The Black Widow Read Online Free Page A

His obvious reluctance and painful unhappiness served only to heighten her enjoyment. Sky rubbed the lips of her sex hard against his face, continuing to press close to him long after he had licked the last droplet of his come from the depths of her cleft. When she was finally satisfied with his submission, she stepped from the birthing-stool, picked up her riding crop, and returned it to her briefcase.
    ‘I won’t help you to hurt anyone,’ he said suddenly. ‘I don’t care what you do to me, but I won’t be a part of something like that, whoever it is.’
    Sky had been on the point of fastening the briefcase, but she paused. She glanced back over her shoulder towards him, her frown darkening beneath the fringe of her blonde tresses. Snatching the crop back from the case, she marched swiftly to his side and brandished it at him like a pointing stick. ‘Don’t think you can start telling me what to do,’ she hissed menacingly. ‘Because you’re in no fucking position to dictate anything.’
    Still secured to the stool, John struggled to back away from the woman.
    Sky sliced the crop through the air twice, each time scoring the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. His spent cock lay limp between his legs but the threat of an erection began to stir as the explosion of pain burnt into his skin.
    She ignored his growing excitement. Shaking her head with frustration she struck him again with the crop. The spade-like tip brushed dangerously close to his balls and he winced as though it had hit him squarely.
    Sky was panting as her anger increased. ‘I’m going to have to be more like a black widow than ever before if I intend to do this properly, aren’t I?’
    His frightened expression looked pathetic but she felt no pang of sympathy for him this time. ‘You’re not going to kill me, are you?’ he whispered nervously.
    Smiling, she shook her head, and raised the riding crop high in the air. ‘I’m not going to kill you.’ But I can’t trust you to go about your business and do as you’re told. Like the spider, I’m going to have you wrapped for consumption later.’
    As he stared nervously up at her, the Black Widow began to laugh.

Two
    Jo Valentine flicked the double-headed sovereign high in the air. As it span on its upward spiral, she mounted the last step of the staircase and stared at her office door. A frown creased her forehead.
    Painted in black, the words V ALENTINE I NVESTIGATION A GENCY had been peeling away from the opaque glass for the last few years. Beneath the arch of the letters, there was now a new addition. Someone had taped a small, cardboard sign to the glass: T HIS AGENCY HAS MOVED TO NEW PREMISES: P OPLAR T REES.
    The tinkle of her sovereign striking the dusty wooden floorboards snatched Jo’s thoughts away from the sign. ‘Shit,’ she growled, barely aware that she had spoken the word aloud. ‘As if the day hasn’t been bad enough…’
    Jo did not bother to complete the sentence. The morning had been sufficiently depressing and she doubted things were going to improve. Reaching down for her coin, she ignored the twinge in her back and tried to decide what would be the best course of action.
    The idea came to her suddenly but, when it struck, she knew it was exactly the right thing. ‘I’m going to kill the bitch,’ she said cheerfully. She pocketed the sovereign. The idea had a warming appeal and it was hard to suppress the grin it inspired. ‘Samantha Flowers is a dead woman,’ she told the empty corridor.
    Turning back to the steps, Jo started down them, heading for the address she had just read. Her resolve was so great that she paused only once en route, and would not have made that stop if she had still possessed a hip flask. She drove through the early-morning traffic with more patience than was normal, distantly realising there was a reason for this uncharacteristic display of control. Her anger now had focus and she was determined to vent it.
    She paused outside the