Palmer Ch. 08


It was a clink and rattling sound. Keys. Keys in the door. Not their door. Roxanne's door. He hadn't realised the surveillance loudspeaker was still on. It conveyed every noise.

The adrenaline hit Palmer like a shot in the arm. His recently spent cock surged once again in Sandra Wilson's creamy sex. She groaned softly, but was just as alert.

"Giovanni?" Wilson whispered as Palmer sprung naked off her prone body. She was up beside her, both digging their guns from their discarded clothing.

Palmer didn't answer. If he were a dog, his ears would be on point. He crouch-ran to the door, his cock bouncing out before him. If it was Giovanni, he wasn't going to let the bastard get away.

And a voice filtered over the speakers. A soft voice with a bright laugh. "OK, mum, just got home... Talk to you later... Bye bye!"

It was Roxanne. She really was alive.


"It's yours," Erin whispered. "All yours. Take it, darling. Show me how much you want this."

Kelli nodded. Erin was right. This man was hers. His cock was hers. She wanted it. She needed it. She'd have it.

"Show me," the American woman whispered again. "Show me how good you can be."

The blonde nodded again. Her eyes told Erin she was ready. Lying back, she spread her long, shapely legs. That was it. Show him what he wanted. A finger found its way to her wetness and returned it to her mouth, sucking in her sweet nectar.

"Want it?" she provocatively asked, holding it out to him.

From somewhere, she was infused with a sexual confidence stronger than she'd ever felt in her life.

Watching Dominic's face change to a lustful snarl, she realised how much in control she was. He thought he was going to fuck her, but she was the one in control. Come into my web, said the spider to the fly.

His cock seemed to grow another couple of inches as he sucked the outstretched finger. Wasting no time, her hand took his and dragged him onto the bed. Taking the initiative, she pushed him onto his back.

His long, thick shaft thrust skyward. Ready for action. Her mouth watered. Her sex tingled. She'd have his cock in her in a few seconds. She desperately needed that.

Throwing a shapely leg across his hard stomach, she settled herself. Her hand reached behind her. Pulling his hard cock forward, she slid backwards, guiding him against her glistening opening. Yesssss.

At first she allowed just his crown inside, resting for a moment just to savour the moment. This wasn't Jack's cock. It was someone else's. Not just anyone. It was Erin's husband's.

For some reason, the thought sent another surge of arousal through her.

Erin was suddenly behind her, sliding her apple-shaped breasts against her back, the older woman's hands pulling on her dark nipples. She loved it, but it was this man she was focusing on. This man and the wonderful cock now edging further into her tightness.

The journey downwards sent excruciating sensations through her body. She savoured each, slow thrill. Then she had him all, completely sheathed in her wetness. He moaned. So did she. She began to move, experiencing another man's cock inside her for the first time since she'd met Jack. It felt wonderful.

Her undulations forced more grunts from the captive beneath her. Leaning forward, her hands gripped his chest, running through the hairy covering. She pulled on the little hairs, making him snarl with the delicious pain.

Suddenly, Erin was moving to her side. No, in front of her. A brief bolt of anger flared inside her. This man was hers. To do with what she would. She didn't want any interference.

But wait. Erin had something else in mind. She was facing her, snaking a hand around the blonde's neck. Kelli accepted the long kiss as the American woman lowered herself onto Dominic's face.

That was acceptable. It was very nice, in fact. She kissed the woman passionately. Very fucking nice...

Kelli thrust down faster, enjoying the sensation of Erin's flicking tongue in her mouth, loving the experienced female hands all over her tits. But it was the cock filling her that satisfied her most. Dominic was just big enough to hit all the proper places without hurting her. Perfect.

He had great stamina, too. Helped by his earlier orgasm. She came twice before she even sensed he was close, crying out into Erin's soft mouth.

Suddenly, her control came to an end. Erin was moving away. Her husband was rolling her onto her back. She widened her legs for him, but he grabbed her by the ankles instead. With a rough yank upwards, he settled them across each shoulder.

Yesssss. This worked, too. He was going to fuck her and she so desperately needed to be fucked.

"Do it," she grunted, heaving her ass upwards. "Fuck me..."

His face was a snarl. A lustful snarl. His mouth was sensuously covered in his wife's juices. He looked like an animal. A predator.

"Come on," she impatiently growled at him. "Fuck me..."

He thrust hard. One hand held her legs around his neck. The other savagely gripped her left breast. Leaning forward, he began to drive into the helpless young woman.

Kelli's face twisted with each thrust. She loved the way he used her. Like a whore. A bitch in heat, being taken by her new master. As helpless as she was, she jammed her hips back against him.

But it was the grey haired man who now had the power. That godlike sensation he always felt when claiming his territory. It had happened with Roxanne. And Erin before her. And now this blonde.

She'd make a worthy successor. Roxanne would soon be dead and the woman underneath him would take her place as the jewel in his crown. She was proving herself worthy of the position. Yes, she was inexperienced. Yes, she was raw. But Erin would mould her.

So would he.

For a few seconds, he paused. Adjusting position, he allowed his new servant to drop her legs to the bed either side of him. Sliding his hands along her flat, sweat-damp abdomen, he could feel her muscles shift beneath his fingers. She had a thin strip of blonde pubic hair on her mound. Trimmed short, but not short enough that he couldn't pinch and pull – returning the sexy torment she'd given him.

"Ah!" she gasped, jerking her hips forward and opening her legs.

He twisted the golden curls cruelly. "This goes," he growled. "All of it. Understand?"

The wide-eyed model nodded, bending to his will. She had no idea what power really was, Dominic thought. He'd show her. Cock in hand, he set it against her dripping vulva and penetrated her.

Immediately, Kelli wrapped her legs around him. Her feet crossed around the top of his sweating ass. Her heels locked together, pulling him deeper. The snow helped. It always did. But this one was made to fuck and be fucked. A worthy member of his empire.

The sounds she made as she stretched to accommodate his girth invaded his psyche. Even as she dug her fingernails into his broad shoulders, his sweat begin to drip onto her body. He grinned wildly down at her, watching their perspiration mix. It was another sign of his new conquest.

Pushing all thoughts from his mind, he began to fuck again.

"Ngh... yessss." Her voice was a hoarse whimper. All she could manage. Words that were little more than gasps. Her hips met his renewed thrusts. "Fuck me, Dominic..."

He gave a roar. He was the one who was dictating, not her.

Grunting, he fucked her like a wild animal. This was his prize. He was taking it, branding the woman with his cock. He powered down hard into her. His feeling of immortality drove him on. So did Kelli's long moans. And the words of his wife as she urged the two of them on.

Raising up on his haunches, he pummelled harder. The bed bounced against the wall. His captive was lost in a mindless chant as she tightened her thighs against his waist. It was a first fuck she'd remember forever.

He had her close. He was, too. Her face squeezed in tortured ecstasy. Her eyes rolled upwards. Her hands flopped onto the bed. One final thrust hit the spot. She screamed. A second scream followed. A third. Fireworks went off, soaring into the sky inside her body.

One final deed.

The grey haired conqueror raised himself higher. His head flew back. His mouth opened. His roar filled the room as his testicles tightened and he fired into her. His seed, his – Dominic DeVere's – pearly seed, hurtled from him and deposited in the spasming beauty.

She was his now.


Relief was Palmer's first reaction. Overwhelming relief. Yes, there'd still been a murder. Yes, it was a beautiful, innocent young woman Giovanni had consigned to the grave. But it wasn't Roxanne.

Over the intercom, they heard her blood-curdling scream as she discovered the crime scene in her own home. Sandra and Palmer dressed quickly, getting there as her trembling fingers were punching a number into her cell phone.

When they came running in, IDs in hand, her large, expressive eyes widened even further than they already were.

"A cop?" her hoarse voice asked.

Palmer nodded.

"You're a cop?" she repeated. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

He nodded again. What could he say?

The redhead's glance bounced across to Wilson and then back to Palmer. "Her, too?"

Palmer nodded. "Sandra Wilson."

Roxanne shook her head. "Well, you never mentioned you were a cop, Jack Palmer."

"Mentioned? You two know each other?" Wilson asked, a frown covering her face.

Palmer ignored the question. That wasn't his priority right now. "Come on, Roxanne. Let's go into the other apartment. We'll explain. Please."

Roxanne continued to stare in disbelief as he backed out of the door. Sandra was staring, too, although her dark eyes were filled with suspicion. "Know each other, huh?"

Palmer shot her a dagger at the cop. Surely there wasn't a hint of jealousy?

"What's that smell?" the redhead asked, looking around.

Her gaze followed his to the spattered, dried bloodstains and pockmarks on the wall. Her soft, green eyes widened.

"Roxanne," Palmer quietly asked, "Come on, the other room. "

"Who... what...?"

"It's Savannah."

Her pretty face changed to the same light colour as the walls. Finally, she let herself be led out into the hall and the short distance to the neighboring apartment.

Palmer studied her vacant eyes and nodded at Wilson the whole way. "Get some whisky, Sandra."

Roxanne slowly raised her head. Her face began to crease in puzzlement, first around the corners of her mouth and then her eyes. She struggled to speak but couldn't find the words. Then the tears started. "Is she...?"

Palmer nodded. When he took the glass of whisky from Wilson and held it to her lips, she ignored it. Her hands covered her face as she tried to contain the violent sobs. She couldn't. Her whole body heaved, every attempt to control her feelings ending in another flood of tears.

Palmer didn't know what to do. Wait it out? He glanced at Sandra, who still had that jealous look on her face. No help there. So he just sat there until she'd recovered enough composure to take the whiskey. "Here. Take a sip."

She gagged as it burned her throat. "I... hate... whisky..."

But when he reached out to take the glass, she ignored him, throwing back another shot. She almost gagged.

"I understand how you must be feeling, Roxanne," he softly said. "But there are a couple of things that are really important. I need to know right now. When did you arrange for Savannah to stay here?"

Her watery, bloodshot eyes remained full of tears. It was quite an effort to respond. "I decided on the spur of the moment to... stay in the country with... a friend. Savannah's always wanted to stay here, so I told her she could if she wanted."

Palmer nodded. "When?"

"The morning I left. I called her that morning from my hairdresser's. We met at Langhams Brasserie for lunch and I gave her the key."

"What time did you call her?"

Her eyes flashed as she took another sip. "Look—"

Palmer's sympathetic smile stopped the objection. There was something in his eyes. He sat down on his hunkers beside her position on the couch. "It's important, Roxanne. Believe me, I wouldn't ask otherwise."

She nodded, taking a long swallow of air. "Around eleven, I think."

"She had no idea you were leaving London until then?"

A little colour began to return to her face as she took another sip. "No. None at all."

Palmer glanced at Wilson. "That confirms it." He turned back to Roxanne. "We need a place for you to stay. And we need it fast."

"Why?" the redhead interrupted. Her senses were beginning to return. "What's going on, Jack?"

"Roxanne," he softly said, "We think the killer made a mistake."

Her green eyes glared at him. "Of course he did. Savannah wouldn't—"

"He was after you!" Palmer interrupted, his voice sharp. He needed her to understand the danger she was in.

Immediately, she knew he was right. She would have picked up on it much sooner had she not been shell-shocked by all these revelation.

Palmer went on. "I'm certain of it. It was you he wanted. Have you heard the name Marco Giovanni?"

She shook her head, her hand holding her chest in an attempt to control her breathing.

"Think, Roxanne. He's Italian. Marco Giovanni?"

"I have no idea who he is," she blurted, harsher than she'd intended. "Why should I?!"

Palmer eased up from his crouching position and sat beside her on the couch. Her soft hand trembled slightly as he took it in his. She felt so fragile. "Roxanne, he came to your door and shot Savannah instantly. By mistake. Someone hired him to kill you."

"You must be mistaken..."

"There's no mistake. He was after you all right. We need to understand why. But there's a good chance he'll come after you again. Our first priority is to get you out of here. Get you somewhere safe."

She jumped up and paced across to the window. The way she threw the rest of the whisky down her throat was almost an act of defiance. Her body shuddered as the alcohol kicked in. "You lied to me, Jack. You didn't say you were a cop. Why should I trust you?"

Palmer eased himself to his feet. "No, Roxanne, I didn't lie. I didn't tell you I was a cop, but I've never lied to you."

"Any idea of where we can put her?" Wilson interrupted, her business-like tone cutting the tension like a knife through butter. "Somewhere safe?"

Palmer nodded, his eyes never leaving the redhead's. "We've got a place for you to stay. Sandra will go back to your flat with you. Pack some clean clothes and we'll get you out of here." For a second they stared at one another. It was almost a battle of wills. "Please," his soft voice asked.

She nodded. It was an imperceptible movement of her head, but an indication of acceptance all the same. A hand swept her red hair back over her shoulder as she robotically pulled herself to a stand.

"Good," he smiled, feeling the tension ease. "Roxanne, I thought I'd lost you once. I don't intend to allow that to happen again."

He thought he'd lost me once? What did he mean, he'd almost lost me?

"Where are we taking her?" Wilson asked, her voice flat, her mind pragmatic.

Palmer's face brooked no argument. "You still live alone, don't you Sandra?

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