Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
They both cried out. He felt her pussy pulse around his length.
Pushing some of the hair off her face, he sunk his fingers into her hair, gripping the back of her neck and pulling her in close to take possession of her lips. He loved the feel of her this close to him.
With his other hand, he reached between them and started to tease her clit. Taking his time, drawing a small circle across her nub, feeling the change within her as she started to rock against him.
Her cunt fluttered around his length, and he had no choice but to grit his teeth. He was so close to his own orgasm but he held it at bay, wanting Ella to reach her orgasm first.
She cried his name, and he let her ride his cock as she rode that wave to completion. The moment she was done, he grabbed her hips and thrust inside her, pulling her down, as he thrust up, making her take his whole cock as he did so. He didn’t let up once.
He fucked her, harder and harder, going higher, until he reached his peak, and he looked into those intense brown eyes he couldn’t resist, and he fell apart, pulsing his seed deep inside her.
Chapter Eight
Several Weeks Later
Mateo stared at the doorway Ella had described to him. The cop on his payroll had come through with all the necessary details of the foster homes she had gone to and the people that had been in her life.
He was shocked to see she had not lied to him. Everything was here in black and white for him to see, including the woman, Ruth, with whom she spent her last years in foster care.
The cop had also included some incident reports, one in which multiple children complained about being put in a closest. None of the reports were taken seriously. Several social workers had gone to the residence, and all of them claimed it was a lie, tales made up for attention. The two people in question were currently tied up in the kitchen.
Mateo looked at the closet, as he thought about the fact the couple were still foster parents. It was a Friday at lunch, and according to the cops, they were still foster parents with no recent complaints. They were currently taking care of a little seven-year-old girl. Only, he had it on good authority that the girl hadn’t gone to school all freaking week. Something swirled in his gut.
He took a step, then another, and reached for the doorknob, only to find it was locked. Mateo walked into the kitchen. The woman was sobbing, trying to beg with her mouth taped shut.
“Where’s the key?” he asked.
The woman looked terrified. He turned toward the man, who simply looked at his wife’s neck. Mateo reached for the necklace, not caring as he tugged on the string around her neck, taking the key from her.
He walked back to the closet, slid the lock into place, and the stench was overwhelming. That was when he knew the little girl had been locked in the fucking closet. Turning on the light, he saw the girl had her arms tied at her sides, and she was sitting in her own mess. There was half-eaten food near her. The girl looked terrified.
“Are you Terry?” he asked.
“I’ve been bad,” she said.
Mateo reached for the ties, and he had no choice but to pull out a knife and cut the rope to free her. Terry didn’t have a lot of strength. Pulling her into his arms, he didn’t give a shit about the mess.
“Eric, get in here.”
He had already called the cop when he realized there was no sign of the girl, and she was not at school.
“Fuck me,” Eric said, walking in.
“Get her to the hospital. I don’t give a shit what you have to say or do, just do it.”
“Mateo, man, what are you going to do?”
“What someone should have done a long time ago. You saw how many reports were made and none of them were dealt with. My wife was stuck in that fucking closet.”
Eric had taken the girl in his arms. “Mateo, man, you can’t do that.”
“Watch me, and the next stop will be those fucking social workers who knew,” Mateo said.
He walked back into the kitchen, looked at the man, then the woman. The man had resigned himself to his fate.
“I want to know who decided on the closet,” he said.
The woman was sobbing. He turned to look at the man.
“It wasn’t you, was it?” Mateo asked.
He reached out and tore the tape from his mouth.
“No.”
The woman was screaming, trying to jump in her seat, but Mateo had her tied really well.
“I ... I didn’t want to foster. She did. She wanted the money, and ... just kill me. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t stop any of it. She said she was helping those kids, and I ... didn’t help.”