Read Online Who Killed My Husband? by Sheila Rose - Free Book Online Page B

with such love, such affection, Rochelle could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. No man had ever looked at her in such a way. Like she was the very air he needed to breathe.
     
                  “Kiss me,” she pleaded. “I need to taste you.”
     
                  Michael obliged, leaning forward to nip and suck her lower lip between his. And then his mouth crashed down onto hers possessively, with the passion that she had come to love from him.
     
                  “I want you to belong to me,” he whispered. “Tell me we can have that Rochelle.”
     
                  “I want that too,” she moaned.
     
                  She was wound tight, and nearly ready to explode. It was true she would have agreed to anything in that moment, but she truly did mean the words.
     
                  Michael snaked his hand down between them, using his skilled fingers to stroke her clit. Rochelle writhed against him, clutching his broad arms in her grasp as her head fell back and she cried out. Her release shot down her spine like a rocket, detonating in her core.
     
                  Michael stared down at her in awe, clutching her face in his palms as he pumped faster, racing to join her at the edge. A strangled noise rumbled from his chest, and then he was spurting his hot seed deep inside of her, milking out the tremors from both of their releases.
     
                  He collapsed down against her side, pulling her close and stroking her back for several long minutes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep her much longer, and he didn’t want her to go.
     
                  When are you going to leave your husband Rochelle?” he asked quietly. “When can we finally be together? I want that, with you.”
     
    “I know,” she said softly. “And we will have it. Soon, I promise.”
     
    “I love you, Rochelle.”
     
    “I love you too, Michael,” she whispered.
     
    He laughed humorlessly before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers.
     
    ***
     
    The police very rarely came to this part of town.
     
    Jack Blanks rolled to a stop at the side of the highway, peering towards the blue and red lights flashing further down the street. Several police cars were parked beneath a highway overpass, arranged in a circular formation to block whatever is beyond them from sight.
     
    Taking a deep breath, Jack shut off the engine and stepped out of the car, shutting the door lightly behind him. His hands were shaking, so he shoved them in his pockets and began briskly walking over.
     
    The evening was windy. By the time Jack made it over to the scene, his eyes were watering from the current of air and his hair was sticking up in every direction. He smoothed it down hastily as a police officer spotted him and strode over.
     
    “Detective,” the officer said by way of greeting, extending her hand to shake.
     
    “Officer,” Jack responded. “You can call me Jack. Jack Blanks.”
     
    “Okay, Blanks,” she said with a nod. “I’m Officer Mills. Want me to catch you up?” She gestured towards the scene behind her, which Jack craned his neck to see. It appeared to be a vehicle, or what was left of one.
     
    Whatever car had been there before was nearly gone, as all that remained was its burned out skeleton. A blackened metal frame sat in the middle of the circle of police cars. The acrid stench of smoke hung in the air. Jack pushed past Officer Mills to get a better look.
     
    “We got a call about this a few hours ago,” Officer Mills said, following Jack towards the vehicle. “This highway needs some serious work, hardly anyone comes out here anymore. This has probably been here for days.”
     
    “The call came in about Darren Jones four days ago,” Jack said grimly. He squatted down by the front of the car. “It could have been here since then.”
     
    “That’s very likely.” Officer Mills stood a