“I love you, girl.” That’s been sitting in my throat for a while now and it feels good to put it out there for her to hear.
“I love you too, so much.” She smiles as she eases down onto my hard cock. She feels like heaven as she wraps herself around me. I’m not usually much for conversation during sex, other than some serious dirty talk and praise for a job well done, but I’m curious. “What’s got you smiling like that, baby?”
“Well, you know I always thought of you as being larger than life. Baby, I had no idea,” she purrs as she rides my sizeable hard-on. Well, I’ll be damned. I’m also usually not one for humor during sex, but I laugh out loud at her comment.
“I’m glad I please you, sweetheart. Because every inch of you sure as hell pleases me.” She looks away for a split second, just long enough for me to see that she doesn’t completely believe me. I reach around and grab on to her ass with both hands, squeezing it, getting a little rough as I move her up and down on my cock. “I love your ass. It’s perfect, I can’t get enough of it. And someday soon I’m going to claim it. And you’ll love it, I promise. I’ll make it so good for you.” I move on to give some attention to her firm, perky tits. “And these,” I say as I lift them in my hands, testing their weight and giving each one a kiss. “I don’t even have words for these magnificent tits.”
I push her hair to the side, taking a plump nipple in my mouth and flicking my tongue over it. It immediately responds, peaking to a perfect point in my mouth. I give each breast my attention, sucking and stroking until Windy is on fire in my arms, moaning my name over and over. I feel the heat travel down my spine but I stave it off, I don’t want this to be over yet. My fingers glide down her abdomen, stroking her silky skin as they make their way to her clit. I flip her over onto her back and starting rolling the sensitive nub with a steady rhythm that matches the dance our bodies are doing.
“And this sensitive little button right here,” I rasp as I kiss my way down her stomach. “It turns you into a little firecracker when I lick it,” which I do, “and suck on it,” which I do for quite a while. Her knees are spread wide for me and her nails are digging into my scalp as she desperately presses my face to her core. Her core tightens on my tongue and I press a kiss to her lower lips before rising up to mount her. I feel her orgasm building and I’m going to be right there with her. She meets me thrust for thrust and her movements and sounds become frantic as if she is desperate for me. Her pussy clamps down on me and I pour myself deep inside her as she creams for me.
I rest on my elbows above her, still joined, barely breathing. She opens her eyes and I can’t look away as I let her see how she has cracked me open for good. For the first time in my life, I’m willing to do anything to hold on to the happiness I’ve found. I will cross the line of right and wrong without hesitation to hold on to the bliss I’ve waited years to attain.
We were connected for years by much more than sex or even love; we’re friends, and I’m not losing this for anything or anyone. If that crazy bitch comes after my woman I’ll put a bullet right between her eyes and think nothing of it.
Chapter Forty Eight
Dr. Brinkley
My lungs expand as I run from the darkness I can feel but am unable to see. Twisting turns through wooded areas lead me deeper into the woods with no way of escape. I stand behind a tree hidden from something out there that’s intent on catching me, trapping me, holding me in its grip. I bend over placing my hands on my knees in an attempt to breathe. I cannot catch my breath. I realize in my dream-induced state that I need to awaken and my head thrashes from side to side, attempting to free my mouth from whatever is preventing me from breathing.
“Shh, wake up, love. I told I’d come and now I’m here -- here to save you from yourself.”
The fear overwhelms me even before my eyes fly open because I know what’s coming—a terror-filled night of torment with Georgia. Her hand is tightly pressed over my mouth and when I struggle to free it, tossing my head from side to side, I realize I’m bound. My head is foggy with sleep as I try to register what is happening to me—but deep inside I know; she’s here to claim me. I belong to her now.
My hands pull against the manacles to no avail; she has already secured me to the bed. My nude body is splayed out and open for her.
“Did you really think you would be able to avoid me by having your home wired? No one’s coming to save you, love, I’ve cut security wires and uninstalled all the listening devices you had your assistant’s boyfriend put in. At last, we’re quite alone, you and me.”
A vicious slap to my face pulls me into the moment and I watch her pull a bottle of pills from her pocket. She shakes them playfully and pours some into her hand. She then lines them up in a single straight line on my abdomen.
“Don’t move,” she is once again taunting me, knowing my spread-eagle, manacled body can’t go anywhere. I strain to lift my head and watch her as she makes her way toward the bathroom. She returns with a glass of water. Her fist grabs a handful of my hair, twisting until I wince in pain. She lifts my head and places a pill in my mouth and washes it down with water.
“One for you, one for me.”
She repeats the process, alternating feeding me pills and taking them herself until I lose count.
“What are they?”
“OxyContin to kill the pain, love.”
“What pain?”
“The pain I’m going to subject you to.”
She slowly strips out of her clothing, swaying her hips, clasping her breasts and giving me a show. My cock is instantly rigid, against my will. Her skin is like porcelain bathed in the moonlight streaming in through the window, yet surrounded by menacing shadows. She leans over my head, deliberately dropping a breast into my open mouth, and I suckle like a man possessed. One thought survives in my drug-addled mind: that I’m finally touching the only woman who stirs sexual desire within me. I am her captive in more ways than one.
“That’s it, such a good boy. Enjoy the pleasure while you can because the pain is coming.”
She straddles me and lowers herself onto my cock, and when she has swallowed me into her warmth the high from the pills hits in earnest. I no longer care that I am allowing her to do something to me that breaks every doctor-patient code in the book. I need what she is subjecting me to; I need her.
“Beg me to fuck you, darling,” she coos in my ear. Once again, against my will, I submit to her depravity.
“Please, fuck me, I need it, I need you,” I moan helplessly. Her hips grind onto me, circling down until I feel like I’m bottoming out. She feels better than anything I have ever experienced and the pills only add to the pleasure.
Her fingernails scratch into my flesh as she tosses her head back and rides me like some feral animal in heat. Sex has never been this good before. She rises and falls on me, milking me until I’m bucking beneath her. I cry out in an orgasm that takes my breath away, but this time it isn’t a dream; it’s real and it’s fucking delicious. Her expression is one of triumph and she stares down at me as her pussy walls clench around me in her own release. She has succeeded in doing what she always intended: prove to me that I am in love with a serial killer.
Chapter Forty Nine
Thorn
“I think I’ve loved you forever, Windy,” I say softly into the darkness. She strokes my jaw before pressing a kiss on my chest. “Before, it was affection between a man and a child who needed someone to look out for her, but I knew protecting you was the most important thing I’d ever done. You were always special to me, you know that, right?” She hums sleepily in agreement so I continue, “All those years after, I was just getting by, but I wasn’t really living. Not until I got the phone call that changed everything and I saw this picture of you.” I grab my wallet from the nightstand and show her the picture that started it all. ”If it had been anyone else, I never would have taken the job.”
“Oh, is that what I am, a job?” she asks with a smirk.
�
�Not anymore,” I tease. “You know being with me will continue to expose you to danger, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. It’s odd though because even though I know the work you do is dangerous, I feel safer with you than I’ve ever felt anywhere. I love you, too, Thorn, always have. As a kid you were my hero and you still are.”
I kiss her forehead, looking down at her as I twirl a strand of her hair between my fingers. “I really don’t want you going to work until we catch her.”
She answers me with a question just like she does so often: “Do you think she loves him in her own way?”
“Yeah, I think so. As much as she’s able to love anyone. Her kind of love is fucked up at best and deadly at worst. That’s the precise reason I don’t want you around him. Anyone in the line of fire is going to get it. The bitch is sick, she made him listen to her while she killed Deana. That’s some twisted shit, girl.”
“That’s the whole purpose for me getting into this line of work. I want to understand the sick and twisted, help them cope.”
“And yet in your personal life you want the safety I provide. You’re quite a contradiction, baby.”
“Yeah, well, working around the criminally insane and being with them on an intimate level are two different things that definitely do not mix. There will always be an element of danger in my line of work – and, yes, yours too. But when I come home to you, right or wrong, I can let all that go because I know you’ve got my back; you’ll take care of me. When I’m with you, I feel…free. Maybe I shouldn’t feel that way, but…”
“Hey, hey,” I murmur, interrupting her with a kiss that goes on a little longer than I intended. “Nothing wrong with wanting your man to take care of you, baby. I love that you’re a strong, resilient woman – that’s hot as hell as far as I’m concerned. But just because I open a door for you, that doesn’t mean I don’t think you can do it on your own. But whatever I can do to protect you, I damn sure will. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let anyone get to you. I won’t lose you—I can’t lose you. And if it means killing to keep you, then so be it.”
“Now who’s crazy?”
“Me…for you.”
Chapter Fifty
Dr. Brinkley
“Oh, God, stop, it hurts!” The branding device she has held over the stove’s open flame in the kitchen is still hot enough to scorch my flesh as she presses it into my chest, searing her brand right above my heart.
“Take these, love,” she presses more pills between my lips and I gratefully accept them, swallowing them down with the water she offers.
I try to look down at my chest but my muscles won’t do what I want. My voice comes out in a strained whisper, “What is it?” It’s the last thing that escapes my lips before I pass out from the pain. When I awaken later Georgia is smiling down at her handiwork, the wound she managed to bandage while I was unconscious.
“It’s the name you gave me, darling—Femme Fatale. You branded me with it in the press and now you will carry it, too. Remember how the press started calling me the Femoral Fatale?” She rolls her eyes before looking at me gratefully. “You knew I deserved better than that horrible, unimaginative pun. You told the press I was a real, live Femme Fatale, and they loved it. Ate it right up, didn’t they? Much classier, I think. So it’s only right that you see it every day for the rest of your life. Just think...” she runs a finger down my chest and her eyes light up when I gasp at the contact with my bandaged wound. “Every time you’re naked, you’ll think of me. Mmmm…I bet you’ll like that.” Her hand slides lower, moving across my lower abdomen and through the patch of dark hair that leads to my erection. She caresses my length with long, leisurely strokes, then takes me into her mouth, rolling her lips and tongue around the tip before sinking all the way down my shaft to deep throat me.
It’s sick that I’m enjoying this but, sweet Jesus, her mouth is perfect, her lips are perfect. I always knew this would be perfect. Perfect…
My mind is bleary from the narcotics but my body is wide awake and ready for her.
“You’re mine, love, there’s no denying it,” she says serenely, flicking her tongue up and down the sensitive vein that runs along the length of my engorged cock. She sits up and strokes me, asking indignantly, “Do you really believe I’m going to let them put me back in prison?! It really doesn’t matter what they do. Because I’m in here.” She smiles and presses a fingertip to my chest, just below the brand. “And here,” she whispers as she strokes a fingertip over my temple.
She applies herself to her task, using both hands now, frowning earnestly as she watches her hands move apart and together in slick slides against my heated skin, over and over. Her strokes become frantic and my hips buck wildly into her hands, the orgasm building at the base of my spine. “You’ll never be able to shake this darkness that we share. Why, we’re a match made in…hell.” At that, I surrender the last vestiges of control and can only stare helplessly into the lovely, empty eyes that will forever haunt my dreams. The orgasm rips through me and I come in a gush that feels endless as it spills over her hand and onto my stomach.
“Rest now, love. You’ve made me so happy, agreeing to bear my mark,” she purrs as she rubs my cream into her breasts in slow, languid strokes. “So you see, no matter how this ends, I’ll be with you and you’ll be with me…forever.”
She’s even crazier than I thought. She actually believes I’ve agreed to her scarring my body.
My body gives in to the numbing effects of the narcotics she has fed me so relentlessly. I lay my head to the side; I’m so tired. I can breathe easy now. Maybe if I give in to sleep, when I awaken this will all just be a dream.
Chapter Fifty One
Thorn
“I can see why you’re so intrigued with profiling, there are so many different diagnoses and opinions on serial killers.” I study the computer screen as I talk. Wonder is curled up on the floor by my feet, her tail thudding against my leg every time I speak. Yeah, she’s Windy’s dog, but she knows who her daddy is.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what you’ve voiced before, the whole nature versus nurture thing. Georgia Clark has managed to convince the professionals that she was born with something they refer to as a criminal gene. Do you believe that it exists?”
“I think believing someone who performs heinous acts for no apparent reason does it because they were born that way makes it easier to understand,” Windy says with a frown. “As humans, we tend to ask the question why, so if we can pin it on someone being born with a penchant for evil then it curbs the fear somehow.”
“This woman is suspected of killing close to a hundred people, mostly men,” I remind her.
“And I believe that’s one of the reasons they profiled her as being criminally insane. It secured keeping her in a mental institution and enabled Dr. Brinkley to interview her in hopes of solving cases. He wants closure for the families.”
“He’s a man, baby; he wants more than that. This woman has gotten to him, somehow, someway.”
“Maybe they’re meant for each other, even if they can never be together the way we are. We don’t choose who we love. What’s that saying? ‘The heart wants what it wants.’”
“You chose me,” I say, smug as hell.
“I couldn’t help myself; I was just a kid with a crush.”
“And yet here we are, working to find the most prolific serial killer in the nation.”
“Yes, and it won’t be easy because the woman has no family, no connections and no habits. The only constant is her obsession for her doctor. This woman is smart and she has a reason for anything she does. She takes manipulation to a whole new level. For her, it’s like an art form she wants to master. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a more calculating woman in my life.”
“Well then…by all means, love, let the games begin.”
Chapter Fifty Two
Dr. Brinkley
I open my eyes and squint against the sun streaming in t
hrough the window. Someone has pulled the curtain back. As the hair on the back of my neck rises, I look around the room, not sure exactly what I’m hoping to see. Georgia is gone and I’m alone. I’m alive. But the bandage on my chest reminds me that what I endured last night wasn’t a dream. It was a fucking nightmare.
I rub my wrist, grateful to be free from the handcuffs she used on me last night. I smell the coffee that she must have left on auto before she left. I get up, making my way into the kitchen to pour a cup when I see the note she’s left on the counter:
My dear, sweet boy, though I had a very pleasurable time with you, I must be on my way. You would do well to keep our rendezvous between the two of us. Seriously, love… it just wouldn’t look very professional for people to know just how much you enjoy me fucking you at will.
One more thing: when I get caught, if I do, you had better make sure I’m housed with you, or I will work until my dying day making certain I kill that little assistant of yours. I know how stubborn you can be if I don’t give you an incentive. You really should work on getting rid of that guilt complex you have—with all the killing I do, I don’t feel guilty. After all…I was born this way. One more thing, love, don’t make the mistake of breaking my heart.
I pour my coffee with hands that shake, then make my way into the shower. Taking a moment to set the mug down on the counter, I peel the gauze away from my wound. I’m grateful she salved it, which keeps the dressing from sticking and tearing at the burn. She took such care with the dressing, but not to alleviate pain on my part; she did it because she wants the mark to heal perfectly. I look in the mirror and see, perfectly written in cursive, Femme Fatale. The letters are intertwined in a way that it almost looks like a tattoo. Though it’s a scar—it’s beautiful. No doubt she had the branding device custom made by her security guard lover. Break her heart? I doubt she has one.
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