“Did you ever see her again?”
“Yes,” I admitted. Why the hell was I answering her?
“And you didn’t like what you saw?”
“She was an addict and a prostitute,” I told her. “So no, I didn’t. She left a loving family to become that, so of course, I am angry at her.”
“You pass judgment before you find the truth often?”
“You’re a serial killer,” I spat at her. “You can’t tell me I’m the wrong one here.”
“I never knew my mother, not really,” She said. “You see, the past you will never find is one I’ve hidden for a reason. My mother was sold into sex slavery by her own parents. She was twelve. A year later, I was born. She never raised me. No child was ever raised in that hellhole. We were fed, bathed and taught that a man’s pleasure comes above all else. I was twelve myself when I was put on show for men. I’d seen my mother once or twice in those years, and not once did she embrace me, so I am curious as to why you care so much for your mother leaving and what she became. It certainly didn’t stop you from becoming successful in your chosen line of work. ”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said, meaning every word of it and choosing to ignore the conversation about my mother.
She was silent, assessing what I’d said. I didn’t think she heard those words often. “It is what it is. There’s no point in crying over it.”
“You’re different to those who wronged you, including your own mother,” I said, choosing now to unleash a fact that would rattle her. “You care for your own daughter, don’t you?”
She stepped back as if I’d struck her. Surprise etched all over her face.
“You’re good, I have to admit,” she said when she recovered. “None of your predecessors have figured that out. How did you?”
“Your property holdings,” I said. “I tracked down everything about Camille Delaponte, and had to ask myself why you would use a living person’s name. At first, I thought it was because you could hide and pin the blame on her but it’s not that, is it? Camille is strikingly beautiful, as you are. There’s a strong genetic resemblance there.”
“She’s not part of this.”
I’d hit a nerve. I could see the pulse near her temple pulsating as she tried to bite her tongue, less she admit something she didn’t want me to know.
“Now, that is a motherly reaction. Something that is completely foreign to you, so that must be why you had her adopted out as a baby, to make sure none of your evilness rubbed off on her. Somehow, she’s back in your life now, though.”
“Very good, detective. You are very, very good,” she said, coming to stand next to me. “But you see, you played your hand too quickly. There was a possibility I could have let you go after this, disappeared into the night and you would live, but now…now you have shown me that you know too much.”
“You were never going to let me live,” I scoffed at her. “If you were, you could have knocked me out and run. But instead, you strapped me to this contraption. Why? To torture me? To rape me?”
Maurelle let out a laugh so hauntingly evil that it surprised me.
“Rape you?” she repeated, as she hit a lever next to me. I felt whatever I was strapped to move downward, to a lying position. She climbed on top of me, straddling me, her pussy just inches away from my cock and the asshole organ twitched with excitement. “It’s not rape if you want it.”
“You’re right, Maurelle, I do want you. My body wants you, and for some reason, I know I wouldn’t say no even though it goes against every inch of my moral fiber, but afterward, I will arrest you and see you brought to justice.”
She smiled, her fingers sliding underneath my shirt, nails raking down my chest sharply. I grunted with the feeling of pain and lust as I looked up into her dark eyes. Oh how, I wanted to feel her mouth against mine, to taste her. My body and my brain were at odds with each other, and yet I was fully aware that my body was winning.
I tried to pull my arms up again, battling against the restraints so I could take her, hard, against whatever this thing was. I caught sight of a design down by my ankle, and that’s when I saw it.
“Am I strapped to a goddamn spider’s web?”
Maurelle smirked at me. “They call me the black widow, right? Why not lean into it. I’ve always thought webs were pretty.”
I could laugh if I weren’t so turned on right now. She undid my jeans, popping my cock free. The bastard was hard as stone as she caressed him.
Maurelle ripped my shirt open, baring my chest to her as she started to grind herself against my cock. I gasped in pleasure as she teased me. These leather straps weren’t going anywhere. She had complete control over me, and for a moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted to feel her, to be inside of her. Her nails dug into my chest again, drawing blood as her other hand gripped my cock again, pumping me hard. Moving down my body, she kept her eyes on me as she sucked one of my balls into her mouth.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Her mouth moved up to my cock, the reddened head was waiting for her as she took me whole, down her throat. I would have cum right there and then if I didn’t know how to control myself. The feeling of her warm tongue lapping at my skin, the tip of her tongue gliding up and down that vein at the base of my cock as she squeezed the fuck out of me was driving me insane. She moved fast now, her head bobbing up and down on my length as she played with my balls.
Fuck.
