Page 26 of What's Left of Me

He smacks my ass once, and I buck against nothing. His laugh is gravelly when he speaks again, one hand tearing my pants away from my ankles. The wide leg was a good idea, I realize, as he pulls them off past my wedged heels, adjusting his grip without ever truly letting go of me. “Oh, how right you are, Jo.”

My nails scratch at the suede of the couch before I feel his fingers slide into me. With the plug still in place I feel too full all of a sudden, and he’s not being gentle with me. It’s at least two fingers that he curls inside of me, possibly three, and my jaw falls open at the feel.

I cum with a cry, and the vibration setting changes. It’s longer vibrations before they fade, starting up again with the same crescendo of speed that has me catching my breath.

He shifts, but with the angle he’s kept me at I can’t see what he’s doing. My nails are still in the middle of wrecking Emeric’s furniture when I feel the wide head of his cock settle against me, and I only have a moment to catch my breath before Vinny is slamming inside me.

I must move further down the couch, or there was more tension in my neck than I realized, because next thing I know my head is hanging off the edge. “Vinny!”

He slams in until he bottoms out, then parts my legs so I can finally see the anguish mixed with lust on his face. I’m sure seeing Alastair speaking with me did something to him too, but it’s impossible to determine what he’s thinking at the moment.

As he moves his hip agonizingly slow to withdraw, the plug in my ass goes still again, and in the silence there’s only two things; my breaths and his cock teasing me as he withdraws.

Our eyes lock together, and he speaks through gritted teeth. “Stop. Fucking. With. Serial. Killers.”

He slams into me again and I cry out, the plug rubbing me as he starts to piston in and out of my body. The force of his thrusts rocks the couch, sliding us across the cushions, and I scramble for something to grip onto so he doesn’t push us off. My nails dig into his forearms, and he grunts as he continues to fuck me.

There’s nothing loving about it, and my body rocks at the awkward angle to meet his thrusts. My clit is on fire, and I’m pretty damn sure he knows it too, as his fingers dance down my stomach across the scars, over the tops of my open thighs, and even just above the bundle of nerves without actually touching me there.

It’s maddening, and I just keep rocking harder into him.

“You teased that fucker,” Vinny growls, but his voice is ragged. Not angry, not controlled, but something trapped between helpless and horny. “You didn’t need to taunt him, Trauma.”

“He’s taunting me,” I gasp, swirling my hips as he moves. It earns me a satisfied groan. “I - I’m playing the game.”

All at once, he leans forward and brackets my neck with his hand. His dark eyes seem to burn right through me. “Don’t. I want to play a game of fuck around and find out, not a duel to the death.”

I whimper when he finally presses his thumb to my clit, keeping my neck trapped with his other hand. One leg falls open while the other is trapped against the couch, and he keeps pounding into me. I bite my lip and shudder, feeling the orgasm rising inside me. “I won’t be his victim again, Vinny. It’s my damn choice.”

We’re veering off course, and he seems to notice it too, picking up his speed so I can barely catch my breath. The conversation falls away as I moan, his fingers expertly teasing my clit until I think I might come apart from the tension building.

Then he slams into me with a shudder, his voice a command. “Cum for me, Trauma.”

My back arches from the couch, and I follow him over the edge. His hand flexes on my throat for a moment before massaging along the pulsepoint, and I rock against him as I ride out the orgasm. The knot of tension inside me releases, and my hands come up to wrap around his neck and drag him down for a kiss.

His lips are hot against mine, and the kisses are sloppy as he rocks into me until he’s spent. My legs find their way around his hips, pinning him to me as we come down from the high. His hand stays firm around my neck for several moments, and I relax into the comfort of it before he slowly withdraws and pulls back to look at me.

His cock is spent, softening some while still inside me. His eyes search mine as we stare at each other, though I’m not sure exactly what he’s searching for.

He kisses me again, and it’s full of love. I relax as we kiss, the lust melting away until it’s all love and gentleness. We don’t always stay connected this long after sex, but something about the moment feels desperately important to hold onto.

When we separate, we have to accept that we’re still in Citrus Grove and not this safe little haven. We can’t pretend that we are exactly where we want to be when a psychopath is still on the loose, upending our lives.

Vinny kisses me once more, and I can feel the emotion behind it too. He might call me Trauma, but that’s what we’re both going to experience if we get trapped here.

Chapter 10

Nine days later, on the cusp of March, body number three appears. I’ve left Jo and Vinny alone for the most part since they spoke with Alastair, but at this point there’s nothing I can do about their involvement. Vinny warned me that if a body didn’t appear today they would be leaving tomorrow, and I don’t want to call a dead body good luck but it should keep them here a bit longer.

After not so discreetly asking, I’ve learned the two of them filled their days going to Tallahassee and staying inside as often as possible while they’re in town.

I haven’t even gotten to the crime scene when my deputy director phones me. “This is getting out of hand, Gideon. I need something more than a pissy police captain and three bodies with no leads.”

I blow out a breath, glancing at Jensen who had been listening from the passenger seat. He just raises an eyebrow in solidarity. The call came into the station and an officer, not the Police Captain, phoned me about it. We burned bridges with Captain Lance Wallsburg when we interrogated his son. Running Kyle’s background check turned up a couple issues with ex-girlfriends who complained he was a little rough, but no charges were ever filed. He may have an alibi for Swan’s murder but all he would say about the night Estrada died was that he was off-shift. Now we’ll have to see what he was up to last night.

“Wallsburg is still on my suspect list,” I explain to Deputy Director Zach Pabst who recently took the position in the last year. He takes his job seriously. A lot of people are watching him now, and with my team out on this case, he’s taken an extra special interest in me. “We’re running an expanded search on the workers for the penitentiary, and anyone contracted for work by the state or hired out for odd jobs. We’ve put in a search for all practicing locksmiths, carpenters and trade workers too.”

“Trade workers?” Pabst has a hint of doubt in his voice.

---