Louisiana Stalker (12 page)

The door opened and they saw Milly standing in the hall. She pointed her gun at them.

“Come on out, Adams,” she said.

“What for?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?” Cappy asked.

“That's none of your business, bitch,” Milly snapped at her.

“Who are you calling a bi—”

“Hold on,” Clint said. “If she wants to talk, maybe I should hear what she has to say.”

“But Clint—”

He placated Cappy with a hand gesture and said to Milly, “Okay, I'll come along.”

Milly backed away from the door and said, “Close and lock the door behind you.”

Clint did as she asked, pulling the door closed and turning the key.

“Remove the key from the lock.”

He did.

“Now come with me.”

She backed her way down the hall, keeping the gun on him.

“Where's your husband?” he asked.

“He went downstairs to go to bed,” she said. “He won't be back up here for four hours.”

“What are we going to do that will take four hours?” he asked.

“You'll see.” She stopped in front of a room, kept the gun on him, and opened it. “Inside.”

He stepped inside. She kept her distance, or he would have tried to take the gun from her.

It was another bedroom.

“Put the key on the bed,” she said, closing the door.

He did as she asked, tossed the key on the bed.

“Grab that chair and put it in the middle of the room.”

He grabbed the wooden chair, centered it, and sat down.

“Now wha—” he started as she moved around him, but before he could finish, everything went black . . .

 • • • 

His head was pounding when he woke. He tried to reach up to touch it, but found that his hands were securely tied behind him, and his legs were tied to the chair legs. He also noticed that he was completely naked.

“Welcome back,” Milly said.

She was standing in front of him with no gun in her hand.

“What's going on, Milly?” he demanded. “Why am I tied up?”

“Because I need to have my hands free,” she said. “I can't do what I'm going to do with a gun in my hand.”

“And what is it you have to do?” he asked.

“I'm thirty years old,” she said.

“You look younger.”

“Thank you,” she said. “My husband is over sixty. He's an old man.”

“He looks pretty good for over sixty.”

“That's not the point,” she said. “He can't give me what I want.” She walked up to him and stared down at his crotch. “You can.”

“Oh, Milly,” he said, getting her meaning, “not under these conditions.”

“You don't think so?” she asked.

“No.”

“I know so.”

She reached down and stroked his flaccid penis. Immediately, it jerked and began to swell. She took it in her hand and began to stroke it. It continued to harden, and she smiled.

“See?”

“Milly,” he said, “I'd be of much more use to you if my hands and feet were free.”

She released his cock and said, “We'll see.” She got down on her knees, put her hands on his thighs, and rubbed them. Then she ran her hands up over his chest. “You don't know how wonderful it is to touch a man who is fit.”

He was trying to think of something else, but then her hands were on his genitals again. With her left hand, she cupped his testicles. With her right hand, she stroked his cock again. Soon his erection was standing straight up.

“My, my,” she said, gazing at it. Her eyes took on a glassy look.

“Milly—” he said, but she wasn't listening. In fact, he was sure she wouldn't hear a word he was saying.

She stood up and backed away, but only long enough to divest herself of her clothes. When she was naked, she put her hands on her hips and posed for him. She had a slender body with good, peach-sized breasts and smooth skin. There was a tangle of fair hair between her legs, and he could already smell her scent. His cock got even harder, damn it!

“Don't worry,” she said “I won't hurt you.”

Cappy was nervous.

She didn't know what was happening to Clint, didn't know when he'd be back—or if he'd be back. She walked to the window and looked out at the rain. For a moment she thought she saw the stalker, but no. Clint said he was dead. Then she thought she saw someone—a figure, not blocky, but tall and slender.

She stared, but the figure would not come into focus for her—and then it was gone.

She turned away from the window, hugged herself, and bit her lip.

 • • • 

“Your woman,” Milly said, touching her breasts, “she's not as young as me. Not as firm and smooth.”

He didn't answer. His mouth was dry as she teased her own nipples with her thumbs. She then squeezed her breasts in her hands, and moaned.

“Milly, look—” he started, but his voice caught in his throat. The woman standing before him was completely wanton, and she had his attention.

“Don't worry, Clint,” she said. “I won't keep you waiting long. I won't keep me waiting long.”

She got to her knees in front of him and began to pepper his naked thighs with hot kisses. He tried to concentrate on something else, but then her mouth was on him, and suddenly he was into it. She was hot and wet and she sucked him avidly, her head bobbing up and down in his lap. He stared down at the top of her blond head and damned his own body for having a mind of its own.

She sucked and sucked him until he was hard as a rock, then she stood and straddled him.

“Now,” she said. “I haven't had a hard one in me in a long time.”

She reached down for him, held him in place, and lowered herself, just enough to tease her pussy lips with the head of his cock. She kissed his mouth lightly as she rubbed him along her hot slit, and then she lowered herself down and took him inside.

“Yesssss!”
she hissed, sitting down firmly on him, taking him to the hilt.

“Mill—” he started, but she silenced him with another kiss. Despite the circumstances, she tasted sweet to him. She kissed him hotly, wetly, for a long time, then began to move up and down on him.

“Milly,” he said from between gritted teeth, “if you untie my hands, I'd be a lot more active—”

She continued to bounce up and down on him, her arms on his shoulders, her breasts pressed to his face. He tried to resist, but as her nipples brushed his mouth, he reached for one with his tongue and teeth. For a moment he thought of biting down on it—hard—but decided against it. It might make her mad enough to shoot him. Or if she screamed, her husband might come running in, shooting.

As she continued to bounce on his cock, he tried to match her thrusts with his hips, but trussed up the way he was, it was difficult. The smell of her, the taste, the feel, and his inability to throw himself into the activity were all combining to make him very frustrated.

She started to grunt as she came down on him, and he could feel the wet slime of her on his thighs.

“Milly, damn it!” he snapped.

Suddenly, she sat down on him and her eyes came into sharp focus. She was breathing hard, and perspiring. The smell of her sweat and sex was heady stuff.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Cut me loose so I can move,” he said. “It'll be better. I promise.”

She leaned back, lacing her fingers behind her neck, and cocked her head.

“You tryin' to fool this little Cajun gal,
cher?
” she asked.

“I didn't know you were Cajun.”

“Well, I am.”

“I'm not trying to fool you, Milly,” he said. “I want to use my hands on you. I want to be with you on that bed.” He nodded toward the bed.

She studied him for a few moments, then leaned forward and kissed him. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, gave the kiss all he could.

“You give me your word you won't try anythin' funny,
cher?
” she asked.

“I do,” he said. “I give you my word that when you untie me, I won't make a move for your gun. We'll go right to that bed and do this properly.”

She closed her eyes and wriggled in his lap. He felt her insides close over him, around him, like a fist.

“All right,” she said, “I'm gonna take you at your word.”

She got up off him, letting him out of her cunt slowly. She moved around behind him and untied his hands, then crouched in front of him and untied his legs.

Immediately he reached out and scooped her up in his arms. His legs were slightly unsteady from being tied to the chair, but he managed to carry her to the bed.

“Whoa!” she said, but he ignored her. He dropped her on the bed on her back and climbed on with her, covering her with his body.

“Now we're going to do this the right away,” he told her.

Clint worked out his frustration—and his aggression—on the pretty Cajun wife. He used his mouth and tongue to give her as much pleasure as she could stand, then drove his cock into her and fucked her for his own pleasure. They both kept it as quiet as they could, not wanting to alert anyone else in the house as to what was going on. In the end he left her lying on the bed, exhausted, sated . . . and careless.

He got off the bed, walked over to where she had left the gun, and picked it up. Then he picked up his pants and slipped them on. He was putting on his shirt when she rolled over in the bed and looked at him.

“Hey—”

“Quiet.”

“You said you wouldn't try anythin' funny!” she hissed at him.

“I said I wouldn't make a move for your gun, and we'd go right to that bed. That's what we did.” He waved the gun at her. “This is different.”

She settled back onto the bed, watching as he pulled his boots on. When he was dressed, he stood up and looked at her.

“Well, now the boot is on the other foot,” he told her. “You're naked, and I'm dressed.”

She spread her legs so he could see her moist, pink slit.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“The same thing you did to me,” he said. “Come on over to the chair.”

“You can't tie me to the chair,” she told him. “Cooper will be lookin' for me.”

“That's okay,” he said, “because I'm going to be looking for him.”

“Will you kill him?” she asked anxiously.

“Do you want me to?”

“Very much.”

“Come over to the chair.”

She got off the bed and walked, jelly-legged, to the chair. He tied her hands behind her, and her legs to the legs of the chair.

“Why do you want your husband dead?”

“Because I want to get away from here,” she said. “I'm sick and tired of living with him.”

“Help me, then,” he said as he finished. She was now secured to the chair.

“Help you how?”

“I want to know who you and your husband work for,” Clint said. “And if Keller worked for the same man.”

“I don't know who Cooper works for,” she said. “I just do what he tells me to do.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“I am.”

“And Keller?”

“Who?”

“The man you killed.”

“Oh, him,” she said. “No, he didn't work with Cooper. Not that I know of.”

“Then why did you shoot him?”

“Coop told me to.”

“Again, the truth?”

“No man has ever done to me what you did to me in that bed,
cher
,” she said. “I'm telling you the truth because I hope you'll do it again.”

“And if you're a good girl,” he said, “I might just do that.”

“I'll be good,” she said.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the right nipple, which made her shiver.

“Good.”

She smiled at him.

“What do you want me to do first?”

“Tell me where to find your husband.”

“That's easy,” she said. “He'll be in bed now, on the first floor. I'll tell you where the room is.”

“Okay.”

“But I want something.”

“What?”

“Don't leave me tied to this chair,
cher
.”

“I can't let you loose.”

“I don't mean that,” she said. “Leave me tied up, but put me on the bed.”

“Do you want to get dressed, too?”

“Oh no,
cher
,” she said. “I don't.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” she said, “just in case Coop kills you, I want him to come in here and find me just like this—naked, with your sweat and juices on me, and in me.”

“You really hate him, don't you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Why?”

“He didn't give me what he promised me,” she said.

“All right,” he said, “let's get you over on the bed.”

Once she was secured to the bed—he'd also wrapped the rope around the legs of the bed—he slipped out of the room and down the hall to the door of the room Henri was in. He had the key to Cappy's door, but not to Henri's. So he put his shoulder to it and forced the door open quietly—or as quietly as he could force a door.

“Clint!”

“Quiet. Come on, Henri, I'm putting you in Cappy's room with her.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Find the owner and see what I can find out.”

“Where's his wife?”

“She's tied up. Come on.”

They moved down the hall to Cappy's door. Clint used the key and opened it.

“Inside,” he told Henri.

“Wha—Clint!” Cappy said. “Where have you been?”

“Never mind.”

“You've got a gun?”

“Got it from Mrs. Cooper.”

“And where is she?”

“Tied up,” Henri said.

“The two of you stay here. I'm going to have a talk with Cooper.”

“Are you going to kill him?” she asked.

“Only if I have to.”