by Christa Wick
My free hand slid lower to find the forward push of Delia's breast and the erect nipple buried beneath the fabric. I needed to know the nipple's color, savor its taste. Needed to know how she would respond to a solid pinch.
Before I realized what I was doing, I did it. I grasped the nipple through the layers of material and gave a long, hard squeeze.
With every ounce of her luscious body trembling with need, Delia moaned into my mouth.
Was that what the sound was? Really? She could be overwrought, not thinking. Worse, she could be terrified of me at this moment, wondering where my passion was coming from after years of me keeping it tightly locked down in her presence.
Pulling back, I said her name, a question mark punctuating its end.
"Quiet," Delia ordered.
Hearing the heat in her voice, I swelled fuller. The hard cock pressing against my stomach pushed up and out, seeking escape from its confinement. Groaning, I pounced forward, covered her torso with mine.
Delia smothered a moan, her legs maneuvering to cage my hips.
"Baby, you have to think this through," I warned. "If morning comes and you decide this was a mistake, we'll still be in one another's lives."
She closed her eyes, teeth urgently gnawing at her bottom lip. Foregoing speech, she slid her hips, thrust her mound upward to forcefully butt against my cock.
"Quiet," she repeated.
I snickered, fleetingly disobedient as I answered with a husky whisper.
"Quiet works for me."
Blanketing Delia's body, I worked a hand between us. I claimed her mouth once more. My fingers and curving palm slid resolutely toward the juncture of her thighs. She moaned, lifted her hips. When she lowered them, I skated beneath the band of her slacks and breached her silk panties, touching Delia where she was all hot and wet.
My cock throbbed in protest, but that need would have to remain unabated for the night. I wanted Delia quivering beneath my tongue, wanted her choking back her screams as she came in a rush against my mouth.
Echoing her moan, I broke the kiss and nipped at the side of her throat. She lifted again, working her hips so that my hand lodged deeper. Sliding a thick finger between her swollen labia, I began to stroke.
Delia clutched the cushions, her teeth ravaging her bottom lip. Her full breasts rapidly rose and fell as she panted out her need. I covered her mouth with another demanding kiss, each stroke delivered to her clit harder and faster than the one before.
She released the cushions, knotted her fingers through her blond hair. I reached up, captured her hand and guided it to where the jeans cupped my ass.
"I won't break, baby," I rasped.
Need gurgled at the back of Delia's throat. She grabbed me with both hands, her lower body wiggling against the slide of my fingers between her thighs, along her clit, and down to the core of her sex.
"More," she demanded, reaching between our bodies. Her hands warred with mine as she sought the top button of my jeans.
"ARV," I reminded, hating to turn her away.
Delia froze.
I couldn't have her doing that, vowed not to release the woman until she climaxed while breathlessly whispering my name.
I kissed the soft underside of her chin, feathered my lips along her neck, cooing and urging her to relax again as the rub of my hand between her thighs turned languorous. Delia's hips resumed their slow, persistent rocking. Her eyes rolled back. More needy moans escaped. Covering her mouth with mine, I swallowed her urgent pleas.
When she started to shake, I moved lower, stripping away her pants and underwear. Need glistened on her plump labia. I parted them, my thick fingers dominating her tight depths. I dragged the honey flowing from her up, smoothed it over her clit, rubbed the fat swollen nub in teasing circles.
Her hips moved with a rhythm that matched my own as she gasped for air.
I slid down her body.
"You…" she started. "You're not going to…"
"I'm not going to let this opportunity slip by," I finished, licking the throbbing clit beneath my tongue.
Her spine curved upward. She slapped a hand against her mouth then bit at its knuckle. I forced her thighs further apart, my lips forming a seal over the swollen button and its spine. My fingers returned to her sex, pushed in deep with a thick triangle as I nibbled at her flushed and swollen labia.
Fuck…she was so hot, so elastic. So tight but capable of taking more. And the way she had to hold back, had to be quiet because of where we were, I knew she needed more to push her over the edge.
I worked a fourth finger in, only my thumb remaining outside the clutching entrance. Tremors raged through Delia, her full, beautiful body shaking with a sensual violence. Her eyes glazed over. Her lush breasts thrust upward, the nipples hard, greedy peaks beneath the blouse.
Her pussy clutched at the invasion, sucked my fingers deeper until I was buried up to my knuckles. Still, her muscles coiled and sucked. I groaned against her clit, shook my head, throttled the tender flesh.
Warm, thick juices escaped the seal of my fingers filling her. With her hips dancing erratically, she rode me hard, grinding, muscles snapping like a whip, her lips moving with near silent gulps as she sucked in breath after breath with no release.
When she came, it would be a tsunami.
"I can't…" she gasped.
I stopped, confusion blasting through me like a desert sand storm.
"I can't keep myself from screaming…it's…it…"
I couldn't wait for Delia to find the words. My body may be bruised and sore, but I was big and strong. I flipped her on the couch, gave her a throw pillow to scream into, then climbed behind her. My hand contorted then pushed deep, some fingers filling her, some rubbing relentlessly at her clit.
"Come for me, Delia," I growled. "Scream for me."
She clutched the pillow, jerked once…twice. I kept driving and rubbing, her pussy contracting around my flesh.
"Think of my cock in you."
She moaned, the hungry, aroused sound her only way of communicating an all-consuming need.
"Pushing into you," I urged. "Filling you with my come…unsheathed, spilling into you, your beautiful body mouthing everything deeper."
I didn't know where the words were coming from, but I knew that's what I wanted with her, what I had endlessly fantasized about during our friendship in Boston. I wanted to fill her tight pussy with everything I had, the inherent risk of creating a child not a deterrent, but a blessing.
"I want you where we can go crazy, baby," I teased. "Want you riding me, riding my face."
She jerked again, her climax visibly rolling through her, the contractions from her hot, slick depths coming harder and faster as she desperately bit into the pillow.
"I want to kiss your naked breasts, suck and squeeze them. I want you dripping with need, this sweet pussy pulsing just because I'm in the same room."
Delia froze, her muscles locked tight except for the rolling depths I penetrated. Air stopped moving in and out of her lungs. Her glazed gaze went blank and then, with one last jerk, she collapsed against the couch.
My touch gentled, but I kept stroking inside her. Aftershocks rocked Delia's body. Her tears wet the pillow.
Seeing that she was crying, I pulled her up and onto my lap again.
I didn't tell her to stop, just held her.
"I'm sorry about school," I said after a minute had passed. "I'm not sorry for what just happened."
She shook her head. I couldn't read any meaning in the gesture, prayed she was telling me in her own way that she wasn't upset, that she wanted what I wanted.
"I can't stay much longer," I gently warned when she remained silent. "I wish I could."
Delia nodded, then whispered. "I need my clothes."
I grabbed her slacks, then found the patch of silk posing as underwear. Handing them to her, I gave a slow lick against my top lip. Fresh color flared across her cheeks, her lush, heavy breasts quivering beneath her blouse.<
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"We'll figure this out," she said, quickly getting dressed and slipping into her shoes. "Where did I drop your shirt?"
"Right here." I leaned forward, my jeans sliding low.
She stopped dressing. Her face went slack and then she pressed a finger against my lower right back, touching the bit of skin freshly exposed as I scooped the shirt from the floor.
The spot housed another tattoo, one that the real Reaper had. The background was red, broken by a thick white stripe that contained a green snake coiling around a red dagger.
She pressed her finger a little harder. When she spoke, I could hear a thin panic spread like poison through her words.
"Why do you have this?"
"It's what the guy had," I gently reminded. "Everything he had, I have."
Delia snatched up her purse, clutched it to her chest.
"It's a unit tattoo," she said.
"Yeah, the Thir…" Realizing my error, I trailed off. "Shit, Delia, I forgot. Baby, you were never supposed to see it."
She shook her head, tears starting to fly.
"Of course I wasn't," she whispered. "That's been clear since you left Boston."
Clutching her purse tighter, she ran from the room.
9
Delia
Moving through the house, I stuck to the shadows until I reached the guest bedroom. A suitcase was on the bed—the one I bought to leave Massachusetts for Montana. A note rested on top.
I'm sorry about school.
We'll make it work. I promise.
— M
At that moment, school was the least of my concerns. First, I wanted a shower. Before I could do that, I needed to text Maddy so she could get some sleep.
Situation sucks, but I'll survive. Thanks for getting the clothes. Hitting the sack. Love you always.
Entering the bathroom, I turned the light on and avoided the mirror. My flesh still burned hot. I didn't want to see it colored from the passion Emerson had ignited within me. I wanted to forget that had ever happened, or at least pretend it didn't.
How could I have been such a fool? Whatever he had been feeling in the moment—after fighting for his life—would dissipate quickly. He didn't want me in his world or he would have done something by now. He wouldn't have sent flowers to the funeral with a signature printed out at the florist. He would have called. He would have reached out to me when I arrived in Billings.
He would be gone soon, too. He had said as much when I saw the tattoo for Ken's unit. He hadn't meant for me to see it. Of course not! Why would he? He had a case, criminals to bust, then he was moving up and out. It might take years for all the tattoos to be removed. Years he planned on being far away from me.
Fresh heat flushed my body. I was pissed! Pissed mostly at myself. I had melted into the arms of a man I didn't trust to even like me, let alone respect me. And that bullshit he had fed me while fucking his fingers into my pussy.
That was just the rotted out cherry atop the shit cake, wasn't it? The ridiculous idea that he wanted a chance to be completely intimate with me, no protection between us, the chance of a life sparking into existence because of our union.
Threading my fingers through my hair, I pulled hard at the roots. The pain didn't slow my racing thoughts. It just hurt.
"Cold shower it is," I mumbled, sliding the glass door and stepping into the enclosure.
I put the water on blast, lukewarm at first then slowly dialing it colder until I shivered beneath the spray. The white-hot anger dissipated, but not the memory of Emerson touching me. Neither did the memory of how, for a few minutes, he had looked at me as if enthralled.
Zombie walking, I exited the shower, wrapped an oversized towel around me, put my hair up in a turban with a second towel. Exhausted, I sank onto the bed, vowing I would rest for just a few minutes then finish drying my hair.
Thirty seconds after my head hit the pillow, I slept like the dead.
Sleep came quickly but it didn't last long. Vague dreams filled with dread brought me fully awake by six a.m. I shrugged into fresh clothes and tamed my hair into a ponytail before checking on Caiden.
He heard me, of course. I entered the room and found him propped on one elbow. I shut the door and sat down on the edge of his bed, the room dark except for a nightlight.
"Saturday," he mumbled. "No school."
"That's right. You can sleep in a little longer." Eyes adjusting to the near darkness, I looked around the room. "Someone brought your suitcase and travel bag."
"Maddy," he mumbled, collapsing against the pillow and shutting his eyes.
Just because he could wake in an instant didn't mean he wanted to stay that way. I leaned forward, brushed his hair from his forehead and planted a kiss.
"I'll be back in about an hour so you don't miss any of Lindy's breakfast buffet."
His lips vibrated with a soft snore.
I held my sniffle until I was in the hall and made certain no one was around to see the few tears that clamored for release.
Emerson had indicated that I would have to abandon my life in Billings for a few weeks. I knew what that meant for me academically. What it meant for Caiden was harder to determine. He had changed so much in the last year being around the Turk family. Maybe it was possible for me to get his school work so he wouldn't fall behind.
I would check with Maddy about how she could do that without endangering the investigation—or the man running it. Before that, I needed one hell of a big cup of coffee.
I tiptoed my way through the great room and formal dining room. Both were dark, but light played around the edges of the double swinging doors that led into the kitchen. I pushed on the right door, carefully opening it in case someone stood on the other side.
Light flooded my eyes, followed by a wave of heat spreading through me from the smell of fresh brewed dark roast and warm zucchini bread.
"Black, right?" Siobhan asked, filling a mug.
"Yes, thank you."
With Siobhan pouring coffee, I went straight for the bread.
"Where's Lindy?"
"My most beloved aunt is getting dressed now that breakfast is cooked and waiting to be devoured," Siobhan said as she handed the mug to me.
"God Bless Lindy Turk," I purred after I swallowed my first sip of coffee and popped a bite of zucchini bread into my mouth. "I can't imagine cooking for so many people, especially so early in the morning."
Siobhan cackled. "That'll be Sage's job someday—after she learns how to cook. But Aunt Lindy is always awake in time anyway and it's a surefire way to see some of her family every morning."
Half hovering, Siobhan waited for me to take my second sip of coffee and put the cup down before wrapping her arms around me in a hug.
"Sorry to hear about school." Breaking the embrace, she sat down and scrutinized my face. "Something's off. You don't seem as upset as you should be."
With an embarrassed heat flooding my cheeks, I studied my plate as I picked at the bread. "Trying to make the best of a bad situation."
Siobhan strummed her nails along the table's surface. Leaning in, she forced me to meet her gaze.
"You've had sex," she whisper-hissed.
The zucchini bread threatened to choke me. I coughed then swallowed.
"Of course I have, didn't your mom tell you that's where babies come from?"
It was crazy to think the woman could tell. I certainly didn't feel like I was glowing or anything like that. I had no reason to glow. Emerson and I had gotten a little stress relief and nothing more. In fact, his admission that our brief union never should have happened had dropped a truckload of fresh stress on me.
"I mean recently." Siobhan's cackle repeated. Grabbing her coffee, she walked over to the roster that showed which employees were working on the ranch each day. "You got here yesterday afternoon, around two I believe."
Wondering where Siobhan was getting her information, I winced. How the hell could Siobhan tell? I had showered, had dressed in different clothes.
"You really, really, really have that just fucked look," Siobhan softly snickered before she began rattling off names from the roster.
My muscles grew tighter and tighter. If Siobhan wasn't certain something had happened, she would be soon enough.
Swatting a thick lock of black hair from her face, Siobhan sighed.
"Not like the ranch employs a bunch of losers, but I don't see you hooking up with any of those guys, even if you were distraught about getting pulled out of the clinic yesterday and waiting to know that Maddy had Caiden safely secured."
Returning to the table, the young woman flashed a Eureka! kind of grin.
"You slept with my cousin," she purred.
I hissed at her, my voice full of a desperate, embarrassed heat.
"Your cousins are married!"
I hoped the statement, undeniably evasive, still had enough truth in it to throw Siobhan off track.
"Not Emerson," Siobhan chirped.
I shook my head, lifted my hand to stop further speculation.
"Wrong, he's married to the FBI. Whatever you think you're seeing is down to great coffee and even greater zucchini bread after a terrible day. Your string of trying to orchestrate your cousins' romantic lives isn't going to ensnare me."
Siobhan took another sip of coffee, the dark eyes with their heavy black lashes gently mocking me.
"I'm not gonna lie. I've seen the way he looks at you, but I never thought it would override his ambition." She took another sip, her fingers tapping at the side of the mug. "If he did start something with you…if it went as far as I think it did, then I want you to know right now that I make an awesome bridesmaid."
Twisting in my seat, I pointed at the roster. "You see your cousin's name there? I saw him at the clinic yesterday—"