Page 29 of Claiming His Bunny
To think he’s been here in Bluebell Springs the entire time, and I never noticed…
I don’t check on every inhabitant of the town, but I keep track of the local police and CPS department reports to make sure nothing heinous is happening. The report on Aaron Adams’ suspected abuse only arrived recently. Completely anonymous, just a note left in the CPS mailbox, with no way to trace it to the source.
Not that it would help me. The author of the note would probably deny everything.
Victoria Smith asked me for evidence that would stand in court, but I already know I won’t get any. There will be no witnesses, no signed statements. Benjamin Adams is too smart to abuse his son in public, which means there won’t be any official footage of it either. I’ll have to put cameras inside his house to see what he’s doing to Aaron behind closed doors, but such evidence will never hold in court.
It’s just as well, though. There are more ways to get rid of abusers than just bringing them to court.
I could kill him, but even if I made it look like a suicide, it would bring unwanted attention to the town. Someone would come sniffing around, and I simply can’t afford that. Which means no killing. I have other ideas, but those will have to wait until I have cameras inside Adams’ residence.
Unlike Kayla’s tiny house, Adams’ massive estate is closely guarded. Cameras and security systems I can disable from afar, but getting past armed guards unnoticed will be a challenging task. Nothing I can’t handle, though.
As I put on my boxers—yes, I brought an overnight bag—I push Adams out of my mind. Tonight, I’m with Kayla. I don’t want our first night together to be ruined by thinking about some abusive bastard.
I tidy up after myself, noting that the bathroom really does need cleaning. I’ll hop on that tomorrow. Right now, I have other things to hop on.
Kayla sleeps on her back, lightly snoring in the most adorable way imaginable. As usual, a silky bonnet covers her wild hair, for which I’m grateful. I love her hair, I truly do, but I don’t need it in my mouth as I cuddle her.
She doesn’t stir as I climb into the bed and slide under the thick covers. Damn, I’m going to be sweaty all over before morning comes, but at least Kayla will be warm. Despite her having gone to bed over an hour ago, her skin is still remarkably cold.
I run my hand over her arm. “I’ll warm you up, my little bunny,” I whisper. “I’m here for you.”
Mumbling something from her sleep, she rolls onto her side, giving me her back.
“Mmm, you’re reading my mind, darling,” I say, grinning. “Just the position I need you in.”
I can’t stop myself from sliding my hand down her silky nightgown and gently squeezing her soft ass. A groan escapes me, my cock stirring to life as if I didn’t just masturbate ten minutes ago.
A dark, primal instinct is urging me to roll up Kayla’s gown and touch her further, but I ignore it. I’m not here to have sex with her. That would be…wrong?
I know it sounds ridiculous since I’ve already drugged her, and I’m now in her bed, holding her rather intimately, but I don’t want to take the next step while she’s unconscious. I want to watch her arch her back in ecstasy as I pleasure her. I want to hear her moan and cry my name as she comes. I want her to be present when I take her. To enjoy it. To give herself to me willingly.
For that, I’m willing to wait.
Sliding her body closer to mine, her back to my front, I wrap myself around her like a vine. My erect cock is nestled between her butt cheeks, so close to the warmth of her pussy that it’s weeping with need.
Putting my arm around her chest, my palm settles over her silk-clad breast. Kayla makes a soft sound as I run a finger around her nipple, the soft peak tightening under my touch. I know it’s just a physical reaction she can’t control, but it excites me all the same. Her body is mine already. Her mind and heart will follow soon.
Chapter 18
Kayla
For the first timein ages, I wake up feeling warm. Not just warm. Toasty.
With a satisfied groan, I stretch out my arms and legs, then reach for my phone to kill the alarm. I’m so comfortable I don’t want to get out of bed, but I don’t think Director Smith would classify that as a valid reason for taking a day off. Not to mention that I’ve only worked here for a week, and I’ve already taken two days off and had a case taken from me. My performance is less than stellar, and being late would likely get me fired on the spot despite the department’s urgent need for social workers.
I roll over to the other side of the bed, expecting it to be cold, but it’s not. Did I sleep on this side? I rarely do, but how else would it be warm?
With my eyes closed, I take in a deep breath, noting the amazing smell surrounding me. Must be the new fabric softener I bought, although I don’t remember it smelling this…musky. I have to look at the brand later and order a few more bottles, because it smells amazing.
My smile falters as I get into the kitchen and see the slightly wilted bluebell flower. It reminds me of my utterly ridiculous theories from last night. Did I seriously think someone was coming to my house to do my dishes? Damn, maybe I should become a fiction author.
“Don’t be silly, Kayla,” I mumble as I make myself a cup of black tea. “No one has been here.”
My little pep talk doesn’t stop the chills from creeping up my spine, but I do my best to ignore them. Nothing is happening. The stalker most likely found someone else to shower with his attention, and I’m fine. Perfectly fine.
After eating my usual yogurt, I throw the cup into the trash and wash the spoon to make sure there is no confusion as to who did it when I come back from work. I take great care to check that the back door and all the windows are locked, then lock the front door behind me, giving the doorknob a few test twists just to be sure it’s really locked.
