Page 52 of Pose for Me

Slowly, carefully, I lift myself off Knox's softening cock. A trickle of his cum leaks down my thigh as I collapse onto the couch beside him. Knox immediately pulls me against his side, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. He presses a soft sweet kiss to my lips, it’s his way of checking in and reassuring me without words.

Our attention turns back to the phone screen. Rayne is slumped in her chair, looking thoroughly debauched. Her chest heaves as she catches her breath, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"Fuck," she breathes, her voice husky. "That was..."

"Incredible," I finish for her, a lazy grin spreading across my face.

Knox hums in agreement, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my shoulder. "You did so well, baby girl," he praises, his voice warm with affection. "Both of you did."

Rayne blushes at the compliment, ducking her head slightly. It's endearing how she can still be shy after what we have shared.

"Now," Knox continues, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Tell us about this package you received."

Chapter 31

Knox

Thecityisquietas we pull up in the alleyway behind Rayne's building in the early hours of the morning. Streetlights cast long shadows across the empty sidewalks, the usual bustle of daytime traffic replaced by an eerie stillness. I kill the engine, sitting for a moment in the darkness of the car as I breathe through the chaos of thoughts in my mind.

River's hand finds mine across the center console, his touch grounding me. "You good?" he asks softly, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light.

I nod, squeezing his hand before releasing it to exit the vehicle. We'd spent the evening poring over security cameras and chasing down leads that all led to dead ends. No matter which direction we look or what time of day it is, they manage to know exactly where the cameras are to hide their identity. The frustration of another fruitless day weighs heavily on my shoulders.

River walks beside me, his usual cheerful demeanor subdued. His eyes scan our surroundings constantly, alert for any sign of the stalker who's been tormenting Rayne. I can see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the predatory grace in his movements. He's like a coiled spring, ready to unleash violence at a moment's notice.

I love when he is like this, on the edge and ready to draw blood, I just wish it wasn’t because Rayne was in danger.

As we approach the building, I fish out the key we copied long ago, using it to slip silently into her studio. The studio is dark and silent as we enter, the familiar scent of Rayne lingering in the air. My eyes adjust quickly to the dimness, scanning for any signs of disturbance.

I move to the side table where Rayne said she left the note. The creamy card stands out starkly against the dark wood, the blood-red ink a sinister contrast. With gloved hands, I carefully lift the note, my jaw clenching as I read the possessive words even though she prepared us for what it said. I want to tear it to shreds and use it for kindling but instead I slide it into an evidence bag, sealing it with practiced efficiency. We will check it for prints but there won't be any, just like there wasn’t with the others.

River touches my arm lightly, a silent signal that he's finished his own inspection of the studio. I nod, and we make our way to the staircase leading up to Rayne's apartment. Each step is carefully placed, our movements fluid and silent. Years of training and shared experience allow us to move as one, perfectly in sync.

We slip inside her apartment, closing the door behind us with barely a whisper of sound. The space is bathed in shadows, moonlight filtering through the partially drawn curtains to cast strange, elongated shapes across the floor.

A soft meow breaks the silence, and I turn to see Rayne’s cat padding towards us, her grey fur almost silver in the dim light. Her amber eyes fix on me accusingly, as if I've personally offended her by arriving empty-handed. It makes me feel like she is an addict and I’m some sort of dealer that’s arrived without her latest fix. River crouches down, extending his hand to the feline. Her tail swishes once, imperiously, considering him for a moment before deigning to accept his attention, rubbing her head against his palm. "Hey there, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

I watch the interaction with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. The damn cat has never warmed to me, despite my best efforts. But with River, she's putty in his hands. He scratches behind her ears, eliciting a louder purr.

I leave River to placate the cat, moving deeper into the apartment. My eyes roam over every surface, every shadow, searching for anything out of place. The living room is as we left it, with the exception of a throw blanket draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, as if Rayne had just risen from a nap.

Having now moved to the kitchen, River is already opening the fridge, his movements swift and purposeful. He examines the contents critically, checking expiration dates and assessing the freshness of the produce. It's a habit of his. Too many years of going hungry, of barely surviving on scraps.

He grabs a bag and removes a few items and I know he will be sneaking back in later to replace them without her knowing. Unless he makes it a lot more obvious like last time.

As River methodically works through his demons, my gaze drifts absently around the apartment again and something near the apartment door catches my eye. At first, it's just a vague dark spot on the floor, barely noticeable in the dim light. Frowning, I move closer, pulling out my phone to illuminate the area.

The beam of light reveals a small, crumpled object. My breath catches as I realize what I'm looking at. A rose petal, its deep crimson hue unmistakable even in the harsh glare of my phone's flashlight. But it's not just the petal that sends a chill down my spine. Next to it, almost invisible against the dark hardwood, are a few tiny droplets. Blood.

My mind races, piecing together the scene. The stalker must have tried to gain entry, likely attempting to leave another "gift" for Rayne in the form of more roses. But something—or someone—stopped them.

I crouch down, examining the area more closely. There are faint scratch marks on the door frame, barely perceptible unless you know what to look for. They're low to the ground, about the height a cat might reach if it were rearing up on its hind legs.

Suddenly, Luna's earlier behavior makes perfect sense. Her accusatory stare, the way she seemed to be demanding something from us. She wasn't just being a typically aloof feline—she was expecting praise. Recognition for a job well done.

"River," I call softly, my voice tight with a mixture of anger and grudging respect. "Come take a look at this."

He's at my side in an instant, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene. "Is that...?"

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