She hid her revulsion at his derogatory label and rested her palms on his chest. “I consider myself to be, but sometimes I like to have a different flavor. Since this might possibly be the last time I see you, why don’t we have some fun together before we go our separate ways?” She moved her hand between them and cupped his cock. “It’s been far too long since I had a dick inside me. What do you say? Think of it as an extra bonus for a job well done.”
He squeezed her hips and pulled her flush to him. His mouth fell on hers and drew on her lips. She laughed and joined in on the heated yet sloppy kiss. He moved to the front of the car as he tugged down her cami and sucked on her breasts.
“I’ve wanted to mouth your tits since I first saw you. I can’t wait to stick my dick in between them,” he said crudely and lifted her until she was spread flat on the hood of his car.
As he went to unzip his pants, she sat up and tugged on his ears. “Not fucking yet, big boy. I want you eating me out until I come on the hood of your car.”
“Ah yeah, you lesbos love to have your cunt pecked on. I’m good with that,” he said in a rasping voice and lifted her skirt. His eyes went wide upon noticing her in the buff, and his tongue came out and licked her waxed pussy.
She moaned loudly as he wrenched her legs wider apart to give him better access. His blunt nails dug into her hips, making red marks appear. She threw out her hand to grab her purse and brought it to her chest. He slurped her pussy and flicked her clit with his tongue.
“Hector,” she said in a strong voice.
When he glanced up, his mouth hung low as she quickly slammed the heel of her shoe in his shoulder, making him stumble back. Before he gained his footing, she released all six rounds of her gun into him. He arched back as the bullets hit him, no shots echoing in the woods from the silencer on her gun. Disbelief and shock covered his face as he folded to the ground.
She sat up and pulled up her cami, tsking at the spots of blood on her legs. She tugged down her skirt, took off her shoes, and climbed off the car. Shaking her head, she walked to a shrub where a medium-sized bag lay hidden. She opened it and put on a pair of oversized workman’s boots and brown leather gloves. When she reached Berlinoz’s body, she placed her hands on her hips.
“The reason I prefer women over men is because women don’t think with their pussy as much as a man does with his dick. You were so predictable falling for my act, asshole.” She hunched over to roll the body into the river.
The entire process didn’t take that long. She rubbed wax on the hood of the car with a towel to wipe away any of the prints she may have left behind. When she’d finished, she took her purse and the bag and made deep impressions in the ground with the boots Gilberto had left behind.
A fifteen-year-old white Pontiac Sunbird she’d bought at a used-car dealership was parked farther down the path. Simply by dressing as an older, matronly woman with graying hair in a bun and saying she had only retired and needed a car had been too easy. No one thought it odd; they were happy to have the sale. It had been so easy to get fake identification and don a disguise to fool people, much like her Deborah had done.
Ah yes, her lovely, deceitful Deborah, who, in a day or two, she would be reunited with. She smiled as she drove away, fantasizing how their precious reunion would go. Each fantasy ended with Deborah motionless on the floor at her feet, covered in blood.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Deborah lay on the couch, lightly petting Rotquel, who lay her head on the cushion next to her hip. Bridgette sat on the coffee table in front of her, but she didn’t acknowledge her.
“Deb, you’ve been lying here for hours, staring into space. You’re starting to worry me.” Bridgette’s finger brushed her forehead and Deborah sighed, hiding her face in the pillow.
It still was so hard for her not to break down in tears, even a week after her mother’s death. Most of the time she lay in bed staring out the window, or napped. Bridgette had been a great support and spent most nights with her, making love late into the night and listening to her stories about her childhood.
She cried too many times to count as she told Bridgette about her marriage and the fear and confusion at the abuse she suffered. Bridgette held her, whispering soothing words in her ear and giving her kisses that ended up with them naked and making love. Not once did Bridgette recommend they use toys or any other instruments to heighten their experience together.
But the one kinky thing she enjoyed was tying Bridgette up. When she finally allowed Bridgette to do the same to her, she came so hard that she saw stars. And she never felt dirty or ashamed afterward.
Her lips lifted as she remembered last night, when Bridgette made her climax by simply licking and sucking her breasts.
“I love when you smile.” Bridgette cupped her cheek.
Love. What they had was too new and too soon for her to feel that way about her wonderful, generous lover with the red corkscrew curls. But it was very close to it.
She sniffed and sat up. Rotquel released a soft bark and left the room. “I haven’t had much to smile about lately.”
“You did just now. What were you thinking?” Bridgette sat next to her and twined their fingers together.
“You,” she said honestly. “And how wonderful you make me feel.”
Bridgette squeezed her hand. “I hope when you think of me you smile or at least you’re turned on.” She gazed at Deborah’s chest.
She pressed the back of her head on the couch and weakly chuckled. She closed her eyes, still tired, wondering if Bridgette would take a nap with her, when something brushed her cheek. She opened her eyes. Bridgette held up a bright-yellow paper.
“What’s this?” She grabbed it and scanned the page. The information listed was for a carnival starting tonight and into the weekend with rides, food, and crafts. She glanced at Bridgette in confusion.
“We should go.”
She dropped the flier on Bridgette’s lap and rubbed her face. “I’m not really up to it—”
“It would be good for you to get out and have some mindless fun.” Bridgette dropped her hand on Deborah’s knee. “From what you told me about your mother, she’d want you to go out and celebrate your life and not sit around, upset and depressed about her death.”
She should have felt some sort of anger at Bridgette’s statement, but she didn’t. She’d come to expect her outspokenness. She was right. Mom would want her to live for herself and not drown in unfortunate memories. “Okay. When do you want to go?”
“Yes!” Bridgette pumped her fist and gave her a loud, smacking kiss. She moved her face to Bridgette’s mouth, suddenly needing her lips on her own when Bridgette stood and clapped.
“How about tonight? It’s a fifteen-minute drive. It will be my treat.” Bridgette wagged her eyebrows. “It will be our first official date.”