Page 107 of The Masks She Wore

?Fuck, I couldn’t get enough of her. I would never get enough of her.

?Her hands slid under the collar of my shirt, her nails digging into my neck as she pulled herself closer, trying to twist herself around, the arms of the chair preventing her from doing much of anything.

?Fuck it.

?I tightened my grip on her and stood, her body easily flipping around, her legs wrapping around my hips, her kiss intoxicating as she grinding her hips slowly against me, her moan sliding against my tongue.

?She broke the kiss, her breathing labored as I carried her to the couch. “I wanna be on top,” she panted and pressed her lips back to mine.

?My hands tightened around her thighs. Anything she wanted. Anything in the world and it was hers.

?I sat down, her knees falling to either side of my hips as she rocked herself into me, her hands sliding down my chest to my sweats, my cock throbbing for her. Aching. I needed to be inside of her. I needed to feel her wrapped around me, taking what she wanted until she found her own end. I needed to hear her cries of pleasure as she used me.

?She pulled me out, lifted herself up, and slowly sat back down.

?I broke the kiss, groaning, fighting the urge to slam my hips up to meet her as her lips found my neck, kissing and nipping, her hips rolling. Slowly at first and then faster.

?Rolling and sliding up and down, a perfect rhythm to hit that sweetspot inside of her.

?Faster and faster.

?Harder until she was basically using her weight to slam herself onto me as she rocked her hips back and forth, her moans filling the air.

?“Fuck, Jack,” she panted, grabbing the collar of my shirt my hands sliding up to her hips, my eyes trained on her face as she fucked me.

?God, I was so fucking lucky. She was so goddamn beautiful, her moans a fucking song as the slapping of our arousal filled the room, my own moans joining in to form a beautiful little melody.

~~~

An hour later, she was still on the couch, curled under a blanket while a B-Rated horror movie played. She had long since fallen asleep, and I was back at my computer, this time looking up Mrs. Delcott.

?Nora Delcott, wife of Paul Delcott. He came from money, but she was the breadwinner. She was an Art Director in LA, one of the more well-known ones. It made sense for Marla’s cover story that she would be friends with Nora, but why wouldn’t Nora speak with Rae that night?

?Had she avoided her on purpose, or did she simply not see Rae at all?

?My phone started vibrating on the table and I answered it quickly, sending a glance to Rae, her body unmoving. “What?” After everything I had done to her, I needed some rest too, but I was glad she was getting some.

?“I found Charlotte’s birth certificate,” Malachi informed me. “No father to be listed, Doctor was killed, nurses dead, OBGYN dead.”

?I leaned back, brows furrowing. “Why kill them? Marla?” Someone was trying very hard to erase her entire life before her mother died. What was the point of it? And who had done it? Was it the soldier or the boss?

?“Not unless she thought they were in grave danger.”

?Fuck. “I already sent her blood in, they should have results soon,” I reminded him. Taking her blood had been easy enough. She wouldn’t have noticed the slight pain from the injection spot due to the pain I had covered her body in, so there would be no questions even if she hadn’t been in a near coma from what I had done to her. We’d find her father eventually. If he wasn’t dead himself, maybe he had the answers we needed to solve this. “Did she have any partners?”

?“Marla worked alone. That’s how they always did things.”

?I sighed and grasped the bridge of my nose. Not really what I wanted to hear. “Alright,” I dropped my hand. “I think I found a lead here.”

?“Let me know.”

?I hung up and pulled up Nora’s financial records. After an hour, I concluded that she and Marla had a buyer-seller relationship. Nora bought her pieces every few months, hung them in her galleries. On paper it looked legit, but nothing about this was, of that, I was sure. The only thing left to do was talk to her.

?I called her secretary just as Zo walked in.

?“Mrs. Delcott’s office.”

?“Is Mrs. Delcott around? I have a few questions regarding her latest piece,” I said in greeting, giving Zo a nod.

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