Page 42 of Petty Deadly Gorgeous

We ambled down the hall, and I glanced at the old paintings. Victorian women in varied positions, looking prim and proper, and I thought back to my youth. I always wanted to be one of those women.

At the end of the hall, just outside our room, hung a painting of me as Countess Bathory. I remember sitting for the painting. The uncomfortable straight-backed position of sitting on a hard chair for hours!

In the portrait I had on the same gown I saw in my regression. Deep burgundy with gold embroidery. Tight corset lifting my bosom high. Bright cheeks, sharp nose, full red lips. I looked so regal and proper.

Shortly after this commissioned painting, people accused me of the killings and they confined me to my house in arrest.

“You were beautiful then.” Jon raised our hands and pointed to the painting. “But now? You’re drop dead gorgeous.” He brought our hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

“Thank you.” I opened the door and pulled him inside.

He kicked the door closed and whipped me around, capturing my lips with his, holding me close. As we pulled back, I pushed my bottom lip out in a mock pout.

With a sigh, I looked up at him. “I did something petty.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What did you do?”

“I may have called Hugh and told him what I saw in my vision of Dom.”

Jon’s eyes opened wide. “You threw him to Hugh?”

My eyes closed as I nodded my head. “I told you it was petty.”

“It was.” He stepped back. “Do you want me to talk to Hugh?”

“No. What will be, will be.” I shook my head and looked over at the nightstand where our alarm clock sat. “I have a reading to get to.”

He gave me a nod and then smiled wickedly. “I’m going to fuck with the ghost hunters.”

That had my head falling back with a belly laugh. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my sweet Countess.” He bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him softly.

Maddie wouldn’t be here for her reading until her shift ended at The Salty Chef, which gave me time to shower and let the negativity wash down the drain.

I smelled like a heady mix of sex and sweat. No one needed to smell that except for my inner circle of lovers. Stripping off my clothes, I tossed them into the hamper that sat by the door and I peered at myself in the mirror.

High, perky breasts that didn’t need a bra with small dusty rose nipples topping them. Not one stretch mark to be seen. My flawless porcelain skin naturally indented at the waist, giving me an hour-glass figure and my hips spread wide enough that when I walked with a sway, everyone took notice.

My favorite reincarnation had me with thick curves and breasts so full they hung like udders when I was on my knees. Jon introduced me to the fun one could have with such big mommy milkers and, boy, did we have fun.

I didn’t like being pregnant or raising the little brat. A chuckle filled the room as I turned to the side to admire myself more. They stretched my body in ways I couldn’t control and having to tend to the child cut into my playtime.

Maybe that was selfish of me, but at least I knew my own limits. Some never give thought to their limits and then are stuck with the consequences of their actions.

I turned again and looked over my shoulder to admire my backside. Smooth skin and a heart-shaped ass that drove men wild. My teeth bit into my bottom lip as I made the muscles dance and twerk.

Other people use plastic surgeons, me? I prefer my beauty routine to be organic. I gave myself a cheeky wink and walked to the bathroom when the main phone rang. After two rings, I knew Jon answered it and I got out my towels.

I heard the bedroom door open, and Jon poked his head in. “Our handsome detective is calling for you.”

“Ugh. Tell him I’ll call him back.” I stuck my head out of the bathroom and looked at him.

He shook his head. “Take the call.”

“Fine.” I laughed and leaned against the door frame. “I just wanted to take a shower.”

He tilted his head and flicked his forked tongue out, lapping at the air. “You smell fuckable.”

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