I Love Lacy

by Lillian Feisty

  But he was pulling away. Panting, she opened her eyes and looked up.

  “Turn around.” His gravelly command made her shiver. “Slowly.”

  Bit by bit, she turned until she was facing the truck. Her heart beat a steady rhythm in her chest as she felt his warm, large hand on the back of her shoulder blades. Gently he pushed her against the hood until her breasts were resting on the warm metal of his car.

  She felt his hands slide under her skirt to either side of her hips. Then he hooked his thumbs around the elastic of her panties and tugged them down her legs, over her shoes. She kicked them to the side.

  He placed one of his boots between her ankles, nudging her legs apart until her stance was wide. “I’m going to have to frisk you, Ms. Kane.”

  She smiled. When she’d gotten dressed earlier she hadn’t bothered with the leggings, so all she’d had on when she left the house was her black cotton minidress, underwear and slides.

  Now the underwear had been tossed into the dirt and his hand was on the inside of her calf, gliding over the skin of her inner thigh until he ventured up under her skirt. When he stopped just an inch from her pussy she gasped. “Don’t sto—”

  “This would be a good time for you to take the Fifth.”

  He repeated his investigation, skimming her other leg. The palm of his hand was warm and dry as it glided across her skin. By the time he reached the top of her other inner thigh her pussy was so wet she thought she might drip right onto his hand.

  He flipped up her skirt, exposing her ass. He didn’t say anything, but when she heard his sharp intake of breath she pushed her rear out just a fraction further, tempting him. She pressed her hands together and closed her eyes.

  Take me.

  A breeze fluttered over them and she caught his scent. Yes, it was becoming familiar now. Spicy eucalyptus and now she caught a hint of cinnamon from their earlier coffee. The smell made her nerves tingle with pleasure. His scent. She loved getting to know it.

  She listened to him unzip his jeans. She heard some fumbling with a condom wrapper. Anticipation coursed through her veins, heated her blood. Her pussy ached with want. She wanted him, wanted him—

  There! She cried out when she felt his tongue on her pussy, licking her. Pressing back into him, sticking her ass out with no shame at all, she moaned as every nerve in her body tingled with bliss. His fingers slid inside her—she had no idea how many fingers he was fucking her with but it didn’t matter. Erotic pinpricks tickled her everywhere, from the tip of her nose to her very toes and she pushed her pussy against his face, wanting to feel even more.

  “Mason! That feels so amazing, so–oh God!” Her wrists strained at the cuffs as she pressed herself against the hood of the truck.

  His hands were on her ass, spreading her fully. His mouth worked her, licking up and down and she couldn’t move, couldn’t open her legs any more, couldn’t touch her own clit. At that moment he owned her.

  It was divine.

  She couldn’t believe her fantasy was coming to life. She couldn’t believe that she was out in the forest, handcuffed and bent over a late-model Chevy while a private investigator kneeled behind her, torturing her with his mouth and hands. Anyone could come along, anyone could see them.

  But the thought only sent a new wave of excitement through her veins. The idea of someone—maybe an actual cop!—hiding in the bushes watching them only made her scream louder, made her squirm more excitedly.

  She stilled as she felt his tongue licking the inside of her bottom, around and around until the wet tip reached her anus. She’d never felt anything like it. She stilled as he tongued her, licking around that virgin entrance until she moaned again, begging him to go inside.

  Then his tongue was gone, only to be replaced by something else. Something hard and unmistakable.

  Yes.

  His breath in her ear sent a shiver down her spine. “Have you ever done this before?”

  Her pussy pulsed at the thought. “No.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yes. But…”

  “What is it?”

  Heat pricked at her cheeks. “Don’t we need, you know…”

  “Lubrication?”

  She nodded and prayed he had some.

  “I just happen to have some in my truck.”

  She looked over her shoulder. “You do?”

  “I went to a bachelor party a few weeks ago. They gave away handfuls of the stuff. It’s in a bottle shaped like breasts.”

  Thank God for naughty party favors.

  She heard a liquid sound, and then his fingers came around and brushed her mouth. She smelled herself, masked by something artificially sweet that made her nose tingle.

  “It’s cherry-flavored.” He slid his finger across her lips and over her teeth. She closed her eyes and brought him deeper into her mouth, over her tongue. She tasted so much. Her own essence, the lube, his skin. She swallowed him deeper.

  “Fuck.” He pushed at her anus, edging his way inside. She threw her head back and screamed from pleasure. It was so good, being filled by him. So good she was shaking from it. From him. She’d never been so full, so stretched. It hurt but it was a good pain, the kind that made scream his name, made her sex ache from want as he drove into her again and again.

  He tugged the chain between her wrists, pulling her arms back a bit as a reminder that she was still “under arrest”.

  “Oh! I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

  “Me neither.” He groaned and thrust once more, deeper than before as he came.

  As she climaxed she smiled to herself. The poor guy never had a chance. He was the one.

  Chapter Four

  Mason gripped the steering wheel. Was he dreaming or had he just had intercourse with a client during a case? In the woods? While she was restrained by a pair of police-issued handcuffs?

  He glanced to the smiling redhead sitting next to him, humming along with the classic rock on the radio.

  His balls tightened. He was definitely not dreaming.

  “That was just amazing,” she said. “Awesome, even.”

  “Yeah.” He couldn’t get the image of her, spread-eagled and bent over his truck out of his head.

  “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  He grunted. Good. He shouldn’t be feeling so possessive over a woman he’d met just that morning, but there it was. “I’m glad you, er, enjoyed it.”

  Because he sure fucking had. He loved making her come, loved the way she trusted. He loved that he knew exactly how to touch her to make her float.

  “Do you have a baton?”

  He glanced her way with a cocked brow. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have this other fantasy involving a baton and aviator glasses.”

  He shook his head. His Miss Kane was an individual, she really was.

  His Miss Kane? Where the fuck had that thought come from? Not good, not good at all. He needed to move on before he became too attached. To refer to her as his implied possession, a girlfriend. A girlfriend led to other things. Marriage and kids.

  He knew firsthand how dangerous his job was. He refused to put a family through what he’d experienced.

  “Yeah, about earlier. It can’t happen again.”

  She glanced at her wrists. “Oh, it’s not that bad. I can handle a bit of chafing.”

  He took a deep breath. “I meant, the whole thing. The sex.”

  “The sex?”

  “Yes. The sex.”

  Shaking her head, she turned in her seat to face him. “I don’t understand.”

  He put on his blinker, moved the Chevy into the fast lane. “Listen, I’m sorry it ever happened. It was wrong.”

  “I don’t understand. How could it be wrong?”

  Because it was too good, he wanted to shout. “Because you’re a client.”

  “Oh, well, if that’s all. This whole thing will be solved shortly
.”

  “That’s not all.”

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mason. What’s going on? I smell something funny on you, like fear.”

  He shook off her hand. “Would you stop that?”

  “Stop what?”

  “Smelling me!”

  She shrank back in her seat. “I can’t help it.”

  “Well, try.”

  “Mason. There’s something going on here. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I did. I never should have lost control of the situation.”

  Her laugh sounded bitter. “Oh, I don’t think you were ever not in control.”

  “You know what I mean. I’m sorry I let things get out of hand—I don’t even know you—“

  “You don’t know me?”

  “That’s not what I meant. Everything has happened too fast. I can’t think.”

  “You don’t have to think. Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?”

  His panic must have shown in his expression because she immediately paled. “I’m not suggesting we’re in love, I just…”

  “You just what?”

  He heard her take a deep breath.

  “Mason. What are you scared of?”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You’re lying to yourself. You’re scared of something. Tell me what it is so we can work it out.”

  His blood was hammering in his ears. “We have nothing to work out. There is no we.”

  “Then why can I still smell your eucalyptus scent on my skin? If there is no we, whose cock was I sucking this morning when I was on my knees on my kitchen floor?”

  His gut contracted as if he’d just been punched. “Lacy, stop.”

  “If there is no we, how come I can smell your fear?”

  “Because you’re a freak of nature!”

  He immediately regretted his words. She looked as if he’d slapped her. He lowered his voice. “Listen, Lacy, I’m sorry—”

  She held her palm up. “Don’t. I understand perfectly.”

  “Let me explain.” The Silver Nugget’s neon sign appeared ahead and he whipped the car onto the exit ramp.

  “Nothing to explain. I see what the problem is.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I haven’t worn my tiara in almost two days. Obviously my senses are out of whack. I thought you were…”

  He knew it was for the best. He knew he had to cut things off now before she got hurt. He knew he was doing the right thing.

  So why did his chest feel so fucking full?

  He couldn’t keep quiet. He had to know. “What, Lacy? What did you think I was?”

  Her voice was barely a whisper. “Him.”

  Turning to look out the window, she straightened her shoulders. “I thought my mother was wrong and that I actually did have some power beside just smelling things.” To know instinctively when I’d met my mate. She shrugged. “I was wrong. Won’t be the first time.”

  He pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. She deserved so much more than he could give. A reliable, predictable husband. A man with a normal job, like an accountant or an engineer.

  He could never maker her happy.

  Clear as a bell he heard the doorbell. He remembered his mother, still in her nightgown, crossing the living room. Heard the soft, low murmurs of the officers as they told her what happened. Heard her anguished cry in the night. His father was dead, shot in the line of duty.

  I thought you were him, Lacy had said.

  I’m not, baby. I’m sorry but I’m not.

  Fucking men.

  Lacy marched alongside Mason’s tall form, practically running to keep up as they crossed the parking lot.

  Stupid fucking men.

  Despite what she’d said, she did not blame her senses for her reaction to Mason. Yes, she was an Aromatherapian, but first and foremost she was a woman, and female intuition was a powerful thing. She didn’t need any special olfactory abilities to realize Mason O’Malley, PI, was scared shitless of his feelings for her. What she didn’t know was why.

  Yet.

  “Would you slow down?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “What? We’re just going out for dinner. If we happen to run into the chef, then I may happen to smell if he has my tiara nearby.”

  “You will let me do the talking. Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

  She muttered something.

  He stopped and turned. “Did you just mimic me?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  He growled deep in his throat, spun on his heel and stalked away.

  Then they were entering the rotating door that led to the interior of the Casino where they were accosted by the clanging sound of people throwing away their hard-earned change into quarter slot machines.

  She pinched her nose. “Let’s huwwy. I can’t bweathe this cigawette smoke vewy long.”

  He grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the restaurant. As she jogged behind him she wondered if he felt the electric spark like she did whenever their skin touched.

  He felt something—she knew she was affecting him. She could smell it in his spicy scent. But why wasn’t he letting himself go?

  What was he so afraid of?

  The restaurant was a smoke-free environment, luckily, and she unpinched her nose as soon as they walked through the large glass doors. The hostess looked a bit shocked to see the critic who had given them such a horrid review, but seated them anyway at the best table.

  Lacy flipped open her menu. The oversized leather volume was about two feet high, yet there were only five options. “I see he hasn’t changed the selection over the past six months.”

  Mason grunted something, but she noticed he wasn’t really looking at the menu. Instead his eyes darted around the room, taking in everything. She wondered if he ever relaxed.

  The waitress appeared to take their orders. Of course, the bimbo looked to Mason first because he was the man, but Lacy spoke up. “I’ll have the rack of lamb.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” She looked back to Mason.

  “And he’ll have the ribs.”

  Mason raised a brow at her, but didn’t object to her selecting his meal for him.

  The waitress nodded at her. “And to drink?”

  “The 1999 Trevor Jones Shiraz.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not on option on the wine list.”

  “Tell Gill it’s for Miss Kane.”

  Silently, the waitress turned and left.

  “That was a first.”

  “Having a female order for you?”

  “No. Having a female order the right thing for me.”

  She was about to respond but suddenly she smelled bad crab. She looked up to see Gill LaRouche stalking toward them. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled. “Isn’t it obvious? We’ve come for dinner.”

  “Why would you do that after you publicly stated—what was it? Oh right, my coq au vin tasted ‘like that last part of vomit that comes at the end of a stomach flu’.”

  Mason barked out a laugh. “Seriously? You wrote that?”

  “It’s true.”

  Gill’s beady brown eyes narrowed even further. “So if you hate my restaurant so much, why are you here?”

  She smiled. “I like to give everyone a second chance.”

  “You wrote you’d never step foot into my place again even if you were starving and I had the last bag of Ruffles on the planet because they would be tainted just by being in my kitchen.”

  “What can I say? I’m giving you another try.”

  “Why are you really here?”

  “To eat.”

  “No other reason?”

  “Should there be another reason?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Good then.”

  He puffed up his chest. “I want you to leave.”<
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  She smiled wider and sniffed. It was hard to detect her amethyst beneath all the other culinary scents radiating off the chef’s body. “No.”

  His eyes sparked. “I’ll call security.”

  Mason pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to reveal an official-looking identification card. “That won’t be necessary.”

  He snapped his wallet shut after just a second but Lacy thought she caught the logo for her local kickboxing gym.

  But Gill wasn’t so astute and obviously assumed Mason was a cop. His eyes went wide. He spun on his ugly black shoe and was about to bolt, but Mason was on his feet in an instant and had his hand on the chef’s shoulder. Anyone in the restaurant would have thought the men were exchanging a friendly gesture, but Lacy knew Mason had Gill in a firm grip.

  “Let’s go have a talk, shall we?” Mason glanced over his shoulder in her direction. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, even though she didn’t think it was fair that Mason got to have all the fun. It was her tiara and she wanted to give Gill a piece of her mind. Oh well. She’d promised Mason she’d behave and she intended to keep her word.

  The waitress poured her a glass of wine and she forced herself to sip and wait patiently.

  Five minutes later she was sick of waiting.

  Still, she restrained herself from interfering. Mason would be very unhappy with her if she did so. Plus she had total faith in his detective abilities. The minute he’d grabbed Gill, Mason had taken control of the situation. She had to let him do his job.

  The hostess seated an elderly couple in the booth next to her. The old lady’s stretched face looked like it had had one too many plastic surgeries. When she smiled at Lacy her lips puffed out so much Lacy thought the woman might float away.

  A strange scent floated across the booths. Oh no. Lacy’s heart rate elevated as she tried not to panic. Her nose began to tingle. The lady was wearing a perfume containing geraniol, a common perfume allergen. But Lacy wasn’t common, and a wave of nausea immediately washed over her.

  Her vision began to dim. Pushing herself out of the booth, she knocked over her wineglass. She was aware of the red liquid spilling onto the carpet, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She stumbled away from the table, trying not to faint. Her chest went tight, her eyesight narrowed into two tunnels.