Heat spasms up my spine, the need to come overpowering.
“Oh god, I’m coming, I’m coming,” she cries out, her body tensing beneath mine. I grind my hips, riding out her climax before pulling out, dropping to my back, and guiding her head down to my cock. “Taste what you do to me, little lamb,” I growl.
She’s thirsty, desperate to flood her mouth with my offering. Her juicy lips slip over my cock, her moan vibrating around my tip. Waves of release pump into her mouth, dripping from the corners of her lips. It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. Once she’s sucked me dry, she growls, swiping across her mouth with her forearm. “You taste like sin, detective,” she teases.
“You taste of heaven, little lamb.” I laugh, pulling her into my arms.
After a few minutes, she asks, “Would you be able to find out where Simon’s stepfather is now?” Her small fingers dancing across my pecs, her thigh slung over my waist, the heat from her pussy making my cock twitch with life. I kind of owe Simon for scaring him off.
“I can and will.” I kiss her forehead, pulling her onto my chest. “Are you sore?” The blush on her cheeks is fucking adorable. Biting her lip, she jerks her head yes. “Too sore?” I taunt, rolling her onto her back.
“Maybe you should get some ice.” She licks her lips, mischief flashing in her eyes. Nuzzling her neck, I growl, “Ice for your pussy coming right up.”
Giggling, she watches me leave the room, calling out, “It’s on the top shelf of the freezer.”
A smile hooks my lips. I don’t think it will ever leave my face. She’s mine. Her scent coats every part of me, and I never want to leave her bedroom. I know I’ve crossed lines. I’m not even sure who I am anymore. But one thing is clear: I’m hers and will do what I need to keep her safe.
Pulling open the freezer, I grab the tray of ice and make my way back to the bedroom, visons of swirling the ice over her clit before pushing it up inside her and finger fucking her until she’s numb running rampant in my mind. As soon as I reach her bedroom door, rapping on the front door echoes through the apartment. Seeking out the clock on the wall, a frown tugs at my brows. It’s past midnight.
“Was that the door?” Lola calls out, but I’m already putting the ice tray down and slipping into my discarded slacks in her hallway. Another urgent knock sounds. Swinging the door open, a female stands there, her eyes wide.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was looking for Lola?” She looks familiar, but it takes a second for me to place where I know her from. The photos.
“Mrs. Reese?” I shake my head in confusion. What the fuck is she doing at Lola’s apartment?
Lola’s footfalls sound behind me. “Amanda, what are you doing here?” She moves around my body, a sheet wrapped around her body.
“I’m sorry, Lola. I thought maybe I could have my painting.” Amanda fidgets on the doorstep.
“You knew his wife?” I find myself asking, astounded. The woman’s face pales, but Lola stays composed. “Amanda, go home. I’ll come see you when it’s safe to do so, okay?”
Nodding her head frantically, Mrs. Reese backs away from the door. “Yes. I’m sorr-sorry, Lola.”
Once she’s left, Lola closes the door and looks up at me through her lashes. “I can explain.”
The witness. He said Lola pulled the gun from her purse. “You brought the gun with you. You set him up.” I breathe. That drunken bastard wasn’t lying.
“He was an animal. I’ve been doing paint therapy with his wife trying to show her there’s life after the abuse, that even with scars, she’s beautiful, a survivor.”
Running my hands through my hair, I pace. This wasn’t an attack and self-defense. It was a set-up and murder.
“I made her buy a gun, then I went to the bar where she said he likes to hang out at, pick up women, and torture her with stories of his infidelity. Worse part? She liked that he was seeking gratification in other women because it meant she wouldn’t have to limp around that week.”
What the fuck is happening? I killed that witness to protect her from his lies, but it was her lying.
“He used to tie her to the bed and flick burning matches on her naked body. Laughed, took pictures, degraded her.” She punches out each word, defiance in her tone.
“So, you took the law into your own hands, gave him what he deserved?” I spit out, shaking my head. Fuck.
“I went to that bar and watched him watching me like I was a prize piece of meat hanging from a hook at a slaughterhouse. He was a predator, Adams. He did follow me that night when I left, and he did try to attack me when I told him I wasn’t interested. I didn’t lie about that.”
Is my chest tightening? This is madness. “You disabled him and could have pressed charges—gotten rid of him that way.”
“And what—he’d get a slap on the wrist? He’d been charged with battery on his own wife and got a fine. A fucking fine. What kind of justice is that?” she bellows, her hand animated. She’s right. He would have gotten a slap on the fucking wrist.
“She could have left him,” I find myself murmuring.
“Fear is a powerful thing. It holds you hostage. I did what I had to do to make sure she didn’t have to suffer anymore. He was a savage.”
Her going to Simon’s stepfather’s house…what was she going to do there? I
