Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I press my cock into her ass and she smirks at me in the mirror as she closes up the mascara tube. Her voice is dry when she says, “You’re not getting any, Mr. Turner. I just got out of the shower.”
“Then you’ll have to take another one,” I tell her with such conviction that I’m going to get laid that of course I smirk back at her. Simone has never said no to me before, but to ensure her cooperation, I slip my right hand down the front of her panties. My middle finger pushes through the lips of her pussy, dips into her, and then drags back up over her clit. I do this a few times and she’s leaning back against me, moaning and hips rotating.
“Just a little quickie, right here,” I murmur into her ear. “Bend you right over that sink.”
“I like that idea,” she breathes out in a raspy voice. “Hard and fast too.”
“Christ, you’re the perfect woman,” I mutter, but just as I move to drag her panties down, I can hear my phone ringing with Etta’s ring tone in the bedroom.
Grabbing Simone’s hand, I bring it right to the front of her panties and guide her fingers inside the waistband. “Play with yourself while I go answer that. Want to make sure nothing’s wrong with her flight today.”
Her response is a moan, and my dick thumps when I see her hand go to work under the gray cotton material.
“Fuck,” I curse as I adjust my erection, stomping across the hall to my bedroom.
I nab the phone off the bed and turn slightly to see Simone across the hall, one hand locked down hard onto the vanity to support herself, the other working between her legs. It must feel good, because her hips are flexing and her head is hanging low as if she can’t even support its weight on her shoulders.
Christ.
Clearing my throat so I don’t sound like Etta just interrupted me getting ready to fuck Simone—but not taking my eyes off the sight across the hall—I answer, “Hey.”
“Van,” she says and just the absolute fear I hear in her voice has my erection deflating.
“What’s wrong?” I practically bark into the phone.
Simone’s head rears up as she turns to look at me with wide eyes, the tone of my voice reflecting back some panic at Etta’s fear. Her hand comes out of her panties and she’s walking across the hall into my bedroom, her eyebrows pulled inward with worry. She comes to a stop right in front of me, resting a hand on my hip for support.
“I just got off the phone with a freelance reporter,” she says and I realize she’s crying. “I didn’t tell him anything but I think he knows.”
“Calm down,” I tell her softly, trying to sound in control of my emotions. “Deep breath and tell me what happened.”
My head practically spins at the implications of just those few words she’s said to me, but I need to know what I’m facing.
I hear Etta suck in a massive amount of air, and she blows it right out into the phone. Her voice is quivery but stronger when she says, “This man called…identified himself as a reporter and doing a story about Arco.”
This was not anything new. Over the years his case would get dredged up in the media for certain events like the ten- and twenty-year anniversaries of some of the murders, and things like that. Etta always got a call. She never talked.
“Apparently word got leaked that he’s terminal and not doing well at all,” she went on. “At least that’s how he initiated the conversation.”
“But you doubt that’s why he called?” I ask her.
“I told him I wasn’t going to comment about it, and the minute I said that, he started asking about you. I told him I wasn’t at liberty to discuss. But he kept pushing with more questions like if I knew how you felt about Arco dying and where you were now. I didn’t want to hang up because I didn’t want to arouse any further interest, so I just kept telling him that you’ve never wanted to discuss this and I was going to honor your request.”
“Okay,” I say, because this also doesn’t sound too bad.
“Then he asked where you were living,” Etta went on. “And by that time, I’d about had it with him. I told him I was going to hang up. And just as I was getting ready to, he told me that the story would be running soon and it was your last chance to make sure all the facts were right.”
“Fuck,” I mutter into the phone. “Did he say where it was running?”
“No, and I’m sorry, sweetie, I didn’t think to ask,” she says apologetically. I know my eyes are hard and calculating as I look down at Simone and I try to give her a reassuring smile, but I’m failing miserably. “I sort of thought maybe he was bluffing about that, trying to induce you to call him or something.”