Killer in Her Bed

By Dee-Ann Lang

He’s a sexy man with a ferocious appetite for her body and he’s a strong muscular man who can thrill her with a simple touch, but when Jane starts to fear for her life, she doesn’t know where to turn. Unsure his arms are strong enough to protect her from the danger that constantly pursues them, she wonders if she’ll have to find the strength to defend herself.
And her heart... Drawn to him more than she should be, her heart is filled with love for this muscular beast who may not be able to love her back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee-Ann Lang
• Release date: Dec 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9780992033040

Dee-Ann Lang

I started writing in 2008 never thinking it would turn into such a passion. Aside from dabbling in writing in my early twenties, I never seriously considered becoming a writer, though my head was filled with romantic stories. Once I started writing, however, I couldn’t stop.When I'm not writing, I love being out in the fresh open air. I don't hike in the mountains as much as I’d like to, but I go out to walk six miles a day, rain or shine.My summers are spent in the Laurentian mountains of Quebec, Canada and the winters in Cheraw, South Carolina.

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Killer in Her Bed

Published by Dee-Ann Lang at Smashwords

Copyright © 2013 Dee-Ann Lang

ISBN 978-0-9920330-4-0

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Chapter One

Disturbing shadows shifted and danced in the darkened yard for the third time that week, and Jane knew it had nothing to do with the wind and rain of the disruptive storm. She strained to look out the rain splattered window above the kitchen sink, hoping to see a sign of movement again.

Honey, why don’t you give your brother another call? Spencer asked as he shook a towel through his damp hair. He could help you through all this stuff with your mother.

I did. She hid her annoyance. He’d been pestering her to call Jason for weeks.

Did you see the time? It’s almost half past ten. It’s unreasonable for you to be spending so much time at the hospital and coming home so late.

I got his machine. As she continued to stare out the window, she wanted to tell Spencer about the headlights that had loomed behind her as she’d driven home from the hospital, but his ridicule when she’d mentioned being followed from work the night before kept her frustrated and quiet. I’ll try to reach him again tomorrow.

You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. Your mother is only going to get worse. He has to step in and help you.

I know, Spencer. You’re right. Jane had a growing suspicion it was their diminished sexual escapades that troubled him more than anything.

She walked to the patio door and peered through the gap in the drapes. There it was again. She was sure she’d seen something move. I’ve always had a hard time reaching Jason.

Spencer came up behind her. I hate watching you run yourself ragged like this, honey. You’re racing from work to the hospital, back to work, then home. It’s not a life. I hardly even see you anymore.

Uh huh. Barely hearing him, she kept her gaze fixed on the same spot by the large oak, willing whatever it was to move again. If Spencer could see what she’d seen, he would surely believe her. He would stop treating her like an over imaginative and melodramatic girly girl.

Damn it, what is so interesting out in the yard?

I thought I saw something move.

There’s a storm raging, Jane. It’s raining like hell, and it’s windy. The branches are blowing all over the place and there’s probably a bunch of trash from upturned garbage cans flying everywhere. Everything is moving.

It wasn’t like any of that. She wanted to turn the indoor light off to see better, but knew he’d call her for exaggerating.

Like what then? A raccoon?

No. No, it had definitely been larger than a raccoon.

Stomping heavily like a wild beast, Spencer grunted and swept her into his arms. More like a big, mean bear? He nuzzled her neck and pressed his lips to the tender spot behind her ear. His low growl rumbled from deep within his chest.

She giggled and tried to accept the fact that she was being silly. Why would anyone follow her home? Why would anyone want to spy on her from her darkened yard? She’d seen too many horror movies and watched too many police dramas. Leaning her head into Spencer’s chest, she tried to put her scary notions aside and relax. She glanced down at her fiancé’s hands and tried to pull a sense of security from the strength she saw there, but as strong and reliable as they’d been since her mother had fallen ill, his lack of concern over her recent fears left her more frustrated and annoyed than she truly wanted to admit.

Her gaze returned to the distant tree in the far corner of the yard and she let out a soft sigh. The storm was dying down and little was moving. Yes, she was being silly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was out there… and it wasn’t a bear. Though the figure she’d seen was tall and massive, it’d lacked the bulbous form of a bear. She shuddered as she tried to shove aside the gnawing notion that a man was out there, watching.

Come on then, my inquisitive detective. Let’s get to bed. He gave her ass an affectionate pat and headed for the stairs.

Yep, I’m coming. She stared at the distant tree a few seconds more, willing the form she’d seen to show itself. It didn’t.

Her hand went to the door handle and for a moment she considered sliding the door open and going out to investigate. She should ignore Spencer’s reassurance and trust her own instincts. The rain now fell in a gentle mist and tree branches no longer waved at her with ominous intent.

With a shake of her head she put the ridiculous notion of going outside out of her thoughts. Instead, she pulled the handle to assure it was locked. She glanced down at the door track to see the small plank of wood that kept the door from sliding open. Though she knew she’d locked it earlier, she went to the front door and checked the doorknob, deadbolt and chain. All were secure. She went out into the garage and did the same.

The routine, like her fear, had grown with every passing day. She passed by every window of the main floor, checking each one with a firm tug then returned to the front door. She’d forgotten to make sure the front balcony light was on. It was.

She trudged up the stairs. The hairs at the back of her neck bristled, warning her that something wasn’t right. That feeling had been dogging her for weeks, tiring her even more than her ill mother; the feeling of being watched; of being followed.

Hey, sexy, Spencer greeted as she entered their bedroom. He was already lounging on the bed, the length of his arousal in his hand as he stroked it with slow, gentle movements.

She chuckled from deep in her throat. Without hesitation, she shook off her fatigue, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Swinging her hips provocatively, she tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it into the corner. Her fingers trailed over the swell of her breasts, following the décolleté of her bra.

Take it off, slut, Spencer said with a teasing smile.

Is that a way to speak to your future wife? Dirty talk was such a huge turn on for him, but it usually left her more amused than aroused.

He kept his eyes on her breasts and grinned.

With mock modesty, she turned her back to him, unclasped her bra and flung it back at him. While she looked over her shoulder to see Spencer’s eager grin, she played with the silky fabric of her thong. The hunger in his eyes aroused her as it always did. Yes, she thought as she turned to face him. This is what I need right now; a good, wild fuck to make me forget all the shit that’s been going on lately.

She pulled the elastic from her hair, letting her long, dark locks fall over her shoulders, obscuring her white breasts. The sensual sensation of her hair sweeping across her back and brushing against her nipples excited her.

Move your hair. Spencer’s voice was gruff as he gave the order.

Obediently, she pulled her hair aside and reached for her breasts, greedily grabbing the firm, round flesh. She loved the feel of her breasts in her hands.

Touch your nipples.

Her thumbs circled her nipples, bringing them to attention and sending a jolt of pleasure between her thighs.

Come here, you horny bitch.

She took tiny, seductive steps to him, her breasts pointing directly to his face as her fingers continued to tweak her erect nipples. Absorbed by her breasts, Spencer seemed mesmerized. The dreamy expression that came over him every time she flashed her breasts amused her.

The past months had done nothing to diminish his sexual desire for her. The passion in his eyes pulled at her, making her eager to please him, eager to play whatever game he wanted. The feverish pace of hot and sweaty sex every night had waned only once her mother had fallen ill. Still, they were going at it four times a week.

I love you, Spencer.

He grunted an unintelligible response.

With a firm grip he took her by the waist and pulled her closer. In an instant, his lips shoved a thumb aside and hungrily suckled a nipple. He wrapped his hands around and up her back to lock her close to him.

With one quick motion, he swung her onto the bed, his hands and lips kissing, grabbing and groping any part of her body he could reach. He pulled the fabric of her thong aside and plunged his finger between the greedy lips that awaited him. Look at how horny you are. He pulled out his moistened finger and dragged it across her belly.

Kiss me, she whispered.

A wicked grin on his face, Spencer tore her thong off and buried his face between her legs. She shrieked with delight. His tongue targeted her pleasure point with the precision she’d come to expect. A few long, heavy licks and she was already on the verge of a great orgasm.

Not so fast, she grunted as she ran her fingers through his short black locks. Come fuck me.

You have the control of a teenage boy, he teased.

She laughed and tugged him up. Shut up and fuck me.

He slid easily into the core of her being, filling her with exquisite sensations. He thrust in and out in quick succession, huffing and grunting with every push. She met him every time, each tilt of her hips reaching higher; each thrust urging him in deeper. She never tired of the sensations he brought her. She would never tire of him; of everything he did to her.

Hold it, he ordered. I don’t want to cum just yet. He withdrew and rose to his knees. Turn over.

Jane rolled onto her belly.

Shit, I love your ass. He slapped a white cheek. I love this fucking ass of yours. He grabbed both cheeks and kneaded her flesh with heavy fingers.

She laughed off the sting of his slap and enjoyed the painful squeeze he held on her ass. After a few more grunts and slaps, he passed his tongue between her cheeks then let his weight fall over her back, his hardened arousal sliding through the sleeked crevice.

With one sudden move, he lifted her on all fours and knelt behind her. He poked his cock around her asshole a bit then returned to ram it deep within her moistened walls.

Ah, shit. He pulled back and slammed into her again. Ah shit, it’s coming, baby.

***

He wasn’t surprised to see the bedroom light come on. Like clockwork, it came on every night at eleven. Tonight, it stayed on longer than usual.

Doing it with the lights on tonight, he thought with a smile. The other nights the lights had been dimmed when they’d fucked. He wondered why the special exception. For a moment he considered climbing up the tree for a quick view at the show, but voyeurism wasn’t really his thing.

Even through the closed window, he heard the usual dose of dirty talk. Not so usual were the sound slaps. In the past the slaps had been light and playful, almost inaudible. Tonight they resounded enough to make him cringe.

He shook his head and grinned as a wicked image came to mind. To think he’d come to Indiana with some preconceived notion that folks were quiet and conservative.

He listened a few more minutes then snuck out of the yard. Making his way back to his truck, he considered his latest findings and concluded he’d seen enough. He knew their routine down to the minute. It was time to get the job done.

Early the following morning, he parked the white van across the street. The spot he chose gave him a perfect view of the house. The bedroom windows offered vague glimpses of movement, while the kitchen windows would allow him to clearly see their every move.

He munched on a peanut butter sandwich while feigning concentration as he flipped through the blank pages on his clipboard. Though not many people were up and about, he needed to look busy. Every once and a while he glanced up to check out his surroundings; a car passed. Minutes later, a lone teenager shuffled by. Other than that, the street was deserted.

He looked at his watch then the house. You could set your watch by these people, he thought.

At six o’clock the blinds in the bedroom went up. That was closely followed by the turning on of the light in the bathroom which stayed on for all of a minute and a half. Then she appeared in the kitchen where she switched on the coffee machine. She had time to drink one whole cup before Spencer appeared, all showered, shaved and dressed for the day. They exchanged good morning kisses and Jane dutifully handed him a cup of coffee; black.

Six eighteen; Jane made her way to the front door, opened it, and tilted her face to the first rays of the sun a moment before reaching down for the morning paper. She separated it on her way back to the kitchen, keeping the business section for herself and handing Spencer the remainder.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Spencer skimmed the headlines while she flipped through the financial pages.

Four minutes later, Spencer gave Jane a passionate kiss and hugged her tight before heading out the front door and getting into his beat up car. Thirty seconds later, he drove off.

Finally.

Now he had only six minutes; the time it took her to finish off another cup of coffee, glance at the stock market results and come to the front to lock the door before heading up for a shower.

He pulled on his clear, latex gloves and placed his serviceman’s cap on. With his clipboard in hand, he got out of the truck.

With the silent experience of years in the field, he strolled to the front door and feigned pushing the doorbell, a show meant for the neighbors. After a brief moment, he opened it and slipped inside. The nearby hall closet would house him until she came to lock the door.

He waited, patiently biding his time. The soft pat of bare feet on hardwood flooring passed the door, followed by the click of the lock and the clink of the chain. The soft pat receded and made their way up the stairs. He rid himself of his cap and clipboard, setting them on the floor as he inhaled deeply.

A dreadful rendition of an old country tune made its way to his ears. With a grimace he thanked the powers that be he’d only been required to watch her these past weeks, not listen. Her questionable singing was soon drowned out by the blissful swoosh of water spraying from the shower; his cue to make his way up to the bedroom.

He glanced at the series of quaint pictures of the couple lining the staircase. Smiling, hugging and looking happier than a couple should, the photographic display brought a sneer to his cynical lips. Life had taught him that couples were rarely as happy as they appeared in photos. Somehow, whatever problems they lived with were magically put aside whenever a camera was set before them. The last photo at the top step showed them opening the door to their new rental home. Beaming with pride, their smiles hid the enormous rent that would soon prove difficult to pay.

Following the sound of flowing water, he found the bedroom with the adjacent bathroom and stood behind the door. There he waited. Every other day the shower took four minutes; time to wash her hair. Today it should be only two.

The blissful swoosh of water was silenced, leaving her excruciating attempt at a rock ballad crackling through the air.

Shit, he muttered to himself. Good thing you’re a looke,r girl, ‘cause you sure ain’t got talent.

The doorknob turned and the bathroom door opened. His heart raced as the excitement of the hunt took over. Her head appeared and he was ready.

***

The scent came to Jane the moment she opened the door. It was an odd scent; a different scent; nothing pungent or sweet; nothing distinguishable or identifiable, just different. It had never been there before and it had certainly not been there moments earlier. It was wrong; something was wrong. The past weeks rushed through her mind; feeling watched, sensing someone nearby; the shadows, those damned shadows that seemed to plague her everywhere.

Instinct told her to retreat to the safety of the bathroom. Spencer’s constant reproach of her fertile imagination pushed her through the door.

She knew he was there before he touched her. The hairs at the back of her neck stood erect seconds before his hand clamped over her mouth. A massive log of an arm grabbed her by the waist, pulled her off her feet and pressed her back into a bricked chest. Nude and slick with baby oil, the sensation of his hand on her skin threw her into an urgent fit to break free, but her arms flailed uselessly in the air. Barely able to strike him, the few feeble slaps she managed did nothing but strengthen the hold he had of her.

She tried to breathe and looked around for something to grab; something to strike him with. As she scanned the room, her eyes came to rest on the reflection in the full length mirror behind the door. She caught a glimpse of him, but only a brief view of one leg and one powerful and heavily tattooed arm.

Like in a dream, she heard the distant sound of the front door slamming. Jane!

Was that Spencer?

She wanted to scream, to warn him. A hollow screech came from her throat.

The log arm tensed and the hand over her mouth squeezed her face.

Jane? Answer me.

Tears blurred her vision at the thought of Spencer getting hurt.

With the fury of a captive animal, Jane bit through the latex glove and into her assailant’s hand. For an instant, his hold tightened and she feared he’d snap her neck.

Spencer’s footsteps bounded up the stairs.

Growling and slapping any portion of skin she could land her hand on, she fought with every ounce she had. What if he has a gun? What if he shoots Spencer as he comes up to save her life? What if he gets angry and kills them both?

Every supposition flew into nothingness as she suddenly found herself weightless and airborne. Hoisted up like a rag doll, she was carelessly flung into the air. She had only a second to contemplate her landing. She landed with her face in the assortment of plush pillows that decorated her oversized bed.

Jane? Are you all right? Spencer called in a panic.

She fumbled to sit up, her frenzied nerves momentarily driving her deeper into the throws of the pillows rather than bringing her up.

Spencer rushed into the room as she sat up and saw the bulky, dark figure jump out the window. Spencer joined her as she rushed to the window and peered down. In the few seconds it had taken them to reach the window, the intruder had disappeared.

Chapter Two

All Jane wanted now was for Spencer to put an end to the constant stream of questions. They had to stop. It was getting them nowhere. She was exhausted and wanted to simply shut the door on the world.

Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you? Officer Torn said.

No, she said in a flat tone. Why didn’t he understand how tired she was of all this?

Could this have been a kidnapping attempt?

We have nothing, she argued. What could they possibly want in exchange for me? We don’t even own this house. It’s a rental.

It’s not always money, Officer Wader interjected. Perhaps information… something you know.

I don’t know anything that important or valuable.

Aren’t you a stock broker? Officer Torn asked.

I’m still new at it. I’m still learning and I fail to see how anyone could benefit by kidnapping me for that reason.

What about you? Officer Wader turned to Spencer.

Me? Well, I have no money to speak of. I work for a construction company; nothing very intriguing there. No big company secrets or suspicious characters in my daily routine.