ÒSay, do you think maybe weÕre looking at this thing all wrong? Maybe our victim wasnÕt chosen personally; maybe the killing was just a matter of convenience like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You know, random.Ó ÒWhat makes do you say that?Ó Detective Sparks didnÕt pick her head up from the notes sheÕd been perusing for the last half an hour or so when she answered Officer Bailey. ÒWell, so far we havenÕt found anything among her personal belongings that gives us any indication that sheÕs met with anyone whoÕd want to do something like that to her. And look at the way she was laid out, didnÕt it strike you as some kind of ritualistic killing?Ó ÒOr the killer couldÕve wanted us to think just that, throw us off the scent.ÓÒBut, nothing else seems to gel. There isnÕt even a hint of anything to go on, to tie Melissa Sherry to someone whoÕs capable of something like this. Think about it. She grew up here, lived her whole life here, never traveled bey
Celia sat bolt upright in bed. Beside her, Riley was still fast asleep, having tired himself out with the nightÕs activities. After jumping her at the door, heÕd dragged her upstairs to their bed, and they hadnÕt come down for hours. After dinner, when they had the house to themselves, sheÕd found herself spread out on the dinner table among the dishes and uneaten food. She could still feel the imprint of the fork that had dug into her ass while Riley had been pounding into her before heÕd seen her discomfort and removed it. She gave him one last look before easing out of bed to grab the nightshirt heÕd thrown across the room after her bedtime shower. Silly her, sheÕd erroneously thought he was done with her. ThereÕs no way he could have anything left, she thought, but she was wrong. HeÕd taken umbrage to the old worn tee shirt sheÕd pulled on to sleep in and forbade her to wear anything to his bed before fucking her into the mattress hard and fast. She shook her h
Don saw the very beautiful woman step into the doorway of his office just as he hung up the phone. His secretary had just left for the day, and he was getting ready to do the same after another uneventful day. His nerves had been much better as the day went on with no one showing up to question him about the dead girl, leaving him with the impression that the connection between the two of them had not been made. ÒHello, may I help you?Ó Don put on his most charming smile as he stood from behind his desk to meet the beauty. He was already imagining what it would be like to have someone like her in his bed. The thought died a quick death when she reached into her pocket and held out the badge to him. ÒIÕm Detective Sparks; I wonder if I may ask you a few questions?Ó Don tried not to sweat or swallow too hard as saliva pooled in his mouth, and his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. In his mind, he was wishing heÕd followed his gut and left town as soon as he heard the n
Celia started to light into Riley as soon as Pete was gone from the room but found herself pinned against her desk by a prickly bear. The words got stuck in her lungs when she saw the heat of anger in his eyes. If it were just anger she saw there, she mightÕve found her voice and ripped him a new one, but there was something else there, something that looked a lot like fear. Riley was so mad he could hardly see straight. He wasnÕt in his right mind when he grabbed her by the front of her shirt and brought her in close until their noses almost touched. ÒAre you out of your fucking mind?Ó Celia felt a sensation similar to a cold wind blowing over her skin at the guttural words. Fighting back was not the way to go in this instance she realized, he needed to be soothed. In her head, she was already throttling back and trying to assess the situation to come up with the best solution. Telling him that this was her job and that sheÕd been in worse predicaments and probably would
ÒDo you know why you were spanked, Celia?Ó CeliaÕs mind wasnÕt exactly a blank, but she wasnÕt thinking straight either. There were tears of disbelief rolling down her cheeks, and she was finding it hard to breathe past the lump in her throat and chest. Her ass was on fire, and the mixture of shame and lust she felt confused the hell out of her. No one had ever daredÉ ÒAnswer me.Ó The nerve of him, she thought. Instead of words, she turned eyes of fury on him as she twisted her head to glare back at him. ÒI see!Ó Her eyes widened at his cryptic tone, but she didnÕt have long to wonder what it meant as she found herself moved from his lap to facedown on his bed. The next sound she heard was his zipper, and her heart started to race. ÒWhatÕre you doing?Ó She struggled up onto her shoulder so she could look back at him. What she saw made the blood heat in her veins, and the embarrassing liquid of arousal that had started with her spanking began to pool between her thighs and
Don stepped gingerly from the shower, the welts on his ass and back burning like fire with each move he made. It was a small price to pay for the pleasure heÕd enjoyed all evening and into the night, though, so he wasnÕt about to complain. Not only had he had one of the best fucks of his life, which was saying a lot considering, but that hot detective didnÕt seem to be on his scent. SheÕd given him a bit of a stir showing up like that, but in the end, he was able to keep her from guessing the truth. It still remains to be seen if heÕd have to pick up stakes and leave town in the near future, but for now, he didnÕt feel the rush to do so, not like last time when the cops were on his ass, and he had to bail. Standing in front of the mirror, he ran the towel over his wet chest down past his middle that was growing a little soft to his cock that was still on full alert. In the bedroom next door, his tormentor was waiting, ready to soothe the pain left by her vicious beating.
By the time Celia reached her desk Riley, and his antics were the last thing on her mind. She was back in detective mode and was sure that she was on the right track. SheÕd spent most of the time after leaving Don WilsonÕs office, concentrating on who the mystery guest had been, but now her focus had shifted back to her reason for going there in the first place. She was sure that sheÕd found Don Simpson and the fact that heÕd changed his name and was now using an alias was only one of the reasons she found him suspicious. As a detective whoÕd been trained by the best, she knew all of the signs to look for in a suspect. Some of them are sophisticated enough to get away with lying, but a greenhorn like Don wasnÕt savvy enough to pull the wool over her eyes. She couldnÕt quite put her finger on why exactly she didnÕt peg him as her killer; the vibe just wasnÕt there. But she knew from his squirrely actions under her questioning that he knew something or was involved in some
Gil wasnÕt looking too good when the detectives showed up at his door. HeÕd not too long gotten off the phone with Bobby, whoÕd called to give him a heads-up that they were on their way to see him. He didnÕt quite know how to feel about other people knowing what heÕd done on the very night after his wifeÕs dead body was found. He didnÕt want people in the little town, thinking that he hadnÕt loved his Mel because he did. He also had the fleeting worry that the New York detective might find his actions suspicious and start sniffing around his tail instead of going after the real killer. According to Bobby, she wasnÕt the type, and from what heÕd seen so far, heÕd have to agree. Still, what heÕd done could be misconstrued and damn sure frowned upon if it got back to the wrong people. By the time he opened the door to Detective Sparks, and Officer Bailey Gil was in a state. HeÕd worked himself into a tizzy worrying not only about what heÕd done but also about the fact that h