Cowboy Cop. Rita Herron
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having her go down on him.
She moaned and pulled at the bindings around her wrists. “Please...stop torturing me. I need you now.”
A slow smile creased his lips as he rose above her. He knew exactly what she wanted. The satisfaction she craved.
He’d given it to her before, even though she disgusted him when she begged.
So like a whore.
She twisted against her bindings, trying to move her foot to rub his leg, but he’d bound her so tightly that she flinched with pain as the rope dug into her skin.
“Thank you,” he whispered against her neck.
She purred his name, arching herself like the slut she was, and he slid the knife from beneath the mattress, then placed it against the slender column of her throat. The black gloves on his hands were a stark contrast to her ivory skin as he pricked it with the tip of the blade.
Suddenly her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “Stop playing,” she whispered in a raw voice.
A chuckle rumbled from deep within him. “I’m not playing,” he said, the taste of her blood beckoning.
She struggled, squirming and moaning, desperate now as if she realized he had used her all along.
“I’m sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sorry at all. But his mother had taught him manners, how to say thank-you and please, how to treat a woman.
She’d taught him other things, too....
Her face flashed into his mind, and his fingers tightened around the knife’s handle. The other women’s faces floated in front of him, a sea of wide eyes, tears and blood...
Excitement shot through him, his body thrumming with adrenaline. With one quick swipe, he slashed her throat.
Her blood spurted like a water fountain, spraying red across the white sheets, across his shirt, across his hands. The scent of it filled his nostrils and made his body go hard. Relief teetered nearby, so close....
But his cell phone beeped—he’d received a text message—and he cursed, his desire dwindling. He glanced at the blood running down her throat and naked chest again, hoping to revive the thrill but it was already abating.
The need for another already teased at the back of his hungry mind.
Dammit. He hated to leave her so soon yet this might be the news he’d been waiting for.
With blood dotting his gloves, he lifted his phone and checked the text.
Located the target. Let me know how to proceed.
He brushed one bloody finger over the woman’s nipple, then lifted himself off of her to type in his orders.
McGregor had robbed him of months’ worth of pleasure while he was in prison. Of at least a half dozen more women.
The memory of watching McGregor’s whore plead for her life shot through him, and he smiled. Killing her had only whetted his appetite for revenge.
He fully intended to take care of McGregor and his kid himself.
No one would rob him of that pleasure.
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