15 comments/ 10511 views/ 27 favorites Romancing the Raptor By: Cashmere_Snow Tiffany. Maria. Sandy. Destiny. Chastity repeated the names to herself as she directed a coy smile at the man she had brought back to her apartment. Tiffany. Maria. Sandy. Destiny. They were the names of the women he had raped and then sent to the grave in one case and into the ICU with the others. They were women like her—women who shared an... affliction. It made them easy targets. He chose them because of it, and Chastity only thought it fair that she use it to get him here. Tiffany. Maria. Sandy. Destiny. And he wanted to add her name to the list. She knew he would as soon as she slid onto the barstool beside him at Murphy's Bar. She had been trailing him for weeks, after all, watching from the shadows and noting every sick habit that the fucker had. "Help me with this?" she asked, turning enough to show the zipper on the back of her dress. It was latex and lined with a carbon nanofiber fabric. It was the kind of material that helped her hide what she was. He unzipped her deliberately, exposing a swath of pale skin. He leaned in to the nape of her neck and inhaled. "You smell like cherries," he said, pushing his fingers into the opening in the dress wide and ran his fingers down the hollow of her spine. The skin was covered in a fine perspiration—one of the things you have to expect wearing skintight latex in the middle of summer in the city. He brought his hand up to his lips and tasted. "Taste like them too... and butterscotch? Damn, baby, I knew you were special. I've been with your kind before, but none of 'em got me going like this. I could shoot my wad right now." He leaned in to lick her neck. It was true. Chastity could feel the stiffness of his dick pressing against her ass, straining through his stained denim jeans. It was too soon. She had to be careful. She had do drag it out. She had to give him time to do what he wanted to do. "I'm going to slip out of this. Why don't you do the same. The bedroom is through there," she said giving a nod towards a frosted glass door." Chastity walked toward the bathroom with an exaggerated swagger that accentuated the swing of her hips. When she passed through the door, she gave an over-the-shoulder wink and smile as she slid the door closed. As soon as the door clicked shut, the façade dropped and the smile curled into a scowl. She stripped out of the latex and wiped herself down with a towel. The lining was saturated with sweat and peeled away from her skin. Damned July heat, it rolled off of the asphalt long after sunset. Lucky I made it out before half the damned bar tackled me, she thought. Careless... I should have waited. But she new that hadn't been an option. She had tracked him, stalked him, pulled every bit of available information off of the web. She knew him, knew his habits—knew his routines. He was going to find someone soon. She had seen it in the way he had prowled the back alleys. And she had made it, after all. She had gotten him back to her apartment. A whiff was all it took. After she decided she was more or less sweat free, she slipped on matching set of bra and panties. They were made out of stretchy pink metallic material with conspicuous frilly trim. It looked like something pulled out of a recycling bin behind a strip club. It made her look like a bargain-basement whore, which was exactly what she was aiming for. She moved with a slinking twist with her hips to the bedroom. She paused in the doorway and slid her left hand up the jamb before not so subtly heaving her breasts forward to accentuate their sweeping curves. "You like?" she asked, bringing her other hand to her lips so she could nip her index fingertip between her teeth. He was naked on the bed, lying on top of the comforter he hadn't even bothered to pull down. He had a ruggedly handsome face, complete with black stubble covering his square jaw. She knew he was strong already; the outline of his muscles had been obvious through the white tank top that was now tossed in a heap on the floor with pants, underwear, and socks. Now she could see how taut they were, tense under a layer of skin used to seeing the sun bare. He wasn't massive, but he was built strong. "Fuck yeah, baby. Get that ass over here and take care of this." He pointed at his erect cock. It was a little longer than average and thick, with balls nestled in curls of brown pubic hair. Chastity gave a practiced again and moved to the foot of the bed. This was the point that she always felt the pang of shame deep in her gut. Fucking a stranger, it was something she wouldn't have even considered a year ago. But a year ago she had it all—most of all, she had Brinkley. But he was gone now and she had to survive on her own. Even if survival included screwing piece of shit murderers. Chastity crawled on hands and knees up the bed between the angle of his legs. When she reached the meeting point, she looked up met his hungry gaze with a seductive one of her own. She leaned down and kissed the tip of his cock. It was slick with precum already. She ran her tongue down his length to the base where his balls were pulled tight. She blew gently on them then nipped gently at the skin covering them. He moaned and his leg twitched. She lifted her head and continued her climb, scattering gentle kisses along the treasure trail of hair that led to his chest. Most of his chest was bare, except for an area of fine brown curls in the divot between his pectorals. She ran her cheek through it before leaning to nibble on one of his hard nipples. Despite the guttural moans that she let slip out and the gasps that usually indicated pleasure, there was none. This was a job and the intimacy that should have guided the give and take of sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin was gone—this a mechanical dance, nothing but a means to an end. "You ready for more, honey?" she asked as she pushed herself up until she was sitting on the lower part of his abdomen, just close enough to feel the occasional throb bump his cock against her ass. He answered with his eyes. The hunger behind those hazel eyes was growing. Chastity popped the button that was holding the front of the stripper bra together. Her titties had always been on the plus side of ample, so they bounced free. He reached up and circled his thumbs over the pink areolas, playing with the nipples before squeezing just a little too hard. "You like that?" he asked. "You want more?" It didn't matter how she answered, she knew what he was going to do regardless. She smiled and inclined her head in a slight nod. He pinched harder. "You want it rough, don't you. Whores like you always want it rough." Before she could flinch, rough hands clamped on either side of her. He twisted and threw her off of him and off of the bed. Chastity hit the solid oak floor beside the bed with a smack. Her shoulder stung from the impact. Before she could clear her first breath, a bulky body dropped onto her, crushing her midsection and forcing the air from her lungs. Adrenaline surged and electrified her senses. Fractions of seconds seemed to move in slow motion and in that stretched-out moment, her eyes twitched, catching the twisted sheet, then the outline of a muscled chest. Her gaze jerked again and traced the hard lines of his body up to his eyes. They were cold, predatory, finally showing him for what he was. His jaw was clenched tight and his nostrils flared. It was like the lust he had felt had suddenly been channeled into some deep, repressed anger. "Get off of me. This isn't fu—," Chastity's voice was cut off as thick fingers crushed her thin neck. Chastity beat the floor with her heels, kicking futilely, trying to push away from the grasping hands that were in the process of throttling her. She smacked at his face, pushed at his chest, but there was no give. There was a sudden pull and push from the hands around her neck followed by a crack that reverberated through Chastity's skull. He had slammed her head against the unyielding floor. Pain throbbed and spread out from the back of her skull. Involuntary tears blurred her vision—not that they mattered, though, the twirling sparks and fireworks floating at the edge of her vision began to thicken and push inward, hiding everything in a sparkly mist. "You dirty slut. You're all the same. You're kind shouldn't even exist. The government should have killed you all off after they found out what you can do." His grip tightened. Chastity could feel pulse in his palms and fingers winning out over her own, steady and aggressive, struggling to stop the flow of air and blood. She felt him fumbling with her panties, jamming his fingers between her and the fabric, pulling the crotch to the side. With a hard thrust he was inside her. Her cheeks tingled and her tongue began to bloat in her throat. Even though she could feel the saliva pooling in her throat, her mouth felt dry. He was going to kill her. It was as inevitable as the climax building in his balls. She was going to die. Darkness bled through her, dragging her down. She reached out. Her torso was pinned and her legs couldn't find the energy to move, but her hands were free. She pushed up, digging her fingernails into the thin skin of his neck and scraping down his chest through layers of sweat and skin. The change happened before her hand dropped back to the floor. A tremble started in the iron grip, a twitching that began almost imperceptibly then grew into full strength-stealing spasms. Hands went slack. Blood flooded up through Chastity's neck like water through a burst dam. Her cheeks flushed and burned with the heat of it. The anoxic sparks cleared, but her eyes still felt swollen beneath their lids. Her vision swam between clear and blurry, but it was enough for her to make out the outline of her would-be murderer. Chastity fought the urge to vomit and used her returning strength to heave the fading man off of her. She took a deep breath that was more refreshing than any she had ever taken before, and turned her head and met his panicked eyes. He was trying to push himself from the floor, but his muscles had turned to twitching gelatin. "What the fuck did you do to me, bitch?" His words were already starting to slur. "Paralytic nail polish," Chastity said, raising a heavy arm into his view and wriggling black-tipped fingers inches from his nose. "It has refined venom from a J'ba Fofi in it. Nasty stuff, really—but I guess anything that's milked from a giant spider would have to be on the nasty side." He lobbed a hand at her neck again, but fell short. Sausagey fingers curled and tried to gain traction on the polished floor, but couldn't. "The skeletal muscles are the first to stop working. It won't be long until the diaphragm stops too. You're going to struggle to pull in each little breath. From what I just experienced, I'll tell you—the next thirty minutes are going to be rough." Chastity looked directly into his helpless eyes. The anger, the hunger, they were gone. She saw the glint fear growing. "I want to tell you something before you die," she said, smiling the first sincere smile of the night. "I want you to think hard about it too in the minutes you've got left." She reached out and brushed a trail of drool away from the corner of his lip and said, "Tiffany. Maria. Sandy. Destiny." Romancing the Raptor She closed the box. No. There was no getting out of it. If she wanted to stay out of the camps she needed of the full dose of pheromone inhibitors to make it through until the heat broke in September. Chastity walked back to the bedroom. The body was gone. She had stayed in the shower long enough to grow gills so that she could avoid the coroner's pick up team and worry about what the Think Tank wanted with her. "How many this time, Alex?" Chastity asked, more out of habit than curiosity. "Three men, one woman." "Were they upset that the freak show didn't do a meet and greet? No, don't answer that. I already know." Chastity walked to the closet and took out a slick black bodysuit. "Did they steal anything this time?" "The woman pocketed the pink bra that you left tangled in the sheets." Alex flashed an image of the culprit on the monitor. It was a perfect recreation, down to the overbite and mousy brown hair. "At least she didn't take my favorite ones," Chastity said with a frown, sliding the bodysuit's zipper up from the swell of her mons to its stopping point at the curve of her neck. She always tried to put away her things before people came in, but she'd been distracted this time. People were always stealing clothes, bras, panties—towels, even. Men got high and would jack off to the smell of the succubus pheromones, women would wear them or rub them all over to try and up their chances of getting a Saturday night hookup. It was like a freaking modern-day Fuck Potion #69. If it were legal to bottle it and sell it, she would be a millionaire. "I scanned her ID chip. Want me to cause a little trouble? If not, I should remind you that she was here for the last pick up when your sports bra went missing." Chastity felt the corners of her lips curl into a soft grin. Brinkley had programmed in adaptive personality subroutines, which Chastity was glad of. Sometimes it was nice to have a friend, electronic or not, who had your back. "Do what you want... Wait! Within limits, though. It was just a couple of bras, not the Mona Lisa." That was added as more than an afterthought. The last time Chastity had okayed "trouble," Alex had deleted the man's entire financial history, exchanged his identity with a political extremist's, and had him deported. Sometimes having an electronic friend who could hack through almost anything in milliseconds was nice. Sometimes it was awesome. Romancing the Raptor "It's a syndicate of sasquatch and an orgy of chupacabras—orgy because they only gather in groups during mating season." "Noted for future reference," Tom said, the corners of his lips curling into a grin. Chastity grinned back. "We need you, Chas," the honesty was clear in Tom's voice. "You'll be safe. What can I do to make it happen?" "A one year supply of the inhibitor." "Done," Tom said. "What else?" "How's the budget?" Chastity asked. "We've come up with three dozen million dollar patents since you came in the building." Chastity grinned. "The supply and a hundred thousand and I'm in." Tom pushed the down button on the elevator and said, "Done." Romancing the Raptor It was the face of someone who had seen more violence than she cared to imagine. "I'm the one who should apologize, sergeant. It's been a long time since I've had a regular conversation with a man—with anyone, really. The past year has put most of my dealings with men into one of two categories: seducing and killing them, or avoiding them altogether because they barely get past 'hello' and a deep inhale before their dicks take over. Some of them even skip the hello part." It was Sergeant Thompson's turn to smile. "Hard to imagine you killing someone," he said, his eyes meeting hers. They were nice eyes—kind eyes. "Four times in the past year... but they were murderers and they deserved it. I don't just go play shoot 'em up for the hell of it." "No doubt, ma'am." "You know, you can use my name. We're going to be working together for thirty to forty-eightish hours... plus the 'ma'am' thing—I really haven't had a good experience with it lately." "I can do that, Summers." Chastity nodded in acceptance. Sergeant Thompson sighed, "I suppose we should get you in your bunk for the night. We've got five people to find in the morning." "Six people," Chastity corrected him. "Tom is out there somewhere." Romancing the Raptor Sergeant Thompson's head appeared against the cloudless blue sky. The color of his face bordered on crimson and nostrils were flaring with something more than exertion. "Get off of her, you bastard," he blared as he grabbed Number Three by the neck. His biceps tightened and bulged as he heaved the now-limp prisoner to the ground beside Chastity. Thompson dropped down, straddling Number Three's chest and started pummeling his face with calloused fists. "It's okay." Chastity surged to Thompson's side. "He's down. He's not getting back up." She touched his shoulder and brought his attention to her. The beating stopped. Thompson held his arm back, coiled to throw another punch. He looked at Chastity, gusts of air surging in and out of his open mouth. Chastity could see the slow burn behind the blue of his eyes. The heat of it was something she knew all too well. It was fueled by primal needs—fight or fuck, and the urge to fight in Thompson was fading. With a speed that was at odds with his size, Thompson had his arms around Chastity. His eyes took in the soft features of her face. He brushed his thumb along her cheek. The gentle touch from calloused fingers sent an electric shiver down Chastity's spine. Chastity leaned into him, her soft curves pressing into his hard edges. She gave him a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. His skin was salty and earthy. Thompson tilted his head a little to the left and met her lips with his. He parted his lips and kissed back. His lips were dry and chapped, but Chastity didn't care. She didn't want anything but the touch of those lips against hers right now. She broke the kiss with a light nibble to his lower lip. "You taste like cherries," Thompson said. Shit, Chastity thought, realizing what was happening. She moved back enough to put a gap between them. She looked at the prisoner on the ground beside them. "He's going to need CPR or a ventilator," she said. She didn't want to scoot away from Thompson, but she did, just by inches. Thompson leaned closer and pressed his lips against Chastity's—harder this time. "You've got to get away from me," Chastity said, breaking her lips away. "The pheromones... too strong in the sweat... they're getting into your system through..." Thompson pulled back. He seemed to understand that something was wrong. "Sergeant Thompson, I need you to trust me. I'm an expert at this. I know what this messed up body of mine can do," Chastity said, keeping her voice level. "I'm going to move back. Just take some breaths. Deep and regular—that's right, just keep that up. Just keep breathing" Chastity moved downwind of Sergeant Thompson and waited. Sanchez and Jones were racing toward them.