The Predators Ch. 04

Stars glittered in a cloudless night sky, and Fay was so distracted by the view that she almost missed the turn. The detective turned the steering wheel hard right, and now the little black car sped up the hill, past idyllic-looking suburban mansions. Stately street lights finally ruined the starry view as she pulled up to a stop in front of Mason's mansion and pressed the button on the call box.

"Hey, it's me," she said, sounding as bored as possible. She didn't want to acknowledge the sudden uptick in her beating heart. It had been four days since her conversation with Mason. She had been putting off their first night together, hoping for a break in the case so that she wouldn't even need his intel.

But...no such luck. Their second vic, Jessica Carleton, was still in a coma. Whether or not she ever woke up was still a roll of the dice. So, here Fay was. She was actually going to go through with this bizarre, if somewhat steamy arrangement. Three nights of passion with her ex-boyfriend from high school and college in exchange for the intel she needed thanks to his shady connections with Southside Rain, a notorious gang which was connected to both her case and the two killers she now hunted.

When she pulled up, a man in a black suit and silver tie strode up and bowed politely.

"Miss Gracey, I've been instructed to park your vehicle," he said.

Damn. Was Mason so loaded that the man actually had servants at his beck and call? Fay shook her head, but she couldn't stop the thought from forming. 'Must be nice. I guess crime pays a hell of a lot better than catching bad guys.' The idea rankled her more than a little, so she was still frowning when Mason opened the front door before she could even knock.

"Fay," he said calmly, his eyes smoldering. "Good of you to come."

Wearing her favorite leather jacket and tight jeans, Fay put her hands on her hips and gave him a sardonic look.

"You act like I had much of a choice." The undercurrent of her tone was clear. This was coercion, using her own emotional baggage with him and the lingering guilt she felt that he was now risking his life to get her information, in order to get her into his bed.

"You always have a choice, Fay," Mason reminded her as he stepped aside, let her walk through, and closed the door behind her.

Fay turned toward him, and now she had a chance to really look at Mason. He hadn't changed much, not at first glance. Mason's dark hair was cut short, as usual. His hawk-like nose and unforgiving gray eyes took everything in, like there was a hunger there that would never be sated. He was fit, muscular even, but not too muscular. At about 6'3, he was a good bit taller than her 5'9. He had on a cleanly-pressed button-down white shirt, dark slacks, and polished black shoes. His face was lean but not narrow, the proportions perfect, and even Fay had to admit, his mouth was as kissable as ever.

"You like my new place? Well, it's not really new...it's been what, five years since we last saw each other?"

They'd spoken off and on since, corresponded and kept in touch, but of course that wasn't the same. Fay was about to open her mouth to say 'Let's get this over with. Take me upstairs,' when Mason did what she knew Mason was hard-wired to do: He took charge.

"Take off your clothes."

Fay blinked. This was brisk, even for Mason. Perhaps he'd changed more than appearance seemed to suggest.

"Um...no?"

His eyes bored into her. "You know the deal, Fay. You do whatever I say, 'no exceptions.'"

The blonde girl suddenly felt her face getting hot. "Within reason," she ground out through clenched teeth.

"This is within reason," he insisted. He spread his arms wide. "Come now, are you going to adhere to our agreement or not? I can't show you what we could be together unless you trust me, Fay. The first step is for you to risk yourself for me, just as I'm risking myself for you. So I'll say it again, darling. Take your clothes off."

Fay couldn't believe this was happening, but the detective thought, 'What the hell, if he wants to take me right here in the foyer, if it'll get me the information I need, fine.' She stripped out of her leather coat and jeans. Next she took off her shoes and socks. Elegantly, Fay unclasped her bra and let it slide off her shoulders, her full breasts popping into view. Lastly, she slipped her panties down her legs, past her ankles, and tossed them on top of her clothes.

"Happy?" she said, giving him her most cynical look.

He came up to her, standing close. They were now inches apart. He placed a hand gently on one of her ass cheeks, cupping her bare skin. She looked down and saw the noticeable bulge underneath his slacks.

"It's a start," he said with a dark smirk that somehow didn't detract from the deadly-serious sheen in his eyes. "Come." He possessively kept that hand on her ass cheek as he walked her down a flight of carpeted stairs, and into the basement. Fay thought about slapping his hand away, but if she did that, chances were that he would just become even more difficult to deal with. Besides, she didn't entirely mind his hand on her ass. She remembered Mason's hands, very capable hands, doing other things to her back in college...

"What were you thinking just now?" he said as they stopped in front of an ornate wooden door.

"I was just thinking about my case," she said stubbornly.

His jaw clenched, his eyes flaring. "You're lying." Dammit, how could he still read her so well after five years apart?

Fay was about to protest, about to conveniently fail to mention the growing desire she felt the longer he kept that hand on her ass. But his other hand was already cupping her chin. He leaned forward, his lips teasing hers, giving her a gentle, fleeting kiss before pulling away.

"You want to deny what you feel, Fay. That armor you keep around you day in and day out, I understand it. Given what you do, I understand it all too well."

Surprised at how difficult it felt to breathe, Fay's tone was nonetheless low and dangerous.

"You might not want to bring that up. It's your choice of career and mine which broke us apart. You help the scummiest of the scum, and I put them away, remember?" She'd intended the words to hurt, to stab like a dagger ramming up through the armpit, but Mason's expression just grew more intense, and he actually smiled.

"You must still feel something for me. Whatever it is must be intense, too, if you have to throw out desperate lines like that to try to push me away. No, Fay, what broke us up had nothing to do with our careers and everything to do with my own stupid stubbornness." The admission, his willingness to take the blame, caught her completely off guard. She stood frozen in place as he stepped behind her. His hand slid around from the curve of her ass to the cleft between her legs.

"Open for me," he whispered, and to her shock she did. She wanted to make a smartass comment, but instead she bit her tongue and stiffened when his fingers began to deftly stroke her core. The naked blonde detective felt his fingers caress her clit with a tenderness that made her heart skip. She closed her eyes and tried to think about something else, to not feel his care in every single touch, every single stroke. She felt his breath hot against her neck...

But now his fingers were drawing away just as suddenly, and the disappointment she felt surprised her.

SLAP. His hand smacked her ass hard, enough to sting just a little, as he opened the door.

"Get in there, slave," he said, and the way he said the word 'slave' sent her heart racing. She was the one used to being in control. That had supposedly been the lesson of their failed relationship, or so she'd told herself. Ever since, every man she'd dated, she had made sure that SHE was the dominant one.

"I'm not your slave," she said stubbornly. Ignoring her reply, Mason guided her into the spacious, carpeted room. A massage table had been set up in the room's center, and now Mason had her lie facedown on it.

For the next twenty minutes he did nothing but massage her shoulders, back, ass, and legs. His hands were like the hands of a god, caressing and kneading, eviscerating knots of stress Fay hadn't even known were there. Her body relaxed, and then it relaxed even more. Then it seemed to turn to putty altogether in his hands, under his assault of bliss. She hated that, hated how he was making her want to let down her defenses. But the sensations, the care he showed her now...Mmmm. Her train of thought, derailed entirely, finally just followed the currents of sensation like a leaf riding impossible waves.

Without even knowing when or how, Fay had actually fallen asleep. She awoke now, totally relaxed, to the sound of Mason's voice.

"Wake up, slave." She felt his hands grasping her wrists, bringing them up behind her back and cuffing them. Then he rolled her onto her back and leaned over her, his face looming, expression intent.

"You trusted me, and I rewarded that trust. As your Master, I promise to always, in the end, reward your trust. Will you believe me, Fay? Would you believe me if I told you that my feelings for you have never really changed?"

She opened her mouth, not sure what to say to that.

"Take off these cuffs."

"Why? So you can try to take back control? Put up another wall to keep me out?" he said, his eyes devilish and dark. "I don't think so." Saying this, Mason put a hand between her legs again, his fingers slipping into her sex. He began stroking her even as he leaned down to press his lips to hers. She opened, accepting the kiss, hungering for it, startled at just how fiercely she wanted it. Soon she was voraciously kissing him back, sucking on his tongue, tasting him and even enjoying his taste, his scent...

They kept kissing, and as they did he kept fingering her cunt until the girl's clit was fully engorged, her sex creaming up on his fingertips. She moved her hips now in time to the plunge of his fingers. Her entire body felt a growing blaze that had begun very, very small, but now threatened to engulf her completely. She was kissing him with actual lust now, her body arching as he stabbed his fingers into her, furiously stroking her clit at the same time, a dual assault which now made her chest heave more and more violently.

"Mmmm. What do you want, slave? Tell me what you want."

Fay's blue eyes widened. No, she wouldn't let him take control, not like this. The feel of the cuffs around her wrists reminded her that she had to resist with everything she had. She stubbornly didn't answer, but that defiance only seemed to further his intensity. He began kissing her again, his hand caressing her clit even more fervently. The wet sounds of his fingers slamming into her core were unmistakable. The racing lust in her loins reached a level she couldn't deny. As she rammed her pussy down to meet his finger-lunges, finally the climax caught her in its grip, throwing her over a cliff. She moaned into his mouth as the orgasm stole her breath away, her cunt convulsing greedily around his stabbing fingers.

"UUHHHH!"

He waited as her hips writhed, her pussy clamped around his fingers desperately. He waited until she had left a pool of telltale wetness on the cushion beneath. Then he withdrew his fingers and almost immediately put them to her lips.

"Taste yourself, slave."

She obeyed without even thinking, sucking her own sweet juices off his hand. Then he took a step back, watching her, waiting.

He asked her again.

"What do you want, slave?"

She tried to sit up, but he pounced forward. His hand clasped the front of her neck and slammed her back against the cushion, and he held her there.

"What do you want, slave?"

He was asking her a simple question, and right now the primal need coursing through Fay's veins had an answer. But it wasn't an answer she wanted to give. It was an answer that rational-Detective-Fay, not primal-feminine-Fay, wanted to ruthlessly suppress. Because to give that answer would be a surrender, a betrayal. And yet...

"I don't know," Fay said stubbornly, trying to stay neutral as two fierce impulses warred within her.

Slowly, Mason took off his shirt and then his shoes, socks. Those dark slacks came off last of all, until his cock, hard, elongated and coursing with blood-engorged veins, bobbed right beside her face.

"What do you want, slave?" Mason insisted. Once again he had his hand gripping the front of her neck, but the grip had softened. He stepped in closer, so close that now the tip of his cock was within an inch of her face.

When she still wouldn't give him an answer, he growled, "I'll stay here until you tell me the truth."

Fay looked at him defiantly. She couldn't put her real feelings into words, that would be a betrayal. But somehow her body seemed to take over, willing to act out her feelings even if she wasn't ready to acknowledge them. Even if she wasn't willing to acknowledge that perhaps her feelings for Mason had never completely died. Like the embers from a fire, what if they just needed to be coaxed back to life?

She turned her head and licked the underside of his shaft. Then she smothered the tip, her lips pressing tightly as she began to suck him. Mason bunched her hair away from her face as she deepened her plunges, impaling her mouth a little more each time. Her jaw rippled with effort, her cheeks collapsed inward as she sucked firmly on his cock, moving her tightly pressed lips up and down, up and down. All the while, she looked at him, wanting to see his expression, to see how he reacted to what she gave him.

"Oh baby, I've missed this. You have no idea how much I've missed this," he growled. Mason had never looked so vulnerable to Fay as he did just now. And that look of complete weakness somehow sent a thrill through her libido. That was when it struck Fay with the force of a hurricane: She had control. Right now, even though he had her wrists cuffed, his hand gripping her by the neck and pressed against the massage table, that lost look in his eyes showed who truly had control. More than that, the ache in Mason's eyes told her that what he felt for her was real.

"Mmmm!! SLURP!" She sucked harder now, her tongue cradling his cock as her lips pressed fervently in the tightest seal. She tasted his pre-cum now. His excited cock was almost leaping in her mouth, straining for release. It wouldn't be long now. She sucked even more firmly, deep-throating him to the maximum, her head bobbing desperately as he groaned.

"MMmmm!! SLURP! SLURP!" Fay's nose pressed almost to the base of Mason's manhood now as she took him in as deep as she possibly could. Fay looked up at Mason's priceless expression, his face frozen with helplessness, needing all the care she was giving him now. And then it happened, the cock in Fay's mouth leapt and jerked, one spasm followed by another and another, violent with sticky blasts of heat. The beautiful naked blonde instinctually squeezed her eyes shut as the cock blasted its creamy load in her mouth. Spurt after spurt flew down her throat, and she found herself clasping her lips tightly around the head of his cock, sucking up every single drop. She kept sucking and swallowing even as he jerked his hips forward, slamming his cock so roughly that the front of his testicles pressed against her chin. With a groan almost like someone about to pass out, Mason finally withdrew his semi-firm cock from her lips.

She licked her lips as he petted her now disheveled golden hair.

"You are fucking amazing," he said with a sigh. "You know that?"

Fay smiled a smile that was actually genuine.

"Maybe," she admitted.

"I'll be right back," he murmured. "Stay here and don't move."

"If you say so, oh great Master," she called after him in her best smartass tone as he left the basement and shut the door behind him. She licked her lips, his taste lingering on her tongue.

'Okay, maybe three nights with Mason might not be as horrible as I thought,' she decided.

But even as Fay lay there that night, reconnecting with the first man she'd ever fallen in love with, the rest of the world didn't stop. Time didn't stop. And two sexually depraved killers wouldn't be stopped either.

~~~~~*****~~~~~

Vick wanted to throw his cell at a fucking wall.

It wasn't like his partner not to answer her cell. She had said something cryptic about needing the night off to pursue a lead. He'd tried to pump her for more info, and she'd just stonewalled him. Now he would have given anything to reach her because their case was blowing up on them, in both good ways and bad.

Their second vic had just woken up at the hospital. He would head over to interview her shortly. But that was where the good news stopped. They had found another crime scene with blood and -- this was the telltale kicker -- a thumb drive left at the scene with a video and a handwritten note, 'Enjoy the show.'

Yeah, there was no doubt. Their two psychos had struck again, and this time it was unprecedented for two reasons. First, they hadn't found a body. Second, to claim yet another victim within a span of not even a week since their last victim, that was a bad sign. These psychos were getting bolder and more eager. That didn't bode well because even if it increased the chances that he and Fay would catch them, it also increased the odds that more innocents would get hurt -- or killed -- in the process.

"Dammit, Gracey, why did you choose the worst possible night to go incommunicado on me," Vick muttered to himself. He turned the sedan into the parking lot and parked at the station. The plan in his head was simple. He would watch the video on the thumb drive, see what he could find out about their latest victim, then head over to the hospital. And if Gracey still hadn't responded to his calls by the time he was done interviewing their vic, then he would drive to her damn apartment and bust down the door if he had to.

Ten minutes later, and Vick was ready. Well, there was no way to be truly 'ready' for the awful content on the video, but Vick took a sip from his coffee and steeled himself. Staring at the display in his office, he pressed play.

The video was sharp, high resolution, and in the background Vick saw what looked like concrete walls, probably a basement. A slender brunette, maybe 19 years old, was naked, with her hands chained above her head. The girl was beautiful, with a flat and slightly muscled belly, full, lush breasts, and a cute, perfectly chiseled face topped off with frantic chocolate-brown eyes. Ringlets in the floor were connected to iron circlets around her ankles, which were spread wide. But that wasn't even the worst part. Vick's eyes widened. Shit.

There were two victims this time. The second victim was male, about the same age as their female victim. They had slapped duct tape over his mouth. His ankles and wrists were chained to the floor, and he was naked too. The monsters had chained the male so that his head was almost directly underneath the girl.

"Please let us go. Please, we won't tell a soul," the brunette whimpered.

A man with a well-chiseled chest of dark muscle walked up behind her. This was Taller Psycho, wearing his trademark mask. He was rifling through what looked like a purse, then pulling out a driver's license.

"Kacie McMullen from Culver, Colorado. Oooh." He tossed the purse and license aside. "You have one fine ass, bitch."

He walked up to her now, his hands cupping her perfect round tits from behind.

"What do you say, little slut? Shall we show your boyfriend how to FUCK?"

"Please don't rape me. Please," the girl sobbed.

Taller Psycho looked down at the boyfriend, muffled shouts coming from behind the gag.

"You hear that, boy? Your girlfriend must not love you very much. If she was smart, she might realize that her not cooperating is going to get you HURT bad, lover-boy. Real bad." As he said this, Shorter Psycho must have walked into the room. He handed Taller Psycho a knife. Taller Psycho knelt down and put the knife to the boyfriend's throat.