greet her—with a handshake, a hug, or a nod—and she let him live in the uncertainty for a minute. She enjoyed seeing him squirm, a secret pleasure that she couldn't have admitted to but couldn't deny.
Finally he came in for a hug and she accepted it, hugged him back. "You okay?"
Erin nodded. "I'm fine, why? Do I look ill?"
"Erin, your sister just died."
"I know that the FBI sent their best men just to look into it."
Roy rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "You know, you don't need to do that."
"Do what?"
"Be sarcastic all the damn time."
"What makes you think I'm being sarcastic?"
"I know how it is, okay? I know that you guys don't like it when we step in on your cases. I'm not a politician, but I'm not an idiot. But I'm a cop, and I investigate my case, and this is my case. Has been for a year now."
"Only a year? I thought there had been murders the past four."
"You noticed that, did you? Someone should make you a detective. You're perceptive."
It was Erin's turn to roll her eyes. "Thanks, college boy."
"I took over from a Special Agent who ended up not cutting it. He couldn't turn it into anything."
"What, not enough profiling crap?"
"Too much. He was either sexually frustrated, or he was a sexual sadist, and he liked his mother too much, or not enough. The damn head-shrinkers had us jumping at every opportunity. Not enough solid police-work. But by the time I get ahold of the case, even the most recent murder sites are weeks old. Most of them years old. The trail's cold."
"So, what, you wait around until another one comes along, is that it?"
"Not exactly, no. We had bait set up to try to catch the next guy, but come on. Looking for a creep on an online dating site is like looking for a needle in a field of needle-stacks, you know that."
"Sure. So the end result is, though, you can't catch the guy soon enough, so you have to rely on trying to catch him when he strikes again."
"You're not totally wrong."
"Why the vacation?"
"It's important to get away sometimes. To make sure that you have a clear head. Why? You don't believe in being away a little?"
"I believe in closing cases and getting my work done."
They had seated already, a waitress watching them talk from the front counter but not coming to take their orders yet.
"Of course, don't we all? But that's not really a fair picture to paint, and I think you know that. It's just not feasible to do that sort of thing all the time. There's always another case. Always more work to do. You can run yourself ragged, never stopping, but at some point, are you hurting the work you're doing?"
"It never hurt my work. I kept a near-perfect clear rate, and of those, conviction rates—well, they are what they are."
"So, not as great as you wanted?"
"That's not on my head," Erin growled, flicking a hair out of her face a little too sharply. "It's the District Attorney's job at that point."
"That's sweet," Roy said. He looked up at the woman who had finally approached. "Could I get the Teriyaki Chicken, white rice?"
Erin ordered just a bit of fried rice. She still wasn't very hungry, after all. 'Big breakfast,' she claimed.
"I don't want to fight with you, Erin. I think we're close to making a break. If we're lucky, we can get whoever took your sister before he takes someone else." He leaned in close. "So I need you to stay away from that guy. That Hutchinson guy. I think he's dangerous, and I don't want to see you get hurt."
"Okay," she said, electing not to mention that he'd been inside her earlier that day. "Done. Anything else?"
Fifteen
Erin's breath caught in her chest. She hadn't left her door open. She reached for the pistol that should have been at her hip. Nothing. She closed her eyes a moment to run through her options.
She had the pepperbox in her purse. That would be enough. She took it out of its holster and hefted it in her hand. Quickly practiced pulling it up into line, and then dropped it to the floor. Finger off the trigger. Safety off. Okay. She put her shoulder down and knocked the door open hard enough to hurt if someone was hiding behind it.
The door knocked loudly into the wall as she sailed past, checking the inside corner before continuing. Nothing in the kitchen area. Nothing in the living area. Nothing in the dining area. The front room was empty. Which left the uncomfortable choice. Bathroom or bedroom? She'd have to walk right past the open door to one to get at the other.
Too dangerous. Too dangerous by a long shot. Erin pressed her back against the wall, surveyed the room. Empty. It was time to pick. She turned back into the hall and shouldered open the door to the bedroom, brought the pistol up hard.
"Honey, I'm home."
Craig smiled at her from his seat at the head of the bed, his back pressed against the headboard.
Erin cursed. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought you wanted to see me," he said, mimicking a pout. "Are you saying that you don't want to spend time with me any more?"
"I'm saying that you don't get to come into my apartment any time you damn well please."
"But it was so fun."
"Get out. You want to come see me, you tell me first."
"Fine. Here, I thought I was doing you a favor here. Trying to teach you an important lesson about personal safety."
He slipped off the bed as she told him to get out, slowly taking the walk across the room. He stepped closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall, their bodies pressed together.
Erin could feel the gun pressed between them, as well. She wanted to pull the trigger. Wished that she had, more than ever. This was the guy who did it. She was sure. It was definitely the guy.
"Where you been, out in a dress like this?"
"It was laundry day," she answered. "Get out of my apartment."
Erin's phone buzzed.
"What's that?"
"Nothing."
"No," Craig laughed. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't nothing. You got someone texting you? One of your girlfriends, maybe?"
"Maybe," she answered. "Get out of my apartment."
Craig reached between them, forcing a gasp out of Erin's lips as he ran a hand up her thigh, grazing over her mound. Even through the fabric of her dress, she could feel the desire already mounting.
His hand kept moving until it closed around the barrel of her pistol. She should have fought for it, but she didn't. Instead she let Craig take it. He stepped back a bit, turned his hand over.
"Nice piece." He tossed it on the bed. "I just came by because I realized I hadn't tried your mouth yet."
"I told you to get out."
"But you're not going to make me, are you?"
"Fuck you. Get out
."
"Get on your knees." Craig's voice didn't raise, and he didn't sound angry, but the way he said it made her obey.
He unzipped his cock. The memory of that cock inside her, only a couple hours ago, made her head go a little bit light.
"You know what to do next," he growled.
Had her sister done this same thing? Erin wondered. She forced herself not to think about it. Instead, she took it in one hand, jerking it experimentally. Craig took a fist-full of her hair and started pushing. She hated it. Or, she should have. She knew she should have, even as she took his cock deeper in her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around the head.
Instead, she found herself preening when she heard him whisper "Oh, fuck."
She found herself wanting it. This wasn't right, she wasn't like this. But it didn't change that she started bobbing her head faster, deeper, anything to get him to lose control just a little bit more. To feel herself getting the control she wanted.
"God damn, girl."
She slurped and sucked as hard as she could, pulling him out of her mouth with a soft pop. "Do you like that?"
His fingers dug into her hair harder. "Shut up and suck my cock."
She shut up and sucked his cock, bobbing her head. Enjoying the feeling of him thrusting back to meet her even as she resented the hell out of herself for it. She shouldn't have enjoyed this. The guy was exactly who she didn't need to get involved with, but here she was, kneeling and acting like his personal slut.
She could feel his movements getting less rhythmic, could feel him trying to force harder as he approached his climax. He held her head still, now, fucking her face, his cock trying to penetrate her throat with every thrust. He pushed in deep and she could feel him spasming as he sent rope after rope of cum shooting down her throat.
She came up coughing as he pulled himself out in time to shoot another rope of cum that traced a line from her chin down to where her pretty dress covered her tits.
"Good girl."
Erin growled. "Get out of my apartment."
"I'll be back," he said. "I'll see you next time."