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Looking up at him, holding his gaze, she slowly lowered her mouth over him and took him inside her mouth. He was so large there was little room left to move her tongue, but she managed to twist it around his shaft slightly, pressing it against the throbbing vein that wound around it.
His fingers threaded through her hair, holding her head, moving it to a better angle. Her fingers continued to play with his balls while she hollowed her cheeks and sucked his cock as hard as she could. He rocked back and forth on his heels, a low moan rolling up from his throat, the sound urging her to move her head faster, squeeze his sac harder.
“Oh, Jesus. Oh, shit. Oh, hell.”
She felt the tightening of his sac, the tensing of his body, and then he erupted, spurting thick semen into her mouth. It glided down her tongue and against the back of her throat. She clutched his erection convulsively, tightening her fingers around the base as she sucked him dry.
When the tension finally left his body, she smiled, knowing she’d made him feel good.
“Your turn,” he told her in a low voice, cupping her elbows to help her to her feet. “Time to pay attention to that sweet, little pussy.” He placed her on the bed so her legs were spread wide. “Tonight, I’m going to lick every inch of you. Make you come with my hand and my tongue before I finally fuck you senseless.”
Heat blasted through her like a furnace, the walls of her pussy already quivering with anticipation. She was so ready for him that when he touched the tip of a finger to her clit, she jerked, as if fire had whisked over her.
“Aah.” The sound was one of pure male satisfaction. “Someone’s very horny tonight.”
He spread her lips and bent his head, flicking his tongue back and forth against that swollen bundle of nerves. Dana shook with the intensity of the sensation consuming her. Stiffened nipples ached for his touch, and the muscles low in her tummy tightened.
He took his time, teasing her clit first with his tongue and then with his finger until she came just from his focus on that one part of her body. Spasms rocked her while he held her still, his body preventing her from squeezing her thighs together. Then he began again, this time with his mouth on that bundle of nerves and his fingers stroking in and out of her wet folds.
She planted her feet on the mattress and lifted herself to him, pushing down on his hand. He teased and tormented, adding a third finger then pulling his hand away completely.
“Noooo,” she wailed. “Please, please, please.”
“I love it when you’re hot like this,” he purred and thrust his fingers inside her again.
She rode them hard, pushing against them, pushing, pushing…
She woke up, yanked back to reality, her hand between her legs. Holy hell! What was happening to her? This whole thing was screwing with her mind.
Extricating herself from the twisted, sweaty covers, she stumbled into the bathroom for one of the mild tranquilizers she rarely took. The sight that met her eyes when she looked in the mirror was almost as frightening as her dream.
“I look like a scarecrow,” she said out loud. “Sleep, Dana. You have people to see tomorrow.”
But the tranquilizer made her fuzzy and when her alarm went off, she struggled to wake up. She stood longer than usual in the shower, trying to wash away the cobwebs and the memories of the dream that disturbed her sleep. All these years, it had been the darkness that intruded, the scent of the wood shavings and of the man doing terrible things to her body. The taste of fear never left her mouth, asleep or awake.
Now, with the onrushing force of an avalanche, images of Cole were invading her dreams and wrapping themselves around her. She was doing things to him in her dreams—and enjoying the hell out of them—that she’d never been able to even contemplate with other men. Hell, she’d only managed straight sex a couple times and struggled to even finish that. And forget pleasure.
She finally turned the shower to ice cold and shivered under it until her skin was covered with goose bumps. At least, she managed to wake up her brain. Unfortunately, her body was still hot and demanding.
Had coming back here unlocked something inside her? Made her subconsciously try to break out of her self-imposed emotional prison? Maybe she was condemned to have a sex life only in her dreams. She snorted at that and pushed everything to the back of her mind to focus on the day ahead.
She drank one cup of coffee while she toasted bread and buttered it, then filled her travel mug with the rest of the hot liquid. Checking to make sure she had her phone, she headed out to Ivy and Lee Winslow’s small ranch on the north side of town.
As she turned onto a ranch-to-market road, she found herself stealing glances in her rear and sideview mirrors. She couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow the killer was around, keeping a close eye on her. A shudder raced up her spine, and she gripped the wheel tighter. She was almost glad when traffic thinned out and she could check the cars behind her. When she turned onto the long driveway to the Winslow house and every car sped by at a normal pace, she let out a long breath.
She figured her best approach with Ivy Winslow was the same thing she’d used with Lois Kelly—just show up and hope for the best. A phone call might have gotten her an emphatic no. Especially since, by this time, she was aware her activities were a topic of local conversation. That was, when everyone wasn’t talking about the horrific death of Leanne Pritchard. Advance warning would have been more polite, but Dana had found in the past it was harder to turn away someone already at your front door.
Twenty-six years ago, the Winslows had three children, two boys and a girl. Lily Winslow, the baby of the family, was only four years old when she disappeared from the picnic area of the annual rodeo. Dana wondered how the Winslows had put their life back together after their little girl’s body was found. Were they like the Kellys, so wrapped in grief that all they had left was bitterness? Or had they managed to find a way to get on with their lives, especially with two other children to raise?
Dana pulled up in front of a big stone house surrounded by six acres of land. In a fenced pasture next to a barn, five horses grazed and swished their tails at flying insects.
After checking herself one last time in the mirror on the sun visor, she mounted the steps and rang the bell. The curtain covering the eyebrow window moved to one side, then the door opened. No chain this time, thank heavens.
Ivy Winslow was tall and just shy of being chubby. Her gray-streaked brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and, like Lois, she wore not a smidge of makeup. But unlike Lois Kelly, Ivy’s face was not pinched or bitter. Her hazel eyes were filled with long-standing sorrow, but she seemed in control of herself.
“You’re Dana Moretti,” she said.
“Yes.” Dana blinked. “I am.”
