Femme Fatale (Black Rose Book 2) (4 page)

Charles

Looking up from my desk, I see my wife entering my home office. I say nothing and just pat the seat next to mine in a silent order for her to come join me. My fingers fly over the keyboard with the familiarity of a man who is accustomed to using the Internet for research.

Though I haven’t updated my
Black Rose
blog in years, the fans have been as loyal as ever, faithfully posting their pictures and comments. There is a whole community out there who believes what I am doing is the only way to deal with criminals who have no chance of being rehabilitated.

The familiar
Black Rose
insignia and the poem I had written for my wife, the only woman I’ve ever loved, pops up.

Though a single black rose

tis his kiss of death;

for her it holds no power.

For when she doth receive,

tis not a mere black rose:

but a bouquet thereof…

My wife’s sharp intake of breath surprises me.

“That’s beautiful.”

“I wrote it for you, but I was unable to give it to you until now. I couldn’t take the chance of losing you.”

“But I knew who you were, what you were doing.”

“Yes, but there was still the chance that you’d think I had gone back to my old ways if you found out I was still posting on this site.”

“So, you let all of this go? For me?”

“Yes, I did. I love you more than the kill.”

“And now I’m asking you to kill again,” she responds, sounding a bit unsure of her decision. She looks at me as if she needs affirmation to put her mind at ease. “It’s for a good reason, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do,” I tell her, giving her what she needs to assuage any guilt she might be feeling.

“These people are really dedicated to you.”

“That has always amazed me as well. I have to say I feel a connection with these people.”

“And now I’ll be connecting with you in this way.”

She looks a bit dreamy eyed at the prospect, and despite how much excitement I feel at being able to share this part of me with my wife, I feel the need to counsel her.

“I hope you know what you’re getting into. Thinking about killing and actually killing are two totally different things.”

“Are you worried I’ll have second thoughts?”

“No, I’m worried it will traumatize you,” I tell her honestly.

“Do you think it will?”

“We’ve been over this… I think it might release the hidden shadows in you,
allowing a darkness you never knew existed to be freed from the portals of that innocent little soul of yours.”

Melanie

Looking at all the posts these strangers have put up for the man I’m in love with causes an odd sort of jealousy to course through my veins. These strangers have shared a part of my husband he has previously denied me. I comfort myself with the knowledge that there will be no more secrets between us. I will now share things with him no one else has ever been privy to; I will kill with him. Not only will I be the first person to work with him, but I’m the first woman—his own personal
Femme Fatale.
The thought excites me beyond measure.

I force myself to push aside any distracting thoughts not benefitting my learning experience. I need to garner all the information I can because I don’t want to be the cause of my husband getting caught. All these years, he has managed to fly under the FBI’s radar. More than once, my husband has spoken of an agent by the name of David Turner, who is following the
Black Rose
case. He has also divulged that if anyone has the skill to catch him, it is this specific agent and his partner. One thing I do know is that once an agent is on a case, they are unlikely to let it rest, following it for years and always searching for the culprit. My husband has told me, in some instances, cases can become obsessions. He says there’s always that one case the agent can’t and/or won’t let go of. I wonder if
Black Rose
is ‘that case’ for Agent Turner.

“How do you stay off of the FBI’s radar? Can’t they search out your IP address?”

“Yes, but I have the ability to be all over the grid. Look at it like bouncing off different towers so they can’t nail down the actual address I’m operating from.”

I look at the various monitors on my husband’s large desk. There are monitors for security, for work, and even the one we are looking at now that shows the blog.

Once again, Charles’ voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Time to find out what we can about our suspect.”

I watch as he types Richard Roundtree’s name into a police database. I figure he is bypassing the typical search, knowing all it will bring up is the man’s accolades.

“Well, well, well, that didn’t take long did it? It looks like our guy has had charges brought against him for sexually harassing an employee. The charges were dropped when a settlement was agreed upon.”

“Should we question the woman who accused him?”

“It wouldn’t do any good. Most of the time, in cases of settlements like this, there is a gag order issued.”

“So he paid her off and got the public record expunged.”

“That’s exactly what he did. Men in the public eye will do anything to keep their lily white reputations intact.”

“Why didn’t he just kill the woman rather than paying her off?”

“I’m assuming because she had already gone to the police. He would have been the first one they looked at as a suspect.”

“You don’t think she’ll talk to us?”

“I don’t think she’ll want to lose that two million dollar settlement. I also don’t think she realizes her life is in danger. She’s the target we need to be following. Powerful men don’t forgive and forget; they get even. They may bide their time, but they always get even.”

Charles

I clamp my hand tightly around her throat, pinning her to the wall.

“Do you think I don’t know you? You’re sexually excited by the thought of killing with me.”

“I want that part of you none of those other groupies have had. Have you ever...”

“Absolutely not! I love you. I would never sleep with another woman. I think we both know what would happen if you gave another man your attentions.”

I can feel my cock hardening at not only the thought of her killing with me, but also in response to her jealousy after all these years of marriage.

“You still excite me after all this time, probably even more so now than in the beginning.”

My voice is a low threatening growl as the fingers on my free hand slide her panties over to reveal what I already know to be true; she is wet.

“I love the way your body responds to me.”

I pull her from the wall and lead her to the fainting couch adorning the sitting area in my office.

Brushing her hair back from her ear, I lean in and whisper, “Turn around, bend over, and put your hands on the end of the couch. I don’t care what I do to you, those hands better not fucking move out of position.”

Her only answer is a slight nod of her head to signify she heard my mandate before she moves to obey. I enjoy control, and in matters of the bedroom, I most definitely operate in command mode. She feeds off the dominance and darkness I provide, and I feed off her need for me.

I loosen my belt, allowing my suit pants to fall around my ankles. I want her. I want to take her, to once again make her mine and brand her as my own. I want to leave my scent, my seed, and my mark of ownership on her.

I run my hands over her ass, spreading her open and pulling the cheeks apart so I can view the glistening wetness of her opening. Her body never fails to respond to me.

I groan as I push into her, feeling the initial tightness of her warm pussy around my hardness. It’s always the same—a soothing feeling of coming home, a sense of belonging like I am exactly where I need to be. If it were possible to crawl up inside her and possess her, I would.

“Oh, you are mine. You will always be mine. Letting you go will never be an option.”

“I don’t want to go. I love you.”

“And I love you, my little vixen. Push back on my cock. Fuck me, baby girl.”

Her hips rock, pushing back on me and taking me in from tip to root. She feels so good. Every time I reclaim her is better than the last. I will never tire of this woman, who holds not only my heart, but all my deepest and darkest secrets as well.

“Touch yourself, babe.”

As soon as her finger rolls over her hardened clit, her body immediately explodes, clenching tightly around me and pulsing in spasms that pull my essence from me. I can feel every single tremor in the walls of her tight little pussy—my tight little pussy—demanding every drop of my seed to fill and possess her. She is mine from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and we both know it to be true. I lean down over her back so I can whisper one more mandate.

"Get a good night’s sleep because tomorrow we start working together. It might be a good idea for you to take some time off. Working with me… well, let’s just say it’s going to be a full-time job.”