Page 34 of One
“The third vic, Carl Van…Vankar, he worked in a supermarket.”
“He got out of Juvie three weeks before being killed,” Raph tells me.
“His body was left near a dumpster behind his place of work. Nobody saw anything.”
“Police aren’t really trusted in those kinds of neighborhoods,” he says drily. Impoverished communities don’t have the best protection, I imagine.
“Paul Philman was the fourth victim. In his late twenties, found in Washington Park, like the first victim.”
“Unemployed. He was a drug addict.”
“His corpse was in an abandon warehouse.” I spent a lot of time going though those files, trying to find something I overlooked.
“Those four victims had no close family. They were rejects, outsiders, living on the fringe of society,” Raph utters.
“But the last victim,” I remind him, making him turn his green eyes on me. “He was a therapist. His body was found in his office. His mother is still alive, and he was over thirty, even though he looked much younger. He suffered from hemophilia and was strangled just like the others.”
“They must have something in common.” He huffs with annoyance. I get it; I feel the same. “The hemophilia detail bugs me.”
“I know it’s weird. But it must make sense in the killer's head.” I sigh.
“The question is how?” Raph let his head fall on the back of the couch. “Do you like the clothes I bought you?”
The sudden change of topic doesn’t surprise me anymore. I’m starting to get used to his odd idiosyncrasies.
I look down at the tight grey cotton shirt and worn blue jeans I’m wearing, and although I like my clothes, the ones he gave me are very comfortable.
“Yes.” I say, stroking a hand down the soft long sleeve. “But you don’t need to buy me clothes.”
“I really think I do, babe. And you know what else?” he asks, and there’s something in his casual voice that makes my eyes narrow. “I’ll make a pile with your old ones and burn them to ashes.”
I glare, shift my head and give his meaty bicep a hard bite in retaliation. He’s turned me into a fucking wild thing—scratching him and sinking my teeth into his flash, especially when we’re messing around.
Instead of jerking away, Raph curls his arm around my neck, pulling me impossibly closer to him and whispering in my ear. “Is this seduction, babe? Because after your ugly garments bonfire, I’m up to taste that tight, pink hole you hide between your cock-sucking ass cheeks.”
Holy Mother of God. Unpredictable fucker. And because of Raph’s loathing toward my briefs, my dick has a larger space to grow to full size, pushing painfully against the jeans’ zipper.
“Rimming… yes please. Bonfire… fuck no!” I scream the last word out when he sucks hard on my neck, surely leaving a mark. The feel of his stubble scraping my skin makes me shiver from my roots to my curling toes. I shift my legs till I’m straddling him, starting to rub my cock against the bulge in his pants. He pulls my head down. Our lips are almost touching when, damn-it-to-hell, my phone starts ringing.
“Leave it,” Raph growls when I freeze on top of him.
“It’s the hospital ringtone. I have to answer,” I almost cry with displeasure. Arching my back, I show off my body’s stretching abilities while grabbing the phone from the coffee table behind. Raph pushes his hips upward after grabbing my ass roughly, making my balls draw and precum drip from the head of my dick.
Not fair, I mouth at him before connecting the call.
“Dr. Caldwell?”
“Hi, Mary,” I’m barely able to say to the nurse, since Raph is still rubbing his cock against mine while sucking more hickeys on my collarbone. God, it feels so good having his hot mouth, large hands, and hard body all over me. It makes my limbs tremble with desire for more.
“I hope you feel better.”
“Y-yes,” I breathe out, stifling a moan when Raph’s hand slide inside my jeans and a finger glides between my butt cheeks. His low, gravelly grunt makes me melt like butter on top of him.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” she keeps going. I almost drop my phone when I feel the pad of his finger caressing my back entrance.
I hum with too much verve in the phone, hurriedly clearing my throat and trying to regain some kind of mental decorum. But my body doesn’t seem to get the message, and my hand pushes Raph’s head closer to my jaw, while my hips thrust against his teasing finger. My palm slides between us on the smattering of hair sprinkled across his chest, which I know deliciously trails with a soft twist down to his navel before disappearing beneath his pants. My breath catches in my throat as I feel his toned chest and pronounced abs under my eager fingertips.
“Somebody broke into the morgue and…”
