Trust Me II (15 page)

“May I come along?” she asked looking up at him.

“Of course; I was hoping you’d want to. It shouldn’t take long and then we can go back to
the flat and relax.” Sandra smiled across to her husband, feeling slightly giddy.

“As much as I don’t really want to, we should probably start thinking about the house and how you want to furnish it,” he said stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Have you given any more thought to what’s going on back home?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I keep running through the time line of when the bodies could have been buried. Lynette Stone disappeared fifteen years ago, the fall before Bachmeier moved back to Germany; I looked it up on the internet. So if the body was her than she had to have been there more than the ten or twelve years the constable estimates.”

“Do you think Miriam’s father could have had anything to do with it?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I’d like to think not, but some people have a secret life that nobody ever knows about. He may have been having an affair with her and got bored, or afraid when she left her husband, felt cornered, who knows. The problem with that is he wasn’t an emotional person. Gerrald Bachmeier and his wife Serhilda moved to Yorks about two years before Miriam was born. She died in childbirth and they didn’t have any other kids, so naturally he was very protective of his daughter. He was very religious too, went to church every Sunday, never smoked or drank, didn’t swear or run around that anyone knew about. His whole life was work and Miriam. Nobody ever saw him with another woman, never heard him mention having a love interest, nothing.”

“Do you think Andrew will question him?”

“I’m sure he will get in touch with the police in Germany and have him questioned, but without proof he’s just a suspect.”

“Have you thought about another avenue?” she asked, unsure how to broach the idea.

“You mean Miriam?” he asked as she nodded. “I’ve thought about it. I can’t imagine her killing anyone any more than I can see her father doing it, but it is a possibility, At least for Lynette Stone, but not the other girl. Twelve years ago, she was in France and I’m pretty sure someone would have noticed her in the area if she had come back. Where she was shagging every bloke in
town, she wouldn’t have just slipped in and out again without being seen.”

“What about her cousin? If he has the courage to shoot a man in broad daylight on the streets of London, what would prevent him from killing and trying to hide the bodies?”

“I know he was in England during the summer, but I think he went back to Germany before Lynette disappeared. I don’t remember, it was a long time ago.” Creighton sighed, pushing his empty plate aside and running his hand through his dark hair. “It could be Harry Stone, it could be a drifter, it could be the man in the moon, I just don’t know.”

“And it’s driving you crazy,” she said. “Mr. Fix-it needs to make everything better and goes crazy when he can’t.”

“Is that what I am now, Mr. Fix-it?”

“Mr. Fix-it, Mr. Perfect, Mr. Nice Butt, you choose.”

“Why Mrs. Ashford, are you telling me you you’ve been checking out my butt?”

“As often as I can.” Sandra smiled when he laughed again. She loved the calm, comfortable atmosphere that had once again embraced them. She gathered their plates together and carried them back into the kitchen where she sat them on the counter. It hadn’t occurred to her how to wash the dirty dishes once they were finished. There was no sign of a sink, no dishwasher and in fact, no water outside of the bottles in the cupboards.

“Look here,” he told her as though reading her mind yet again. He lifted up the small counter top to reveal a hidden sink, smiling when she looked at it wide eyed. He fastened a hinge on the end to hold it up and pulled the faucets up from the back. Sandra couldn’t help but giggle; it was like camping only with all the amenities and the ability to fly among the clouds.

The two quickly washed the few dishes they had used and dried them, putting them back in their proper places before walking hand-in-hand to the sofa. Creighton pulled her down to his lap as soon as he sat and began kissing her neck, causing shivers of excitement to travel down her spine.

“I missed you last night,” he whispered. “I don’t like sleeping without you.”

“You could have come in, the door wasn’t locked.”

“You said no,” he answered in a soft sulking tone. “I’ve told you before; you have control over whether or not I make love to you.” Sandra smiled, glancing to the nearly empty wine bottle on the table and frowned.

“It looks like you had company,” she said, reaching for the left over liquor.

“I didn’t get drunk, if that’s what you mean and it wasn’t the same as having you in my arms.”

“Do you always drink so much? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been drinking just as much lately, but it’s tenfold from what I normally do.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I usually have one or two drinks a week at most; I’ll stop completely if it bothers you.”

“I just worry about it. I had a friend in high school that used to have a beer with her boyfriend when they went out, but pretty soon it turned into two and then three and then she was sneaking out between classes to drink, getting drunk on the weekends and eventually she dropped out of school. She’s been in rehab three times since then and divorced twice. I just don’t want to see anything like that happen to you.”

“I’ve only been drunk once in my life and that was when I graduated university.” Creighton began caressing her outer thigh as they spoke, slowly working his way beneath the hem of her dress. “Andrew, Derek and dad took me to a pub to help me celebrate. I guess I got pretty bad because when I woke up the next day I was in my parents’ barn with a black eye, a broken nose and the worse headache I’ve ever had. It seems I got a little out of hand and tried to pick a fight with some bloke and my dad had to step in. Not a wise thing to do when your father is twice your size and you’re so damned drunk you can’t walk without falling down.”

“I’m not asking you to stop completely, just slow down, alright? Especially when we start a family; I really don’t want our kids having free reign of the liquor cabinet.”

“Agreed,” he smiled, his hand reaching her bottom. He narrowed his eyes, pulling the skirt of her dress up to reveal the lack of underwear. “Are you going to make this a habit?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“I’m beginning to like the
au natural
feeling.” She couldn’t help but blush with the lustful look he gave her.

“You’re deliberately trying to driving me mental, aren’t you? The thought of you without knickers on will haunt me every moment of the day.”

“Shall I begin wearing them again, then?”

“No, no, I’m not saying that, but you’ll have to indulge me staring and feeling and wanting to love you every chance I get.”

“You already want to love me every chance you get. You have a bad habit of not being able to keep your hands to yourself.”

“Are you complaining?” he asked laying her back so she was stretched out beneath him on the sofa.

“Not really. I like feeling cherished by you.”

“That you are my love; very cherished.” Creighton moved her dress up to her waist so he had full access of her lower regions, moving his hand to his initials and like always, carefully tracing them with his finger.

“Rochelle gave us a wedding present,” he told her, glancing up into her eyes before leaning down to kiss her exposed cleavage.

“Dare I ask?”

“Remember the table I liked so well?” Her eyes widened as she remembered the table she had been restrained on while having her unmentionables waxed. “She is having it delivered to the flat in Chelsea. I thought it would be better there than where my parents’ may see it.”

“I don’t know what to say.” She felt numb thinking about a table like that sitting in their living room where anyone could see it.

“I already thanked her and I plan on making very good use of it once we return.”

“You wouldn’t dare?” she huffed then instantly remembered who she was speaking to.

“Not only do I dare, but I will. I have many plans for that table and I promise you won’t be objecting for long.” Creighton put a halt to her unspoken scolding with the pressure of his lips against hers, his tongue coaxing and teasing a moan from her, smiling when she relaxed beneath him.

“I have wanted to initiate this sofa since I bought the plane,” he whispered, his lips traveling to her neck. “I’ve had dreams of bringing you here and making love to you until you were breathless.”

“Dreams have a habit of coming true for you, don’t they?”

“For both of us darling,” he corrected as he moved down her body, kissing a hot path over her chest, across her fabric covered breasts to her stomach where he pushed the dress up further. He played with her navel, caressing and licking her belly button until
she relented beneath him, her back arching slightly from the cushions beneath her.

Creighton rested a large arm across her stomach, holding her down as his lips and tongue continued to burn a path downward, causing her veins to feel as though they were flowing with molted lava. When at last he reached his destination, she nearly cried out, fighting the orgasm that threatened to overtake her. She knew she could do it, he had taught her how and now she was happy that he had; his tongue played and traced the swollen bud of her clitoris causing her to moan deeply.

The sound echoed around the silent room, quickly joined with a deep primal growl when she lost control and allowed the flood gates to burst open. He smiled as his fingers easily slipped into her hot wet vagina, allowing her to ride out her release for a few breathtaking moments before he leaned up over her and thrust into her deep and hard.

Sandra had no idea when he had undressed and frankly she didn’t care as he slipped his hands around her hips and lifted her up, holding her tightly against him. The contact was deep and she began feeling the insanity of passion encompass her again. With each deep thrust, the dizzy sensation grew stronger, taking her along the path of urgency as he continued to fill her with the length and width of his erection. She lifted her legs, wrapping around him tighter, surrendering to his demands as the lustful cravings overtook her and she called out his name in a savage growl that equaled his. The heat of his release bathing her with a yearning only he could produce, leaving them both breathless. 

Several long, hot moments passed by before they collapsed against each other panting. The feeling of his erratic pulse thrummed against her breast. Regardless of what argument or disagreement they may have, this was the one thing they both agreed on; love, passion and orgasm shared and exchanged like timeless lovers, breaking the bonds of space and age to bring them together. They lay in each other’s arms, the emotion that embraced them was genuine and Sandra smiled; this was where she wanted to be, in his arms forever and eternity.

Sandra sat on the sofa, Miriam’s book perched on her lap as Creighton sat next to her, trying to catch up on some long neglected work on his lap top. Harvey had called earlier and said he would be there at two o’clock, which left a little less than an hour to relax before life had a chance to catch up to them. The soft sounds of famous Broadway love songs played over the plane’s stereo system and she found herself actually dozing between pages. It wasn’t until Creighton shut the top of his computer that she woke up, staring at him through foggy eyes.

He wasn’t happy, she could see it as well as feel it when he stood up and walked to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of soda, unscrewing the top. Sandra watched him as he placed the plastic bottle to his lips and began drinking from it. He set it on the counter with a little more vigor than even he had intended, causing it to foam up out of the top. He glanced over to see her watching him and sighed, running his hand through his dark hair.

“Andrew emailed me,” he told her, answering her unspoken question. “There have been a few developments at the house.” Creighton took the bottle and walked back to the sofa, handing it to her. Sandra didn’t want the drink but reached up out of instinct and took it as he sat down next to her.

“Old man Bachmeier is dead,” he said quietly. “Apparently he was more ill than Miriam let on. He died yesterday from pancreatic cancer.”

“So what does that mean for the investigation?” she asked, handing him back his soda.

“The police are going to question Miriam, but right now she’s doing a book tour in America. It will be another week or more before she’s back in France.” He leaned his head against the back cushions and sighed again. “There’s more,” he said. She watched him rub a large hand across his eyes before he raised his head and swallowed another drink from the bottle.

“The cadaver dogs located four more bodies; all female and all appearing to have been buried around the same time as the first two.” Sandra’s eyes widened with disbelief as she tried to process what he had just said. She was certain her heart skipped a beat and then stopped as his words began to make themselves at home her sleepy mind.

“I…what…” she stuttered, unsure exactly what to say or how to coordinate her thoughts and words on the same page.

“My sentiments exactly,” he said with a deep breath.