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I pulled out of her and kissed my way down, lingering at her thick nipples and sucking them, before continuing my way down. Her thighs were squeezing my head like a vice grip. “Right there baby, right there,” she moaned.
The more she cried, the harder I sucked. I inserted fingers in her and worked her G-spot. I trapped her swollen clit between my teeth and used my tongue to flick at it. “I’m about to, baby— I’m about to—” She screamed.
Carmen pushed my head from between her thighs and shut her legs tightly. I licked her legs from her hips down to her toes, until she yelled, “Stop it!” and jumped up from the couch, grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom.
When we got up on the bed, Carmen began kissing me passionately and stroking my erection; her hands were all over my body. I closed my eyes and got off on the sensation of hands and lips against my chest, and then to my throbbing dick. She took me into her mouth again and I watched her move her head up and down quickly.
Carmen got on top of me, grabbed her hips, and slowly slid down on me. She rode me slowly with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, grinding her hips until I was so deep inside her that her body started to tremble. I took a nipple into my mouth and pushed myself as deep and as hard into her as I could. Carmen grabbed the back of my head and I licked and sucked her nipple and continued to push myself inside her. Carmen rolled on her back and I eased myself inside her. I began a steady motion and she wrapped her legs around my waist. Carmen worked her hips and inner muscles while licking my nipples. My body began to tremble and she pounded her hips furiously. My body went rigid and I exploded inside her.
“Are we getting back together? Is that what’s going on here?” Carmen asked.
“That’s how it looks to me.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Tyhedra
It was bound to happen. I didn’t want it to, but it happened again. And this time, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how. I had been so carful this time. I was maintaining a normal life—well, a normal life for me. I had made friends, I had my business going, I had even met a man that I thought I could develop feelings for. Too bad he’s in love with another woman, and a married one at that.
I didn’t want to leave Atlanta, but I knew that I had to. I had no other choice in the matter. I was at a bar and had just selected my prey for the
evening, when the bartender switched the television to the late news. I heard these words:
“The police are looking for a woman in connection with several brutal murders in the metro area.”
I stared at the screen, and the words and the image I saw burned into my mind. There before my eyes was a composite sketch of me. I looked a little closer and I knew it was the same picture that the police in LA had of me. So what, it wasn’t a very good likeness. I knew it was me that they were looking for.
I sat there for the longest time wondering how they got on to me and how they knew to get that sketch from the cops in LA? The answer was simple; I just didn’t want to face it: I was a serial killer, a Black female one at that. How many could there be? Not many, I was pretty sure of that. I was wanted for murder in several states and maybe, just maybe, the police here were smart enough to check with other states. You think?
I sat there frozen by fear, thinking that every eye in the bar was on me. I very calmly finished my drink and signaled for the bartender. “Ready for another?”
“No,” I said, and tried not to look at him, “I think I’ve had enough.” I meant that in more ways than just the obvious. I was beginning to think that maybe it was time for me to retire, before I found myself strapped to a chair waiting for my lethal injection.
I paid my tab and walked causally to the door. I had just stepped outside when I bumped into this man. “Sorry,” I said, and tried to get around him, but he stepped in front of me.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” he said, and I thought what a dumb question that was. I was outside the bar and walking away from it. What part of that said I’m staying? Men are so stupid sometimes. Guess that’s why they’re prey.
“Yes,” I said, and moved around him.
“I’d sure like to go wherever you’re going,” he said was a pathetic look on his face.
I turned and looked at him. “If you knew what was good for you, you wouldn’t say that to me.”
He took a couple of steps closer to me. “Nobody ever accused me of having good sense,” he said with a smile.
“Look, I’m gonna give you one last chance to walk away.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll get much more than you think,” I said to him, knowing all the while that he was going to choose to go anywhere and do anything, I wanted him to.
“I’m going wherever you’re going.”
“No,” I said, and got in his face, “I’m going wherever you’re going.”
He smiled. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and started to walk away.
“Where’s your car?”
