by Karin Tabke
Still she didn’t engage. Still she didn’t push him away. Unbuttoning his trousers, Jack yanked down his zipper. Hot and heavy, his eager cock sprang out. He couldn’t control it. His need for her overrode every other need. Spreading her wider with his knee, he slid his finger from her, replacing it with the swollen head of his cock.
A rush of perspiration flushed her skin as her body shuddered. She could no more resist him than he could her.
He pulled out of her, yanked her ponytail back, forcing her to bow, and bit down on her neck as he nudged into her again, this time an inch past his head. Air whooshed from her lungs.
“Tell me you forgive me for being a coward.”
“No,” she whispered.
He withdrew again. He pushed her arms over her head and held her hands together at the wrists. His lips trailed along the curve of her cheek to her ear. “Tell me how much you want me inside of you, Stevie.” He nudged another inch into her, then withdrew. “Or I take it all away.”
“No,” she said, her voice a strangled whisper.
He pressed the head of his swollen cock to her slick opening, and swirled his hips. Her body went corpse still. He pushed deeper into her.
“God,” she breathed.
With his free hand, he pulled her back against his chest. “Don’t hate me, sweetheart. I need you to love me.” Tortuously slow, he pushed deeply into her. Her hot, wet cunt gripped him like a fist, her slick velvet muscles contracting around him, and pushed him to the edge of shattering.
“I can’t love you,” she rasped.
He slowly withdrew, then thrust slow and deep. God, she felt good. “I need you to.”
“Can’t,” she sobbed. “Hurts too much.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Her words cut him to the marrow. He moved to turn her around, but she shook him off. “Don’t,” she whispered hoarsely. “Just—” She pressed her ass back into him. “Finish.”
“Stevie,” he exhaled. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. But he didn’t want to hurt her.
“Finish,” she rasped.
His hands slid down to the curve of her hips. God he loved touching her. Closing his eyes, Jack dug his fingers into her pliant flesh and pulled her onto his stiff cock, hitting her deep. She softly exhaled as she grabbed the rails on either side of the stairway. He pulled her ponytail, and her neck bowed. Her jugular pulsed wildly, and he scraped it with his teeth. He nearly withdrew from her, then thrust again, loving the way her sweet pussy clung desperately to his hungry cock.
He hit her hard. He hit her deep. He hit her long. Her rigid body liquefied around him and she cried out as one spasm after another wracked her. The tension that had been building for days exploded from him in a thick stream of hot semen. Her body milked him, ravenously extracting every drop he had.
Dropping his head to the crook of her shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened and pushed him off. As she turned around, he stopped breathing. She looked crushed. Her big soulful blue eyes stared at him, the pain emanating from them unbearable. The tracks of tears streaked her cheeks. He’d done that to her.
“God, Stevie, I’m so sorry.” He hated himself.
“You said that the last time, too.” She tapped the nearest step three times. “I’m tapping out, Jack. Don’t come near me again.”
She shoved her skirt down and without looking over her shoulder, she climbed the stairs and walked out of his life.
Numbly, he blinked. When it finally registered that she was gone, he sat down on the edge of the counter and knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting her go. He yanked up his trousers and as he climbed the stairs, he pulled up his zipper.
“Stevie!” he yelled to her retreating body. Instead of stopping or even slowing down, she started to run. He ran after her. She came to the open gate and as she went through it, she slammed it shut and held it closed.
He grabbed her fingers through the chain links. “Don’t go.”
Mascara streaked tears streamed down her face. “I can’t stay. Please. Leave me alone.” Releasing his fingers, she stepped back. Their gazes locked. Then she turned away.
He didn’t come after her. Stevie sobbed harder. She’d told him not to. For once he respected her boundary. It was the right thing to do. She couldn’t do the roller-coaster ride that was Jack. She wasn’t cut out for emotional upheaval. She deserved more than a man who just wanted sex from her. She wanted it all. To love and be loved. She would never have it all with Jack. He wasn’t capable of giving it all.
Knowing the reality made it that much more difficult to accept the finality of it. Walking away from Jack was as heart-wrenching as losing a loved one to death. There was no getting them back. No deals with God or the devil. No magic wand, no amount of pleading or promising would bring them back. It was just done.
She had to accept it. Not accepting it would drive her insane.
Her cell chirped that she had a text. Thinking it was Jack, her heart leapt. She hated that. Despite all the pain he had inflicted on her, her heart still leapt with hope. You’re a fool. She slid her cell from her little strap purse and saw an unfamiliar number.
Hi, Stevie, it’s Katrina. Simon and I wanted to know if you and Jack would like to join us for dinner at my place in the city this Saturday night?
Sadness swept through her. She liked Katrina and while Simon was a bit much, he was no more to handle than Jack would have been. It would have been nice. I’m sorry, Doc, but Jack and I are no more.
As Stevie got into her car her cell chirped again. I’m so sorry. I’m here if you need to talk.
Thanks
She didn’t need to talk. There was nothing to say. They’d just had their final fuck. It was over.
A deep sob constricted her chest. Her body still pulsed from his touch. His ejaculate, still wet from his body, smeared the inside of her thighs. He said he needed her to love him. She did, God help her, she did. But she needed him to love her back. Enough not to run when he got cold feet, but to stand beside her and fight for her, not against her.
She sat for a long time staring out the windshield at the estuary. Watching the seagulls swoop and turn, then fly high into the sky. They were free. No worries except what was for dinner. All her life she had been trapped. Trapped by what others decided for her. She wanted the freedom to make her own choices, not be beholden to anyone or any entity.
She exhaled sharply. That was a lie; she wanted to be beholden to a man who wanted to be beholden to her. She’d wasted the last seven years of her life so focused on Jack; she hadn’t given herself the chance to look past him.
Her heart ached. He’d promised not to pull the no-explanation-disappearing-act again, but he had. Why couldn’t Jack commit? What was he so afraid of?
Grabbing a tissue from the console she blew her nose. They had seemed to be on the right track, but in the end he just couldn’t do it. The old insecurities crept up on her. She’d shown her weakness for him repeatedly. It was her fatal flaw. Her undoing.
She turned the key over. “Jesus,” she swore. After seeing what Jack had done to Flynn, she’s come loaded for bear, ready to let him have it. How dare he go after Flynn like that when he’d cut her loose? If she wanted Flynn she’d have him!
Bitterly she laughed. Yeah, she’d let Jack have it all right, just like she always did. She couldn’t stop him from taking what he wanted because despite it all, sick twisted sister that she was, she wanted him inside of her. Hard and rough, just like he took her.
Heat flushed her skin. She’d come so hard she could barely stand. Tremors had continued to roll through her as she left the boat. Her body still craved the pulse of him inside of her.
She put the car into drive and slowly navigated from the parking lot, knowing this time it was over. The deep black abyss of life without Jack wrapped its lo
nely fingers around her heart and squeezed.
She drove home on autopilot. She needed a break from the PD, her case, and her life. With Spoltori on the lam, there was nothing more to do until they got him. They had enough to not only arrest him, but convince a jury he was a serial killer.
This wasn’t how she’d wanted it to go down. She’d dreamed of striding into his office and arresting him in front of his staff. Exhaling a long breath, she shrugged. Nothing went according to plan lately.
As she drove down her street she was surprised see two Pleasanton PD patrol cars parked out front of her house. Pulling up she rolled down her window. “You guys don’t need to hang out, I’m good.”
“We have a few hours left to our shift, Detective,” one of the officers said. “If it’s all the same to you, we’ll hang out until then.”
Stevie shrugged. “Suit yourself, but if something pops, go for it.”
They nodded.
She let herself into her house, stopped at the threshold, and shivered. It was freezing cold. Had she left the air on when she left for the airport earlier in the week? Checking the thermostat she frowned. It was at sixty-six. The house smelled clean. It was probably her cleaning lady, Imelda. It was hot as hell in the valley this time of year. Stevie kicked her shoes off, and dropped her overnight bag and purse on the kitchen table. Her stomach growled, but she wasn’t hungry. She opened the fridge anyway. Except for a few condiments, a couple of beers, the leftover pizza from the other night, and an open bottle of Chardonnay, it was empty.
She grabbed the bottle, pulled the cork out with her teeth, and took a long swig. Maybe she’d get drunk and go drown herself out back. She walked back to her bedroom and scowled. The bed was rumpled. Had Imelda not made it?
Shaking her head, she stepped into her walk-in closet and stripped. It was past dinnertime. It was hot, she was getting a buzz, and she wanted to cry. But she sucked it up, and after grabbing her terry pool robe, a big beach towel, her flip-flops, and her bottle, she trudged to the backyard and the black bottom pool.
And there she sat at the beach entrance to her pool as the warm water lapped her feet and ass, wrapped in the damp towel, drinking the wine, and watching the red and orange hues of the sunset turn to purple, then black.
Jack paced the small confines of the galley. He was so torn up inside he didn’t know which way to lean. He wanted Stevie more than life itself, but he was terrified of losing her in the end. He couldn’t handle that. It was better this way. It had to be. She’d find some nice normal guy with a nice normal job and they’d have a nice normal life with nice normal kids. She’d make chief and all would be well in her world. Jack couldn’t offer her that. He had no control over where he was assigned. He couldn’t expect her to just quit her job and follow him. Her career was too important to her to uproot and follow him off to wherever the federal government decided to send him next.
“Fuck!” he cursed, punching his open palm. It wasn’t that. He was lying to himself. He’d fucking flip hamburgers for a living if she asked him to. His issues went far deeper than their respective careers.
He exhaled. He couldn’t promise to protect her. He had a shitty track record there. He would die if his lack of action caused Stevie harm.
His cell phone rang. Stevie?
“Thorn.”
“Jack,” Flynn said, “I just received Spoltori’s cell phone records for the last two years up to this morning, as well as Miss Schillner’s.”
“And?”
“Schillner’s was part of The Edge Fund’s phone plan. Spoltori had a record of who she called and when. He also had the GPS set up on her phone so he could track her. I’ll bet my retirement he could also track her calls as they came in and went out, on his phone. He knew she called you, Jack. Because right after she did, it shows a call from his cell to hers. A five-minute conversation ensued. He called her again fifteen minutes before you and Cavanaugh showed up. That call ended five minutes before you arrived. I think he was tracking her as he was talking to her and while she was on the phone, he shot her. As he was getting away, he called Cavanaugh, knowing damn well she’d see his handiwork within minutes.”
“Five minutes. I should have been there.”
“She was dead the minute she called you the first time, Thorn.”
He shook his head, refusing to let himself off the guilt hook. “What else do you have?”
“A shit ton of paperwork to sift through.”
“Any word from Menlo Park?”
“Not yet. They’re working on it.”
“Keep me posted.”
“I will. And, Thorn? Cut Cavanaugh some slack, this case has taxed her to the max.”
Jack stiffened. “I don’t need you to tell me how to handle her.”
“Apparently someone does, because you’re acting like a fucking asshole.”
Jack hit the End button and hurled the cell across the salon. It shattered.
He stood staring at the pieces. It was how he felt inside. Shattered. He didn’t know how to fix it.
Feeling stifled, he dressed down in a pair of jeans, boots, and black tee shirt. He shoved his nine into a waist holster, grabbed his helmet and keys, and headed for his Harley, parked in the secured marina lot.
Two hours later he stopped at the end of the canyon road leading to Stevie’s house. He owed her an explanation. He knew she was beating herself up when she had nothing to do with his failure to commit. Maybe if he told her the truth, she could move on. And maybe it would relieve the pressure of some of the shit he’d been carrying around for so long.
He gave the big V twin some gas and frowned when he saw there were no patrol cars out front of her house. Spoltori was still at large and as long as he was, Stevie wasn’t safe. He pulled up beside her Mustang, killed the engine, and kicked the stand out. Hurrying, he jogged to her front door. When she didn’t answer, he got nervous. He pulled his helmet off and from the back of the house he heard the thud of bass.
He walked around to the side gate and when he pushed it open and walked through, he caught his breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Tiki torches softly illuminated the lagoon-style pool and the woman frantically swimming laps in it. Rock and roll played in the background. Steam swirled from the spa. It had been a sweltering day in the valley. The ambient temp couldn’t be less than eighty-five degrees and it was already after nine.
The urge to shuck his clothes and join Stevie was strong, but Jack didn’t move a muscle in her direction. She’d tapped out. It was their “Stop” signal from the very beginning if he got too rough with her. He would not disrespect her by ignoring it. Except…
Just by being here he was disrespecting her line in the sand. But he needed to explain why he’d rejected her. Why he’d pulled away. Right. Because explaining it all to her would make him feel better about fucking with her heart?
God, he was a selfish bastard. It was time he put someone else’s feelings ahead of his own.
He was about to leave when, like Venus rising from the surf, Stevie stepped out of the pool. He stopped. His body tightened. Blood surged to his dick.
She was naked save for the anklet she wore. Water sluiced in smooth waves down her body, which shimmered in the flickering firelight, licks of light playing hide-and-seek with her generous curves.
He swallowed hard, wanting her with a need so violent it stifled his breathing. She stood at the beach entrance, smoothing her long wet hair back from her face. Sweet Jesus, her breasts, firm and ripe, the nipples pebbled, jutted out and up in the balmy air, begging to be touched. Her concave belly glistened under the firelight. His gaze traveled lower to her soft mound and the light thatch of damp curls shielding her sweet lips. His dick thickened with a fresh infusion of blood.
Desperation the likes of which he had never experienced crashed through him. It was a “Last Supper” kind o
f desperation. A famished, starving kind of desperation. A do or die without kind of desperation.
She was everything to him. Giving, loyal, intelligent, badass, and she loved him.
Ryker was right.
He was an asshole. Because only an asshole would have walked out of this magnificent woman’s life. Twice.
Stevie turned from him so that he had an unobstructed view of her back and Jack’s erection tightened. He wanted to trail his fingers, then his lips, along the smooth curve of her back down to the twin dimples just above her heart-shaped ass. And what a sweet ass she had. It drew taut as she bent down to pick up her towel.
“No, baby, no,” he whispered. “Don’t cover yourself.”
He blew a sigh of relief when she just blotted her face and body with it. As she sauntered toward a double-wide lounge chair, her hips swaying and those dimples on her ass tormenting him, he groaned and pushed down on his unruly cock.
Spreading the towel down on the chaise, she sat down. The torch behind the lounger illuminated her damp skin. He swallowed hard again, finding his reaction to her impossible to control. When she picked up a bottle of lotion and began to rub some into her legs and belly he realized he was panting like a dog. But when she started to rub the lotion into her lush tits, he heard her gasp. When she laid back and arched as she stroked her hard nipples, he just about came in his pants.
Like a fish out of water, he gulped for breath. He realized he couldn’t stand there forever like a Peeping Tom. Being a man of action, he made his move.
When her hand slid down her taut belly to her sweet mound, and he heard his name, Jack stopped cold.
Breathless, he waited as she lay rigid and still, as if her mind and body fought a colossal battle. He could relate. His hunger for her body was insatiable. As was the hunger he felt in his heart and his mind. He hadn’t lied when he told her he owned her. In Jack’s world that meant everything. Heart, mind, body, and soul. He hadn’t truly understood the totality of that until this moment in time.