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His cum lands on my tongue, but his aim is bad. As he grunts and lets go, his cum soaks my chin, cheeks, and a good portion of his pants. I’m pretty sure he’s given up trying to aim at this point.
But his eyes hold mine through it all, revealing an intensity that I haven’t felt in a long time. I close my mouth and swallow, showing him my tongue again before I stand. “Salty.”
He chuckles, still looking between us as he tries to catch his breath. A hand settles on my hip, and I turn in time to find Vinny leaning over to wipe my cheeks and chin. He draws the damp cloth over my skin, looking me over carefully before turning and handing it to Sterling.
There’s that cute blush again. He clears his throat and accepts the towel, but he won’t look at us. Before I can question that, Vinny taps my other side with something, and I glance over my shoulder to see a cup of coffee.
Sneaky fucker.He must’ve grabbed it when he went for the towel. I accept it, sitting down on the couch as he turns and heads back towards the kitchen. Taking a sip it’s got the perfectamount of cream and sugar, just like it always does. It’s a little cool, but things kind of got away from us.
“Coffee, Sterling?”
Vinny looks back at us from the kitchen, making another cup as he watches us. There’s plenty of time while he stands there to brew one more, and I look curiously between the two men as I take another sip.
Outside, both these men scream control. But here, when we bare our skin to each other, it looks like Sterling will bow to Vinny’s dominance. And I can’t wait to see what submission looks like on him, no matter how fucked up that might make me.
Chapter 3
Vinny points me towards the downstairs bathroom to clean up, and I take my time collecting my thoughts after the surprising visit. When I return to the kitchen I find the coffee cup waiting for me, and while I’m sitting there taking a sip my phone buzzes. It’s Gabe, giving me an update I already expected, and it makes me groan as I grip the mug.
How did I let the two of them distract me like this? There are serious things happening and getting tangled up with a married couple isn’t something I have time for right now. Not to mention a married couple who are knee-deep into our investigation. There’s a killer on the loose, and we need to go over the details of the murder to decide if the killer is Porscha or Alastair. Orboth.
Fuck me. This is getting out of hand. These two almost took off back to Colorado, and then the breakout changed their plans again. Weeks spent toiling away in Florida makes no difference when the case isn’t moving.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I try and not throw the phone. Porscha came out of the shadows like a literal ghost, upending everything we thought we knew about the CitrusGrove Slayer. The victimology is twisted, and some things make sense if the original killer was a woman but not everything…
“You should sound more grateful,” Vinny says, returning to the room upstairs first. I shove my phone into my pocket and glance his way, watching as he crosses to the coffee machine and starts another cup. “I could’ve made you wait.”
I clear my throat, images from a few minutes ago rolling through my head. This is not how I expected to spend the afternoon. “I didn’t come over for a show.”
He chuckles, dropping in a spoonful of sugar before the coffee starts to pour into his cup. He turns, reaching into the fridge to pull out the milk. “I know you didn’t,Agent. You’re something Jo wanted, so I offered you to her. I don’t see you complaining.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Vinny was always a bit of an enigma, not in the same way Alastair was years ago. Alastair didn’t fit in, he had quirks and oddities that caused him to stick out in memorable ways. Vinny was popular, handsome, and his family had history throughout the town and through central Florida. He had a presence, but he never masqueraded as a carbon copy of his father Massimo.
I save myself from responding by taking another long sip of the coffee, and he just smirks while he waits.
Vinny shakes his head as he looks away from me. “You’re so serious, Sterling. You remind me of Edwin sometimes.”
I frown. Every time these two mention my father it’s negative. He’s not the easiest person to work with, but he did do a lot of good work. I didn’t think he was that hard on either of them during the interrogations, no more so than any other suspects. Until Jo was abducted and nearly killed they were just two faces in a long list of suspects, though they were never viable candidates. Dad just had no leads. “You don’t like my father though, Vinny.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” he replies, glancing down at the coffee. It finishes brewing and the machine makes a little dinging noise that would drive me mad after a day or two. He studies the color of the drink, looking satisfied with it, and places the milk in the fridge again. “You do work for the FBI, don’t you?”
“Asking rhetorical questions-”
“You should dig around through Daddy’s old file,” he continues, picking up the mug. “If you can’t find any complaints, someone destroyed them.”
My frown deepens. I’ve heard Jo mutter some things about Dad, but to be honest most of the time I just dismiss them. “What are you talking about?”
He just shakes his head. “Do your own research, Agent. Don’t tell me you’ve turned a blind eye to Daddy Dearest?”
“I’m working on the case,” I remind him. “The one with Jo’s attacker, remember? That’s my priority, Vinny, not some old notes about my dad’s past.”
“They could be the same,” he replies with a shrug. “If you haven’t looked into it, how do you know?”
I bite my tongue and look away, chugging the rest of my coffee instead. I’m not oblivious; Dad wasn’t a saint. I asked Gabe to look into things at one point, see if any of the past complaints might be tied to the Copycat. He vaguely mentioned Jo’s name on the long list of unhappy witnesses, but he didn’t go into detail.
If I looked into my father’s past, I would obsess over anything he might have done wrong. I can’t be distracted like that with a sixth victim popping up and two killers lost in the wind. Even if Porscha wasn’t the original Citrus Grove Slayer, she could be taking up the mantle and idolizing the former killer. It’s twisted, but obsessions rarely make sense.
Vinny’s phone rings, and I glance around expecting to see Jo. She still hasn’t returned since Vinny handed her a coffee and the two of them went upstairs. Maybe she doesn’t plan to.