Ruthless Creatures

45

Which I’m thinking is the point.

Then he kisses me. Deeply. Groaning into my mouth. The motion of his hips falters. He breaks away from my lips with a choked “f**k!”

He’s trying not to come, too.

So of course I have to keeping rolling my hips, f*****g myself onto his engorged c**k, urging him closer to losing control.

Just because he’s bigger and stronger doesn’t mean he’s the one in charge.

I might only be a middle school teacher with a shitty car and a pathetic dating history and an inability to multiply single digits without a calculator, but I’m his queen now.

I intend to throw on my crown and show him who he’s dealing with.

When he opens his eyes and gazes down at me, his brow furrowed and his expression one of intense concentration bordering on pain, I smile.

“How you feeling, big boy? You look a little strung out.”

Breathing hard, he rasps something in Russian. I have no idea what he said, but it doesn’t matter. This is my game we’re playing.

My game, my rules.

“I’m feeling quite well, thank you for asking. Though I have to admit, my p***y is stretched so tight around your enormous c**k, I can hardly take it. It’s a good thing I’m so wet.”

His eyes flare. He inhales a sharp breath.

I smile wider.

Oh yeah. It’s on.

Dropping my voice, I whisper, “I bet I’ll be even wetter when you take me over your knee and s***k me, though. I’ll get so hot and wet, and I’ll squirm on your lap and beg you to f**k me, but you won’t f**k me until I suck your c**k until you’re almost ready to come, too.

“You’ll s***k me while I’ve got your big hard c**k shoved down my throat, won’t you, Kage? Oh, yes, you’ll slap my naked ass over and over with your bare hand while I play with my drenched, throbbing p***y and you f**k my mouth, then you’ll get me on my hands and knees and violate my virgin ass with this giant d**k of yours—”

With a violent jerk that shakes us both and the bed, Kage climaxes.

He throws back his head and shouts hoarsely at the ceiling, every muscle in his big body tensed.

I’d be lying if I said watching him come completely unstrung because I talked dirty to him had no effect on me.

In reality, it’s the opposite.

Knowing I have just as much power over him in bed as he has over me makes me so excited, it only takes a few more jerks of my hips against his for me to go right over the edge with him.

I surge up against him, convulsing.

He drops his head to my breasts and pulls hard on a n****e with his hot mouth.

I feel him throbbing inside me, throbbing and pulsing as I clench around him. I scream out his name.

It goes on and on until we both collapse back against the mattress, panting.

When both of our bodies have stopped trembling and we’ve finally caught our breath, Kage slides out of me, rolls us to our sides, tucks me against him so he’s spooning me, and sighs a deep, satisfied sigh into my hair.

In a husky voice warmed by wonder, he says, “That filthy mouth.”

“Did you like it?”

“I’ve never come so hard in my life.”

My ego squeals in delight, but I try to play it cool, shrugging. “I learned from the best.”

His chuckle shakes us both. He presses a tender kiss to the nape of my neck. “You’ll be the death of me, beautiful girl.”

I smile. “Let’s hope not.”

That’s the last thing I remember before I drop into a sleep so deep, it’s practically a coma.

When I wake up in the morning, I’m alone.

Kage is gone.

And the cops are pounding on my front door.

19

Nat

W

hen I open the door, I find two people standing on my front step. One of them is an older man in a police uniform. He’s paunchy and has one of those red noses that hints at years of heavy drinking. I don’t recognize him.

The other person is an attractive Black woman in her late forties wearing business casual dress: tan slacks and a navy jacket with a white button-up shirt beneath. She wears no makeup or jewelry, not even earrings. Her fingernails are unpolished. Her hair is pulled back in a simple bun. Despite her lack of ornamentation, she gives off an air of effortless glamour.

I recognize her well.

Her name’s Brown. Detective Doretta Brown, to be precise.

The woman who led the investigation into David’s disappearance and never let me forget for a second that she wasn’t ruling anyone out as a suspect.

Including me.

“Detective Brown. It’s been a while. Do you have news about David?”

Her eyes narrow slightly as she examines my face.

I bet she can smell the fear on me. The woman’s intelligence is frightening.

“We’re not here about that, Ms. Peterson.”

“No?”

She waits for me to say more, but my tongue is pinched firmly between my teeth. Kage’s warning about talking to the police is too fresh for me to start blabbering.

When I don’t break under her laser beam stare, she adds, “We’re here about the shooting at La Cantina last night.”

I don’t make a peep. I do, however, notice that there’s more than one law enforcement car parked at the curb out on the street.

Chris leans against his sheriff’s cruiser with his arms folded over his chest, staring hard at me over the tops of his mirrored sunglasses.

Shit.

Realizing that Detective Brown and I could stand there in silence forever, the paunchy officer makes a friendly suggestion. “Why don’t we go inside and talk?”

“No.”

He looks surprised by the forcefulness of my answer. Detective Brown, however, doesn’t.