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“I’m sure you’re right.” I agree, fighting the urge to laugh at the sheer irony of it all. If she only knew she was face to face with the very monster who delivered the brutal justice Ryder Beaumont so richly deserved. “I appreciate the coffee and the sandwich, Wendy.” I slip an extra-large bill into her tip jar—a little something to remember me by. To make an impression.
“Thank you, Mr. Wolfe. Have a great day.” She hands me my receipt with a smile, not even a flicker of recognition in her eyes.
I slip out of the coffee shop, an anonymous face in the thinning crowd. It’s a short walk, just two blocks to the garage where I left my black Mercedes.
Twenty minutes later I’m entering Detective DeMarco’s Hollywood neighborhood. My new Hollywood neighborhood, too. The second the news broke about Gavin Kowalski, Francesca’s face flashed across every news channel, and I knew it was time to make my move.
I bought the perfect house. The ideal vantage point to watch my beautiful prey, to savor our intimate moments through the unwitting invitation of her open windows.
The house was on the market for just over a year, abandoned by the children of the elderly owner after her death. The back yard butts up to Francesca’s back yard. When I saw this home, I knew I had to have it. Just a block wall between us, the only barrier to everything I crave.
A wall and so many dirty, filthy secrets.
For reasons I’ll never understand, Francesca never bothers to close her blinds, not even to sleep. Maybe she enjoys the kiss of the night breeze on her skin. Or maybe, deep down in some dark, hidden corner of her mind, she wants to be seen. Lucky for me, I’m more than happy to oblige. And she doesn’t even know I’m here, watching. Wanting.
Her bedroom light flicks on, slicing through the darkness, and she dumps her oversized bag onto the bed. Nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on her coffee-stained blouse, revealing the tantalizing curves of her breasts, barely held by black lace. A bra that’s begging to be slowly torn off with my teeth.
In an instant, I’m rock hard, my cock straining almost painfully against my zipper. I palm myself roughly through my slacks, eyes riveted as Francesca shimmies out of her slacks to reveal high-cut black lace panties. “My pet loves lacy things,” I purr to her. She turns away, her fine ass on display just for me. “Fuck, yes, baby. Show me everything. Don’t be shy now.”
The wicked, forbidden thrill of our clandestine little peep show has my cock throbbing, aching with a bone-deep need. My imagination runs wild, spinning out vivid fantasies of our sweat-slicked bodies tangled together in the sheets.
The stubborn little furrow between her brows as she concentrates. I’ll smooth that worry from her forever. The thought brings a smile to my lips.
My hand dips into my slacks, wrapping around my throbbing cock. I imagine those bedroom eyes of hers dilating with lust as she submits to me. I’ll have her on her knees, my cock sliding down her throat until she’s gagging, those big, beautiful eyes watery with tears. But she’ll be smiling, a fierce, defiant smile. That spark of spirit will be the first thing I crush.
I pull my cock out, my fist pumping slow and steady strokes as I picture her bent over, hands spreading her asscheeks as I slide my cock into that virgin asshole. I’ll sink into her slowly, patiently until she begs me for more and then I’ll give her what she wants. The man. The monster. She’ll cry out my name, but it won’t be from pain.
“You like that, kitten?” I whisper, my fist flying faster as I imagine her sweet, slick heat wrapped around me. “You’ll take it all, won’t you? Every fucking inch.” Her pussy, a plump, wet oasis, beckons to me. I picture sinking into her, her walls clutching at me, begging for more. “That’s it, baby. Ride my cock. Take it all.”
A tremor rocks my body as I stroke harder, faster. I can't stop thinking about having her all to myself.
Owning her. Mind, body and soul.
“You’ll never get enough, will you? Always wanting more. More of me.” I growl. “You’ll never want another. I’ll brand myself into your soul, make you mine forever.”
The image of Francesca’s lush body splayed out beneath me is too much to bear. “Fuck, Francesca. My perfect, dirty little fuck toy. Can’t wait to wreck that filthy cunt.”
Pleasure coils hot and tight at the base of my spine. My whole body trembles, practically vibrating out of my skin with the need to taste her, fuck her, make her mine. A groan builds in my throat, and I grit my teeth to keep quiet. Can’t have the whole fucking neighborhood hear me claiming what’s mine.
“Fuck, Francesca, yes! Gonna fucking ruin you. Ahh, Christ.” Even as I shoot my load, I know it’s only a taste of what’s coming. She’ll be screaming my name soon enough. In pleasure. In pain. It’s all the same to me.
My back arches and my legs tremble as I paint my fist with thick ropes of come. It feels like it goes on forever. It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve had outside of actually fucking. And it’s all because of her. My Francesca. My goddess. My ultimate obsession.
As she turns to head for the bathroom, I’m treated to one last perfect view of that delectable ass, my favorite part of her body.
Suddenly, the distance between us feels unbearable. I need to be in her house, in her bed, inside her, anyway I can take her.
“Sweet dreams, Detective,” I rasp to the empty room, my voice raw and ragged. “You and I will be seeing quite a bit of each other. Very, very soon.”
CHAPTER SIX
Frankie
“Thought you could use a little pick-me-up, Ames,” I say, walking into the office of Amelia Novak, the department’s top criminal psychologist. I paste a goofy grin on my face as I hold up the green and white paper bag holding her favorite breakfast.
“I know how engrossed you get in your work, trying to unravel the twisted minds of those psychos we send to you.”
She chuckles, her eyes meeting mine. “You know me too well, Frankie. But seriously, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’m always here for you, whether you come bearing gifts or not.”
