As soon as Adele arrived in their field, she looked around for her chaton--she had so much to tell him. She saw him behind her. He was all low to the ground, stalking toward her slowly. He was purring loudly so she wasn't worried about his intent. She smiled slyly. Her playful chaton was back. She giggled as she sprinted away from him across the field toward the trees. She only managed half a dozen steps before he caught her. He took her down gently and she lay on her back with him framing her body between his four legs. The soft fur of his front paws caressed her shoulders, while he swished the tip of his tail back and forth over her ankles, tickling them. He gave her a lick across the side of her neck before he bounded off her to sit waiting for her to arrange herself in front of him. Once she managed to contain her giggling, she looked up at him and noticed he was watching her with his head cocked to the side.
"You want to know why I'm so happy, my chaton?"
He gave her one of his little nods. She proceeded to tell him about her life-altering day.
"So, I've found my new start." She sighed. "But I'm worried. There's a man, Dominic White. He is so handsome and the way he looks at me, the way his deep, smooth voice slides up my spine--it makes me shiver ..." She sighed again, then shook her head.
"I can't give in." She watched as he cocked his head to the other side.
"You want to know why?" He nodded his massive head slightly.
"Because of what happened to my mother. She fell pregnant with me when she was quite young. When she told her boyfriend, he ran for the hills. According to my mother 'he ran fast enough to leave a vapor trail in his wake'. He broke her heart; she never recovered. To make it worse, her parents' reaction was to send her away. They shipped her off, from the only home she had ever known in Lyon, France to live with an elderly relative she had never even met before in Melbourne without a backward glance."
She took a deep breath before continuing.
"I am twenty five years old and have never met either my father or my grand parents. My mother died having not seen her parents for over twenty years. So you understand? I can't let a man get close. I can't stand to be hurt like my Maman was. My heart isn't strong enough. It's still healing from loosing Maman. I'll be fine on my own. I don't need a man."
She finished more to herself than to him.
He nuzzled her cheek, alerting Adele to the fact she was crying. She wrapped her arms around his neck sinking her fingers into his thick coat, laid her head against his, and allowed the vibrations of his purring to soothe her.
Chapter Three
Damn it! Cole had lost himself. He'd become so caught up in the moment he'd pushed her too far. So intent on releasing his anger, he hadn't been paying attention like he should have. He began pacing back and forth across the cold concrete floor, running his hands through his hair and pulling at it. His slave was dead. His lousy day just kept getting better and better. After a massive fuck up with paperwork he'd unloaded and reloaded a ship of logs, while putting up with the Captain and officials fighting over whose fault it was and who was going to pay for it all every step of the way. He really needed to work off his anger and frustration tonight. He hadn't even played his usual mind games with her; he'd simply grabbed her and dragged her down here as soon as he'd arrived home. He'd tied her up, whipped her raw, then fucked her hard. It was a thing of beauty, she had screamed so nicely, and the way that woman bled...got him hard every time.
He stopped pacing and rubbed his hands over his face, examining her hanging from the hook: her head sagging forward, her long black hair hanging over her tits soaking up the blood from the welts he'd put there. Her arms where stretched straight as the full dead weight of her body pulled on them. Her knees had bent a little and her blood was slowly dripping from them to the floor. Damn, she looked sexy. If only she were breathing. He cursed and screamed out loud to vent some of the frustration he had building up inside. How was he going to bring himself down now? To top it off, now he had to deal with the body. The last few he'd dumped over a cliff into the ocean--that seemed to work. The water soaked away any evidence that would tie him to them and the current took them far enough away the cops didn't know where to start looking.
Before he got stuck into the messy job he needed a stiff drink. He headed up the stairs to the kitchen. As he poured himself some Jim Beam in a glass tumbler he heard a noise; a door quietly closing. He grinned as he threw back the cheap alcohol, enjoying the burn it left in its wake on the way down. The Brat. He still had her to ease his needs. He planned out what he needed to do on the way down the stairs.
He would wrap the body up in a tarp then tie it up good and tight. He'd place her in the tray of his pride and joy, his jet black 2009 Holden VE SV6 Commodore Ute with the hard cover closed. She would keep in his garage until he finished with the brat, then he would take her up to the cliffs and dump her over into the ocean. He'd hose out the tray with the high-pressure hose at work early tomorrow, when no one was around. No one would ever know, just like the last time, and the time before that. Oh tonight was starting to look up after all.