NOTE: Contains explicit material. Discretion is advised!


~ chapter eight ~

John backed Angela up, his lips caressing hers as her back became gradually more adjacent to the bed he had occupied since his stay. Without hesitation, he let his animalistic urges take control, something he had not done in quite some time, by pinning Angela to the bed by her wrists with her legs wrapped around him. When he broke the kiss, he looked down at her and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Don't be," she said, reaching up to the fourth button down on his crisp, clean white shirt. "I…I want to…"

"You do? Are you sure?" the detective asked, feeling himself getting harder in his slacks as his bulge rested against the warmth between her legs. Her panties were exposed to him, the skirt of her uniform hiked up due to the rough movements he was making.

She nodded, and that was his signal to lean down and begin to undo her buttons, caressing her neck with his lips until she let out a sigh of pleasure; he had found her sweet spot within minutes as his hands unbuttoned her maid's dress and began to reach beneath to feel her breasts through her strapless bra. They were not particularly huge, but just large enough to fit into the palms of his hands. She tossed her head back, grinding her hips against his as desire began to burn in her loins.

John reclaimed Angela's rosy lips again, taking in her drugging, sweet nectar as their tongues danced in tandem with each other. She could feel his calloused hands caressing the smooth paleness of the average-sized, pink-tipped swells on her chest. He moved lower, but before he could, Angela worked at undoing all of his buttons and unbuckling his belt to release the crisp fabric tucked beneath the band of his slacks. When John finally tossed his shirt on the floor, he leaned down and struggled to get Angela out of the maid's dress, taking the rest of the buttons out of the eyelets as she helped him take her arms out of the sleeves.

Now, she was just in her strapless white bra and near-soaked white panties. He was still wearing his pants, which he was aching to get off and release his rock-hard member from the confines of the stretchy fabric making up his boxers.

He pulled down the cups of her bra, making her moan as his mouth seized one of her rosy peaks blindly, his eyes closed as his tongue swirled each of the swelling buds. She sighed and moaned, running her fingers through his raven-black hair and feeling the gel that once kept it into place.

"Ah…ah…"

Pure lust coursed through John's veins as he used a free hand to reach down and feel the young woman's wetness through the fabric of her panties. Angela was breathless, especially when he reached in and felt around for the one spot that made any woman tingle and writhe in ecstasy. Her golden, silk flesh felt so tantalizing against his calloused, manly fingers, and as she grinded against him, he knew she wanted more and wanted to fulfill this desperately.

"A-Angela…"

"John…p-please don't stop…" she begged, feeling the band of her panties slide down both legs as he removed them.

But he didn't stop—in fact, he kissed up each thigh softly before sticking his tongue out against her most secret of places. The small patch of hair just above her fleshy mound did not bother him as he held her hips close to his face, the stubble on the lower half tickling Angela's thighs slightly as she writhed in sinful agony. Her panting grew noisier and noisier as he drunk in her musky sweetness, his tongue just barely entering her as she let out a cry for release.

"Ah! John!"

"Hm…" he moaned, continuing to pleasure her with his tongue. Her juices seemed to drip all over him, but he didn't care. When he traced his tongue strokes closer to her small bundle of sensitivity, she nearly screamed while gripping the sheets.

"Yes…yes! Oh…you're gonna make…me…ah…"

He kept going, using his lips to gently suck on it as her juices began to seep from the glistening womanhood his tongue was making love to. Without hesitation, he slid in a finger and pressed it upwards to a more secret, enigmatic spot that he knew would send chills through the brunette's body. Angela cried out and screamed, feeling the flush of her skin and the lust in her loins grow more intense as she felt like she was going to see white at any given moment.

"YES!"

In response to her cries, she felt his finger thrust in and out but no longer than before his lips came back up to hers, giving her a taste of herself. His finger was still inside her, and Angela did not let her inhibitions take over even as she reached in his pants and began to stroke his thick shaft.

"Oh…." he grunted.

With his finger still inside her wetness, her hand pulled out his member and she stroked it, feeling the thin, sensitive skin move up and down around his love muscle like a tight-fitting glove. Her thumb gently pressed against the tip, making him growl with lust as he took her hand away.

"I can't take it…I…I need it…"

"Do it," Angela whispered, "take me…"

At that moment, John replaced his soaked fingers with his even harder arousal, guiding himself slowly, inch by inch, into her molten center. In response to him filling her in one swift moment, Angela cried out in ecstasy, her nails digging into his sparse chest hair as she arched against him.

"Ah…ah yeah…"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine…I-I've done this before…" Angela said, feeling his hand caress her face.

"Oh yes…it feels so good…"

He began to thrust, feeling his loneliness fading away with each thrust into her. He could feel her walls tightening up around him, and her nails digging more into his skin. His lips searched upwards past her collarbone to her sweet spot again, making her cry out with bliss as he nails scoured their way to his shoulders and down to his back.

"John! Ah!"

"Yes…" he hissed through his teeth, his breath sharp as his thrusts grew more powerful in speed and pressure. His hands grasped her hips, feeling their curviness and fullness as he thrust forward, allowing her to accept as much of him as she could. By now, she was howling and moaning beyond any limit she had ever set on herself.

"Ah! AH!"

Her frenzied writhing was enough to drive him insanely wild as she arched her body willingly against him. As Angela kept crying to god for release with the sheets collected in her fists, he continued to thrust into her as he lifted her hips from the bed. Getting a better angle, he knew he was starting to lose control, feeling his warm, white-hot eruption clash like ocean waves against her fluid release all over his thick manhood.

He buried his face in her neck, making her moan from the sensation of his hot breath against her pale skin, but withdrew it as he pulled out of her, looking down at her with the strangest expression. Angela looked back up at him, and then down to her most secret of places—oh no, he thought, what have I done?

"I…I…"

"What?" Angela asked, knowing full well that he released inside her.

"…I feel…better…you're here."

"I'm here."

"Yes."

"I-Is this all you wanted me for?" she asked him, biting her lower lip as her eyelashes batted at him.

"N-No…I…I enjoyed it…I…"

Angela sat up and put her panties back on, taking them from where he tossed them; "then what?"

"I'm sorry." His response was unexpected, sounding guilty and shameful.

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong," she replied with her eyebrows slightly drawn inward.

John simply nodded, looking down at the lovely brunette he had just had the pleasure of becoming one with. Something inside him screamed guilt because he still loved Alex even though she left him with nothing but grief and divorce papers. He was alone without his children, both Holden and Scarlett, and Pamela had gotten angry at him, and she was the only one helping him solve the case. Angela, however, was different. She had voluntarily come in, willingly giving of her body for a moment's pleasure and his comfort from his loneliness. Yet there was something deeper—why couldn't he put his finger on it?

John lay down next to the young woman, who closed her eyes of exhaustion within moments. Twnety minutes into their shared slumber, he could have sworn he saw the figure of a suited man with a curl in the front of his head standing in the doorway of the bedroom area. He closed his eyes for a minute, shaking and trying to disregard it, and he was right to do so, because the next time he looked at the threshold, it was gone.


Angela ended up staying with John in the hotel room, but strangely enough, Pamela did not return. The two woke up the following morning just in time for her longest shift of the week, lasting fourteen hours that day starting at seven. She got into her clothes, and she noticed, strangely enough, that John hadn't even paid her any affection. They had sex the night before, and now it was just awkward.

So she left without a word.

Six hours into her shift, it was just past one in the afternoon; she was vacuuming a corridor on the third floor when she saw Donovan, the handsome man with penetrating ice-colored eyes, pale skin, and slicked brown hair, walking by worriedly. She glared at him, but kept her mind on her work despite her attention being drawn by a peculiar red band around his neck—what had happened to him?

"Excuse me." It was the man's voice; she heard him perfectly fine, but ignored him and pretended not to hear him over the loudness of the vacuum as it sucked dirt from the floor.

"Hey!"

Click. The vacuum went off.

"What?" Angela asked firmly.

"Got a minute?"

"Why?"

"Can you help me?" Donovan asked, looking into her eyes hypnotically. I've got no money, no friends I can crash with—"

"You come to me for help?" the maid asked. "The nerve."

"Look, I just came back. I'm actually trying to find my mother. Do you know where she is?" he asked.

"Why the hell should I tell you? Even if I did know where she is right now?" Angela snapped. "I saw the way you treated her, you piece of shit!"

"You don't know me! So shut up and listen!" he responded aggressively. "I don't even have a room at this hotel. I have got nothing. No one.

"I have no pity for someone like you. Now, get lost!" the dark-haired woman said in a vicious hiss, turning the vacuum back on only to click it off again and start ranting at him for his awful, abusive behavior toward Iris.

"You think you've tasted humility being out on the streets, laying in the shit and piss and all the world's waste dumped on you? You haven't even BEGUN to taste shit!" she continued, her feline-blue eyes cold and angry at him with hatred and odium.

"How the hell would you know, sassy-pants?" Donovan asked with gritted teeth.

"I could have died being bulimic those four years! It didn't help my mom was a deadbeat who didn't look after me!" she stated harshly, pointing her finger at him while fearlessly making eye contact. "You should be ashamed of yourself for abusing your mother like that! What the hell makes you think she deserves that?"

"I abused her?" Donovan asked with sarcasm in his voice.

"I know abuse when I see it, you," Angela barked. "I may have come from a broken household, but I've seen my fair share of it. You are the worst I've seen. Down the road, you may find someone who treats you better, screws you better, or even someone who makes you laugh more than cry. But you'll NEVER find anyone who loves you as much as she does! She's given her life for you, and damn it, it wouldn't surprise me she's got no life left to live because of you!"

Donovan looked down at her, feeling shameful for the abuse he projected at his mother last he saw her. He sighed, shaking his head and looking down at his square, pale hands. Angela felt better letting him know how she felt, but she felt that on the grand scale of things, her opinion was just another person talking and giving him a hard time. She did not care, however.

"I have to find her," he sighed. "I…I have to apologize."

"I hope she forgives you," Angela said firmly.

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"You're around her more," he said with mild suggestion. "When did you last see her?"

"Yesterday, why?"

"Oh geez," Donovan said. "I…I wonder if she's with Sally."

"Sally? The druggie?"

"Yeah."

"Well…."

"Let's go!"

He grabbed her arm, and off they went down the hall, booking it as fast as they could up a flight of stairs to where Sally's permanent residence was. Donovan didn't even seem out of breath, but Angela felt her hair being slowly disheveled with each gapped step she took in her run to the room he was aiming for. The door was closed, so he banged on it really hard with his fist.

BANGBANG!

It opened—Sally held a magazine in her hand, looking at the two with an annoyed squirm. His voice seemed distressed, but the addict was unfazed.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Where's my ma?" he questioned frantically.

"She's asleep. She's out cold," Sally said with morbid suggestivity. "Come back later."

"There is no later, you bitch!" Angela fumed. "What the hell did you do to her?!"

"I didn't do anything." Sally smirked sinisterly, seeing and letting Donovan barge into her apartment and rush to find Iris. "Nothing she didn't ask me to do."

Angela's jaw dropped, her kitten heels clacking against the old wooden floor and mushing into the aged carpet beneath them—"you wouldn't dare!"

"No, no…" She could hear him muttering, almost breaking down into tears, but once Angela walked toward the bedroom area of Sally's haunted suite, the horror became real.

Her feline-shaped blue eyes grew as she saw what looked to be Iris' body, laying with her head propped on a pillow and her hands crossed over her sizeable torso as if being laid to rest in a coffin lined with plush silk. What was even more shocking was the fact that there was a bag fit snugly over her head, plastic still clinging to her nostrils and her parted lips. Angela looked, her hands covering her mouth as tears began to fill her eyes; yet an ocean flew from Donovan's as he went on the bed to try and help her.

"No, no," he began to sob, resting his head on his mother's fresh corpse. "No! She…she can't be dead! She's all I've got. Oh PLEASE, NO!"

"Oh, come on," Sally droned, lighting a fresh cigarette and taking a puff. "You told her you wanted her dead."

"How could you?!" Angela asked forcefully, tears streaming down her cheeks as her voice became a scream. "You bitch! I can't believe you would—"

"Dono, what are you doing?" Sally interrupted, looking at the man who was crying over his mother's body remorsefully. "No, don't do that!"

Angela looked in shock, seeing that Donovan had pulled back his sleeve and took out a pocket knife with a large-than-average blade embedded into the hilt. He took the blade to his pulse point, slicing through every layer of skin down to the nearest, freshest vein. The maid was horrified, petrified by the sight as she watched Donovan let his own blood drip down onto his mother's parted mouth.

Inside she was screaming. She was officially disturbed. This was it; there was no way for her psyche to return back to normal. She heard him speaking to her as if she were a baby. He hated her, she thought, I think he's realized his wrongs.

"Come back, Ma…"

Drip…drip…drip…

As more blood stained Iris' cold, stiff lips, he continued to encourage his mother back to life with sobs and thick, oxygen-rich blood dripping on her lower face—"come back to me…come back…please…please, ma…I love you…I'm sorry…I-I'm so s-sorry…"

Angela felt Sally's presence coming closer to her and smelling the temptation of another cigarette as she continued to watch in shock and unfathomable horror—Iris' lips started to move, but her eyes had not opened.

"There you go, ma…" Donovan smirked with a chuckle of hope, "….there you go….yeah…"

Angela heard Sally whispering, and when they made eye contact, she could fully understand what she was saying despite the shock of the moment.

"Now there's some twisted poetic justice, don't you think?" the ghost asked.

Just recently, he had exhibited such horrible emotional and verbal abuse to his mother, who seemed to have a hard shell disguising a mushy, soft, sensitive center. Angela was beyond appalled at the sight of Iris' lips drinking up her son's blood from his slit wrist.

She could see her fingers moving, but just after, her eyes suddenly opened—the maid did nothing except scream with horror.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


~ a/n ~

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