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Toxic Delights: Part 1

Darkside Seduction Series

Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash

I can hear him falling apart underneath you. It's my favorite part of the show. And you never disappoint your audience Elle. Never. But you've been keeping things from me. Things that only you and I would understand. Yet here you are, pretending I'm not part of your shadow anymore. I pounded my way through your walls of resistance once. Then relished in the exhilaration it brought to me every night after that. I've gone far too long without your hatred so here's my attempt at bringing us together again. Catch me if you can, Elle Dubois. I'll see you at the finish line. 

With love,

Your best kept secret. 



"How long has she been dead?" Elle Dubois asked, as she crouched down over the dead brunette's bloody body. This was the part she was still trying to get used to, the smell of death, and how it still lingered in the air even after the walls were scrubbed clean. It always stayed with her until the case was solved and the assholes committing the crimes were locked up tight behind bars. 

"At least twelve hours," Sarah Reynolds, the blonde medical examiner, replied as she continued to examine the body. It was discovered by the cleaning lady of the Palo Verde hotel Elle was currently staying in, and while she made her early morning rounds, it just so happened the killer had left the mutilated body right outside her hotel room door. She'd be lying if she said she thought it was just a coincidence. In her line of work, that phrase was considered bullshit.

"Any signs of sexual assault?" 

"None that I can see off the bat. But I'll get back to you once I do a full autopsy," Sarah added, signaling over the forensics team, so they could continue taking pictures of the fresh corpse. 

"Thanks, Leah." Elle reached for her phone and dialed her new captain's office number to give him an update. She hated following protocol, going through several channels before she could finally get what she wanted. People who knew her didn't understand why she'd chosen a career where the methods of asserting justice were so limited. She always told them she'd seen enough people die in the hands of demented souls, and this was the only way to get ahead of them, by flipping a switch and emulating their masterpieces in her mind in order to figure out how to catch them. 

"Dubois, how long?" her new boss, Captain Jeremiah Hall of the sixty-seventh precinct in Miami grumbled on the other end of the line when he finally picked up, and Elle knew she'd have to pull his teeth to gain access to what she needed. 

"Twelve hours, according to the medical examiner. I can get ahead of this faster if I call in some of my resources, sir," she stated, trying the softer approach first. 

"Absolutely not. The last time you went you went rogue, you got your own damn step-father killed," he fumed as he reminded her of the most traumatic experience she'd ever gone through. In her favor she supposed, to get her blood boiling enough to try her aggressive approach, now that she knew being nice wasn't going to cut it with Captain Hall.

"I wonder how your colleagues would feel about their well-respected police captain, sworn to protect and serve, who's divorce just won't let him stay clear of the liquor cabinet at night, and who shows up every morning, reeking of booze and shame. And let's not forget the hookers he goes out to look for on his free time, to make sure he won't forget what a lazy lover he'd been in bed to his ex-wife," she finished, and judging by his silence, Elle knew she had him. Her grin was as wide as it could get without making her cheeks hurt. But it all came to an end when she saw Carter Murphy enter the crime scene, heading on over to Sarah and the rest of the forensic team as they briefed him. 

It had been exactly a week since he'd dropped her off at the airport and she would bet her badge on her old captain back in Minnesota being the culprit behind this team-up. She requested a transfer for a reason. She was getting too close to the the victims there, too blinded by their pain to see what was right in front of her. Elle couldn't imagine what would've happened to Lily, her goddaughter, if she hadn't gotten there in time.

"Damn mouth of yours is gonna end your life early, Dubois. Call in whoever you need. Keep me posted." Captain Hall hung up on her once he was done surrendering, and Elle put her phone into her jacket before she met Carter at the corner of the hallway, near the elevators.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she inquired, with a hint of frustration in her voice. Carter rolled his eyes as he casually crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her.

"Enjoying the scenery," he answered with heavy sarcasm, as he pulled her aside and looked around before he brought out an evidence bag from his pocket, with a piece of folded paper inside.

"Stealing evidence now? This is going to look great on your exit review when they fire your ass," she noted with amusement. 

"They found this under your pillow, Elle. You should've told someone," Carter mentioned stiffly as she dipped her glove-covered hand inside the evidence bag and unfolded the paper. 

Your best kept secret. Your best kept secret. Your best kept secret.

The words exploded into her mind, like a bad memory slowly crawling out of the vault of the past, reminding her she wasn't as untouchable as she pretended to be. 

"What's your assessment, Murphy?" she requested with as much nonchalance as her body could show, so she wouldn't tip him off to the fear currently enveloping her.

"You have a stalker. And you just helped him or her escalate into killing with your silence," Carter stated, a concerned look in his eyes as he held her gaze in the corner of the empty hallway. 

"You'd know all about stalkers, wouldn't you, Carter?" she knew she hit him below the belt with her reference to Hazel but she couldn't help it. She needed to hurt him enough so he'd back off and let her investigate on her own. She wanted less casualties this time. Not more.

"The ink is still wet. Which means this was handwritten recently. Who did you end up fucking over this time, Elle?" he countered abrasively, which she deserved by the way. She'd pushed him far enough away with her cruel words in the past, there was no wonder as to why he never looked forward to being in her presence.

"You know I never ask them for their names." 

"Because they're as disposable to you as the lace panties you let them rip off you, is that right?" Carter acknowledged, with a smirk, continuing his provocation. She was ready to rip his throat out with her teeth, so perhaps his tactic was working.

"You're out of line, Murphy. Watch whose heels you step on before you dig your own grave," she threatened, snatching away the evidence bag from him, so she could slip the piece of paper back inside. 

"You know this person. You've seen them, even though you might not even realize it. I can help you find this person, if you let me," he offered, making her scoff with bitterness. 

"I'm a profiler. I think I would know if I were in danger," Elle claimed as she began her journey back to her hotel room, since the crime scene team were done scouting through it. She needed time alone to think, to process the mess planted at her door, and to come up with a way to end this at just one body. 

"You left the club around midnight," he began as she entered the hotel room and locked the doors behind them, paralyzed while he continued his story, "and you started your little blind fold game on your way here in the cab. Taking one of your scarves, placing it around their eyes, covering them so they'd be completely vulnerable to their surroundings. You tell them they need to play along, because you like it when they surrender to you, it gets you hot, and your panties get wet with anticipation. Little do they know, the only reason you've hindered their sight is because trust doesn't exist in the hands of the strangers you invite into your bed. You don't want them to know who you are or where you've been. It gives you the opportunity to gain as much information as you can about them from their illicit behavior, while you fuck them straight into obsession."

"You're being a bit overdramatic," Elle said when he finally finished, swallowing hard as she placed the evidence bag underneath her pillow. Every single word coming out of his mouth was nothing but the truth and it terrified her, to say the least. If Carter could notice these things about her, then anyone with a distorted view of humanity, like her, could sniff it off her from a mile away. 

"Am I? You're wet just thinking about it," he stated confidently, stepping in close behind her, untying her bathrobe, exposing her to the cool air-conditioned room. She meant to get dressed earlier, but the dead body bleeding out in front of her door activated her blood-hound nose, bringing out her detective skills, and the adrenaline she needed to get her through the case. 

"Don't do it to yourself, Carter," Elle warned, but her persistence waned when she felt his fingertips toy with her clit, as if she were the strings of his favorite musical instrument. She bit her lip when he tugged down her robe and tossed it aside, bending her over so she could feel the angry bulge straining against the front of his jeans. 

"I'm the only one you can't hide from, Elle. Remember that," he whispered into her ear as his lips hovered over it and she felt him bring his thick shaft out of his pants. He spread her full cheeks with his hands and entered her with a slow and swift thrust into her wet walls. He hadn't touched her since college, when they both met Hazel. She'd taken up most of his time and attention, even when they were both in the academy. But there were those scarce nights where he made her remember what it was like to be able to breathe again, allowing her to dream about his touch while she fingered herself underneath her bed sheets. 

She rubbed at herself as she recalled those hot nights, while he piped into her, using her natural lubrication to soak the sensitive nub, allowing her to experience more pleasure. But they were both dominants in the bedroom, which didn't allow for much resignation from either side until they were both too tired to fight anymore, and they let the pleasure guide them into ecstasy. 

His fingers intertwined with hers as they dug into the mattress before them, and his cock grew thick inside of her, stretching her to the limit, confining him enough to be milked by her contracting walls. She clenched her thighs together, and licked her lips as she felt her climax fill every inch of her being. Carter exploded his hot liquid all over her back when he pulled out, and she arched it just enough to let it drip right back down on to the tip of his cock, watching him stroke his length straight into his own orgasm. 

She turned around then, sitting on the edge of her bed, surveying the engorged shaft that had just been pounding inside of her and thought of the words that had been written on the piece of paper underneath her pillow.

I pounded my way through your walls of resistance once. 

The words echoed in her mind as the sound of Carter cleaning up in her restroom filled her ears. 

"You figured something out," Carter noticed when he re-entered the room with a warm towel, to clean her sticky back. She nodded as she stared blankly at her hands.

"I've slept with the killer before. And if I don't figure out who he is soon, he's going to kill again."  

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