Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 822: Sarah Meets Her Enemy’s Mother

I looked down at Gabriela, my voice softening into something that sounded almost paternal—though the thought made my lips twitch with dark amusement.

”Auntie,” I murmured, my hand resting gently on her shoulder, ”you can also take a rest. I’m here. Why don’t you lie down and close your eyes for a while? I’ll look after Brother Diaz. That way, when he wakes up, you’ll be strong enough to take care of him properly.”

Gabriela hesitated, her body tensing slightly as if she were about to refuse. But then my last words seemed to sink in, and her shoulders sagged in relief. She nodded slowly, finishing the last sip of her coffee before setting the cup down on the table beside her.

With a quiet sigh, she shifted onto the narrow side bed in the room, her movements slow and exhausted.

She turned onto her side, facing Diaz’s motionless form, her hand reaching out to rest lightly on the edge of his blanket as if even in sleep, she needed to stay connected to him.

I watched as her breathing slowed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The way her body curled on the bed, the softness of her hips, the way her dress rode up just enough to reveal the smooth, warm brown of her thighs—it was almost distracting. But my mind was already racing ahead, plotting the next move.

A slow, dark smirk tugged at my lips.

Didn’t Sarah also like to have fun with her father’s killer?

The memory of Sarah’s hungry eyes, the way she’d moaned when I’d told her the truth about her father’s death, sent a jolt of anticipation through me. She’d loved the power of it, the taboo, the way it made her feel alive. And if there was one thing I knew about Sarah, it was that she loved a good show.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers moving quickly over the screen as I typed out a message:

”Sarah. Come to the hospital. Room 307. Wear your police uniform. I have a surprise for you.”

I sent her the hospital’s address and leaned back in the chair, my gaze flicking between Gabriela’s sleeping form and Diaz’s motionless body. The beeping of the machines filled the silence, a rhythmic reminder of the power I held in this room. I could almost taste the chaos that was about to unfold.

An hour passed before the door to the room creaked open. Sarah stepped inside, her police uniform hugging her body in all the right ways—the crisp fabric of her shirt stretched taut over her breasts, the dark blue of her trousers clinging to the curves of her hips.

The sight of her in that uniform, the way it emphasized her authority, her control—it was intoxicating. But it was the way her eyes locked onto mine, the way her breath hitched just slightly, that sent a surge of dark satisfaction through me.

Then her gaze shifted to the bed.

Her expression darkened instantly. The anger in her eyes was palpable, a storm brewing behind them as she took in Diaz’s broken form.

I could see the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her jaw clenched. She hated him. Hated what he’d tried to do to her, hated the way he’d made her feel powerless.

But then her eyes flicked to the other figure on the bed.

Gabriela.

Sarah’s brows furrowed, her body tensing as she took in the woman lying there, her eyes closed, her breath slow and steady.

Gabriela was curled on her side, her dress riding up just enough to reveal the soft, warm brown of her thighs, her hand resting lightly on the edge of Diaz’s blanket. The sight of her—vulnerable, unaware, ours—made something dark and possessive coil in my chest.

Sarah’s gaze snapped back to me, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and intrigue. ”Who the hell is that?” she mouthed silently, her voice barely audible.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I stood, moving closer to her, my hand reaching out to brush a finger along the edge of her uniform collar. ”Diaz’s mother,” I murmured, my voice low, my lips brushing the shell of her ear as I spoke. ”Gabriela.”

Sarah’s breath hitched, her body tensing under my touch like a coiled spring. I could almost see the gears turning in her mind—Diaz, his mother, the way I’d summoned her here in her uniform. The pieces were clicking into place, and the slow, wicked smile that curled her lips told me she understood exactly what I was offering. What we were about to do.

But then—Gabriela stirred.

Her eyelids fluttered open, her dark, sleep-heavy gaze landing first on me, then shifting to Sarah. For a second, she just blinked, confusion clouding her expression. Then her eyes widened as she took in the police uniform, the authority it represented, the way Sarah stood there like a dark angel of justice.

”Sarah... is that you?” Gabriela exclaimed, her voice thick with surprise and a flicker of hope.

Sarah didn’t miss a beat. She turned to face Gabriela fully, her expression carefully neutral, her voice smooth and professional. ”Auntie, do you know me?”

Gabriela pushed herself up from the bed, her movements quick despite her exhaustion. She stepped closer to Sarah, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dress, her eyes searching Sarah’s face.

”Yeah,” she said, nodding. ”Diaz told me about you. He showed me photos of you two working together on a case as partners. I remember you.”

There was a desperate edge to her voice, the kind that came from clinging to any shred of hope in a storm. She reached out, her fingers brushing Sarah’s arm as if needing physical reassurance. ”Sarah...” she asked, her voice trembling, ”did you find who did this?”

Sarah’s gaze flicked to me for the briefest second—just long enough for me to see the dark amusement in her eyes—before she turned back to Gabriela. Her voice was calm, measured, the perfect picture of a dedicated officer.

”That...” she began, pausing just long enough to let the weight of the words sink in, ”Auntie, we’re still looking for some clues. And it’s Diaz’s statement that can help us.”