36. Aus
AUS
The look on Thea’s face is one of pure bliss when I pull her jeans down and dive face first into her beautiful pussy.
We’ve fucked before, but this time feels different. She’s not tense. Her muscles are relaxed, and she’s twice as reactive to my tongue as I slide it over her.
She arches her back, pounds her fists on my kitchen table, and cries out. “Yes, Aus, right there! Right…there!”
I pull out the first orgasm with ease.
What, like it’s hard?
Not with Thea. My God, it’s like her pussy was made for me.
I lick, lick, lick. Probe her. Fuck her with my tongue.
When I finally get to her clit, she shatters immediately, flailing against the table wildly.
Pretty soon I’ve racked up four orgasms total. Her face is flushed, her body dewy. She sits up, breathing heavily. “I need…just a minute.”
“Of course, sugar.” I pepper kisses down her neck as her breathing levels out.
Finally she whips her gaze to me, her eyes smoking. “Pants off.”
Don’t need to tell me twice. I unbuckle my belt and unzip my fly to free my aching erection.
She bites her lip. “It’s so damned big, Aus.”
“You make it that way.” I grin.
“My fucking pleasure.” She takes me into her mouth, running her soft tongue over my head.
I’m thinking I can’t possibly feel any better than this when she proves me wrong, gently squeezing my balls with her free hand.
“Fuck, babe.” I grit my teeth. “Feels so good. So fucking good.”
I want to come now, but I hold it back. Squeeze like my life depends on it. Because I’m entering this woman tonight, pouring myself into her.
But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy the blowjob.
She’s sucking harder now, taking a break to run her velvety tongue over my shaft, along its deep vein. She grabs my ass with both hands. I take the hint and start jackhammering into her mouth.
Most women don’t like that. But most women aren’t Thea Storm.
I’m getting so close to coming, so I pull back. “Table,” I command.
She obeys. I love how willing she is. She lies back on my kitchen table, spreading her legs.
“Has anyone told you how absolutely gorgeous you are, baby?”
“A few.” She pinches her nipples, not breaking eye contact with me. “I never believed it until you told me.”
Fireworks erupt in my brain.
Fuck. Am I in love with this woman?
I sink my cock into her sweet heat, and I know my answer.
Yes. It’s crazy, but I love her.
I plow her like a field. In. Out. Up. Down. Sideways. Diagonally. Criss-cross. Back and forth. Her pussy gloves me perfectly and her walls start clamping down on me.
I worked in show business. I know how to take a cue.
Right as she releases with the loudest moan, I unleash myself into her, unloading all the bullshit of the past few days, all the murder, deceit, lies.
But most of all, I give her my heart. My love.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
The first thing I see when I wake up is Thea’s beautiful face.
This is what I want to see every morning for as long as I live.
I haven’t told her yet—she’ll think I’m crazy—but I know now I’m in love with her. Even after the oxytocin has waned, the feelings remain.
I’ll never love another woman the way I love her.
I knew it the moment I met her. The twinge I felt when Wick tried to hit on her.
The protectiveness I felt when those cops took her away at the gala.
The instinct to take her in when she couldn’t stay in her own home.
And the pride I felt when she figured out the riddle in the obit.
It all came from the same place. My love for her.
And I want to spend every morning I have left on this earthly plain with the woman I love.
I’ll start with breakfast. I’m low on groceries, so I’ll order something on DoorDash.
Pancakes again, this time with whipped cream and strawberry syrup, scrambled eggs, maple bacon, and home-fried potatoes.
Orange juice, which I’ll mix with some champagne I’ve been saving in my fridge for a special occasion.
What’s the special occasion? Spending the morning with the woman I love. The woman whose innocence I’m inches away from proving. I can’t think of anything more special than that.
I put the breakfast order in, get a pot of coffee started, and sit down at the kitchen table with my laptop.
Yesterday I researched everything I could on Rouge Montrose. Today I’m looking up Wick Blackwood.
First thing that comes up is his arrest record. Selling drugs, including to underage kids. Using them as well. Not the worst thing he’s done—not by far—but still, not a great look.
Remind me why I let him work for me?
Not for long. Murdering a fellow employee—his own brother, no less—definitely falls under rightful cause for termination.
I eventually find a subreddit dedicated to online dating in Chicago. A thread titled with his name pops up. I click on it. His mugshot pops up. Under it, the words “beware this guy.”
I read the post.
Hey girls. Wanted to share my story. I pulled this picture from public records.
Yes, he was arrested. Should have done my research before going out.
I had just broken up with my ltr and thought this guy would be a fun rebound.
Yikes was I wrong. One night together and he starts texting me obsessively.
Seriously considering a restraining order at this point.
Shit. I read some of the comments.
Omg, same thing happened to me. I was at a bar downtown. Date stood me up. This guy descends like a freaking vulture. Picks me up. Phone rings off the hook for days. WATCH OUT!
Another—
Same for me. Dad died out of nowhere. Heart attack. I go out for a drink and he’s there, like he expected me. Texted me nonstop for a week before I got my number changed.
More and more stories. The same MO. Woman is vulnerable. Wick swoops in and then acts obsessively until he moves on to his next target.
It’s interesting, and I’m not loving that Thea fell victim to his act, but it’s not exactly proof he’s a murderer.
No problem. I’ll dig into his past. I edit the search parameters again and find an old LinkedIn page. Apparently after doing community service as penalty for his drug record, he took on jobs as…a substitute teacher and part-time soccer coach?
This isn’t adding up.
Then again, lots of serial killers had normal jobs. John Wayne Gacy was a birthday clown, for fuck’s sake.
I keep searching, but the deeper I dive, the more I realize the information I want isn’t there.
Finally I search the names “Wickliffe Blackwood” and “Rouge Montrose” together. Wick worked at Jade before I got there, so maybe there’s a hint at the past.
I come up on a companion piece to the one I found earlier in the Tribune—the one that mentioned Asha—Ausha with a U?
—Paisley. Probably some puff piece Rouge ordered to humanize her.
She’s grinning with a group of employees from Jade.
Wick’s next to her looking sullen. Gloriana is on her other side, smiling wide with her veneered teeth, her jeweled bracelet twinkling even in the black-and-white photo.
They’re flanked by Kin and Nora on the right, and on the left—
I drop my jaw.
On the left is a woman I recognize, but not from the Jade Sanctum.
She’s wearing a sleek green gown.
The same one she wore when I met her years ago during my magician act in Vegas.
It’s the woman I made disappear.