by Desiree Holt
Tentative at first, then with greater determination, Lindsey traced the lines of his face with her fingers, along his cheekbone and down his neck. Just that barest touch set his nerves dancing and an ache of need settled in his balls. Going slow was going to take every ounce of effort he had, but he was determined to show her this was more than just hot sex for him.
When they broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard. Her face was flushed, her eyes slumberous and the visible pulse at the hollow of her throat beat like a jungle drum. He reached behind her, found the tab on the zipper of the dress and eased it all the way down. It stopped just at the curve of her ass, and he couldn’t stop himself from sliding the tips of his fingers beneath the flimsy silk of her bikini panties and caressing the hot flesh beneath.
She moaned again, a tiny, erotic sound that sizzled through his body.
How was I so stupid as to walk away from her? Cut her out of my life?
With careful movements, he slipped her dress from her shoulders, down her arms and past her hips. When it pooled at her feet, she stepped out of it and kicked it away.
John took a moment to drink in her entire body with his eyes, remembering the seductive swell of her breasts with their ruby tips, cupped now by a pale blue bra with flowers. The slight curve of her stomach and the flare of her hips, highlighted by panties that matched her bra. The flowers on her panties sat temptingly on the little swell of her mound, tempting him.
Not too fast, he kept reminding himself. Slow. Make it good. Make it last.
This was important. He wanted more than just tonight with her, more than a short fling then goodbye. He had this one chance and he wasn’t going to blow it.
He lowered his head and traced the swell of her breasts with the tip of his tongue, a gentle lick before taking one taut nipple into his mouth, fabric and all. He closed his teeth around the hard flesh, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her, so he bit a little harder.
“John.” The word came out as a whimper. “Oh, god.”
He wanted to yank off his own clothes and press against her, flesh to flesh, but he was so close to coming just from touching her that he needed all the protection and restraint he could get.
When he’d tormented one nipple until it was hot and swollen, he moved his mouth to the other one and gave it the same treatment. Lindsey slid her hands down to his arms and dug her fingers into his hard muscles to balance herself. He lifted his head to take her mouth again, sucking hard on her tongue while he eased his hands between the fabric of her panties and her warm skin and squeezed the supple muscles of her ass.
Jesus!
His thick shaft was so hard he was afraid it would break off, an indication of how great his need for her was.
He slid his middle finger into the hot crevice between the cheeks of her ass and stroked it up and down in a very slow tempo. She clenched against it, little sounds of pleasure drifting from her.
John tore his mouth away from her and stared hard into her eyes. He saw in them the same need, the same smoldering heat that rushed through his own body, and lifted her into his arms.
“Which way is your bedroom?”
“There.” She pointed. “On the left. The one with the lamp on.”
He was glad she’d left a light burning because he didn’t want to stumble around in the dark while he was holding her. The amber glow from the bedside lamp cast a warm blanket over bedroom furniture that was designed with a distinctive Florida look. The floral spread and throw pillows in pastel colors added to it, but John was only interested how soft the bed was and how much room they’d have.
He yanked the covers back on the bed and placed her with precision on the sweet-scented sheets, letting her legs dangle over the edge.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for way too long.” His voice was thick and guttural with need.
He knelt between her legs and eased her bikini panties down over her hips and her legs, dropping them on the floor. His throat went desert-dry at the sight of her gorgeous cunt—waxed with meticulous care, leaving just a narrow strip of hair on either side. He stared so long that she smiled at him.
“No,” she said, “there isn’t.”
“What? Isn’t what?”
“Anyone that I’ve been waxing for. Isn’t that what you wanted to ask me?”
“Yes.” He gritted his teeth. “But I don’t believe I have the right.”
“I’d tell you that you made such an indelible impression on me that no one else seemed to pique my interest, but then I’d be feeding that enormous ego of yours.”
“It isn’t my ego that’s enormous right now,” he growled.
He run his thumbs in a gentle movement along the trimmed hair then pressed enough to open her lips and expose her gorgeous cunt. Pink and slick with her moisture, it made his mouth water and his pulse ratchet up. Leaning forward, he ran the tip of his tongue the length of each delicious expanse of wet skin. Her breath hitched, her hands fisting to help her maintain control.
He took his time, lapping with slow, unhurried strokes, pressing her more open each time his tongue traveled from top to bottom and back again, moving ever closer to her clit that had flushed a dark red. When he couldn’t deny himself any longer, he took her tiny swollen flesh into his mouth and drew on it hard, clamping his teeth at the tip.
“Oh, god!” she cried out, her head thrown back.
“Not god,” he murmured against her hot flesh. “Just me, but I’m going to take you to heaven.”
He moved one hand to slide two fingers inside her slick sheath, sucking in his breath when he felt her wet heat. Taking her clit between his teeth, he tugged it back and forth in cadence with the movement of his fingers in and out of her. Her sexy little moans were driving him crazy, even as he wanted to hear more of them. Feel more of her.
Lindsey bent her knees and braced her heels on the edge of the bed, using the leverage to push herself against his hand and ride his fingers. He added a third one, stretching her flesh just a little but sucking in his breath at the tight feel of it. He wrapped his lips around her clit and flicked his tongue back and forth in a steady rhythm, looking up just enough to watch her as he drove her higher and higher.
Her orgasm hit with sudden force. Her body arched, her heels dug deeper into the mattress and she clenched around his fingers so hard he wondered if she’d break them. She spasmed again and again, delicious little noises coming from her mouth. He rode her through it, licking and nibbling and thrusting his fingers in and out, until at last her body was limp and she lay there, spent.
When her breathing had evened out and all the spasms had stopped, he eased his fingers from her and, seeing her watching him, slowly and carefully licked each one.
“That’s the best meal I’ve had since the last time we were together. You taste so damn fucking sweet.” He rose from his knees and leaned over her, stroking her cheek with gentle caresses.
Fresh from an orgasm, her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling—he loved seeing her like this. Her lips curved in the sexy smile that turned him on.
“I think one of us is overdressed. Don’t you?”
“I’m about to take care of that right now. But first, let’s get you more comfortable.”
He lifted her in his arms and rearranged her on the bed so she was lying with her head on the pillows. Taking a moment, he brushed his mouth over hers, enjoying her little hum of satisfaction when he shared her taste with her. Then with quick efficiency he stripped off his clothes and tossed them on the chair in the corner. Before he added his slacks to the pile, he took out his wallet and retrieved a string of three condoms. When he dropped them on the nightstand, Lindsey laughed, a low, sensual sound.
“I see you came prepared, but aren’t you a little overly ambitious?”
“Let’s call it hopeful.”
He climbed into bed and stretched out full length beside her, loving the sight of her naked body, sure he’d never get tired of looking at her.
“I want to tou
ch you,” she murmured, her voice husky.
“Please do.” He wanted her hands on him, her mouth, her tongue. Jesus, he’d been dreaming about this for longer than he cared to remember.
Lindsey rose to her knees and took a long moment to drift her gaze over his body from his chest to his feet, before letting it come to rest on his swollen cock. Without thinking, he reached down to wrap his fingers around it, hoping to ease the ache, but she brushed his hand away, replacing his touch with her own. The contact was electric, sending bolts of heat straight to his balls. When she stroked them up and down, with just a light caress, he couldn’t help but groan.
Her lips tilted in a playful smile and she leaned over, giving a gentle swipe with the tip of her tongue over the head of his shaft. Heat flushed through his body, fueled by the desire he’d tried to ignore for so long.
Lindsey opened her mouth wider and slid her lips down the length of his shaft, splaying her fingers against its base before reaching down to cup and squeeze his balls. She set up a slow rhythm, gliding her mouth from root to tip in a steady cadence, sweeping her tongue over the sensitive head. Her silken hair fell forward like a curtain as she bent her neck and he brushed it back behind her ear, wanting to see her face as she pleasured him.
He loved the feel of her touch and wanted it to go on forever. But he was already so primed he was afraid his self-control would disappear too soon. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the pleasure of her lips, her tongue, her fingers. When she slid her free hand between his thighs to cup his balls, he had to bite back the cries of pleasure that bubbled up in his throat.
“Let go, John,” she murmured against his hot flesh. “Let me feel and taste you.”
He was so close to coming. So close. Closer.
Then his control fractured and he let go, filling her mouth, his cock pulsing, her hands and fingers working him, getting the last drop of pleasure from him. At last, spent, he heaved a huge sigh.
“I hate to tell you,” he said in a strangled voice, “but I don’t think I’m up for round two for a few minutes.”
Her low, throaty laugh brushed his nerve endings.
“No problem, I’m in no hurry. I’ve waited a long time for this, wondering if it would ever happen again.” She leaned over so her face was a scant inch away from his, studying him as she searched for the right words.
“You don’t have to say it again,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest. “Trust me. You have nothing to worry about ever again. I’m only stupid once.”
He stroked his hand down her body, following the curve of her hip and thigh, before drifting to her center. Her pussy was still wet from her earlier orgasm so he slid his fingers easily between the plump pink lips.
He moved his head to take a soft bite of her earlobe before whispering, “Let me show you just how smart I am.”
Chapter Nine
Detective Marco Dania stood next to his partner, Detective Dean Alpert, looking down at the body of the young woman on the beach in front of the hotel. The officers in the radio patrol cars, the ones who had received the ‘person down’ nine-one-one call, had set up a perimeter around her. Considering it was on a beach, however, with an early morning breeze blowing, no one held out much hope for forensic evidence in the vicinity. When the officers had then called their sergeant at the command, he’d assigned Alpert and Dania then rousted out the rest of the personnel they’d need.
The woman—more like a girl, Dania thought—was clad only in the tiniest bikini he had ever seen. Her hair was wet and matted from the salt water, and she wore no jewelry. Identifying her would be a bitch. His anger rushed to the surface as he tried to think what had driven her to this. She had to have come from quite a distance to collapse here like this. Something had scared the shit out of her.
There didn’t seem to be any boats close by and if she’d fallen from one, and no one had reported her, asking questions wouldn’t bring any results. Oh, they’d do it, because it was routine, just like they’d canvass the hotels and condos in the immediate vicinity, a long and tedious job. But he didn’t hold out much hope.
The lab would test her blood for drugs and alcohol. Forensics would take her fingerprints, but if she didn’t have any on record, it would be a Herculean task. Maybe if they didn’t get any answers right away they’d get lucky and she’d be in the Missing Persons database.
Of course, she might not be missing, but he’d make a wild-ass guess that a girl this age who’d been swimming for her life had gotten herself into something over her head. That meant the odds were pretty good she was missing and, if he was lucky, someone had reported her. He hoped so. It would make his job a lot simpler. Otherwise identifying her could be near impossible.
What bothered him was she looked so much like several young women—girls—her age who had been reported missing over the past three years. Girls who’d just vanished without a trace. They had a whole collection of them in the database. In some cases, their parents had filed the Missing Persons reports, but in many of them, it had been a roommate or close friend. As a matter of fact, he had just been looking at the file a week ago, checking on the status of another missing girl, when a friend of his, a detective with the Fort Lauderdale police department, had called about the same thing. He, too, had a file of missing girls, all the same age and type. He wanted to know if it was just confined to his area or if it had spread farther, like into Fort Lauderdale.
They had discussed the situation and both decided to do some additional digging when they could. They hated to think someone was snatching these girls off the street, killing them, or maybe worse. Yes, he thought, in some instances there are worse things than death. He’d make every effort to find out where this girl came from, if she’d been reported missing, who reported her. Maybe they’d get lucky with a hit on the tattoo. He sure hoped so.
He tried to ignore the sick feeling creeping through him.
He swallowed a sigh and looked at the man standing beside them, an early morning jogger named Morgan Hazlitt, who’d found her when he came out a few minutes after dawn to run on the beach. The man was staring at the sight of the dead woman, a sad expression on his face.
“Tell me again how you found her,” Dania ordered him.
“She was lying at the edge of the water when I came out to run on the beach,” Hazlitt said. “I thought maybe she was… I don’t know what I thought. I waded in and pulled her out, thinking at first she’d just fainted or something. But she didn’t have a pulse. I tried chest compressions and got nothing. Lucky I always have my cell with me.”
“You always run at this hour?” Dania asked.
The man nodded. “Every day if I can. When my wife and I vacation here, we both get up early, but she’s not a runner. She goes to the exercise room while I’m out here. Not too many people around at this time.”
Alpert snorted. “No kidding. It’s barely sun-up. You’ve never seen her before?”
“No. Never. We’ve been here for a week and I’m out on the beach every morning.”
“Okay, give me your name, your room number and your cell phone number. We’ll get in touch with you if we need you but I’m pretty sure that won’t be necessary.”
Dean Alpert, who had been talking to some gawkers on the beach, walked over to him. “The coroner texted that she’s on her way, with a forensics team, although there really isn’t anything to find. Get out your cell and snap pictures of the body and the surrounding area, and take a couple of shots that show the distance to the hotel.”
“You think that Hazlitt guy was telling the truth when he said he’d never seen her before?”
Dania nodded. “In this case, yes. If he’s the one who killed her, he’d never have called it in.”
Alpert shrugged. “You never know. Maybe a late-night rendezvous gone bad. He’s married and didn’t want the wife to know.”
Dania laughed. “You’ve been watching too many bad movies. He never would have left her
on the beach in front of his hotel, if that were the case. Or if he did, he wouldn’t have called it in himself. He wouldn’t want his name tagged with it in any way.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Alpert sighed. “It’s never that easy.”
“Let’s see if we can put a name to her and see what we can find out about her.”
He didn’t think the girl was more than twenty-one, if that. Although she was pale, her features set in lines of fatigue, she was still beautiful. Thick black lashes lay against the pale skin of her cheeks. Thick hair, the same color as her lashes, hung from her head in wet clumps, although he’d bet it had been beautiful when it was dry and combed. Her full lips were so bloodless they were almost white. She lay on her back where Hazlitt had found her, arms crossed in front. Probably the way he’d arranged her after realizing he couldn’t resuscitate her.
He shook his head. What a waste. Where the hell had she come from? What had been so terrible that her only course for escape was to swim in the Gulf of Mexico to get to someplace safe?
He took out his own cell, snapped a few shots of her face and texted them back to command. Then he added a message.
Get Riley to run this through facial recognition and see if anything pops.
Then he stood there, looking out at the expanse of water in case by some remote chance something out there tripped a switch in his brain. Pleasure boats were beginning to dot the water, people out for a day on the water. Scattered in among the bowrunners, cabin cruisers, jet boats and fishing boats now setting off for the day were a fair number of sailboats and a couple of very large yachts, no doubt heading for the marina a mile down the coast.
Could she have come from one of them? Slipped overboard in the middle of the night to escape from…what? But even as he thought it, he realized how ludicrous the idea was. Any of these boats would have been anchored either at the public marina or at a private dock at someone’s house. She’d have been able to escape on land. Right? And if she’d fallen overboard, someone would have reported her. Unless, of course, they had something to hide. Then they’d make doubly sure there was no trace of her.