Thicker than Water

by Danae Ayusso

  “Oh God,” Colt gasped and his hold on her hair tightened.

  Cat relaxed her jaw and took him inch-by-inch, pulling back slightly after each to allow her jaw and throat to accommodate his impressive girth and length, before taking him even deeper. Soon, she found her rhythm and took him from tip to base and back again, massaging his balls with her hand to gauge when to release him before he released into her mouth.

  Colt kept his hold on her hair, trying to control her, but they both knew it was in vain; she owned him. Soon, he was bringing his hips up to meet her as she took him, burying himself as deep in her throat as he could, before she pulled back and repeated the torturous cycle.

  Never had he felt anything like it before, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it’d feel like to impale her on his cock, but he knew that he couldn’t think about that at the moment otherwise he’d lose it before he got to that part.

  When his balls tightened in Cat’s hand, she pulled back and freed him from her mouth then waited. “Slow down, Fury,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath herself.

  “Sorry,” he whispered breathlessly.

  Cat smirked and crawled up on top of him. “For what?” she asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly and it made her smile. “You’re amazing.”

  “You haven’t seen amazing yet,” she smugly informed him as she shimmied out of her panties.

  “I don’t have condoms,” he blurted out and she gave him a look. “I’m sorry…that kills the mood, but I don’t have any. I haven’t been with anyone before, you know that, so…”

  He expected her to get mad, but she simply shrugged.

  “I’ve been with all of four people, all clean, and I don’t have a functioning uterus,” she informed him and placed his hand on her side where a pink scar ran from midway down her ribs to the top of her hip. “If you trust me, then we don’t need one.”

  Colt trusted her more than she would ever know.

  He nodded and sat up with her on his lap and cupped her face between his hands then pressed his lips to hers.

  What was supposed to be a silent I trust you kiss turned into something passionate that ignited something inside of them, and soon Cat was on her back with Colt looming over her, his lips working in time with hers as his hands caressed every inch of her. She pulled one leg up and rested it on his shoulder, and bit his bottom lip as he positioned himself between her legs.

  Colt wasn’t entirely sure if he’d hurt her or not, and he didn’t know how long he’d last, but her silent reassurance and instruction helped to put him at ease and shoved his doubts to the back of his mind.

  The moisture and heat emanating from between her legs was nearly as intoxicating as the taste of her mouth, and as he pressed the swollen head of his cock into her petal-soft folds, Cat gasped then winced. He started to pull out, but she grabbed his muscular arms and dug her nails into his biceps, urging him forward. Without finesse, he drove forward, burying himself deep inside her with one thrust, stretching the walls of her body and causing her to gasp in surprise.

  He knew it was wrong, it didn’t feel wrong, but the look of pleasure mixed with pain on Cat’s face told him that he did something wrong.

  Slowly he pulled out, but she pulled him into her again.

  The way Cat’s body held onto him, how tight and wet she was, drove him mad with desire and he buried himself in her. Again and again he entered her with driving thrusts that caused his body to shake and a sheen of sweat to cover each of them. His grunts mixed with the sound of her choked gasps of pleasure-laced pain, the squeaking of the bed, and her throaty purr caused him to drive into her faster and harder.

  Never had he wanted a woman more than he did her, and no matter how much she gave he wanted more.

  “No,” Colt choked, trying to pull back, his climax fast approaching. “Not yet.”

  Cat cocked and eyebrow and bridged off of the bed and rolled them over. “There’ll be other times, Fury,” she informed him and started grinding on him as she bounced up and down, impaling herself over and over on his distended flesh.

  He couldn’t complain, the new position offered an amazing view of her bouncing breasts and perfect body. She grabbed his hands and forced them to her breasts, and he started squeezing and fondling them as he twisted and pulled on her nipples causing her tight, wet sheath to grip around him more and more.

  Cat threw her head back as she panted and moaned, and he watched in awe as she snaked a hand down her stomach and started rubbing her engorged clit, causing an entirely new set of violent convulsions to rip through her body.

  Never had he imagined she could be so sexually uninhibited, and he liked it more than he thought appropriate but didn’t care. All he cared about was the woman bouncing up and down on his cock as she called out his name.

  Knowing that he was close, Colt pushed Cat back on the bed and pulled both of her legs up, throwing them over his shoulders, and embedded himself deeply into her, her hips rising to meet each of his thrusts, until he could no longer hold back. With an animalistic growl, his pulsing cock bucked inside her tight sheath in the longest, hottest release of his life.

  Cat’s eyes fluttered and when her body finally released its painful grip on him, she looked up at Colt and smirked.

  “You are simply evil,” he whispered.

  “And you’re still hard,” she pointed out.

  He smirked in return. “Round two?”

  Cat lowered her legs and pushed him off of her then turned her back to him and pushed her backside up in the air. “Round two,” she agreed and wiggled her backside.

  Colt didn’t wait to be told twice; he grabbed her hips and pulled her back, his iron-hard shaft slipping into her wetness without hesitation. He pumped into her with abandon as she slammed her backside back into him to meet each of his thrusts, causing him to go deeper.

  ****

  The sun had started across the sky nearly four hours ago and there was still no word from Detective Fury. There was another body, one of their own this time, and he needed to be debriefed on it since the FBI completely took over the investigation. There was still a report to be written and statements to take from the failed robbery at the bar, but the detective was nowhere to be seen. His phone went straight to voicemail, Emma hadn’t seen him, Cat’s cabin was empty, and his truck was parked outside his cabin, but it was cold: no smoke rolled from the chimneys of the cabin and the light dusting of snow from that morning lay undisturbed.

  The windows were all covered with thick black curtains that kept outside world out, but one had left enough of a sliver between the overlapping panels that it offered a clear view of the inside of the cabin.

  In a rumple of quilts and sheets, Colt lay stretched out on the olive-toned body of a woman. His thick, corded arm rested on the bed next to her head, blocking the view of her face, but the thick mane of black hair splayed across the pillows stood out against the white bedding. Colt’s free hand caressed over one of her breasts before his head dipped down and he took a nipple between his teeth and gently tugged. The bedding was pulled up around him, but it fell down around his muscular backside as he slowly moved in and out of the woman in fine, subtle, circling movements as she writhed and arched her hips to meet him with each thrust.

  With Colt’s placement of his arm, the woman’s face wasn’t visible in the least, but what was clearly visible was the white gauze bandage wrapped around the bicep of her right arm.

  You’ve moved on quickly. That just means that I’ll have to as well. You did this to yourself, Fury, the intrusive eyes silently hissed before disappearing into the thick woods. She’s next.

  When Colt entered the Sheriff’s station late in the afternoon, everyone turned and looked at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Salvati said, looking up from the file in his hands.

  Colt headed over to him and offered him the thermos he was holding.

  “What’s thi
s?” he asked suspicious.

  Cat told him to do it, if needed, and that she wasn’t going to run anymore.

  “You tell me, Nato,” Colt whispered.

  Salvati’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped the file in his hand, his dark olive complexion blanched, before he quickly removed the lid from the thermos and took a drink. The moment the hot cappuccino flooded his mouth, his breathing caught in his throat and understanding washed over him.

  “Brief me in my office?” Colt asked as he headed down the back hallway leading towards his office, and Salvati was quick to follow, closing and locking the door behind them.

  “I can’t tell you,” Colt said before the man with tears in his eyes could start. “Tell me about the latest body.”

  Salvati wiped his thumb across his eyes. “You can’t be serious?!” he hissed under his breath, leaning on Colt’s desk. “You can’t come in here and drop something like that on me and expect me to talk about a totally different case! Do you have any idea what this means?!”

  Colt nodded. “Yeah, I do. If word got out, to anyone, Daniele Calandriello would make a trip to Montana faster than the intended target could run. Is that what you want?”

  “No, of course not!” Salvati snapped at him. “Is she…is she okay?”

  He shrugged. “She’s coping with the loss of D'Avanzo, and she’s finally coming to terms with his death.”

  Salvati slumped down in the chair across from him. “I wish I could say the same. Frankie was my cousin. Those two taught me everything I know, and it was their deaths that pushed me to join the Bureau. I can’t believe that…I mean…huh,” he said with a huff. “She was the woman at the bar that kicked those perps asses, huh?”

  Colt smirked.

  “Damn, she’s impressive. Is she okay? Three of the perps keep going on and on about shooting some crazy broad.”

  He made a face. “Flesh wound. She’s assured me that she’ll live.”

  “She’s stubborn,” Salvati agreed with a chuckle. “She’s the fresh set of eyes that took a look at the Dei Sponsa case?”

  Colt nodded once.

  “Now everything is making sense. That’s why Agent Marrows isn’t here. She and Rossi got into it when the NYPD teamed up with the Bureau on a case. Marrows was throwing her weight around like she owned the place while Rossi and Frankie did what they did best: solved the case. When it came time for the media to be informed that the case was solved, the Commissioner and Mayor wanted Rossi and Frankie to be the face of the investigation, and Marrows got pissed. Rossi just laughed and she and Frankie went to get a beer, leaving the press conference behind—public praise wasn’t her thing—so Marrows took center stage. When she couldn’t answer most of the reporters’ questions it became clear that she didn’t know what in the hell she was talking about and obviously wasn’t the brains behind solving the case. Marrows became the joke of the Bureau. It wasn’t until she got into serial killers that she started to earn her reputation back. Rossi must have called Agent Slone.”

  That name was unknown to Colt.

  “Who’s that?” he asked.

  “Old boyfriend,” Salvati said with a shrug and tossed the file of Six on Colt’s desk. “They were hot and heavy for almost a year, but she was married to the job and he wanted to start a family. That, and Frankie told me that Slone wanted her to join the Bureau, he offered her a cushy desk job but she told him what he could go do to himself. My cousin always told me that she would never settle down and take the easy road, and that’s why they weren’t together like that.”

  Jealousy stabbed at Colt.

  “They were best friends,” he said.

  “I know,” Salvati said with a snort. “Best friends usually make the best lovers…I’ve heard. My best friend is a man, not to mention, one of my cousins and I’m not into dudes or family so that doesn’t work for me, but whatever.”

  Oh my god. When did I turn into a stupid high schooler? Why am I listening to this annoying Italian? The only reason I haven’t shot him is because Rossi told me not to, if she wouldn’t have done that…

  “Are you envisioning shooting me?” Salvati asked with a chuckle.

  “The thought had crossed my mind, but I was warned against it,” Colt admitted.

  “She still loves me,” the amused man gushed.

  Colt cocked an eyebrow.

  “I’m the little brother she never wanted,” he clarified. “Anyway, here’s the report on Six. Yes, the M.O. has changed, greatly, but…can you have Rossi look it over?”

  Rossi already told me to bring the damn file home.

  “Of course,” Colt said. “Do I need to say it?”

  Salvati rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not stupid. Daniele Calandriello will stop at nothing to tie up all loose ends. I know this. If he knew where she was, no one would be safe. I get it. Tell her I said Ciao and that I miss her and Frankie.”

  “I’ll pass it along,” he said. “If there is nothing else…” his words trailed off and he looked towards the door.

  “Subtly is not your strong point, Montana. I’ll buy you some time to go over the case before the rest of them start flipping you shit about coming in late… You might want to fix your collar so they don’t see the scratches on your neck and the hicky,” he said with a chuckle then ducked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

  ****

  After showering for the third time, and soaking in a bath by herself to work the stiffness and aches from her body, Cat put her disguise on then went to work cleaning up the mess they had made. Colt was a passionate lover, and after touching a bare breast and clit for the first time, he was much more confident and sexually adventurous. She couldn’t deny that he was an exceptional lover and learned quickly, and his cock was the thickest and largest she’d ever seen—not that she’d seen that many of them, but it was still impressive to behold when fully hard. They made hard, aggressive love in the bed; intimate and personal love in one of the chairs in the living room where they just looked at each other and occasionally kissed as she moved against him; and then they were back in the bed making slow, tender love before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

  Cat would have slept all day if that annoying sliver of blazing sun creeping through the slit in the curtains across from the bed honing in on her face hadn’t raped her of the most peaceful sleep of her life.

  The alarm on Colt’s phone hadn’t gone off so he was late for work. He somehow caused his mobile to freeze up, again. They swapped mobiles so she could fix it while he was at work; he was dangerous with electronics. Cat told him to stop by the cabin and make himself some coffee—she explained how to use her machine and asked him to bring it back in one piece for tomorrow morning—and then she reluctantly told him what to say to Salvati if needed. It was a risk, but it was one that she felt she needed to take.

  Once the bed was stripped and remade with fresh sheets, Cat positioned the pillows and arranged them how she does at the Paterson estate cabin. “The old married couple feeling is back,” she murmured as she placed the picture of her and Frankie on the nightstand on her side of the bed. Colt had told her to make herself at home, but she couldn’t in good conscience unpack her duffle bag…yet.

  It was too soon for that.

  Neither of them was under the delusion that Cat would change overnight and everything would be right in her world by finding herself in the arms of a man who loved her and would protect her no matter what. It’d take time; they both knew it, and Colt was the embodiment of patience so that put the pressure on Cat, in her mind.

  In all fairness, she was trying.

  Cat wrapped one of Colt’s jackets around her and stepped into his oversized snow boots then headed for the door to bring in some wood for the fireplaces. With gun in hand, she peaked out the front door and listened. There was nothing out of the ordinary; just some birds in the trees and the annoying chatter of squirrels in the distance.

  Content that she was alone, Cat headed out of the cabin, closing and
locking the door behind her then headed around the perimeter towards the stacked wood under an awning at the back of the cabin. As she went, she crossed by the window that woke her from one of the deepest and soundest sleeps of her life. She had the juvenile longing to kick a rock at the window, but she didn’t want to piss Colt off by breaking one of his windows so she fought the urge.

  As she passed, she stopped in mid-step, her attention on the slightly frozen ground under the window. There were indentions in the softening mud: footprints. She cautiously stepped towards them, minding if there were any other prints around, but the only distinguishable ones were under the window in the protection of the eave.

  “Someone stood there long enough to cause an indention in the semi-frozen ground,” Cat commented under her breath, talking aloud the case suddenly in front of her. She carefully set her snow boot covered foot next to the impression and noted that they weren’t from Colt: they were three sizes too small to be Colt’s, and one and a half sizes bigger than her own feet. The indentions in the mud, from her experience, would suggest that the perp was between hundred-sixty and hundred-eighty-five pounds. The prints tell that the perp is right handed because he kept shifting his weight from the right to the left then right again, causing the right indention to be deeper.

  With the temperature rising, and the snow from that morning already melted, she had to hurry if she wanted to preserve the prints. After rushing back to the house and tearing through everything in the kitchen, Cat returned with a large bowl filled with flour, salt and water, mixed to a viscous consistency, she then poured the compound into the indentions. While she waited for the homemade plaster to set up, she used some of her finishing powder and a blush brush to dust for prints.