Killing Kate Read Online Free Page B

them, pressing slightly, and then skimming
the sensitive spot that joins my thighs to my sex.  I can tell I’m already wet,
and I need Kate to make me come the way I haven’t in far too long.  I feel like
I might explode.
    “Tell me you still need me,” she
pleads.  I look at her hovering over me.  She looks fierce and fiery.  Then I
cry out as her fingers tear away my panties and plunge inside of me.  “Tell
me!”
    “I need you Kate,” I say, sobbing. 
“I need you.  I can’t feel without you.”  She smiles softly and licks her lips
and looks down at me.  I am writhing.  I want to be fucked by her.  It’s so hot
in the room, and I think all of the heat is coming from where Kate’s hand is. 
I feel two fingers push up onto that spot that only she seems to be able to
locate.  Her thumb is on my clit and rubbing gently.  She is pushing out from
inside of me and in from outside of me and I feel the heat building down
there.  Within seconds, I come, feeling my blocked energy and build up gushing
out of me.  I am sticky and warm everywhere and I don’t care.  She is good for
me.  She is my life, and I’m so happy to have her back.  I pull her toward me
until she is within me and kissing me everywhere, from my face to my thighs and
down to my toes.  I feel like I am glowing from the inside with her energy, and
I feel complete.  She makes me taste myself off of her fingers.  “I love you,”
I tell her before I drift off to sleep.

Chapter 4
    I am ready.  It is the morning of
my father’s funeral and I am well rested for the first time in a long time.  I
dress accordingly in a conservative black wrap dress that goes just above the
knee and isn’t too low cut or anything.  I am slightly tan from the sun and
choose not to wear any makeup, but I pull my hair away from my face into a high
ballerina bun because it’s scorching outside.  Luckily I am handy with a pair
of scissors and turn elbow length sleeves into sleeveless.  Jack isn’t worth
the extra step, though, and I don’t bother trying to hem or anything.  I
probably won’t be able to find sewing materials in my apartment anyway, though
I’m sure there’s a stolen sewing kit somewhere around from Appleseed.  Alicia
keeps them around for wardrobe malfunctions, which you wouldn’t think would
happen with nothing but a silver bikini inside of a cage but customers can get
creative and rough.  I wouldn’t put it past some horny drunk guy to try
something with a wire hanger.
    I need to take the El downtown,
walk to Union Station and then catch a Metra train to Oakdale.  I refuse
Devin’s offer to catch a ride with him on his motorcycle because I need to be
alone in my thoughts with Kate for as long as I can before I show up to the
funeral and also because Devin’s seat isn’t padded well enough to be
comfortable enough for a long ride.  I only tell him my second reason because I
know he wouldn’t really understand the first.
    Oakdale is near where I grew up and
it’s a quaint little Irish neighborhood on the south side of Chicago.  The
train station at Oakdale is quaintly decorated for Memorial Day with red white
and blue bows and lights and it’s a short four block walk down 95 th Street to the funeral home.  I pass by my reflection in the windows of bridal
shops, flower stores and ice cream parlors and notice that my ballerina bun
hasn’t held up very well in the heat.  Loose tendrils are sticking to my neck,
which is already wet with my own perspiration.  The digital clock at the bank
tells me it’s 86 degrees.
    Devin is outside waiting for me,
looking very handsome in a suit and tie.  I know he wants to smoke and so I
open my purse and hand him my pack and we are outside silently smoking and
sitting on a bench while we watch people file inside.  We don’t know them, but we
gather from the sign outside that our father’s funeral is not the only funeral
going on.  I brought a flask, and offer it to Devin.  He