Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) (24 page)

Charles

I set my computer off to the side and remove my glasses when my wife walks into the bedroom wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and white cotton panties with little pink flowers all over them. Where other men might find a negligee or a satin teddy more tempting, I find my wife’s innocence very sexy.

“Take the fucking shirt off. Now!”

“What? This ole thing?” she taunts me, turning in a circle and shaking her ass.

“Keep it up, and I’ll tie your ass down.”

“Gotta catch me first.”

Though she’s threatening to run from me, she’s still edging her way closer. I reach out to grab her so fast that she’s pinned beneath me before she can comprehend what has happened. I straddle her, taking out the knife I have in my drawstring pants and flicking it open. For a fleeting second, I can see the fear I relish flash in her eyes. I stand, pinning her with my eyes and silently daring her to move.

My cock’s already hard, and I’m just getting this party started. I position the knife at her throat, and it slices through her t-shirt from top to bottom like hot butter. Even the sound of the material ripping is erotic. I lick my lips, open the fabric, and study her chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation of what’s coming.

“I bet that mind of yours is going a mile a minute, wondering what I’m going to do to you.” I move the knife slowly over her breast as I speak. “You belong to me, kitten. Our bond is even stronger now that we’ve killed together. We’re bound by blood.”

I nick her at the same time I say the word
blood
. Leaning down, I lap up the life giving fluid that runs through her veins.

She watches with interest as I pull my head back up, resuming my position, straddling her body. I slice through her panties next and pull them off her.

I raise my hand and extend my pointer finger, slicing it with my knife. Blood immediately starts to well up, making the cut look significantly deeper that it actually is. She hands me her forefinger before I can even asked her for it. I give the pad of the tip a small nick, cutting just deep enough to draw a little blood from her finger too. I toss the knife onto the bedside table, pressing our fingers together after I do so.

“We are bound by blood.”

“Yes.”

“We’ve shed blood, and now we’ve shared blood, intermingling the life giving force between us.”

I place her finger in my mouth, sucking the blood from it, as our eyes seem to connect on a deeper level. We are one now. We were joined together in life, and now we’re joined together in death—other people’s deaths.

I fold her legs back and push into her, relishing in the initial tightness. My fingers grip her hair on either side of her head as I stroke in and out of her. There’s such a strong connection between us. Our eyes lock, and it’s as if we are looking into each other’s souls.

“I love you so fucking much, girl.”

“I love you too, baby.”

I’m making love to a woman who isn’t just my wife and partner; she’s also my best friend. The next hour is spent alternately making love and fucking the only woman I’ve ever loved.

She lies in the crook of my arm when we’re finally sated, both of us basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Suddenly, the familiar face of the woman who anchors the eleven o’ clock news interrupts our bliss.

Authorities have confirmed we are dealing with a serial killer we’ve dubbed, ‘The Mummy.’
Each victim has been wrapped from head to toe with cellophane, his modus operandi mimicking the Egyptian mummies of long ago, which resulted in the assignment of his name.

My wife talks over the broadcast.

“Damn, they’ve already named him.”

“Shh,” I cut her off, wanting to listen.

Profilers have requirements before they categorize a murderer as a serial killer. There has to be at least three kills, there has to be a cooling off period, and the bodies of the victims have to be left in various locations. The Mummy has met all necessary criteria. Watch for more reports as we get further information on this new threat to our city.

We both turn and look at each other, saying it at the same time…

“Looks like we got our next job.”

Because some women don't want red roses and wine, they need black roses and knives.
Charles is a man who was born into wealth and power. Mix in his copper colored hair and tan, fit body, and you have the makings of a real playboy.
Charles could have any woman he wants, but he wants Melanie.
Having an obsession with Melanie wouldn't be such a problem if it weren't for the fact that Charles is a serial killer.
Before it's over, you will not only question how Melanie could bond with a serial killer, but how you could as well...

This is a dark erotic tale that will pull you in and have you wondering why and how Charles Wentworth III found redemption in your eyes...

Available on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Suzanne-Steele/e/B00C9L6YRQ

Look for Mommy’s Dearest (Black Rose #3) Coming 2016. It will be available on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Suzanne-Steele/e/B00C9L6YRQ