Page 40 of Buried Beneath Sin

Chase holds my gaze, watching with rapid interest even as he fucks me harder than ever. His brows furrow, and he bares his teeth as he reads everything on my face. A cool, but not unpleasant darkness envelops me as I lose focus.

“Good girl, Beatrix,” Chase’s words sink into the darkness with me.

Then the pressure around my neck disappears.

The sudden ability to breathe, paired nicely like a fine wine at dinner with Chase's brutal thrusts and praise, sends me over the edge in explosive pleasure. Though I make no noise, in my head I'm screaming about the rapture as my body convulses. A strange feeling of release loosens the muscles in my pelvis, and I can feel warm liquid rush out of me. It’s forgotten as all thoughts escape me. The hard convulsing in my body is a shock of life to my system and I suck in all the delightful pleasure this moment is feeding me.

Above me, Chase curses again. His hips snap against me twice more before he goes still as he finds his own release. I watch through hooded eyes as his jaw clenches, eyes squeeze shut, and a vein bulges against his forehead. Still deep inside of me, Chase starts to move again, this time in short thrusts as if he’s trying to feed my womb all of his release. Each jerk of his dick spurs on an aftershock of pleasure. I groan hoarsely, savoring them. Above me, Chase remains quiet as he cums. It's a marvel because the way he'sstillgoing tells me this moment was just as good for him as it was for me.

When he finally stills again, Chase's eyes open. His green and brown eyes trail over my face with an unreadable expression. Reaching forward, he cups my cheek and caresses it with his thumb. The motion is strangely tender and I freeze, surprisedby it. For a second, neither of us say a word. Only our heavy breathing fills the silence. Then, without warning, Chase pulls out and away from me. He settles on his knees as his eyes flicker to between my legs.

“A squirter? Color me surprised.” He doesn'tsoundsurprised, or even look it. In fact, he might as well be wearing a mask. Gone are his friendly smiles and teasing tone. In their place is an eerie stillness about him.

My face warms with embarrassment. Is that what happened? I roll out from beneath him and scramble off the bed, ready to run as far and as fast as I can from him. I glance at the large wet spot on his sheet and internally groan. What the hell was this about? When has my body ever donethis? I wish the floor would just open up and eat me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as shame starts to chase away the hazy moment of bliss. “You're probably going to have to ask for new sheets. I-I've never done that before.”

Shaking his head slowly, he seems to come back into himself. He gives me a sly smile as I move off the bed.

“An easy fix. Now where do you think you’re going?”

I pick up my skirt and shirt off the floor and look for my bra. “I told you, I can’t stay. I have a big day tomorrow.”

Quickly, I dress, forgoing looking for my underwear. All I want to do is get out of here. I got my rush, and now I’m regretting it immensely. What was I thinking? I just had sex with a complete stranger, and he almost choked me to death. Sure I liked it in the moment, but now? I feel crazy for even allowing that to happen. He could’ve killed me. I shimmy on my skirt, slide my shoes on, and grab my purse before heading to the door.

My hand is trembling as I reach for the doorknob and fear supersedes all else. I can’t believe I just did this… Without sparing Chase a glance I mutter, “Thanks. Have fun on your future adventures.”

Without missing a beat, he replies, “I’ll see you around, Beatrix.”

I don’t respond. There’s no need, we both know we probably won’t ever see each other again. I leave, slamming the door shut behind me. As I hurry across the motel’s parking lot, I mentally make a note to look up a therapist in the area.

Because clearly, I’ve lost my damn mind.

19

ANGEL EYES

Iwatch as Beatrix Starr crosses the parking lot of the motel, the two lane road, and walks back to the bar’s lot. She climbs into her fancy black van, pulls out of the parking lot, and heads back to Chasm. She doesn’t see how the Hunt twin steps out of his room, pulling on his shirt as he does, and watches her leave.

A second later, the door to Thatcher’s right opens, and the twink steps out of the room. Dressed in nothing but a silk yellow bonnet, pink pajama shorts, and fuzzy slippers, he looks ridiculous. Knox says something, plopping a hand onto his hip as he gives Thatcher what clearly looks to be lip. Thatcher says nothing, he simply stares after Beatrix.

I lean back in the driver’s seat of my car. Sitting in the gas station a block up, I stare at my targets intently through the rearview mirror. I don’t want to miss a thing, but I’m distracted now.

They let her liveagain.I was certain when the three of them killed Patrick Hunt and Lauren Starr that Beatrix would be next. When Sagan snuck into the Starr house after the EMTs left, I thought he was finishing what they started. Yet he left that same night, and the following morning Beatrix went to work like nothing happened.

I suppose it would look suspicious if she died around the same time the other two went. But for as much trouble as they went through to make the others look like accidents, I’m sure they could pull something off to get Beatrix out of the way quickly. So why didn’t they? And why did they deviate from their original M.O.s in the first place? Patrick and Lauren died of ‘natural’ causes not with a knife wound or with organs missing.

What was this tonight? Was Beatrix meeting up with the Hunt twins and their boyfriend planned? I’m not inclined to believe so if the brief surprise that flickered across all three of their faces when she entered the bar is something to go by. Did Beatrix know who sidled up next to her at the bar? There didn’t seem to be any sign of recognition on her face when she looked up at Thatcher but I suppose I could be wrong given she’s just as hard to read as the others are. Was this night just one coincidence after another? I dismiss that immediately. I’ve never believed in coincidences before, I’m not going to start now.

Yet everything in my gut tells me she didn’t know it was one of Patrick’s kids that she walked across the street with and joined in the motel. Maybe it was in the way she looked at him, curious, excited, and maybe a little nervous. But not with familiarity. Her body language also spoke to that. The Hunt twin held her hand, but Beatrix kept some distance between them as they headed to his place. That tells me they weren’tfriends.

So how did this meetup happen? I’ve had a friend look into her phone records and checked her online presence. Both came up as dead ends. There is nothing that connects her to these three. All those nights Sagan’s been slipping into that fucking house—was that when they would talk? When they’d conspire? If so, what did they talk about? Is there money involved somehow? Is this a get-rich scheme? I don’t think so. It’s public record that Bright Starr is hardly treading water, and these three have been aimlessly bouncing from one state to another with large gaps intheir whereabouts. They couldn’t possibly have much money to offer her.

My head spins as I reach up and smooth down my mustache.

Shoving my hand into my pocket, I drag out my crumpled box of cigarettes and yank one free. I toss the box into the passenger seat and snatch the lighter off the dash. Shannon is going to smell this shit on me, but I can’t help it. I need to steady myself and a few drags of a cigarette will help that.

For now at least.

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