by Goode, Ella
He pulls into the garage, parking the car. He sits there for a moment not looking at me. The quiet stretches. With each second that ticks by the air in the car grows thicker. I push my thighs together tighter; the throb is becoming almost unbearable. Why am I getting so turned on poking at him? He was right. It’s what I’ve been doing since we stepped out of my parents’ house.
“One of the hardest nights of my life.” He looks over at me finally. There’s a dark look in his eyes.
“What?”
“That night that you gave yourself to me finally.”
I bark out a laugh. “It was our second date.” I’d been ready the first night but Lucas and I had done other things instead. The man’s mouth is as perfect as the rest of him.
“Yes. I wanted to bend you over the table of the Italian restaurant and fuck you right there but I knew you wouldn’t want to go back there if I did that.”
I suck in a breath. He’s right, it’s one of our favorite spots and we go there every week. “You’ve never fucked me.” He hasn’t. Of course he’s pleasured me until I was screaming his name but he’s never actually fucked me. He’s never thrown caution to the wind and taken me without reservation.
“Do you want to be fucked, Angel? Is that what this is about?” I open my mouth but suddenly no words come out. “I’ll give you whatever you ask of me. Anything. You know this.”
I do know it.
“Say the words, Angel.”
“I want you to fuck me.” My seatbelt is off in a second. He pulls me over the center console and out of the car.
“Wrap around me.” Even as he’s saying it, I’m already doing it. I kiss him as he somehow gets us into the house. My back hits the wall.
“Lucas.” I moan his name as he works my clothes off. His mouth is all over me until I’m naked in front of him.
He lifts me again, pinning me to the wall. His mouth is everywhere. I rub against him, trying to find the friction I need. I’m so close already, teetering on the edge of orgasm. I’ve never seen this part of Lucas before. It’s so hot. I didn’t think he could get more sexy, but this is proving me wrong.
It’s intoxicating and I want it all. I’m angry that I've never seen it before. I should know every part of him. He’s been keeping this from me.
“Angel.” My head falls forward at the sound of my name. I dig my nails into his shoulders as his hand slips between us. He unfastens his belt, keeping me pinned to the wall.
“Yes,” I beg. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t think I could.” He thrusts inside of me to the hilt. I take him easily. I am so turned on. I clench around him, my body never wanting him to leave. His hands tighten on my ass as he plunges in and out of me in hard, fast strokes. Each one hitting exactly where I need it.
“Harder.” I bite his earlobe, urging him on.
“This what you wanted, Angel? Me taking your pussy without restraint? Well, you got it.” He’s in control of my orgasm in this position. I try to meet his thrusts but he controls our pace. “You’ll come when I say and not a second before.” His words alone almost send me over the edge. His fingers continue to dig into my skin. His touch is nowhere near gentle and for some reason the thought of having tiny bruises from our lovemaking only heightens my arousal.
“Lucas.” I'm too overwhelmed to get any other words out. One of his hands leaves my ass, reaching around to rub my clit.
“Come,” he demands. My body does as my husband orders. The orgasm takes hold of me. I come so hard my nails sink further into Lucas’s skin. I cling to him as he pumps a few more times, his warm release filling me. I bury my face in his neck, trying to catch my breath.
“I love you,” I tell him.
His whole body relaxes. “I love you, too.” He lays me down in our bed. I cuddle into him, smiling against his neck. I have no idea what just happened but it was wonderful. I do know that I’ll be poking my husband a little more often if this is the consequence.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucas
“You’re in a good mood,” mentions the intern.
“Oh?” I don’t look up from the report I’m reviewing.
“You’re humming and you never hum.”
“It is sunny out,” I reply, not even bothering to check whether that’s accurate because in my world, the sun is shining.
She marches to the small window and flicks open the blinds. “I guess it is,” she says after a moment.
I make a few adjustments and slide the document over to her. “You can go now.” I have plans to plot out.
The intern turns to leave when the door flies open. Lee and Sanchez burst through, their arms full of manila folders. My brows crash together. I don’t like what I’m seeing.
“I think we’ve found something.”
“We think we’ve found something,” Sanchez corrects.
“Right. Anyway”—Lee drops his pile of folders onto my desk and slaps one open—“this is Dennis Graham. He was accused of abusing his foster kids. Three of them spoke out against him in a preliminary hearing. One died before the trial and the other two refused to testify at trial. The case was thrown out and he walked.”
“You have a new charge against him?”
“No. Look.” Lee stabs his finger against the autopsy report. “The guy was fileted about three weeks after the mistrial. His genitals were mutilated. He suffered from severe internal bleeding. He had blows to his chest and groin that were likely inflicted by a hammer.”
“Sounds sufficiently deadly.” I cock my head. “Are you suspicious about the manner of death and planning on having the body exhumed for reexamination?”
“No. I want you to look at this. Sanchez--”
“I’ve got it,” she says before Lee can finish his statement. “This is Val Cooper. She was the mom of the kid that was found chained in the basement. She claimed that her kid was possessed by the devil and she was forced to keep the kid there for the safety of others. She pled insanity and got sentenced to six months in a mental institution but got out after only three.”
“And the autopsy report says that she died of asphyxiation.” I peer up at the detectives. “These files appear to pertain to deceased individuals. Are you doing an audit of another coroner’s office?”
“No. Today Mr. Washington’s body washed up on shore, just north of the inlet where Old Man Dodd lives.”
So soon. Perhaps I should have weighted his body down, but, no, that would have defeated the purpose. Dead bodies are meant to be found and examined. The cases without bodies linger in people’s minds, encourage discovery missions such as the one that Lee and Sanchez are currently engaged in.
“And he is related to one of these two cases or”—I eye the folders—“or all of these cases?”
“Possibly. There’s one thing that connects all these cases,” Lee says. There’s a gleam in his eye that is making me uneasy.
“Bad coroner work?” I quip.
“All of these cases are unsolved and they all involve a person who was accused of a disgusting crime and either got a light sentence or no sentence at all,” Sanchez supplies. She dumps her files on top of Lee’s and starts going through them, listing off case after case—a pedophile here, an abuser there, a rapist two counties over.
I point that out. “Some of these files aren’t from us.”
“I know. I’ve—we’ve been working on this all week. Washington’s body is the nail in the coffin.”
“What are you suggesting?” pipes in the intern.
Lee whirls around to face the young woman. “We have a serial killer. Someone is killing all these people.”
“None of the killings are the same,” I say, flipping through the files. “This one was by blunt trauma. This one was from blood loss. This one says they died of a heart attack.” I was particularly proud of that one. It takes skill to induce heart trauma in an otherwise healthy person.
“It’s the randomness that is the common thread,” Lee declares.
; Both my intern and I look at the detectives in slightly disdainful disbelief. “The fact that there is nothing similar about these deaths is what you’re using to connect them all?”
“Not just that,” SanchezSanchez says, her cheeks a bit pink. “It’s that they’re all—“
“Scum,” sniffs the intern. “It sounds like it’s good riddance.”
“It’s not our place to make that judgment,” I say.
The intern dips her head and pretends to busy herself with the report we just finished but not before I catch her rolling her eyes. “Some people need killing,” she mutters under her breath.
I pretend not to hear her. “What would you like me to do with these files, Detective?”
There’s a stretch of silence before SanchezSanchez says, slightly abashed, “We want you to review the cases to see if you can find any similarities, any tells. Did the killer use a drug to incapacitate them? Was there one primary method of death such as a blow to the head?”
“This head looks perfectly intact,” I point to the file in front of me.
“I know it looks that way, but maybe we can start to draw some commonalities and draw up an MO for this guy. There are four other jurisdictions that are ready to cooperate, but everyone knows we have the best coroner so that’s why we’re bringing the files to you.”
“Four?” Usually these departments from other counties can’t agree on which donuts to serve at a state convention but they’re all cooperating on these case files, some of which are—I flip to a yellowed folder—ten years old.
“Yeah and maybe more. We’ve sent out feelers to other counties.”
“This is a lot of work.” I cast an eye toward the coolers where I have three bodies waiting.
“We know. What can we do to help?” SanchezSanchez pulls up a chair and plops down. “We’re ready to go through these with you.”
“Flora, can you stay?” I ask the intern.
She nods reluctantly. “I’m getting overtime for this, though, right?”
I arch an eyebrow. SanchezSanchez sighs. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll put in a request. Now can we get started?”
Chapter Fourteen
Angel
I stare down at the phone feeling disappointed by Lucas’ text. I thought last night was wonderful. He seemed to enjoy himself also, but suddenly worry fills me. I can still feel the small ache in my body. After I’d passed out he’d woken me up an hour later and taken me again. This had gone on all night. I should be tired today, but I’m not. I was on a happy cloud until Lucas replied to me that he has to work late.
“What’s got you down all of a sudden?” I look up to see Judge Barnes standing there.
“Lucas has to work late.” I pocket my phone.
“That’s sweet.” She smiles at me.
“Sweet that my husband has to work late?”
“No, sweet that you’re clearly going to miss those few hours he could have been home.” She rounds her desk, sitting down. I was wrapping up a few things before I head out for the day. We’ve been in court all day together. It’s been a long day and Lucas not being home until late was not how I planned on ending it.
“You know I won the bet on you two?”
“Mary!” I hiss her name, trying to hold back my smile that the judge was placing bets with coworkers.
“What? I knew the odds. You two have been in love from the first time you laid eyes on each other. There was no denying it. I could see it written all over both of your faces. No one thought the adorable new clerk would go for the hot coroner except me.” I know everyone refers to Lucas’ outwardly appearance as hot, but creepy is often in the running, too. That description of him has died down a little since we got married.
“Well, I did.” I stand, grabbing my bag from off the floor to put my planner and notepad away.
“And it’s sweet how in love you still are with one another. It’s easy to forget about love and good things when we’re around such evil all the time in this courtroom.”
“We haven't been married that long.” I laugh, pulling the bag over my shoulder. Not that I think that will change. If I’ve learned anything from being married it’s that I fall more and more in love with Lucas every day. Just when I think I can’t love someone more, he goes and shows me otherwise.
“I know but it’s a long haul.” She waves her hand.
“You still got money on us or something?” I tease her. I’m so lucky to have her as a boss. I’ve heard nightmare stories about other judges.
“I already won,” she says smugly.
“I’ll see you later.” I give her a wave as I head out the door. I fish my phone back out and find my car keys. I look up when I feel someone watching me to see Chad sitting on a bench. He gives me an odd look but thankfully doesn't come over. I keep walking until I make it to my car. My steps are a little quicker because Chad gives me the creeps.
I don’t want to go home. I want to see Lucas. I’m curious to know why he suddenly has to work late. Was he regretting last night? That thought keeps popping into my head. Insecurity starts to flare up inside me. I bite my lip, thinking about what I should do. Normally I’d go home, make myself some dinner and wait for him. But I know that this worry will eat at me all night. None of it is founded but I know going home is not the solution.
“I want to see him.” I start my car and pull out. I feel a bit off now. So I do what I think Lucas would want me to do. Come to him. I stop to pick him up some dinner first before heading over toward his office. My phone dings as I pull up at his building.
Lucas: You didn't text me back
I hadn't. Mary came back into the office and then I decided to just come here.
Me: I’m here. I brought you dinner.
Okay, I brought more than dinner. I brought some insecurities with me, too. I knew that if I saw Lucas I would feel better.
I grab my stuff, stepping out of the car and heading toward the front of the building. I barely make it inside and Lucas is there.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his eyes filled with worry.
“Can’t a wife bring her husband dinner?”
“My wife can do anything she wants.” He takes my hand, leading me back to his office. The place is pretty much empty now.
“Anything?” I step inside and he closes the door behind me. I don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking into place but I pretend I don’t notice. I set the bag down on his desk. Lucas comes up behind me, moving my hair off my shoulder and placing a kiss on my neck.
“Anything,” he agrees. I suck in a breath when he nips at my neck then places another kiss there before stepping away from me. I lick my lips, trying not to show my disappointment. This isn’t why I came here. Is it?
“I brought you dinner,” I say as if he doesn't know. I texted him that and he can see the bag.
“I see that, Angel.”
He grabs my hand, pulling me around his desk. He sits down, and I think he’s going to pull me into his lap, but he shifts, putting me between his legs. My ass rests on the edge of his desk.
“I think you came here for something.” His hand drifts up my skirt.
“Here?” I wiggle, already getting wet from the brush of his fingers on my thigh.
“Lift the dress.” His tone changes, making my nipples go hard. I reach down, pulling my dress up to reveal my panties. His fingers hook into them as he drags them down my legs. I step out of them before he tucks them away into his pocket.
“Does this hurt?” He leans in, kissing a small bruise on my hip. I’d seen it this morning when I was getting dressed. I know the bruise is from one of his fingers digging into me.
“No.” I shake my head. “I like it.” He smiles against it, pressing another kiss there.
“You like a lot of things you never told me about.” His mouth moves lower. I push back onto his desk, spreading my thighs more.
“I didn't know,” I admit.
“You going to be quiet for me?” His warm breath fans over my center
as his fingers dig into my thighs. I drop my head back, needing his tongue on me now. “Answer me,” he demands. That tone makes me let out a small whimper.
“Yes,” I breathe out. “Please, Lucas,” I beg. My whole body is on fire. I need him. I need his mouth on me. I know the pleasure that’s in store for me.
“No need to beg. I’ll always give you what you need, Angel.” He does. Lucas gives me things I didn't even know I needed. Today it’s two mind-blowing orgasms before he walks me to my car, telling me to be ready for him when he gets home.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas
Mr. Washington’s body is delivered overnight. I have Flora pull him out of the freezer.
“I think the guy likes knives,” Flora says as she examines the deceased’s torso.
“What makes you think that?”
“I was looking at the files last night and there are a couple of similarities--not a lot. I wouldn’t have made the connection that Lee and SanchezSanchez did but now that I’m sort of tracing things backward, I see things. On victims 10, 17, and 25, he used a blade. I’m not sure what kind but it was sharp and he was skilled.”
I clean the undersides of Mr. Washington’s fingernails. There won’t be anything incriminating as he never touched me. There isn’t anything on his body that could be traced back to me. I use ordinary tools that are disposed of immediately. The manner of death depends solely upon the person’s crime. In Mr. Washington’s case, no knives were used.
“Anything else you noticed?”
“One other thing.”
A satisfied note in her voice has me raising my head. Those victims were so long ago and early in my chosen path. I could’ve made mistakes. “Yes?”
“Nearly a dozen of the victims have been defended by Chad Dering.” She raises both her eyebrows and points the tip of the cotton swab at me. “Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”