Mommy's Dearest (Black Rose Book 3) Read online

  But his main reason for starting and ending his death ritual with the plastic wrap was because of how it enhanced their mutual experience as the victim suffocated. He could watch it all through the clear layer of plastic wrap: how their lips and tongue quivered and wiggled as they fought in vain for air. If he covered their mouth with his hand, well, he’d just miss the whole thing. As it was, he could watch them try desperately to break through the plastic with their tongue. Sometimes he’d even press the tip of his tongue to the plastic wrap so their tongues could play a little. It was his guilty pleasure and always got him hard as pure hell.

  It had started out as a fetish. When he had discovered a website that catered to his particular brand of kink, he felt like he finally belonged. Member profiles described the pleasure that could be derived from being wrapped up and made completely immobile. The sense of absolute containment made them feel secure, almost like being back in the womb.

  His first kill had been unintentional, though. He had long enjoyed autoerotic asphyxiation. He decided to take things a step further and experiment with breath play with a partner, a one-night stand he had met online. In his enthusiasm, he had gone too far and there had been no way back.

  They had been at it for a while, fucking brutally hard with him cutting off her air in increasingly long intervals. As he pumped into her like a jackhammer, he rested his weight on his hands as they’d clenched around her neck. When she suddenly began to writhe beneath him like a wild animal, he’d reveled in her struggles and had assumed she was climaxing. Then every muscle in her body seemed to seize. Even her pussy got in on the action as it squeezed his aching dick like a vice.

  When her body abruptly went slack beneath him, he’d thought nothing of it and continued thrusting into her. In fact, her continued ennui began to irritate him. He’d reached down and swatted her ass to get her attention. “Move!” he’d grunted as he pounded away, chasing his own release. But she hadn’t responded. A quick glance down had revealed the truth: what he’d thought was an orgasm had been her final, panicked struggle for air before he’d crushed her larynx. She had died while he wasn’t looking.

  When the sight of his cock slamming in and out of a dead body had gotten him even harder, he’d known he was onto something special. In that moment, something shifted within him. Fucking a corpse that had been murdered by his own hand became a fetish that he intended to indulge in at every opportunity for the rest of his life or until he got caught. And he had no intention of getting caught.

  Now he was experiencing a new, visceral kind of power. He was holding a city in the grip of fear, and it was intoxicating. Suddenly people were checking their doors and windows. Women looked over their shoulder when they walked down the sidewalk. Everyone was a potential killer, and everyone was a potential victim. He was enjoying the attention. The television and newspapers were talking about him nonstop. Overnight he had gone from someone nobody knew to celebrity status. He’d always known he’d be famous or, as in this case, infamous.

  He enjoyed the hunt almost as much as he did the killing and defiling of the corpse. He didn’t really have a type. It was more of a knowing. He would see a woman he just knew he had to have, then the game started. They never knew they were being watched, never knew their days were numbered, and they certainly never knew they would die at the hands of a madman.

  He liked the married suburbanites best. Those bitches were so bored and sexually starved, they were flattered when somebody gave them a little attention. He wasn’t a bad looking guy and he knew how to flatter a woman without coming on too strong. All he had to do was give her an appreciative glance in a grocery store, offer a charming answer to a question while standing in line at a pharmacy, or be a gentleman by offering to help load her groceries into her car. It was almost too easy, really.

  Yes, the married ones were the best. Having so much to lose made them even more desperate to survive. And when they were willing to say anything, do absolutely anything, to please him? He was only too glad to take them up on it.

  Chapter Four

  Teegan leaned in and lifted a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth when she heard the reporter say serial killer. So they’d given him a name now: Mummy Man. Well, it did fit him. She knew enough about the culture of kink to know about breath play. Her research on serial killers had led her to kink sites. Understanding how stalking, kidnapping, and bondage could be so interconnected had always intrigued her. She knew there were people with fetishes and they roleplayed stalking and kidnapping scenarios, but there were also those who thought nothing of taking things a step further by indulging in the real thing. There was no consent where that was concerned.

  It usually started innocently enough. They would see someone who fit the look they wanted, spotting them going about their daily life in a store, at a library, maybe on a street corner. An innocent, polite smile would convince the stalker there was a connection. Thus the hunt began until it escalated into full blown kidnapping and takedown.

  In the beginning it had surprised her that researching kink would open her up to the mindset of those who found pleasure in taking another’s life. She wasn’t sure why she was so interested in the criminal mind, only that she was. She was in her element when she was exploring the hidden corners of the criminal psyche, delving into darkness most people would do anything to avoid. But there was one rule she never broke: don’t let the killer get inside your head. More than once they’d tried and more than once she’d remembered that rule and stuck to it. She was strong, disciplined, determined, and on a mission.

  She got up and took the bowl to the sink, rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher. She looked out the window and for a moment the feeling that she was being watched made her frown. She leaned in, peering out the window as if she might see something in the darkness of the woods around her house. There was no evidence of any light coming from a flashlight, no obscure shadows lurking in the darkness. I’m just being paranoid. Perhaps too many hours of poring over books about killers was catching up with her.

  That thought brought to mind her message to Black Rose. She wondered if perhaps he’d responded by now. More so, if he had, what did he say? She trotted up the steps to her office, one of her favorite spots in her house. Notebooks and pens were neatly arranged on a desk blotter, next to her laptop. A bookshelf along the opposite wall housed a variety of fiction genres, textbooks, and reference books on serial killers.

  She booted up the laptop and walked over to the window. This time the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She couldn’t shake the prickly feeling that someone was watching her. She swallowed hard and hurried back to her desk, then sat down and pulled up the Black Rose blog. Nothing. She checked her e-mail. Her heart quickened when she saw an e-mail with the subject line ‘Spyware’. Oh shit. He knew.

  Six months ago she had tried her hand at setting up spyware on his computer. She’d been unsuccessful and had thought no more of it. Until now. She gulped and clicked on the message.

  Miss Crugar, how wonderful of you to come out of hiding and finally reveal yourself. I was wondering how long it would take you to contact me. Being that you had no problem attempting to voyeuristically intrude upon my personal space, I’m certain you’ll have no problem meeting me face to face. We will meet downtown tomorrow morning at The Beanery coffee shop, where we will explore your obsession with me. You will arrive at nine and you will not be late. You will come alone. You will tell no one. Tardiness or defiance will not be tolerated and will be met with severe consequences that I will delight in administering personally. If I have to come looking for you, I will make sure you regret it.

  Most Sincerely,

  Thomas Wentworth

  “The audacity. What a pompous asshole,” she hissed out to the empty room. “You arrogant jerk!” After the wave of anger passed, it suddenly hit her he had used a name and not the moniker Black Rose. There was no hint of fear. If that was his real name, he simply didn’t give a shit about her knowing his identity
. Balls of steel.

  Along with the surge of anger that clawed at her insides, there was an element of fear. How did he know her name? He knew about the spyware and no doubt he was displeased about that. She had hoped that perhaps they would correspond from a distance, but she had certainly never expected him to meet with her. His willingness to do so made no sense. He must have some reason to be confident that she wouldn’t go to the authorities. What could she really say though? She wasn’t aware of anything that conclusively connected him to the spate of recent murders, and nothing that proved he was a serial killer. But she might have his real name now. She Googled Thomas Wentworth and a plethora of information came up, including a photograph.

  The first thing that struck her was how handsome he was. In the first photo he was impeccably dressed in a black suit that did nothing to hide his athletic physique. Sandy blonde hair laced with deeper copper undertones framed a face that looked like it had been hewn by Greek gods just to torment the opposite sex. A smirk twisted the full lips. His jaw was darkened by several days’ worth of stubble. Almost a beard, but not quite.

  She bit her lip and shifted restlessly in her chair as his blue eyes gazed back at her. It was as if he was reaching through the lens of the camera and touching her…intimately. The gush of heat between her thighs had her imagining what it might be like to be touched by him.

  Despite his stunning looks and apparent wealth, there was something dangerous about him that made her core clench in anticipation. Anticipation of what, though? She’d fucked with a powerful man and now it was time to pay up. The only question was: what was he going to require of her?

  Chapter Five

  He chuckled as he watched her reaction to his e-mail. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of being a pompous asshole. Perhaps it was true, in a sense. He did have the attitude of a lifelong blueblood, but he’d adopted that arrogant demeanor to keep the world at a distance. He wasn’t in the habit of opening up to anyone and certainly not to those of the opposite sex.

  He watched her with open amusement as she frantically performed Google searches on his name. He could tell she liked what she saw. She thought he was handsome. That was a good thing, not because it fed his ego but because it would throw her off of her guard.

  Thomas Wentworth, much like his father, was all about control. Especially when it came to sex. There was something intriguing about Teegan that went far beyond her good looks; beyond her green eyes, perfectly arched eyebrows, and perfectly pert nose. Her long, glossy black hair hung straight as a stick until it brushed her waist. It would be perfect for wrapping around his fist so he could hold her nice and steady as he fucked her into submission. Teegan’s air of innocence made Thomas want to fucking defile her. He wanted to break her down, build her back up, and take her for his own. And that was exactly what he was going to do.

  She was his.

  Those beautiful eyes were his. Those luscious tits were his. He could practically smell her arousal as she shifted in her seat and subtly arched her back. That pussy was his too. She just didn’t know it yet. But when he slammed into her with all his might and felt that pussy wrap around his cock like a fist, she’d know.

  He’d done his research and knew she had no family or friends, not even a lover to complicate his plans. There was no one to miss her if he took care of the situation the way he wanted to and she simply fell off the face of the earth. She worked from home. She was a writer and seemed to be doing quite well. Perfect.

  She had started this little game she was playing and he was going to finish it. She’d made a huge error in judgment when she got on his radar with that spyware stunt. Not much intrigued Thomas anymore, but Teegan Crugar damn sure did. Her beauty aroused him. Her curiosity amused him. Her courage made him want to awaken her deepest fears. He of all people knew what an aphrodisiac fear could be.

  Thomas pushed down on his stubborn hard-on as he looked at the raven-haired woman who had taken on so much more than she ever bargained for. He was looking forward to meeting her in the flesh. Let the games begin.

  Chapter Six

  Mummy Man stepped back into the shadows and watched Teegan peer out the kitchen window. When he saw how quickly she pulled back and left the room, he smiled to himself. She could feel him. Well, of course she could; he wasn’t like other men and his interest in her was unlike anything she’d ever encountered before. It wasn’t at all surprising to him that she would sense him and, yes, even be drawn to him in the darkness.

  It didn’t worry him that she sensed his presence in the woods as he watched her. It pleased him. He could feel his cock jump at the thought of her connecting with him that way. He’d known she was special when he happened upon her at the library and overheard her talking to the librarian about serial killers. How could such a beautiful, innocent creature be captivated by such a dark subject? The way she had quoted Barbara Ehrenreich on the personal aspects of suburban killings had thrilled him. It had always been one of his favorite quotes. That’s how he knew she was his. They already shared a special connection and soon she would be his in every way.

  He had already prepared the outdoor cellar for her. The dirt cubicle would be her new home. For what he had in mind, she needed to be taken down a notch. She had to learn this wasn’t a game she was playing. The bogeyman was real. It was his responsibility to show her the error of her ways. She couldn’t play with fire and not get burned. He wasn’t sure whether he’d kill her or not. Part of him wanted to keep her, much like a collector might keep a doll on a shelf to look at. She was as pretty as a little doll, that was for sure. Could he make her love him? Perhaps if he kept her to himself long enough she would see their connection.

  Ah, there she was again but this time she was at the upstairs window. She was looking right at him, yet she couldn’t see him. So close and yet so far away. Could she feel him like he felt her? Did her body heat and tingle the way his did when she was near? Sometimes it took time for them to recognize the connection. He would take them away from everyone and everything they knew, wrap them up real tight, and show them what was truly important. Then he killed them.

  Sometimes it was in those final moments as they wordlessly begged for mercy, as their mouths gaped and sucked against the transparent plastic film, that they realized they had become one with their killer. Only then did they understand how much they needed him. They would leave this life feeling the surging power of his possession as he rutted away at their mortal shell. Such a beautiful moment.

  He wished he could see what she was searching for on the computer. It was okay though because soon they would be together. She had no one to protect her from the monsters she hunted. There was no one standing in his way; or so he thought.

  But…more than anything he wished she was married.

  Chapter Seven

  Teegan unzipped yet another dress and tossed it on top of the pile of clothes on the bed. Why did she care what he thought anyway? She was certain he wasn’t obsessing over what to wear. When you looked like you belonged on the cover of GQ, you didn’t have to care what anyone thought of you. She was sure he had no problem drawing women like bees to honey.

  She finally decided on a white shirt with snug jeans and heels. It was her ‘go to’ outfit when she didn’t know what to wear. She applied a light lip gloss and mascara, and then set out to meet the man that might just hold her future in his hands. She had broken the law by trying to stalk him via his computer. If she pissed him off, there was nothing stopping him from getting that information into the wrong hands. She just wanted to live a quiet life; she didn’t want any trouble.

  She took one last look around her kitchen before she left. She was obsessive when it came to the place being clean. The last thing she wanted to do was come home to a mess or a sink full of dirty dishes. After confirming that all was well, she shut the door and turned the deadbolt. As she strode to her car, she reminded herself that she really needed to get an alarm company to come out and install a securi
ty system for her.

  She pushed the button on her key fob and unlocked the door to her white SUV. It was her pride and joy. As soon as she put the vehicle in gear the doors automatically locked, securing her from the outside world.

  Fifteen minutes later she was downtown and pulling up to the hip little coffee shop that catered to Louisville’s college students, yuppies, and businesspeople alike. Free Wi-Fi and the best lattes in town drew in the masses. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  She felt him before she saw him. Going purely on instinct, she slowly turned her gaze to the right and was greeted by cold blue eyes. He let his insolent gaze travel the length of her, taking his time as he lingered shamelessly on the soft curves that intrigued him the most.

  “I took the liberty of ordering for you.” He stood and remained standing until she had lowered herself into the seat across from him. Great, a serial killer with manners.

  She looked down, slack-jawed, at the frothy chocolaty concoction and the double fudge chocolate chip muffin. How the hell did he know her favorite items on the menu?

  “Okaaay…I see you know more about me than I do you.” She forced herself to meet his gaze, knowing instinctively not to show him any hint of fear.

  “Not from a lack of trying, eh, Miss Crugar? Your curiosity is endearing, to say the least. Quite the risktaker, I see. I wonder, how far would you go if someone really tested your limits? Do your abilities extend only to your computer stunts, or do you have other, more intriguing skills?” He raised a sardonic brow. “You do realize it’s against the law to attempt attaching spyware to someone’s computer. I could press charges against you for attempting to gather information about my family business.”

  “We both know that’s not what I was trying to do!” Her oversized coffee cup rattled in the saucer. She released her grip and placed her hands flat on the table.