'I was thinking how happy it makes me to be with you,' he said. He put his arms around her, his hands in the small of her back.
'Yes? Truly? I make you happy?'
He lowered his voice and looked directly in her eyes. 'You make me very happy. I need you in my life.'
She was moaning as she kissed him. She lifted his hand to her mouth, sucked on his fingers as she rolled her eyes toward him.
He smiled at her, then slowly let his eyelids fall as if sliding into ecstasy. He made a small groan, encouraging her to continue. He liked it when the victims were aggressive-up to a point. At the end, he was in control. It was better for both of them. They sometimes wanted him to lose himself completely, to abandon self- mastery and technique and give himself to them in a rush of desire. Some of them thought that being wanted that much would give them power over him, and that that would be better than letting him bring them again and again to the heights of their pleasure, but he knew better, he understood that while they could satisfy him, only he could satisfy both of them. Inge licked the skin where his fingers connected and Captain Luv was surprised at the strength of his reaction. He took a mental note to use it sometime.
It puzzled him how someone as young as Inge knew about sensual pleasures that he had not yet discovered.
She moved farther down his body, working on him with her tongue, teasing and licking between his legs. He made his breathing louder so she would be encouraged to continue, and thought about his problems with the bodies. The discovery of the burial site was troublesome. There was nothing to connect it to him, he was sure of it, and it had been just bad luck, not poor planning. No one could anticipate a fluke of nature-the river had never been that high in human memory.
She took him in her mouth, groaning loudly with pleasure. This time when she rolled her eyes at him, he lay as if happily dreaming, eyes closed, head tilted to one side, panting shallowly through his mouth.
Inge could not smile with her lips, but in her heart she beamed.
Afterwards, she felt him shiver as he lay next to her. She knew he was still thrilling to her, she had never known a man so responsive, so open and vulnerable. He had such power, such authority-and yet he was so sweet. Inge knew she was a lucky girl to have him. She had forgotten her first impression of his appearance; to her he was now the strongest and most handsome of men.
He let out an enormous sigh.
'It is called le petit mort, ' she said. He did not respond; his eyes were still closed, but she knew he wasn't sleeping. She assumed he did not hear her.
'Ze French, zey call it le petit mort. What you are feeling now. Ze little death.'
'Death?' he repeated, sounding baffled. As she looked at him he opened his eyes and for a second she felt he did not know where he was. Then he came to himself and grinned at her. 'Death, huh? If that was the little death, what do you suppose the big death is like? You want to try for that?'
Inge didn't know what he meant, but she smiled at him. It made her happy to see him grin.
The mania had come upon him as he was in the throes of his climax, surprising him by its timing, giving him no chance to act. He trembled with the strength of it, its urgent demand shaking him to his core. He waited for the climax to pass, half expecting the mania to expire with it, half hoping it would not. But the mania gripped him even more strongly just as his body yearned to succumb to postorgasmic lethargy.
He felt it in his stomach, a palpable presence, spreading to his chest like a huge and growing, living vacuum, an expanding emptiness within that cried out to be filled. There was only one way to fill the emptiness, only one way to make himself whole again. Some portion of his soul resisted, briefly, but was overcome, and with a letting go that felt as if his heart were screaming with relief he gave way to the mania, let it take him and do with him what it would. As he shivered next to her, his entire being was filled with a rage to serve the mania, all except that portion of his brain which never, ever shut down, never, ever gave over control to anything. That portion of his brain watched carefully, warned him of dangers, advised about fingerprints and blood samples and semen specimens, kept an eye on the time, listened for anyone outside, protected him. The rest of him was pure Captain Luv, Captain Luvvv at his ultimate worst-or best.
Here come Captain Luvvv, he exulted to himself, struggling to keep the laugh from bubbling through his lips. He gwine operate on you, girl.
She had said something about death and he chortled deep within himself.
Now you're talking.
'There's something I have to do,' he said, suddenly getting to his knees on the bed.
She thought he meant he had to leave, and her heart sank.
'Not yet,' she said.
'You can help me,' he said.
Inge looked at him kneeling over her, naked, enormously erect, like a god of virility. His chest was broad and hairy, his thighs thick and powerful. And his cock was still so large it looked as if it must be painful, it looked as if it would rip the condom apart. She did not understand how it could still be that way after just making love to her.
He grinned at her, amused at her astonishment.
'Not done yet,' he said. 'Will you help me, my sweet?'
Of course she would help him, she would do anything for him right now.
He placed her on her hands and knees on the bed and entered her from behind. She gasped and then wriggled against him. 'You make me crazy,' she said.
'Listen, there's a thing lions do when they mate. You know how they bite the female's neck to control them? You've probably seen cats do it too.'
She turned her head, trying to see his face, not sure what he was saying.
'I want to do that while I love you,' he said. His voice was soft and supplicating. 'Will you let me do that?' Inge still did not completely understand.
'You vish to bite me? Of course.'
'Not bite you,' he said. He leaned across her back and placed his hand on her neck. 'Just squeeze a little. Will you let me do that? Can I do that to you, my sweet?' He rocked his body against her as his fingers found the steady pulse of her carotid artery. His grip tightened slightly on her neck.
'Of course,' she repeated. 'It won't hurt, I promise. It will just feel tight, but don't struggle, don't fight, just let me do it, I need to do it, it makes me feel so good.'
He increased the pressure of his fingers at the same time as he hastened his rhythm. Inge moaned and gasped aloud with each thrust. She barely noticed the fingers on her neck at first. It was only as his pace became frantic and she could hear him growling deep in his throat that the pressure began to be painful.
'It hurts,' she said, trying to twist away. He held her even tighter, his fingertips pressing into her flesh.
'Please,' he gasped. 'Please, let me do it, just a minute more… oooohhhh… for me, I need to… ohhh… for me.'
Inge felt his sexual frenzy and thrilled to it. It made her feel powerful and wanted and the discomfort was something she could bear a bit longer for his sake. He was panting louder and louder, emitting little cries with each thrust, it had to happen very soon. His grip on her neck was very tight now and she began to feel faint.
'Hold on,' he panted frantically. 'Almost, almost, almost…' Inge fell facedown on the bed, her body pulling away from his. Still gripping her neck, he scrambled frantically to reenter her and gave his last few convulsive thrusts into her inert body before collapsing atop her, shivering. His breath was loud and torturous for a few moments as he tried to recover from the exertion; then it turned to gasps of laughter. He lay on her for several minutes, trembling with laughter, his breath stirring the golden hair across her back. The tiny motel room, so accustomed to the noises of carnal pleasure, filled with the sounds of a madhouse.
When he came to himself again, her body had already begun to cool, taking on the eerie pallor of the dead. He released his grip from her neck at last and probed with sensitive fingers for any trace of pulse.
It was a formality.
There was a look to the dead that any layman could detect an unmistakable otherness never seen in life that was instantly recognizable.
'Luvvv, oh Luvv, oh careless Luvvv,' he sang, rising finally from her body and putting on his shirt. 'Luvvv, what has you done to me?'
