Fifteen
Erin's breath caught in her chest. She hadn't left her door open. She reached for the pistol that should have been at her hip. Nothing. She closed her eyes a moment to run through her options.
She had the pepperbox in her purse. That would be enough. She took it out of its holster and hefted it in her hand. Quickly practiced pulling it up into line, and then dropped it to the floor. Finger off the trigger. Safety off. Okay. She put her shoulder down and knocked the door open hard enough to hurt if someone was hiding behind it.
The door knocked loudly into the wall as she sailed past, checking the inside corner before continuing. Nothing in the kitchen area. Nothing in the living area. Nothing in the dining area. The front room was empty. Which left the uncomfortable choice. Bathroom or bedroom? She'd have to walk right past the open door to one to get at the other.
Too dangerous. Too dangerous by a long shot. Erin pressed her back against the wall, surveyed the room. Empty. It was time to pick. She turned back into the hall and shouldered open the door to the bedroom, brought the pistol up hard.
"Honey, I'm home."
Craig smiled at her from his seat at the head of the bed, his back pressed against the headboard.
Erin cursed. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought you wanted to see me," he said, mimicking a pout. "Are you saying that you don't want to spend time with me any more?"
"I'm saying that you don't get to come into my apartment any time you damn well please."
"But it was so fun."
"Get out. You want to come see me, you tell me first."
"Fine. Here, I thought I was doing you a favor here. Trying to teach you an important lesson about personal safety."
He slipped off the bed as she told him to get out, slowly taking the walk across the room. He stepped closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall, their bodies pressed together.
Erin could feel the gun pressed between them, as well. She wanted to pull the trigger. Wished that she had, more than ever. This was the guy who did it. She was sure. It was definitely the guy.
"Where you been, out in a dress like this?"
"It was laundry day," she answered. "Get out of my apartment."
Erin's phone buzzed.
"What's that?"
"Nothing."
"No," Craig laughed. "I'm pretty sure it wasn't nothing. You got someone texting you? One of your girlfriends, maybe?"
"Maybe," she answered. "Get out of my apartment."
Craig reached between them, forcing a gasp out of Erin's lips as he ran a hand up her thigh, grazing over her mound. Even through the fabric of her dress, she could feel the desire already mounting.
His hand kept moving until it closed around the barrel of her pistol. She should have fought for it, but she didn't. Instead she let Craig take it. He stepped back a bit, turned his hand over.
"Nice piece." He tossed it on the bed. "I just came by because I realized I hadn't tried your mouth yet."
"I told you to get out."
"But you're not going to make me, are you?"
"Fuck you. Get out."
"Get on your knees." Craig's voice didn't raise, and he didn't sound angry, but the way he said it made her obey.
He unzipped his cock. The memory of that cock inside her, only a couple hours ago, made her head go a little bit light.
"You know what to do next," he growled.
Had her sister done this same thing? Erin wondered. She forced herself not to think about it. Instead, she took it in one hand, jerking it experimentally. Craig took a fist-full of her hair and started pushing. She hated it. Or, she should have. She knew she should have, even as she took his cock deeper in her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around the head.
Instead, she found herself preening when she heard him whisper "Oh, fuck."
She found herself wanting it. This wasn't right, she wasn't like this. But it didn't change that she started bobbing her head faster, deeper, anything to get him to lose control just a little bit more. To feel herself getting the control she wanted.
"God damn, girl."
She slurped and sucked as hard as she could, pulling him out of her mouth with a soft pop. "Do you like that?"
His fingers dug into her hair harder. "Shut up and suck my cock."
She shut up and sucked his cock, bobbing her head. Enjoying the feeling of him thrusting back to meet her even as she resented the hell out of herself for it. She shouldn't have enjoyed this. The guy was exactly who she didn't need to get involved with, but here she was, kneeling and acting like his personal slut.
She could feel his movements getting less rhythmic, could feel him trying to force harder as he approached his climax. He held her head still, now, fucking her face, his cock trying to penetrate her throat with every thrust. He pushed in deep and she could feel him spasming as he sent rope after rope of cum shooting down her throat.
She came up coughing as he pulled himself out in time to shoot another rope of cum that traced a line from her chin down to where her pretty dress covered her tits.
"Good girl."
Erin growled. "Get out of my apartment."
"I'll be back," he said. "I'll see you next time."
She leaned back against the door, more angry with herself for looking forward to it. What the fuck was wrong with her? This wasn't about sex, and it certainly wasn't about relationships.
She was trying to catch the bastard who was killing these women. Craig showed every sign of being capable of it. She reached her hand down, pulled her dress up. Instead, she was like a bitch in heat.
She didn't waste any time with getting herself ready. She was already as ready as she could be. If he'd decided to come back in and please himself with her pussy—she pushed the thought away. It wasn't about him. Wasn't about what he wanted.
She needed to feel release, needed the sweet oblivion of an orgasm to wipe away the arousal that she didn't want to feel any more.
Her fingers moved in quick, short circles, forcing the orgasm out through her fingers. Forcing the pleasure out of herself. She let out a soft moan, and then a louder one. It didn't matter if he left the door open. The only thing that mattered was what she needed, now.
She could feel her orgasm approaching fast. She pinched a sensitive nipple, another shock of pleasure to add to the whirlwind of need that was building up in her belly as she played with her pussy.
Her body got tense as she raced over the edge of oblivion, circling her clit hard and fast and chasing the pleasure as far as the trail would go. Finally she slumped over.
She needed to get out of these clothes, and she needed to catch that son of a bitch Craig for what he'd done to her sister.
If he'd done anything like that to her—Erin couldn't think of it. Her sister wouldn't have enjoyed it like she had. Becca was the good girl.
Erin was the bitch, and sometimes bitches enjoyed things they shouldn't.