Death Angels

17

ANGELA CAME OVER TO HELP HIM PACK, BUT HE TRAVELED light and insisted on saving space for some books he planned to buy in London.

“If you ever get out of here,” she said.

“The sky is clearing.”

“Call the airport first thing in the morning.”

“Excellent idea.”

“What do you expect to accomplish-arrest this serial killer or something?” Angela ran her fingers over the collar of a white shirt on top of the pile by the suitcase.

“He’s no serial killer.”

“What?”

“He’s no serial killer,” Winter repeated, folding two pairs of socks and putting them in the suitcase.

“Is that so?”

“It doesn’t look that way.”

“Uh-huh?”

“It’s even worse.” He turned to her. “Could you hand me those pants, please?”

“Take them yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Come and get them,” she said, her eyes wide and misty as if she had been walking through rain.

Winter lunged across the bed, grabbed the pants from her, smoothed out the wrinkles and put them on the chair. He took her hands and folded them behind her back as she leaned forward toward the bed.

“Now you’ve got me where you want me.”

He doubled her long skirt halfway up her back, let his hand glide over her right hip and worked his finger under her panties. As she parted her legs, he moved his hand downward and felt how wet she was. His forehead was pounding and she gasped, raising her chin. He carefully squeezed his fingers further in, unbuckled his belt with his left hand and pulled down his zipper. All my blood is there and nowhere else, he thought, leaning against her thigh for a second. When she started to moan louder, he gradually entered her, stopping only for a moment when he couldn’t go any farther.

After a few seconds they were in sync. He held her firmly by the hips, as though she were treading water above the bed.

He leaned forward, reached inside her sweater and cupped her breasts. Now she had dived into the water and was floating beneath him. He squeezed her hard nipples. She turned her head to the side and looked back at him. He caressed her cheek and lips with his left hand. Opening her mouth, she licked and sucked on his fingers one by one. Her tongue had the same rough texture as her sweater.

As they moved faster, he braced his left knee against the bed, grasped her hips with both hands and summoned all his strength to hold on as she trembled and then cried out, throwing her head back. His eyes dimmed. His power seemed to plunge him into unconsciousness as it poured into her. They clung to each other one last time, and he held her.