Chapter Twenty Two
The Wrong Kind of Right
Jameson Bishop
Laying in bed wrapped around her, I should feel satisfied and content. I hold her tighter and take a deep breath, but the unease doesn’t fade.
It sits under my sternum like a stone, heavy enough to make breathing feel like work. Rachel is warm against me, soft, trusting, and I tighten my arm around her because I should feel something close to peace.
I don’t.
I feel hunted.
Not by Shaw. Shaw is a blunt instrument. Loud, sloppy, impulsive. A man like that doesn’t orchestrate a year’s worth of disappearances without leaving a trail anyone could follow.
No. Shaw’s a distraction. A convenient idiot. Someone the real predator is setting up to take the blame because it keeps eyes pointed in the wrong direction.
Whoever is doing this has been doing it longer. Much longer.
I shift, careful not to wake her, and stare into the dark woods beyond the window. The shadows there feel heavy. Too deep. Too still. Like something was standing there earlier, watching us, and only stepped back when I turned my head.
I felt it. Not imagined.
Predators have a signature. A pressure in the air. A silence that isn’t natural. And tonight, outside this cabin, something breathed with us.
Watched me claim her, studied it, and I think I miscalculated. I wanted to bring out a reaction.
Conflicted over using her in that way, but unable to resist staking my claim, I may have put her in more danger.
I ease myself upright, sliding out from under Rachel’s arm. She murmurs but doesn’t wake. Good. She needs rest, Im worried that this time I have pushed her too far.
The files are stacked on the table. ME reports, ranger logs, missing persons, old case notes from counties that don’t talk to each other. I’ve read them all. Memorized them. But I missed something. Something obvious and its driving me insane.
I flip open the first folder, the one with the earliest recorded attack.
The wounds are too clean. Too consistent.
Too practiced. Whoever did this learned how to mimic an animal long before Shaw ever showed up in these woods.
He’s a newbie recently transferred from down south.
He hasn’t had enough time to learn, to evolve.
I drag a hand over my jaw.
Someone’s been perfecting this.
I move to the next report. Same pattern. Same precision. Same surgical cruelty. And the dates. Christ. They go back farther than anyone bothered to connect. Different counties. Different jurisdictions. Different excuses.
But the same killer.
A chill crawls up my spine, slow and cold.
He was here tonight. Watching us. Close enough to see the way Rachel comes undone, the way she likes to be touched. Close enough to hear her cries. Close enough to know she matters to me. I put her on display, and I liked it.
I look toward the window. The glass reflects nothing but the dim cabin light, but I can still feel the echo of that presence outside. A hunter marking territory. A warning.
He’s not done.
And he’s not afraid of us.
I gather the files, spreading them across the table, lining up dates, injuries, locations. The pattern emerges dark, undeniable.
This isn’t a year-long spree. It’s a career.
And we’ve just stepped into the middle of it.
I glance back at Rachel, asleep, unaware of the danger tightening around us.
Tomorrow I am going to catch this motherfucker before he kills again. The full moon is in four days.
And I have a feeling he may have selected his next victim.
I jerk awake at the feeling of her hot mouth encasing my erection and moan at the way my body tightens in response. Her tongue strokes are sure but slow, leisurely and tight enough to make my eyes roll.
“Fuck. That’s my good girl. Take me deeper.”
Her motions become frantic, pushing herself down, getting her throat to open. Grabbing her hair and wrapping my hands around it, I hold it still and thrust upwards. I want her to gag and choke on it. I want to hear how deep Im fucking that throat.
Immediately she begins to retch and convulse but makes no move to stop me.
My eyes slam close.
God she’s perfect.
“Good girl.” I moan, hitting the back of her throat and holding again.
But I don’t know that she will ever forgive me for what I am keeping from her.
Trying to push it out of my mind, I fuck her face harder. Pressing in and holding, cutting off her air to feel the force of her choking on it and the way it sends tingles up my spine and in my balls.
Im already close.
“Im going to come in your mouth.” I groan at her. “Don’t swallow it. You keep every fucking drop of it in your mouth. You be a good girl or I won’t let you come.”
A desperate and needy whine is all the response I get amidst the gagging and suction noises as her saliva drips down from her mouth.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I tip my head back and release her hair, not wanting to come down her throat. She stills as I come with a breathless exhale.
I can imagine all the possibilities now; keeping her under my desk while I take calls and have meetings. Keeping my hard dick in her mouth, not sucking just keeping me ready so I can take her on my desk.
Already hardening again, I know what Im going to do before I do it.
Pulling her up and off me I grip her jaw.
“Show me.” I demand.
Her lips part and there in her mouth, against her tongue is my cum. Fuck yes. I watch her tongue shift it around.
“You don’t swallow it until I give you permission.”
She looks at me with confusion.
Smirking at her I spin her around. “You didn’t think that would be enough?” I ask.
I line up with her already wet pussy and thrust in. “Ill never have enough.” I tell her honestly. He admission burning on the way up because I don’t see any way for my fantasy to come true.
I have to make the most of it now.
“Im going to fuck you every which way I can have you, make you scream and beg.”
Fucking her with force, her moans are muted due to her full mouth. The satisfaction of knowing it is there is euphoric. I want her full of my cum, I want it to leak out of her all day as a reminder that this pussy is mine. She is mine.
Slamming into her again and again, it repeats in my head.
I don’t ever want to let her go.
I pull out and finger her roughly, getting my fingers slick and wet and then shove them directly into her ass. Her wail is enough to bring me closer to the edge. I love her pain; I love her pleasure. I love that she takes it like a good girl and I want to reward her for it.
Fucking her hard and pressing down against my cock, I slam in again directing it down into her g spot to stimulate her. Her muffled and wet cries get louder, as I add another finger and bring my free hand down to press against her pussy.
Each thrust pressing both hands in deeper to her ass and up to her clit for maximum impact. I set a punishing pace. Fucking her hard and raw is fucking with my head.
I need to come in her. I need to make her come.
Pinching her clit and roughly grinding against her rapidly she detonates, her walls clenching down on my cock and I blow.
Making sure I’ve prepped her enough, I pull out halfway through my load and slam it into her ass.
Her scream makes my climax so much better.
When I’ve pumped every bit of it I can into her, I pull out and watch as it seeps out of her.
Its not enough, I need all of it.
I flip her over and spread her out. “Open.” I demand, a catch in my throat.
Her mouth opens and is still filled with the creamy white liquid.
Reaching for my phone, I line up and take a photo, making sure I get everything in the shot. So I can remember this. Having her this way.
“Swallow.”
Her throat works, but her mouth stays open so I can watch.
“Good. Fucking. Girl.” I grit out.
I want to tie her up in my house and fuck her for days until this unquenchable need finally passes because how can I keep her? How can I hold her back from a future she deserves?
I cant give her children, as much as the urge rides me to fuck her full of babies. She’s too young to settle for someone as old as me. And she will realize it at some point.
Im getting ready to eat her out again when a knock comes at the door and reality slams back into me.
I cant keep getting distracted like this. Its dangerous for more reasons than one.
Last night I called a challenge.
It won’t be long until I get an answer.