Chapter 15
ARIAN
“We have nothing,” Parker says to the captain, who stands in the threshold of the bullpen, the irritation burning in his gaze. “Everything so far is circumstantial at best.”
Part of me wants to reach out and punch my partner in the arm for not bullshitting our boss, but the other knows it’s better not to dig a hole we then have to figure out how to fill.
“Blueson’s family is pushing,” Captain Marks glares at the two of us. “His wife is old money, grew up on the wealthy side of the city. They can hire private investigators, if they so choose.”
“I don’t know that they’ll worry about that,” Parker says, his voice cool. “We already found out Blueson was sleeping with the twenty-one-year-old intern there at the gallery. I’m sure the crime has something to do with that. Murder always involves money, sex, or drugs.”
“Or a combination of them,” I add.
“Wow, thanks for the basic criminology lesson,” Marks deadpans. “Do your fucking job, boys.” With that, he slams the door and leaves us alone.
“You find anything good on Wilson last night?” Parker turns to me, his expression hopeful—and really fucking tired.
“No,” I say, and that’s the truth. “She spent a couple of hours at the Parrot with Alice, and then sauntered back to her fancy fucking apartment. I didn’t follow her up.”
Because I knew if I did, I would lose control.
“Right.” Parker sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “Alice got really fucking drunk. Sent me a slew of shitty texts about blowing her off, accusing me of sleeping with another woman…” He frowns. “But I slept right here.”
“Yeah, again, that’s why I don’t get attached.”
In that sense, anyway.
“Probably time to break it off,” Parker mutters, and then abruptly stands from his chair, stalking off toward the coffee machine.
While he’s gone, I pull out my phone and scroll to the app that I spent all evening on in another attempt to forget Liliana—only to be bored out of my goddamn mind.
But still, I’m no fucking quitter.
I open it up while Parker mumbles shit I don’t care about. As soon as the KinkMe app loads the home page…
My brows raise.
New User. I read the tagline next to the profile that pops up. I click the little picture, and a masked woman appears; the picture is too distorted to see much of anything. I scroll down to the kink list.
And instantly, I’m fucking intrigued.
Blood play. Cutting. Breath play. Murder play.
What the fuck is murder play?
My stomach flutters and my cock twitches as I roll back up to the distorted picture. It’s clearly a woman. And it’s the first feeling of arousal I’ve had that’s not Liliana Wilson. It’s not a break in like my usual.
But why the fuck not?
I click the request button, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever requested someone since using the app. I always let them come to me.
Maybe change is good. I shrug my shoulders at myself, and then wait, as if it’s automatically going to be accepted or something. For all I know, the woman might be looking for something that is very much the opposite of me.
Everyone has their thing.
“Alice uses that app,” Parker says, startling me and sending me sideways.
“I guess everyone is into weird shit these days. Well, except me,” he plops down into the chair again, nearly spilling his coffee.
“I guess I just like plain vanilla sex. I never thought the vast majority were into kinky shit.”
“Well, Alice must not care too much about kinky shit since she keeps going back to you,” I say absentmindedly, not giving a shit about my partner’s sex life.
I exit out of the app, mainly because Parker doesn’t know the extent that my kinks go.
It’s the only way I can stand to stuff my dick in anything at all.
“Anyway,” Parker clears his throat, clearly done with the conversation, too.
“I was thinking that we should interview the Longley defense attorney. Just see what he has to say. I emailed his office, and he was more than happy to talk to us about it. I set up the meeting for tomorrow. You good with that?”
I mull it over, but for just a second. “Fine. Just send me the calendar link. I can meet you there if it’s early.”
Hopefully, by the time I have to talk to the guy, I’ll have fucked Liliana Wilson right out of my system with the new user. And as if fate knows exactly what I need, my phone pings with a notification.
Request accepted.
Fuck yes.
The new user, who literally left her username as that, chose a fucking five-star hotel for her strange hookup, and unlike most of my endeavors, it’s fucking impossible to walk into a hotel with a mask on.
Instead, I have to do the standard hoodie, black baseball hat thing when I walk through the sliding glass doors. I have a mask tucked away safely in my front pocket, and I fully intend to use it—including the voice distortion mechanism.
It’s overkill. It’s constantly fucking overkill.
But for professional reasons, I have to cover my bases.
Thankfully, no one pays me any attention as I slip toward the elevators off the main lobby.
I glance around, keeping my eyes on my black Vans.
This version of Adrian Shaw isn’t the same as the guy who shows up with a fucking badge—and I don’t want my face showing up places it shouldn’t, even if it’s not a crime.
I smash the elevator button and step inside, ignoring the obnoxious classical music playing in the background. I want to look up, my neck fucking aching from staring at my feet, but there are always cameras.
Finally, the doors glide open on floor four, and I step out into the hallway. I pull out my phone and discreetly confirm that I’m due in room 409. I follow the signs, my heart beating steadily in my chest. I’m not fucking nervous.
But my cock is already throbbing, prepping to pound mercilessly into some sweet little cunt that thinks she wants fucking murder play.
I nearly laugh out loud at the ridiculous terminology. I mean, is it even a thing? Because I highly doubt it. I’d have heard of it by now.
My wit sharpens as I catch sight of the door, and I stop, carefully placing the mask on my face. It’s basic, all matte black. It looks like something straight out of the fucking Halloween store. But it’s breathable, contains voice distortion, and will stay on through the roughest of fucks.
I’ve thoroughly tested it.
And as I reach room 409, my heart jumps.
The door is left ajar.
Ballsy little thing. Anyone could walk in. I slide my black leather gloves onto my hands, and then delicately press the white door inward, opening up a world of…darkness.
Every light is off in the room, and I can’t see shit.
“Brave,” my voice comes out deep, distorted, and I grin beneath the mask. I peer into the open bathroom door first, wondering if murder play means I’m going to find the little killer behind the curtain, touching herself while waiting for me to play a Norman Bates move on her.
But the glass is clear.
And there’s no silhouette.
Okay, so maybe she won’t be that easy.
“Should I leave the lights off?” I muse aloud, my cock starting to grow harder as I let a deep chuckle fill the empty suite. I scan the blackness, searching for a sign of movement, but there’s…nothing. “Are you even in here, New User?”
And that is when I feel it.
A feather of a touch against my left shoulder blade.
I spin, shoving out my left arm. It collides with a petite frame of a person, and I catch my breath as she’s already a step ahead, bending it in a way that causes me to stumble, the back of my knees colliding with the bed.
And I sit.
I don’t fucking like that.
But before I can move, thick, luscious thighs straddle my lap, and I’m met with the scent of everything feminine, natural, and intoxicating.
Well, and a very cold blade against my neck.
“So this is murder play?” I taunt, my cock stretching against my jeans as the woman grinds against it.
She makes a breathy noise and then presses it into my skin so hard I wince.
“If you fucking cut me, I’ll hurt you,” I warn her, irritation building up in my chest.
She giggles.
What. The. Fuck.
“Mmm,” comes from lips I can’t see, hidden behind a creepy fucking bunny mask.
As she holds the knife to my neck, I find my heart thumping in my temple, and I hold my breath as I reach out with a gloved hand, carefully touching her stomach.
It’s uncovered. I can tell through the thinness of the gloves.
I slide my hand upward, shutting my eyes as I reach her tits, finding them exposed and nipples erect.
She’s fucking naked.
My cock is now rigid, precum spilling out as I pinch her nipple.
She presses the blade harder, a light, soft moan slipping from beneath her mask.
And the skin breaks.
I should feel fucking rage that this woman cut me. I’m bleeding. I’ve never let a woman injure me. But here I am, with some woman I don’t know or care to, and I’m so entranced in the first five minutes I could explode.
Fuck Liliana.
I want this one.
My fingers slide around her entire perky breast and squeeze harder. She slides the blade across my neck and then rocks her hips, soaking my jeans with her pussy. I thrust against her, the sensation making me lose my fucking mind.
Her little moans shift to a pant as she grinds against me.
I take my free hand and grip her waist, feeling her body against me. It’s so fucking good, I don’t even realize there’s blood running down my neck and soaking my hoodie.
A guttural groan escapes me, and my hand finds her delicate neck in the dark, squeezing. “Come on, little killer. I want you to fucking explode on me.”
“Oh,” she manages to whimper, and the tone of her arousal is so goddamn sweet, I need more. I shift my hand from her waist to the button of my jeans, but as the button pulls free, a firm grip stops me.
“No,” she pants, her voice all breath. The knife pulls away from my throat, and she shoves at my chest, forcing me backward.
Fight her, Shaw. Don’t let her humiliate you like this.
But I can’t stop myself.
I can’t bring myself to do anything as she climbs up my body, swiping her hand across the wound, burning my neck, and then slipping it into her pussy.
Holy fuck. I need that.
I push my mask up just enough and then reach up and grab her hips. I force her forward, her cunt landing on my nose. I bury my face in her, lapping up the taste of copper and pussy.
My dick throbs, desperate to be let out.
But all I can focus on is the way she suffocates me, my nose brushing her clit.
I never eat a woman out, but this woman is different.
She’s my little killer.