Page 9 of Headless Hollow

“Yes,” I screamed, willing my body to accept his cock bumping into my cervix. I gasped as he held still, my pussy clenching uncontrollably around the large girth.

“Say it again.”

“Yes, I’m a slut. Fuck me, Branson. Please.”

“No. Say you’re my slut. This is my pussy.”

Not in any of my fantasies could I have dreamed of him saying something as sexy to me. “I’m your slut, only your slut.”

“Good, I’m not wasting any more time. I’ll fuck you whenever I want, starting right now.”

He pulled back, and the feel of him retreating was just as intense as him pushing in. His thrusts were slower at first, but it didn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, and I was reduced to a wailing mess. My face was buried in one of the pillows on the couch to mask my cries of pleasure that bordered on pain.

“Fuck, you have a sweet little pussy, so tight and hot. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” His deep groans pushed my rising climax higher. Each delicious thrust rubbed right over my G-spot, and my legs quaked, my words no more than incoherent mumbling as I reached the peak of my orgasm. “That’s it. I can feel you getting close. Do it, Izzy. Come on my cock and claim me as I claim you.”

With a scream that could wake the dead, I let go and soared as I came, the climax so intense that I couldn’t remember where I even was. Little dots floated behind my eyes as Branson continued to fuck me hard, his body slamming into mine and the couch complaining as it inched across the floor. Branson grabbed my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he let loose and pumped into me so fast that I was nothing more than a doll in his hold.

“Yes…fuck yes…fuck Izzy!” He yelled my name, his body holding still inside of me as he came. I could feel every little twitch of his spasming cock as my pussy walls tightened and relaxed around him as I rode out the orgasm that had been the best of my life.

“You okay,” he asked and went to move, but I reached back and grabbed his leg, holding him still. I tried to form words, but my tongue still didn’t want to work right. “You want me to fuck you again?” I nodded, and he chuckled. Grabbing my hair, he pulled me up and back into his body. “You really are the perfect good girl.” I nodded. He nipped at the skin along my neck before sucking my earlobe into his mouth. “I’m more than happy to fill your pussy all night long. You’re mine, Izzy. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Good girl.”

Six

Izzy

What the hell just happened? My body was weak, my mind completely mush, and yet I’d never felt more sated or at peace. After another round of crazy and fulfilling sex, we’d showered in silence and curled up in bed. I’d managed to get a couple hours sleep, but as soon as the sunlight started to peek through the blinds, I was awake. I technically had today off, but there was so much I wanted to do with the investigation into the Headless Horseman.

The biggest stumbling block I was running into, despite the lack of DNA, was the motive. Each person that came in felt completely random. No particular sex, age, religion, or race. There were no signs of sexual deviance or hatred toward the people other than the obvious death part. It was like he simply spun in a circle and pointed them out of a crowd. That was until Christian and Betsy. Those were the only two with anything in common, and the link was me and Branson. Really, neither of us should be on the case now, but I didn’t care. I wanted the guy off the streets.

Lifting my head, I stared at Branson’s sleeping face. Yesterday made it pretty clear that I’d fallen in love with him long before this. He’d been my obsession, and maybe it wasn’t love, but whatever it was, it was strong. Did I feel bad that Betsy was dead? That was a terribly tough question for me to answer. It shouldn’t be, which said it all.

Slipping out of bed, I grabbed a shirt off the top of the neatly stacked pile and padded as quietly as I could out into the hall. Stepping into the bathroom, I hit the light switch and screamed as I jumped back. I wasn’t one to scare easily. In fact, I was the complete opposite, but this was hitting on a different level of creepy. Painted on the mirror were words I’d only ever heard in my dreams.

It’s always been you.

Branson raced out of the room with a gun in his hand. As soon as he spotted me, he ran in my direction. “What is it? Are you okay?”

I nodded and pointed. “He was in your house. He could still be here.”

“Stay here,” Branson said, but I grabbed his arm.

“No, I go with you, or neither of us do.” His lips pressed into a hard line. “We are safer together.”

“Fine, but stay behind me. You can watch my six. Okay?”

We cleared the rooms on the upper floor before making our way downstairs. Even with sunlight beginning to flood in and chase away the shadows, it felt as though we were stepping into a strange hell. How was this guy so good at getting into homes? I watched Branson set his alarm and double-check the locks on his doors before we went upstairs. It didn’t make any sense. As soon as we reached a new room I’d flick on the light, but nothing and no one jumped out at us. We even did a sweep of the basement, and nothing was out of place.

“I don’t understand this. We didn’t even go to bed until almost three in the morning. It’s only six-thirty now,” Branson said, looking at the time.

“And I’ve been awake the last twenty minutes,” I said, and he shook his head.

“You’re talking about such a small window of time. That means he was either watching from right outside or….” Branson looked at me, and I wanted to throw up as he swallowed. I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Oh my god, he was in here already, wasn’t he? He watched us and waited for us to go to sleep.” I sat down on the couch and wrapped my arms around myself. Leaving Christian’s head in my room hadn’t bothered me the way it would most people because I took it as a message, but this…this was threatening in a whole different way. He could get to me any time, any place, and with anyone.