Chapter 9

Nine

Izzy

I'd never considered the office unnerving before. With as many bodies that had been wheeled through the halls and the feeling that their ghosts were pleading with me to find out what happened, I had always been calm doing what I did. But as we stepped inside the dark building, a chill swept through my body.

Re-locking the door, I walked over to the security panel and put in the code. The light shined green, not that it mattered. The Horseman had already proven that if he wanted in, he would find a way, and no alarm was stopping him. Our feet echoed down the hallway, and as if the lights were wanting to play a joke on me, the fluorescent bulbs flickered and hummed.

"Does the police station get like this," I asked, just so that it wasn't so quiet.

"Rarely. We always have two to three officers on through the night, and of course, the 911 operators for the entire county are there 24/7."

I already knew that, but the sound of Branson's voice was comforting as we waited for the elevator. The little arrow dinged as the car arrived, and my body jerked from the sound. Was I crazy thinking I could use myself as bait? Yes, I definitely was, but he was coming at me anyway. At least if we purposely drew him in then there was a higher chance of catching him and not ending up with our heads removed.

We stepped out of the elevator, and I froze before waving my hands in the air.

"What's wrong," Branson asked as I reached back and held the doors open.

"The sensor lights aren't coming on." We had been pulling so many late hours that I'd given everyone the day off, which normally wouldn't be an issue, but that was before we had a serial killer who decided to leave my ex's head on my pillow.

"Is there a manual switch?"

"Yes, but it's at the end of the hall near the morgue," I said.

"Great spot to have it," Branson drawled. "Well, we all know that every good apocalypse movie starts with a morgue and the bodies banging inside the cold cabinets."

"Are you trying to freak me out?"

Branson laughed. "Is it working?"

"You're a jerk," I teased as he pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

"Maybe I just want you to cuddle closer." He shined the light around. Nothing seemed out of place, and no one was hiding in the shadows.

"Trust me, there are easier ways to get me to cuddle than scaring the daylights out of me. That will get you a swift punch to the face."

"Noted." He laughed again and looked down at me, making me swallow hard. He'd always had the most alluring and intoxicating eyes. My heart thumped harder in my chest. "You're going to have to let go of the elevator for us to walk to the end of the hall."

I really didn't want to let go of our escape route, but I nodded and moved my hand. The light it offered disappeared as it closed. Every little sound was enhanced like my body was hyper aware and all my senses were on high alert. The thump of our shoes and the sound of our breathing only notched up my anticipation. Unable to help myself I looked over my shoulder and wished I hadn't as I stared at the pitch-black void and the only source of light, a softly glowing exit sign.

Reaching the end of the hall, Branson shined the light onto the four switches before flicking them up. There was a moment of hesitation, but the bulbs flashed and then began to warm.

I pushed open the morgue door and screamed as something hit my leg. It took a second to realize that it was a cat as it raced down the hall.

"How the hell did a cat get in here," I asked, more terrified than I was before. We were never allowed animals as they compromised the collection of evidence. The gun-metal grey cat reached the end and then whipped down the far hallway, obviously scared to death.

Branson pulled his gun, all joking disappearing from his face. "Hold the door open," he said as he stepped over the threshold and turned on the lights inside the room that used to be my safe space. I hated that this guy was all up in my business. The head in my home…okay, it was sick, but I actually got that. This was a different game altogether. He was toying with me and ruining every single place I was comfortable. My family home and the lipstick, Branson's place, and now my work, where I spent so much time alone.

Branson walked through the morgue looking in every container and dark space—not that there was much in the way of furniture or things to hide behind—and then walked to my closed office door. I held my breath as he turned the handle and pushed. Nothing jumped out, and I knew it was all clear when he put the gun away.

"Jesus," Branson said, and immediately, the relief washed away once more.

I didn't know if I wanted to see what he was staring at, but I walked up to the door and gasped as I stared at my office. The once tidy space looked like a chaos bomb had exploded, except the chaos was all pictures of me. My stomach fell through the floor as my eyes bounced around the office.

"I think we can safely say that the Horseman is obsessed with you, and I don't fucking like it one bit," Branson growled.

The images were all over the walls, my chair, the desk, and even stuck to the floor. Some were simply me out shopping or sitting having coffee and talking on the phone, but others were harder to get. There were ones of me at work from a distance, visiting my parents and sitting on the front porch, and me sleeping. The most disturbing of the bunch were the nudes. Images that I'd taken in my teens and thought had long been destroyed.

At one point, I'd wanted to model and had—during a particularly stupid point in my life—gone to a photoshoot alone. The photographer was sexy and said all the right things to make me believe him when he told me I would be a star.

Although most of the images were in swimwear the rest had been taken completely nude. He'd said that those looking to hire me would want to see the whole package, and I should think of my body as a business card. It was the first time I'd felt truly beautiful until he threatened to release the photos if I didn't sleep with him. I didn't and instead called my step dad, who called the police. He told me later that it had been taken care of, and all the images were destroyed. I never thought I'd see one of these again.

"Oh my god," I squatted down and tried to pry the one up off the floor, but it was like it had been shellacked into place. While I scraped at the pictures like a mad person, Branson grabbed my shoulders and forced me to stand.

"Izzy."

"I need to get rid of these. What if Eli or my boss walks in?" I tried to pull away, but Branson held my shoulders firm. "Branson, let go. I need to clean this up."

"No, you need to take a breath."

"How did he get these? I don't understand. Are there more? Did he send them to more people? Is he trying to ruin my career?"

Instead of answering any of my million questions, Branson cupped my face and kissed me hard. His lips were unrelenting and demanding. My mind was still spinning until he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me flush. All the raw emotion had a new outlet, and I opened myself up to him. His tongue swirled with mine, and his hands roamed over my body. Picking me up, he sat me on my desk, but his mouth never left mine, leaving me breathless.

"Branson, it's a crime scene we…."

"I don't care. He's trying to fuck with us. Fuck that. Fuck him."

"But…."

His hands pulled at the front of my blouse, and I gasped. It was wild and insane, but he brought out this side of me that wanted to throw caution to the wind. A part of me felt like I should try to argue. This was my office. Anyone could walk in, and we had to process it.

"Do you really think we'll find anything?"

"I don't know," I said. "He could've left something."

"He has us chasing our tails, Izzy. We process the scene he has already meticulously set while he is off at another. You know it. I know it, and he knows it." He kissed me again. What he said made sense. It shouldn't make sense. I was all about sticking to the book, but Branson had me wanting to burn it.

"Branson," I said breathlessly, my chest heaving as I broke the kiss.

He placed a finger on my lips. "Shh, don't do it. Don't say a word. I see the questions in your eyes, and I don't fucking care. If someone walks in, let them watch." Like he had turned a dial, my body heated, and I felt desire spreading through my body and between my legs. I wiggled as I stared into his eyes, which were commanding me to agree. "I'm going to fuck you on this desk," he said, grabbing the edge on either side of me. I glanced at the door, and Branson growled at me. "Don't look away from me. No one is here. You're going to let go and take my cock like a good girl, aren't you?" I nodded meekly. "Say the words, Izzy. Say you want my cock pounding into you."

"I want you to fuck me," I said before I could think too long on it and find more reasons to say no. I was sure that there were one or two serious issues that should've kept me from doing this, but for the life of me, nothing came to mind.

He smirked and stood up straight. Branson was so imposing when he stood over me like this, and the gravity of our differences physically became glaring. Yet, the moment he grabbed for the buckle on his belt, I knew that I was locking the door and doing whatever he wanted.

"This Horseman thinks you're his." I swallowed and wanted to stare at the images plastered everywhere but kept my eyes on Branson instead. He grabbed my chin in one hand and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. "You're mine, Izzy. I'm going to kill him before this is through. No one will ever take you from me."

Like fire and ice decided to tango in my body. I wanted to fan myself from the heat while I shivered from the possessive look in his eyes. Had I somehow wished this into existence? I'd certainly prayed hard enough that it felt that way.

"Say it," he ordered, and I licked my lips. "Say you are mine."

"I am yours," I said and gulped in air as he let go of my chin and grabbed the zipper on his pants. My panties were soaked by the time he had it pulled down and his cock pushed free. The tip was already shiny with his precum, and I couldn't tear my eyes away, knowing exactly what he could do with it and how it was inevitable that I'd scream this building down.

"Undo your pants and pull them off, but I want you to leave your heels on. You're going to look so sexy spread wide with my cock in you." Branson stroked himself, his hand slowly running the length of his hardened shaft, and my pussy clenched, my heartbeat erratic with the need he created in me.

The effort to stay upright was much harder than it should've been on my wobbly legs. I pulled off my coat, tossing it on my chair before quickly undoing the buttons of my blouse.

"Fuck, you're sexy." Grabbing my breasts, he pushed the lacy cup down so that I was spilling out over the top. I moaned as his thumb rubbed over my hardened nipple. Before my fingers stopped working from the shaking in my hands, I got the pants undone and let them drop to the floor. Sitting on the edge of my desk, Branson pulled them off over my shoes and tossed them aside. His hands were hot on my skin as they slid along my legs and spread them into a wide V. "You drive me insane, Izzy. I don't know how I've waited so long to tell you that."

"I feel the same," I said, sucking in a gasp as he grabbed my ass and pulled me to the edge of the desk.

"That's a good girl." The sudden smack off my clit made me jump and had my eyes rolling back in my head as the pleasure shot through my body. "You're so wet for me." Branson pushed my panties aside, his fingers expertly teasing before dipping inside of me. Those dark whiskey eyes locked with mine as he sucked his finger into his mouth. "Do you know what you taste like?" I shook my head. "You taste like you're mine."

Lining himself up with my pussy he ran his hard cock up and down, soaking himself and driving me out of my mind. My arms gave out as he thrust into me and drove all the air from my lungs.

"Oh my god, Branson, please…."

"Please, what?" He pulled out and slammed into me again. "You want to come?" I nodded and bit my lip, my body already on edge and craving the sweet release. "Then rub that little clit. I want to see you make yourself come all over my cock."

Sliding my hand down, I rubbed in little circles. Branson suddenly pulled out, grabbed the small piece of lacy material, and yanked hard. My panties tore in two, creating a large hole right down the center.

"That's better," he said and slammed back into me, making me cry out. "You're a fucking sight." My whole body moved in time with him, my breasts bouncing and the cool air of my office prickling the tips. "Get back to rubbing that pussy."

Letting go of the edge of the desk, I did as he told me and furiously worked my clit as he pushed deeper with every thrust until I was mindlessly yelling his name. The cliff was right there, and my body raced toward the steep drop. He hit my g-spot just right, and my back arched off the desk as I came, my pussy tightening around his hard shaft.

"That's so fucking good. Good girl, Izzy, soak my cock. I want you dripping all over the floor. You'll never walk in here again without thinking and craving to have me fuck you again." His pace was relentless, and every breath I took ended on a whimper.

Pulling out again, he brought me with him off the desk and sat me on my feet. His expression was dark in contrast to the sweet and funny guy I knew, but I loved both sides of his personality. Turning me around, he hauled me back against his chest, his cock pressed right into my ass, and I squirmed with the delicious feeling. Wrapping his hand around my throat, he squeezed, cutting off most of my air supply, as his other hand slipped into my still throbbing pussy.

"That's it…fuck my fingers," he growled into my ear. His breath was hot on my skin, and it felt like it was going to sear right off my bones. Bucking my ass back and forth, I rubbed on his fingers and savored the feel of his cock and how he groaned in my ear. I was so close again, and my pussy tightened. "Good girl, you're close," Branson said, taking his fingers from my pussy and holding them to my mouth. I opened, and he shoved them in, making me suck my juices off.

"Bend over," he ordered, and I laid over the desk, the metal cold against my sensitive nipples and making me shiver, but the shock was replaced with a scream as he grabbed my hips and thrust into me. There was no holding still or getting used to him this time. Branson pistoned in and out as our bodies slapped together. I grabbed at my desk, my nails scraping along the metal. "Come for me again. I want your pussy to crave my cock. I want you dripping wet for me as soon as you see me, understood," he said. I nodded, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the tight rope of pleasure and aching he created.

The desk pressed harder into my legs with each thrust as it squeaked, moving slowly across the floor. Branson made an aggravated noise, but as soon as the desk couldn't go any further, he picked up speed to a blinding pace.

"Fuck! Yes…please don't stop," I yelled as I came harder than I knew was possible. Nothing else existed, and everything in the world was wiped away as my mind and body narrowed in on this singular moment.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, ah…." Branson pulled me hard as he pushed in and then held still as he came. I could picture the exquisite look on his face. His expression twisted in pleasure, his body caught in the throws of extreme relief that bordered on something far darker and oh-so satisfying. "I don't know what you do to me, Izzy, but I feel like a man possessed when I'm near you."

As he slowly pulled out and helped me to stand, I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck. "Good, that's how I've felt for years. I was so scared to tell you because of the obvious reason, but now I wish I'd said something."

He smiled, and as he kissed me, I felt it in my heart that we would come out of this okay. We would find a way.