Call Me Killer (11 page)

Griff

The next morning was Saturday, so I didn't have to go to work. I awakened to the delicious smell of coffee. I must have been having some sort of erotic dream because my cock was so hard it actually hurt. I could smell Rory's scent on the sheets and the pillows.

I staggered naked into the bathroom to piss, then into the kitchen for coffee. Rory was at the computer, of course. She lived there.

“Good morning,” she said, sounding all chirpy.

“Is there something you don't understand about the words 'get the fuck out of my place'?”

Her face fell about ten stories. I gave her a good hard glare, then allowed my mouth to relax into a grin. “Gotcha.”

She leapt up from the comfy chair and rushed over to pummel me with her fists, laughing. She grabbed me, flung her arms around me and nestled close. “I thought you didn't want me,” she whispered into the hollow of my throat. I put her hand on my cock so she could see how inaccurate that supposition was.

I detached her with warnings of hot coffee spills, and ordered her back to bed. She raised no objections.

We stayed there most of the day. At one point she slowly traced my entire body with her hands and eyes, seeming so concentrated on what she was doing that I finally asked her about it.

“I'm memorizing you.”

“Why? I'm right here.”

“I know, but I want to keep you in my mind. You know, for later.”

For later when she was no longer with me. “I wish we could actually do that,” I said, thinking of Hadley. And Sean. “Memorize someone and keep them with us that way.”

She smiled. “I sorta can. I don't know if it'll last forever, though.” She looked sad.

I wasn't sure what she meant, so I asked, “Do you really have a photographic memory?”

She nodded. “It's a freakish thing. People think it would be cool to remember everything, but believe me, it's not.”

I wasn't sure if she meant she could literally remember everything.

“They still don't understand it, you know. Neurologists, psychologists. Some of them say it doesn't exist. But I did real well in most subjects because all I had to do was read a book and I could see the whole thing in my mind. The words, the pictures, everything. I can even flip the pages. It's like my brain indexes everything and I can pull up any page whenever I want. Sometimes it's creepy. I mean, there's stuff you read that you might not want to remember.”

I tried to get my head around this. “You mean that anything you see, any experience you have is held permanently in your memory?”

“Not exactly. I have to concentrate. Totally focus. But once it's in there, I can almost always recall it. If I don't concentrate, it's more like regular memory, I guess. Although I do remember a lot of shit. It's called eidetic memory. I'm not really all that brilliant, you see. I just have a remarkable memory.”

“You said you had an IQ of 204.”

“That was true, but who knows how accurate those tests are. I test well. My brain works fast and I can analyze stuff. See patterns. But it might be because I'm young. I don't know how long it'll last. In fact, I think I'm not as good at remembering things now as I was a few years ago.” In one of her abrupt mood changes, she smiled at me, the teasing light coming into her eyes. “When I'm as ancient as you, I probably won't remember shit.”

“Hey! I'm only twenty-four.”

“Yeah, but aren't guys supposed to hit their sexual peak at nineteen?”

“Let's see how long you remember this,” I drawled, as I started tonguing her again.

Rory

It’s hard to articulate how happy Griff made me.

I wanted to grin and giggle and laugh all the time.

I don’t know what it was about him. About us. About being together. It felt so natural. So right.

I tried not to think too much about it because once I got logical and, yes, sensible, I knew it’d probably all fly to pieces. I had to dwell in the moment. In the
now
.

I’d never had a lover like him. The guys I knew might all get top grades in stuff like math and physics and bioengineering, but Griff was some kind of champion at fucking. And he really knew his way around a girl’s vagina.

The few men I’d boned had made it all about them. Their dicks, which I was supposed to admire. Their ability to last a long time, no matter how dry I was as they rasped in and out of me. Or, if they couldn’t last, their ability to get hard again soon.

Arousing me and bringing me to orgasm was something they wanted, yeah, but most of them had no clue about how that was done. It was kinda up to me. I was supposed to be all hot and slick and ready to go as soon as they unzipped. I was supposed to come before they did so they could take pride in that and maybe brag to their friends. I was supposed to want to fuck like a bunny with little effort from them and tell them afterward what great lovers they were.

Seriously, sex was easier with a vibrator. It didn’t have any feelings. No ego to stroke. And it pretty much worked all the time.

Anyway, I’d come to the conclusion that I was bad at partnered sex. I’d thought maybe I should even try it with another woman. At least she would understand how my body worked. But I wasn’t attracted to women, which I often thought was a shame. Life would be a lot easier if I didn’t have to deal with the male of the species.

But Griff was proving me wrong about that.

He was about as alpha a male as I could imagine—bad boy tough. The kind of dude I could easily envision on a big old motorbike with leather duds stretched over his hard muscles and his vest open to show off his badass tats, of which he had quite a few.

Weren’t guys like that supposed to be rough, selfish lovers who knew even less about pleasuring a woman than a book-loving, sexually-informed nerd?

Apparently not.

“Lie back and spread those pretty legs for me,” he said after breakfast when we climbed back into his big bed. “I need to taste you.”

I scrambled to obey. There was something about his low, husky voice that made me soft and juicy every time he spoke to me. Especially when he gave me orders. No one had ever done that and it was super hot.

He kissed and licked his way up the inside of my legs, holding me down with one hand on my hip when I started thrashing. I could feel myself all puffy and swollen down there, and that yearning ache in my belly that was almost a cramp of desire—that edge of high-tension discomfort that both hurts and feels incredibly good at the same time.

He nuzzled in deep between my legs and started licking the lips of my pussy. I reached down and grabbed his hair, pulling him in closer, deeper. There was something sweet about the way he ministered to me. He could be forceful and domineering in bed, but even so, he touched and kissed me as if I were a rare and special being whom he wanted to nurture and cherish.

I arched practically off the bed when his tongue pushed right up inside me, fluttering and thrusting while the rest of his mouth sucked on me. He was fucking me with his tongue, and it was amazing. I could hear myself moaning and making a series of anguished little cries as he scratched his fingernails along my wide-spread thighs.

He paused long enough to say, “You taste so delicious. So fucking good. I want you to come on my tongue, babe. I want to feel your pussy throbbing on every damn part of me. My cock. My fingers. My tongue. Hell, I’d even stick my toes in there if it could give you pleasure.”

I laughed and tugged on his ear. “You’re into feet?”

“I’m into you, babe. Every part of you.”

He switched his tongue to my clit while he thrust a finger into my pussy. His tongue did things I didn’t think a tongue could even do. He pressed back the hood of my clit and exposed all the most sensitive nerve endings to his subtle stimulation.

He lapped at me. Nipped me. Tormented me. It felt as if every part of my body that could feel erogenous was engaged by him. It was full-blooded loving. Complete.

He reached up with his free hand and stroked my breasts and my quivering belly.

The hand then slid higher and caressed my jaw, my cheeks, my lips. He slid a finger into my mouth and I sucked on it while thrashing my hips to his rhythm. His bare flesh between my open thighs, his breathing, hot and fast, his low voice urging me on:

“That’s it, Rory, you’re so fucking hot. Come for me now, babe. I need to feel you melt. I wanna hear you scream.”

My clit, all open and exposed and electric beneath his tongue was sending shards of pleasure into every cell. I think I did scream as it built higher and higher and the climax crashed into me. I felt myself go all stiff for a split second before my entire body started to throb.

It was like that all day long.

We couldn’t get enough.

We fucked lying down and sitting up. On the kitchen table and up against the wall. I knelt while he held my head by the hair and I practically swallowed his cock. He came on my breasts at one point, after ordering me to hold them up to him so he could massage himself between them. When I teased him for being a boob man, he laughed and spanked me, claiming he was more of an ass man, and that he particularly liked a nice red ass. We showered together and did it yet again against the tile shower wall with water streaming down all over our shuddering bodies.

We napped for a while between orgasms, and didn’t drag ourselves up and into our clothes until we were both weak with hunger and low blood sugar.

It was one of the happiest days of my life.

Griff

I offered to take her out to dinner that night, since we'd eaten everything she'd cooked the night before. I was a bit relieved when she accepted. I hadn't forgotten the way she'd dismantled her cell phone. I still wasn't sure what she was running from, but it probably wasn't the cops if she was willing to go out in public.

We went to a not-too-expensive steak house in town. It was Saturday night, so the place was crowded, but we got there late enough that we didn't have to wait for a table. After we'd ordered, she started in again on me about Hadley: “Do you think one of those edge play people killed her?”

She asked the question as if the conversation we'd had last night had only happened five minutes ago. I didn't want to talk about it, but since she hadn't plagued me about Hadley for almost 24 hours, I decided to cut her some slack.

“I’m sure the detectives interviewed the members of that crowd. They kept it quiet, though. Her family didn't want that line of investigation to catch the attention of the press. It was bad enough that she'd been dating a townie like me without word getting around that she was into the rough stuff.”

“They didn't make an arrest.”

“No. As you've discovered yourself, she vanished without leaving any evidence.”

Rory mused about this, and then followed up with what seemed like a non sequitur: “Is there a place around here called Reef Hill? Or a company with that name?”

“Not that I know of.”

“There are hills here, but reefs, I don't think so. We're pretty far from the sea.”

“I've never heard of it, but it’s not like I know the names of every company around here. Why?”

She made a vague gesture. “I ran across the phrase in an email I was reading.” She seemed to be looking inward, and I wondered if she was visualizing the email in her memory. “It could also be an organization or a club of some sort, I guess. The name struck me as odd, that's all.”

“You're hacking people's emails?”

“Just the people she corresponded with at the college, and at the places where she volunteered.”

“It was over a year ago. That stuff is still available?”

“Some is. You'd be amazed at the length of time some files stay on servers.”

There was a stir at our end of the restaurant as a large party came in. They were seated at a spot where several tables had been pushed together. I didn't pay much attention, but Rory straightened up like a hunting dog on point. “I know that guy,” she said softly. “I was looking at his picture earlier today.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see who she was talking about. Among the new party was a tall man with dark brown hair. I recognized him, too. “That's Silas Marks. He's one of the local tech entrepreneurs. A billionaire, probably.”

“And he eats in the local steakhouse?”

“Sometimes. I've even seen him drinking in the local bars. Him and Alec Cranmore, another local success story. I think they like to maintain good community relations.”

She studied Marks with considerable interest. “I figured he'd be older. And not so smoking hot.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s probably got a girlfriend. Or a whole pack of them.”

“That doesn't make him any less hot.”

I jerked a couple of fingers toward my own eyes. “Keep that eager gaze of yours right here, babe. Or you'll be in heaps of trouble when we get home.”

She grinned and obeyed. “I'm going to remind you of that threat later.”

I was liking the way she was responding to me. Liking it very much. Liking
her
. She was sweet, passionate, and fun to be with. Her intellect stimulated my mind and made me remember that there’d been a time, before the Hadley mess had happened, when I’d been excited about college and about learning. A time when I’d had dreams of a better future than the one that was facing me now.

Over our steaks she returned to the subject, asking me to tell her more about Silas Marks. She'd been checking him out whenever she thought I wasn't looking. “Did Hadley know that Marks dude?”

“She may have done some volunteer work for one of his foundations. Or maybe it was one of Cranmore’s foundations. I get them mixed up.”

Yeah, like who the fuck was I to keep track of which billionaires ran which freaking charities?

“Remind me about Cranmore?”

“It was his ancestors who founded this town. There used to be cloth factories in Cranmore Crossing, down by the river and the railroad tracks. Those were owned and run by the Cranmore family back in the 19th century.”

She nodded. “But today's Cranmore is a software baron, right? Those old mill buildings got refurbished and turned into corporate headquarters for his technology company, right?”