Silhouette: Murder. Politics. New Orleans. by Michael Martin

Author:Michael Martin [Martin, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-09-03T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty Seven

Jarman stood with his shirt off in the light from the open refrigerator door, drinking orange juice from the container. He was still wearing his suit pants, dress socks, and belt from the workday.

“Naughty boy.”

He flinched, startled. Madelyn strode up to him in a loose robe and grabbed his belt. She leaned down and peered over his neck at the orange juice and open refrigerator. “How many times have I told you not to do that?” She kissed his neck.

“I’ll put my name on it with a marker pen.”

“This isn’t a dorm.” She smelled his neck with a big, deep breath. “I got so hot for you the other night at that debate.”

“I was that good?”

“Ohh, yes.” She pulled him closer to her. “I’m hot for you now,” she said.

“Hmm.”

“Just look at you, standing here like a bad little boy, shirt off, smelling all kingly.” She licked his ear and whispered. “I want some tongue. I want some cock. I want it inside me. And I want it now.” She pressed into him.

“Whatchoo drinkin’?” he asked.

“You,” she said. “I’m going to drink you all in.”

“What if I don’t feel like getting drunk?”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I want my man. I need him.”

She wrapped her hands around the orange juice container and directed it back into the refrigerator. She grinned, mussed hair in her eyes and around her mouth, just like when she would get on top of him, moving her ass and whispering her pleasure. She kissed him, turned him and took his hand and put it through her robe, on her body.

“That feels so nice,” she said. “Doesn’t that feel nice.”

She tugged him by the belt away from the refrigerator, toward the open door through the kitchen to the backyard.

“How about outside?”

He barely moved.

She saw a glass on the granite island. “Bad boy. There’s the glass you were supposed to use.” She waltzed him to it and picked it up. “The glass. See?” She smiled and kissed him again, but he was flat. She raised the glass and her face changed. She brought it down with a shattering crash on the counter top.

“Maddie!”

“See?” She picked up a shard with her bleeding hand. “See how easy it is to break something? See?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with me, Jarman? Wrong with me? I told you what’s wrong with me. I want the man I adore like nothing else in the world, and he won’t even touch me. Ben asked me if you had changed. I didn’t tell him about the biggest change of all.”

“Ben? When was this?”

“Yesterday. What—is there someone else? Some little bitch somewhere you’ve carefully hidden?”

“No.”

“Then how,” she started tearing at her robe, shoulders first. “Could you—” Tearing it off. “Not.” Tearing it more, getting blood on it. “Want this?” She stood before him naked.

“Maddie.” He walked around the island to the sink and wet a dish towel under the faucet.

“Answer me,” she said. “How? Look at this body. Does your little bitch have a body like this?”

He walked to her and tried to take her hand.

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