Staying With Her

Chapter TWO

The woman on the floor was lifeless. Lifeless. Her auburn hair was scattered into multiple places, stained with dried blood. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide open, hiding the shadow of her killer.

Her body was naked. And the smell. The smell was the most disturbing thing that Kate had ever sniffed. Her stomach piled up the contents of her breakfast, ready to be released. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as one question continued to race through her mind; Why?

The corpse was almost devoid of skin and pitted burrowing insects. It was too much. Humanly impossible to commit such a horrific deed. Kate turned away as her stomach heaved, nostrils filled with the smell of rotting flesh. Her blue eyes closed as she raised her head into the grey sky, inhaling its freshness.

"Jogger passed by and smelled the rotting animal," Said Officer Martin as he strolled towards Kate while flipping the notepad between his fingers.

"Had he looked at her?"

Officer Martin shook his head before murmuring a No, "He ran, tripped and smelt her," He said, biting onto his lower lip as his hazel eyes scanned the naked body. Shuddering, his right hand touched his forehead, then the middle of his chest, his left shoulder and finally to his right shoulder in prayer. "In the name of the father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." He prayed, kissing his knuckles before looking back at Kate.

She breathed with difficulty as she steadied her overbearing stomach. In this job she's seen it over and over, a corpse was a corpse. Yet, setting her eyes upon the rotting woman, she felt nauseous. Before she could draw another breath, a hand laid on her shoulder. The police officer stood behind the sick woman in the rush of damped weather.

"You okay Detective?" He asked, his voice thickening from the dense mass of air.

Turning around, she faced the handsome man. For a man entering his mid-forties, he had the body of a teenager, bulging muscles under his white dress shirt and protective vest. If anything, the badge hooked to his pants made him look hotter. He was the kind of guy that would hang around bars dressed in a tailored suit while he mindlessly stared at the rack of liquor–deep in thought, oblivious to the flirtatious women. That's the reason why Kate had pegged him as a cop from when they'd first met. It hadn't put her off though, just made things more interesting.

"Peachy," She sniffed, reaching into the pocket of her cardigan to retrieve a used tissue.

"Flu?" Blackhawk asked, placing both hands on top of her shoulders, running them down the length in soothing strokes.

Kate shook her head and blew her nose. The sound irritated the hell out her. Yet, it was a natural instinct when exploring the wet days, "Anything on the vic?" She asked, blowing her second round of mucus while she fell into his alluring touch.

"Body's been taken for autopsy. Jogger was sent to the station for further questioning," He explained, running his hand down her arm before engulfing her icy cold hand into his warm one, "go home and rest." He ordered, giving her hand a squeeze and flashing her one of his million-dollar smiles.

"I can't. What about the paperwor–"

"You're going home and that's final!" His voice was louder now. He hated it when women spoke back to him and disobeyed his orders.

"I'm not a child," She dictated, pulling her hand out from his heated one before crossing her arms over her chest.

"I didn't say you were one."

"You intended it," She fumed, suddenly feeling annoyed with the man she'd once called handsome.

"Dammit woman, Go home!" He demanded. The woman resembled that of a Ghost and yet, she wanted to be stubborn and stand in the cold. She was a resentful woman who crawled under his skin as a bad itch that couldn't be reached.

Muttering a fine under her hot breath, she stomped out of the park behind The Lava Lounge Bar on 2nd Avenue. He had no right to control her. He seemed to pop every nerve left in her body and soon she'd be resembling the rotting woman.

* * *

Blackhawk lapped his third shot of Guns N' Rosemary, then turned to his partner. Officer Martin reclined in his seat as he watched the women briefly walk into the bar.

"How's the new place?" He asked, circling the edge of his cocktail.

"Snazzy," Answered Blackhawk.

"Better than the old one?" Laughed Officer Martin while slamming his hand onto the counter.

Blackhawk thought back to his first home. Old and in need of repair. Inside the house, the furniture was dusty and old; it looked like if touched it would crumble to dust. The walls were weathering and the hardwood floorboards creaked under one touch. Nonetheless, it was a home. Until the uninvited guest made an appearance. One rat, and then another. Suddenly, there were three: ugly black beasts, each a good six inches long made his home theirs. He would continuously fix the leaks, cement the holes and hammer the windows in order to optimize his home. It was a waste of his time.

"I'm living the luxury," He said, swallowing the last drops that the flimsy glass offered.

Officer Martin pulled out his buzzing cellphone, scrolling through the message sent by his lover. Sighing, he stood from his seat and filled down the remains, "Mrs is looking for me." He smiled.

"Can't go longer than forty-five minutes?" Blackhawk laughed. The man's eager wife had him hooked and kneeled down at her feet.

"She's hungry," Smirked Officer Martin, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few notes before dumping them onto the counter.

Smirking, Blackhawk patted his partner on the back, "Don't keep her waiting," With that said, Officer Martin rushed to his wife's command.

"Can I get you a drink?" A voice asked. From being an experienced man, he knew it belonged to a seductress.

Turning his head, his gaze slid over her curves covered by her the little black dress that left very little to his imagination. Scanning her from feet to head, he was satisfied by her appeal. The woman was short, midnight eyes that drank him in. She was a temptress no doubt. And he loved it.

"Of course," He grinned, patting the seat next to him.

The woman obliged and waved her hand in beckoning, "What would you like?" She asked, searching his eyes.

"Surprise me," He said. He was enticed by a woman with great taste. She looked to be the type.

Handing him the draft beer, she sipped onto her Four Roses, "I'm Cheryl," She said, reaching her hand out to him.

"Adriel." He took her hand in his in one shake before grasping his beer, "You alone?" He asked, eyes wandering around the bar for a murderous companion.

Laughing she replied, "No, I came with friends." She pointed towards the back of the dimly lit bar. Turning around, he spotted three identical women swaying on the dance floor.

The three women made him wonder how erotic it would be to f**k three of the same features. Three identical voices moaning his name whilst he pounds into one tight p***y. The others shuddering as his broad fingers slid into their wet holes. The thought made his c**k stiffen. He looked away, not wanting to strain himself by the scene of the intoxicated women and focused on the blonde beauty before him.

"Why aren't you joining them?" He asked, sipping on his drink.

Cheryl shrugged, "I'm not a dancer."

"You don't have to be one to have fun."

Shrugging, she said, " I hadn't planned on spending my birthday at a bar."

Birthday? The women had dressed as though attending a funeral instead of a birthday bash. Her hair laid down in tight curls and lips masked with bloody lipstick. If it weren't for her physical features, he would've have left her at the bar unsatisfied. Instead, he gulped down his fourth drink and pulled her up. Before she could question his actions, he spoke.

"Let me teach you."

Moving past heated bodies, Blackhawk planted his hands firmly on the woman's waist, bringing her body closer to his. She gasped as her body slammed into his hard chest, automatically planting her hands on top of it.

"Put your hands around my neck," He breathed.

Doing just as commanded, heat rose to her cheeks as they began to sway. Blackhawk brought his face down into her neck, drinking in her scent of rosemary. Perhaps it was the drink he'd had earlier or because of the happy hour special, he'd been intoxicated by the smell. His lips touched her temperate skin, burning it with his soft kisses.

"How old are you?" He asked. Testing the waters before sinking further into its bliss.

"T-twenty-four," She whispered, bending her head back to grant him space.

Shit. He wouldn't commit to adulatory. The woman was at an eighteen years difference. He was a man but he knew his limit. Women under the age of thirty were considered a child in his eyes. A child he would not break until she'd become a maiden. Sensing his tensed body, she pulled away to look him in the eyes.

"I'm a grown woman," She assured him.

"I didn't say you weren't," He answered.

"You were hesitant."

Nipping at her skin, he tightened his hold on her waist. Forgetting about his limit, "Do you want this?" He asked, grinding his hardening length into her stomach.

How could she deny his offer? The man was dangerously alluring. Struggling to find her breath, she nodded her head and buried her face into his chest.

"Words, baby," He growled.

"Y-yes..."

With that, he could barely control himself as he strolled towards his car with Cheryl holding onto his arm. He pressed the button on his keys before opening the backdoor to his Jeep. He had never been this wild before. Maybe the idea of f*****g young flesh had the animal inside him unleashed.

"f**k," He groaned. The beautiful woman crawled into the back, her behind on full display for his hungry eyes.

Climbing in, his hands found her thighs as he buried himself between them. His hands slid up her thighs until he reached the hem of her tight dress, digging his thick nails into her skin. She moaned and withered under his touch.

"I want you," She moaned, her hands roamed around his back, digging her manicured nails into his work shirt.

He pulled away, sitting up he unbuttoned his shirt as fast as lightning. Her hands traveled from his back towards his chest, running her hands through the little peppered hairs. Unbelievably turned on, his hand reached for her panties, tearing them off her and leaving her mound exposed to the cold air.

His hand found her c**t. And that was her undoing. The man hadn't even touched her and yet one feel of his skilled fingers, she was on the verge of screaming out her orgasm. His hand played with her whilst his mouth found her neck. Sucking and biting, he was lost in ecstasy. Annoyed by the amount of clothing in his way, he used his free hand to pull down her dress. His animalistic growl sent shivers down her spine at the sight of her uncovered breast.

It was small. But all that mattered was that it could fit into his palm. He didn't have a type. He cherished anything that could scream his name. His mouth moved down towards her breast, engulfing one tit whilst his hands circled her c**t. She was a moaning mess. Unable to contain the amount of pleasure she was receiving. However, she wanted more.