Searching for Risk, page 4
When they both stilled, he bit her neck. Then he licked the sting away and kissed the spot.
“What was that?” she rasped.
He shook his head. “Nothing, angel. I’m just marking you. Remember? It’s what demons do.”
He pulled out of her and took off the condom, leaving the bed to dispose of it in the bathroom.
When he returned, his eyes were heavy behind the demon mask. He pulled it off, and she glanced away. She didn’t want to see his face and ruin the magic of what had just happened. It was better if they stayed strangers. He slid into bed behind her and pulled her back against his chest.
Oh, God. What had she done?
She started to get up, but his arms tightened around her. His breath tickled the back of her neck. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I should go find my friends before they leave. They’re my ride home.”
“Oh, angel,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sadness. “You’ll stay here tonight. I’m not done with you.”
He was already stirring again, lengthening against the back of her thigh, and her body hummed with anticipation, ready for round two.
She had no idea how she’d gotten herself into this mess. She was always so cautious, always planning ahead, and yet here she was in a stranger’s bed, wanting more than she should. She wanted to stay with him, wanted to explore the depths of his eyes and the texture of the hair on his chest. She wanted to wrap her hand around his hardening cock again and taste him when he came.
But what if Anna was looking for her? Or worse, Ash? He definitely wouldn’t want her after finding her in bed with someone else.
On one hand, she felt guilty for betraying her own convictions. But on the other, she couldn’t help but be pulled in by his presence, captivated by the thrill of their embrace and the pleasure it brought her. She wanted more—more of the thrill, more of the pleasure, more of the passion.
“I should go home.” But even as she said the words, she knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to leave her demon’s embrace yet.
“Mmm. Stay.” The seductive timbre of his voice sent chills of desire rippling through her body.
She hesitated. Would it be so bad if she stayed? This need for him didn’t make sense. She never even asked his name.
“What’s your name?” Her breath hitched as his rough hand trailed lightly down her hip.
He nuzzled her ear and dipped his fingers between her legs. “Do you often have hot sex with men you don’t know?” She couldn’t tell if it was amusement or annoyance in his voice.
“No.” She gasped and arched into him, pushing against his touch, desperate for more. “This is the first time.”
His deep rumble of laughter resonated through her body as he began to trace circles around her aching clit. “But that’s not true, is it? Because you do know me.”
No, she didn’t. She couldn’t. She never would’ve done this with someone she knew because how could she face him every day with such intimate, carnal knowledge of his body?
He was a stranger.
He had to be.
She closed her eyes and grabbed his wrist with the intention of removing his hand, but didn’t follow through. Instead, she let him continue to tantalize her with his skilled fingers. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. Say my name, Sasha.” He continued to circle her clit as he waited for an answer, but instead of giving him one, all she could do was moan. His voice dropped low in anticipation. “C’mon, who’s your demon? Say my name, and I’ll let you come.”
The pleasure was deep and relentless, but he held back just enough pressure to keep her from release until his name left her in a pleading gasp. “Donovan.”
A triumphant growl rumbled from his chest. He sped up the movement of his hand, replacing his thumb with two fingers. “Say it again.”
Desperate now, she cried out. “Donovan, please!”
He pinched her clit between his fingers, and the orgasm ripped through her like wildfire. She was still pulsing as he wrapped his arms around her and tucked her tight against him.
“That’s right, angel,” he murmured into her hair. “That’s right. And you’re mine now.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. She couldn’t be his. He wasn’t part of the plan. Tonight was only meant to be a short, wild detour.
But even as the halfhearted denial crossed her mind, her body softened and molded against his. Her eyes drifted closed, and she gave in to the pull of a blissful, sated sleep.
episode 2: the search
Hey there, Truth Seekers! Welcome back to Cold Truth, the true-crime podcast that dives deep into the most challenging cold cases. I’m Alexis Summers, your host, and today we’re continuing our investigation into the disappearance of Darcy Cantrell, the teenage girl who vanished without a trace. In our last episode, we explored Darcy’s life. Now, we’ll be examining the efforts made to find her and bring her home. So, grab your detective hats, and let’s get into it!
Sheriff Jerald T. Tennison Sr., or Sheriff Jerry as he was known around Steam Valley, was a twenty-year veteran of the Lost County Sheriff’s Department and in 2007, he’d recently won a hard-fought election to the sheriff’s seat. On Halloween day, he was waiting in line at the local coffee house for his morning caffeine hit when he received a call about a missing teenage girl.
It had been five days since the party at Hidden Beach.
Nobody noticed Darcy was missing until she didn’t show up for her waitressing shift at The Grove. The diner’s owner, Gwenda Prescott, was instantly worried. It wasn’t a secret that Darcy wanted to leave town, but she’d already made plans with Gwenda to stay and work full-time through the summer tourist season after graduation because she needed money. She showed up for every shift and often picked up extra hours before and after school. In the three years she’d worked for Gwenda, she’d called off only a handful of times and never no-called-no-showed. So when calls to her cell phone went unanswered, Gwenda decided to contact the police.
Law enforcement was very familiar with the Cantrell family. Sheriff Jerry had responded to many domestic disturbance calls at their trailer over the years and had been first on scene when Sissy overdosed. It was a rough environment for a child to grow up in, but nothing could be done since Sissy always refused to press charges against her husband, and Darcy never complained of abuse after her mother died, even though she often showed up to school with unexplained bruises.
So, of course, Sheriff Jerry’s first thought was that Darcy had run away. Nobody would’ve been surprised if she’d decided to leave. At eighteen, she was legally an adult and could disappear if she wanted. The sheriff’s office simply had to confirm that she’d left willingly, then they could close the case.
Franklin Cantrell was at sea and hadn’t seen his daughter in nearly two weeks, but he gave his reluctant permission via radio for a search of the house—a search that would ultimately leave investigators with more questions than answers.
Darcy’s suitcase was in the closet with a thin layer of dust on top, and she’d been in the middle of doing laundry. A load still moldered in the washer. Her purse was on her dresser, and inside, they found her cell phone and eighty dollars in ones and fives—tips from her Friday evening shift—along with her ID and debit card. They found more tip money stashed in a shoebox under her bed, totaling five hundred dollars, and bank statements that showed she had another thousand in savings. A call to Sheriff Jerry’s wife at the credit union proved her account remained untouched.
If Darcy had left of her own accord, she’d at least have taken her money.
Where was she?
So, things start heating up in the search for Darcy Cantrell. Our trusty town sheriff is now on the case, talking with witnesses and retracing Darcy’s last steps. He knew they were starting the search with a huge disadvantage. The first few days after a person disappears are the most critical—and Darcy had already been gone for nearly a week.
But it didn’t take long before he noticed a pattern in the witness statements. One name kept popping up – none other than Donovan Scott, the town troublemaker. This guy’s got a reputation a mile wide for causing chaos and getting into fights. Sheriff Jerry even threw him in jail a few months prior for vandalism, but the charges were dropped, and he walked away without punishment. Sounds like a solid first suspect, right? Especially since Donovan and Darcy were next-door neighbors and known to date.
So the sheriff headed over to Donovan’s house. His mom claimed he wasn’t home, but Sheriff Jerry was not convinced. He decided to wait it out, and sure enough, after a few hours, Donovan made a run for it out the back door. I mean, who does that? It’s suspicious as hell. Did he really think he was going to get away?
So, they catch the kid and bring him in for questioning. At first, he’s denying everything. He doesn’t know Darcy that well. He’s never been to Hidden Beach. He doesn’t know anything about anything. But as Sheriff Jerry dug deeper, Donovan’s story started to fall apart. He eventually admitted that he had attended the party at Hidden Beach with Darcy and that they had gotten into an argument. He claimed that Darcy had left the party on her own, and he hadn’t seen her since. But the sheriff suspected the kid was lying through his teeth.
So, what does Sheriff Jerry do? He gets a search warrant, and investigators start combing through the Scott house. And let me tell you, what they found was disturbing. There were bloodstains on the underside of the carpet in the living room that someone had attempted to clean. And—get this—a baseball bat in Donovan’s closet with traces of blood on it. Not looking good for Donovan, right? The kid was getting nervous and more belligerent, but as he tried to come up with excuses for the blood stain and the bat, Sheriff Jerry saw the fear in his eyes.
The sheriff knew he had found his main suspect.
And… that’s where I’m leaving you for today’s episode. We dove into the search for Darcy Cantrell and the various leads that were pursued to try and uncover her whereabouts. It’s a frustrating and heart-wrenching case, but we won’t give up until we find the answers. Join me next time as we take a closer look at Donovan Scott. Until then, stay curious, stay safe, and keep searching for the truth.
chapter six
Donovan Scott.
Sasha’s eyes popped open in horror. She must have dreamed last night, right? Oh, please, let it have been some kind of ultra-realistic sex dream about the town’s most notorious bad boy.
Though she wasn’t usually prone to sex dreams, ultra-realistic or otherwise.
And she’d never had a dream that left her wet and throbbing between her legs.
And she’d never woken up to a dream holding her in thick, tattooed arms.
The demon mask he’d worn last night still sat on the nightstand, staring at her with blank eyes.
“Does the angel want to be fucked by the demon?”
Oh, God. Oh, shit.
What had she done?
Head pounding, she carefully lifted his arm from her waist and slid off the bed. She hadn’t noticed last night, but the hotel room was actually a suite with a seating area in addition to the bedroom with the king-sized bed they’d thoroughly rumpled. Sliding doors divided the two spaces, and they sat open.
Where were her clothes? She needed to find them and—
She spotted her dress thrown over the couch, but when she picked it up, her heart sank. It was torn almost in two down the back along the zipper. She couldn’t wear it without showing everyone her ass. She dropped it and picked her thong off a nearby lamp. It was also shredded into two pieces. If anyone saw what was left of her clothing, they’d think she’d been attacked by a feral animal rather than undressed by a man.
A man with very big, talented hands.
A man who had made her scream—
No.
She shut down the memories. She had to go home and forget this ever happened, but she couldn’t very well creep out of here naked.
The black shirt he’d been wearing last night lay in a heap on the floor. It didn’t suit him. She knew from seeing him around Redwood Coast Rescue that he was a leather jacket and jeans kind of guy. Zak must have blackmailed him to get him to dress up in costume for the ball.
Well, it was better than nothing. She grabbed it and pulled the shirt over her head. It hung on her, skimming her thighs. The satin was cool against her skin, making her nipples pucker, and the deep V neckline showed off more cleavage than her dress had. She tried to lace the string tighter, closing the gap. It was no use.
It wasn’t often she felt petite, but Donovan was a big man with broad, powerful shoulders. She remembered the way he’d picked her up like—
No, dammit.
“Where are you going?”
She jumped at the rumble of his sleep-roughened voice behind her and clutched the V-neck closed as she spun toward him. He was still wearing nothing but his tattoos, and he was hard, his morning erection jutting shamelessly. The man was all diamond-cut muscle, his broad shoulders narrowing into a defined V at his hips. Every inch of him was perfect, which made her feel even more self-conscious. She was strong—she had to be to treat horse-sized dogs, vicious chihuahuas, and angry cats—but her muscle was hidden under a comfortable layer of fat she couldn’t get rid of no matter how much she exercised and dieted. She was soft and round in all the places he was hard and flat. She held the gaping neck of the shirt tighter and tugged on the too-short hem.
He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe as his gaze roamed down her body. His lips quirked. “I saw all that up close last night, angel. No sense in covering up now.”
Her headache roared back, reminding her exactly how much champagne she’d drunk. “I need to go home, but you ripped my dress.”
“You were taking too long getting out of it.”
“Oh my God.” Heat burned her cheeks. She was probably tomato-red. She turned away and gathered what was left of her clothes. “Last night was such a mistake. What was I thinking?”
“Showing up in that dress, you were thinking you wanted to get laid. And you did.”
“Not by you!”
His smirk faded, and a dark shutter fell over his features. He pushed away from the wall and prowled toward her. “Then by who?”
She refused to feel bad. She’d just been telling the truth, after all. “It’s not important.”
“It is to me.” He backed her against the wall and caged her in with a palm planted on each side of her head. “Who were you trying to seduce?”
She tilted her chin up and kept her lips pressed firmly together, but she didn’t need to answer. She saw the moment he connected the dots. Something vulnerable flickered in his eyes, there and gone in a blink, then his lip curled in disgust.
“Ash. Of course.”
Okay, dammit, she did feel bad. “I’m sorry. You’re just not—”
“What? Civilized?”
“My type.”
“Angel, with the way you screamed last night, I’m exactly your type.”
“I was drunk.”
“No, you weren’t. Tipsy, maybe, but I wouldn’t have taken you if you were drunk.”
“Well, there’s a difference between sexual compatibility and—”
He gripped her chin in his hand and stared down into her eyes. “You think you want the sheriff, but he’s too good. You’d be bored of him within a month because he’ll never make you as wet as I can. Are you on birth control?”
God, she felt like she was on a tilt-o-whirl with this man. Her head was spinning. “What?”
“It’s an easy question. Are. You. On. Birth control?”
“Uh… yes.”
“Good.” His mouth dropped to hover over hers as his free hand dipped between her legs. “Because we’re out of condoms, and you’re not leaving here without my handprint on your ass and my cum leaking down your leg.”
chapter seven
It was the wrong thing to say. Donovan knew it as soon as the words left his lips.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“You liked it last night.”
“That was last night.” She shoved a hand against his chest. “Now back off.”
He held up his hands, took a step back, and told himself the rejection didn’t hurt. His dirty mouth hadn’t bothered her when he was her demon. He’d worn that stupid mask, and she’d been able to convince herself he was someone else. But now, in the harsh light of dawn, she couldn’t deny his identity anymore, and she was disgusted.
Had he really thought this would go any differently?
Chin lifted like a queen staring down at a peasant not worth her time, she stepped past him. “I’m leaving.”
Sasha grabbed her tattered dress and stepped into it. A pity. He liked the way she looked in his shirt and the way the hem rode up just enough to give the occasional tantalizing peek at the lush globes of her ass. The dress was obviously ripped, but the shirt was long enough to keep her from indecent exposure. She walked to the door.
Fuck. Donovan exhaled hard and rubbed his hands over his head. This woman had starred in all his X-rated fantasies for over a year—ever since he first saw her at Redwood Coast Rescue—and now she was walking away.
He couldn’t let her leave like this, with indignation snapping in her eyes. Especially if this was the only night they were going to have together. He didn’t want the beauty of it to be soured by regret.
“Hey, Sasha, wait.”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “What?”
“Do you have a ride?”
She was silent for a beat. “Zak was my ride.”
“I’m sure he’s gone home by now.”
“It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”
“I can drive you home. Just give me a minute to dress.” He went to the bedroom and grabbed fresh clothes out of his bag.
“My car’s at the rescue,” she called after him.
“Then I’ll drive you there.” He pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and then hesitated a beat, staring at the rumpled bed. Goddammit. This was not how he’d wanted the night to end. He shouldered his bag and returned to the living room to find Sasha still standing by the door, her arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold.
