by Shyla Colt
“That’s all I ask,” she says gently.
“If I do this, you have to do something for me in return.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Start dating.”
“Oh, no. I am so past that age.”
“No, you’re not, Mom. Come on, do this and I’ll give Dad a shot.”
She frowns. “Who taught you how to wheel and deal, young man?”
I laugh. “It’s in my blood.”
“That it is. Since you’re using your powers for good, I’ll agree to this.”
The sparkle in her eyes leads me to believe she has someone in mind. I’m not sure how to feel about that. Looks like things are about to get interesting for the both of us.
“I want to hear more about this young lady of yours.”
The warmth that surges forward at her request tells me I’m in deep and sinking fast.
IT’S FITTING I HAVE Quinn beside me as we wait for them to bring out the suspects. Our hands brush, and we share a look. The evil that touched us will soon be only a sheet of glass away. The room is crowded with a detective and two men in suits. I think one might be a lawyer for one of the men called in to do a lineup. My palms are clammy, and my mouth is dry. The room seems to shrink as my body grows hotter. Detective Kunes hits the buzzer.
“Send them in, Officer.”
The men walk in all dressed in black. I tense as my mind returns to that day. I never knew I could hate a color so much. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I glance down the row of five men. The first two are too short. The third is too bulky. But the first and second on the left side make my gut ache.
“You know the drill, step forward when you’re called. Number one.”
The man steps forward and I study his facial shape. Too round and smooth. The other man was older and more weathered. This kid is barely out of puberty. I shake my head.
“No, this isn’t him,” I state.
“I agree,” Quinn says quietly.
“Number one, step back. Number two, step forward.” My heart knocks in my chest as time slows. The light falls on his face. The gnarly white scar extending from his temple down to his chin stands out like a blazing signal. The lean face, hooked nose, and scraggly goatee push me toward a panic attack. I ball my fists and suck air into my distressed lungs. “That’s him.” I point.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll never forget him,” Quinn whispers from beside me.
The suspect’s eyes are narrowed and cold. It’s as if he can see through the one-way mirror.
“Can he see us?” Quinn’s voice wavers.
“No,” Detective Kunes assures her. “Suspect number two, put your hood on.”
He pulls the garment up over his head, and I grunt, closing my eyes against the memories that press down against my brain.
“Jesus Christ, it’s him,” Quinn whispers.
“Suspect number two, step back,” Detective Kunes instructs. He runs the other three men through the process and lets them leave. It’s the end of the darkest chapter of my life. A nagging concern tickles my cerebellum, but the adrenaline running through my brain muddles my thoughts. It’s a fog of formal thank yous as we’re walked out of the viewing room to the front of the police station. Not even the sun chases away the chill that’s set into my bones as we step out of the brick building.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asks.
“No.”
She squeezes my hand. As we leave the building behind I can’t help but wonder if I just made a mistake. This can’t be how triumph is supposed to feel.
QUINN
I open the door and invite Ollie in. Fridays when I’m not working it’s become a tradition to unwind. He’s still healing, and I’m getting used to peopling heavily again as I start to take on projects. A makeup artist is part skill and part psychology, sort of like a bartender, but for beauty. People get in the chair and spill their guts. You have to respond accordingly to the client in your chair. That could mean soothing nerves, giving reassurance, or my all-time favorite, catering to the actors who get off on making you feel like a peon. Or should I say attempting to make me feel like one? As my mother says, they wake up in the morning and put their pants on one leg at a time like everyone else. I’m not awed by them.
Noticing how tired Ollie looks, I frown. Asking him about his injuries will get me nowhere. The man is as stubborn as a bull. I know he feels he has a lot to prove, but I worry he might burn himself out.
“Hey, how was your work week?” I say.
“Long and stressful. There were some issues with the calendar, so we had to talk about reshoots, but no one wanted to bring it up to me. So they tiptoed around the subject for the past two weeks, and now I’m on a time crunch and paying the models out the ass for last minute booking fees.”
“You’re going back?” My mouth dries.
“Shit. I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he mumbles.
“Oliver.”
His eyes widen. I think this is the first time I’ve ever used it. “Are you going back to reshoot?”
He shrugs. “I-I don’t know.”
My gut aches. “Do you want to?” I ask, trying to hold on to my cool exterior. This has to be his decision. Maybe it’s part of his personal healing process. Still, I can’t help but feel it’s tempting fate. I bite my tongue until I taste something metallic as he glances down on the floor.
“I feel like I have to.”
“Why?” I ask as the voice inside of me screams for me to beg him not to go.
“So I can stop being a coward. What does that say to me and everyone else if I’m too scared to go back and handle my business, Quinn?”
“That you’re human,” I reply, stunned by the bitterness in his voice.
“No, that I’m weak, and no longer the man I once was.”
“You cannot believe that.” Crossing my arms, I shake my head.
“Why? It’s what everyone else is thinking, isn’t it? I mean, why else would they keep it from me? How can I do my job when they no longer trust me?”
“You think this is about trust?”
He looks up, and his eyes flash. They’re a stormy grayish blue I’ve never seen before. “Yes.”
“No. This is about love and respect. They don’t want to agitate a fresh wound. It’s only been a couple of months, babe.”
He grits his teeth and shakes his head. His jaw ticks and his hands ball into fists. The frustration that rolls off him makes the air heavy.
“You’re too hard on yourself.” I step into him, ignoring his anger, and cup his face. “You went back to work a month after being shot. You’re juggling Rolly, a busy schedule, and PT. Yes, you have some setbacks every now and then. We both do, and it’s completely normal. Please don’t tear yourself up over this.”
“I wish I could see the world through rose-colored glasses.”
“Believe me, I don’t. I’m not going to sit here and allow you to berate yourself when it’s so undeserved. My boyfriend is smart, sexy, kind, and strong as hell.”
His lips curve upward, and he bestows me with that smile that makes my knees turn to jelly.
“Boyfriend?”
I nod. “See, I would never date a coward, so clearly whoever you’re talking about is now Oliver Hemnway.”
He pulls me to him and tickles my neck with the scruff on his face as I giggle, and the dark cloud hanging over him passes.
“You’re too good to me. Thank you for that. I was stuck on a loop. I’m not sure what I want to do. They don’t necessarily need me on site. I can assist remotely.”
I just labeled us. I can speak up now. I rub the soft material of his button-up flannel between my thumb and pointer finger. “Please, don’t.”
“What’s that, sassy?”
Anyone else would be murdered for calling me that. It sounds different coming from him, like a compliment. “I don’t want you to.”
His lids lower and fire flickers in the depths of his ir
ises. “You worried about me?”
I nod my head, embarrassed by my irrationality. “I don’t think we should tempt fate.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m not going to torture us both to satisfy some misplaced sense of pride. It’s a bad habit I thought I’d broken years ago.”
I palm his neck and pull his mouth down to mine. He hums as I take charge, thrusting my tongue between his lips as I demand entrance. He grips my ass, and I move my head to the right, deepening our kiss as I rock my hips, pressing myself against the rapidly growing bulge in his pants at just the right angle. My breasts swell, and my panties grow damp. The man sets me on fire like no man before him. It could have to do with the fact that I’m at my sexual peak at thirty-two. Somehow, I think it’s this particular man. Our chemistry is instantaneous, and I’m melting from the inside out as our tongues battle for dominance. We both have strong personalities. Courting has been a mixed bag of compromise and privacy as we figure things out and work on convincing the rest of the world we’re different, not damaged.
He walks me backward until the backs of my legs hit the couch and gently lowers me down. I spread my legs, welcoming his weight on top of me. I take care around his wound. A gunshot is not something one heals from in a month or two. He grinds into my crotch, and I whimper and roll my hips into the bulge of his jeans. I’m tired of wondering what’s beneath the denim. I reach between us and stroke him through the rough material. He’s thick, hard, and at least eight inches. My stomach tightens and my nipples strain against my bra. I’ve been one giant arousal since he kissed me in his kitchen. It’s time we both do something about it.
I cup him, and he grunts. Moving my hand back up, I pop the button on his jeans. He stills.
“Down,” I whisper.
Together we manage to work his pants down around his thighs. Too eager to wait, I slip my hands inside his black boxer briefs and retrieve my prize, baring him to the light. His cock curves slightly to the right and has a deep red tip that makes my mouth water. I grip his base, and he twitches in my hand. I lick my lips and stroke upward, twisting my wrist as I rub his slit with my thumb. The warm wetness that coats my finger makes me moan.
“I want to make you as wet as I am.”
His pupils dilate, and I give a throaty chuckle. For once he’s at my mercy. I grip him tighter and pump faster.
“Oh, shit.” His raspy response gets me high. I watch his eyes darken as he turns to living stone in my hand.
“I want to taste you, Ollie.”
“Whatever my lady wants,” he says hoarsely. I slip from the couch on onto my knees, waiting for him to sit back in a comfortable position. I don’t want to hinder his healing progress, but we both need this. After pushing his pants down around his ankles, I massage his inner thighs as I slide my hands up to grasp his dick. I bend down and take him into my mouth, moaning at the salty taste of his warm length. I circle his tip with my tongue taking just the head into my mouth. He thrusts up, and I smirk as I move back.
“Quinn.”
“Patience,” I whisper as I lick the underside with my tongue, tracing the large, prominent vein. His tip is dripping with pre-come and has turned a deep shade of purple as it filled with blood. I kiss the tip and hold his gaze as I wrap my lips around him.
“Oh, God.” He inhales, and I hollow my cheeks as I take as much of him in as I can, warming my mouth up. It’s been a long time for me. He rolls his hips up, seeking more, and I take him deeper little by little until he’s at the back of my throat. I close my throat muscles, and he grunts. His eyes roll into the back of his head, and I twist my wrist, traveling his length as I take him in and out. The tiny pants escaping his mouth have me creaming in my panties. I’m the one giving him this pleasure and taking his mind off everything he’s been through.
He balls his fist in my hair, and I hum. I unleash a beast as he drives into my mouth. The raw passion and lack of control is an aphrodisiac. I moan, pressing my thighs together as I take everything he has to give. I gag as he goes too deep, but I love every minute of it. Ollie is so laid back and regulated seeing this side of him is everything.
“I’m gonna come.”
His body tenses and he lets go, spraying the back of my throat. I struggle to get it all down as it dribbles out of my mouth and he pushes it back in with his thumb. I lick it off, enamored with the man who’s looking at me like I just hung the moon and the stars in the night sky.
“My sassy girl is so damn beautiful.”
I rest my head on his lap, and he strokes my hair, filling me with warm tingles that have nothing to do with the river in my underwear.
“Let me catch my breath, and it’s your turn.”
I lift my head, alarmed. “No, your wound.”
“That’s why you’re going to bring that pussy to me and sit on my face.”
My walls flex, and I bite my lip in anticipation. The last guy I dated hated to give head. So, I’m looking forward to it like a dieter to their favorite dessert on cheat day.
“I’m going to take care of you sassy. I’ve been thinking about how you’d taste for too long now.” His voice is velvet seduction. Rich, soft, and irresistible. He lulls me into a relaxed state while heightening my arousal as he massages my scalp and pets my hair. I never thought I’d be the type to like submission, but when it’s to Ollie, it’s different. There’s nothing one-sided about it. We give and take as it pleases us.
He’s barely touched me, and my body is ablaze with want.
“Are you ready for me, sassy?”
“So ready.”
I sit back onto my heels and wait for his directions. He plays along with me. I can return the favor. He stands and holds out his hand. “I’m going to claim what’s mine in my bedroom.”
“Am I yours?” I ask, unsure that I like the caveman approach he’s taking.
“Damn straight. The same way I’m yours.”
His words smooth my ruffled feathers. He pulls me to my feet, entwining our fingers as we make the short walk to this bedroom. The king-sized bed is centered in the massive room. The natural light flooding in allows the elephant gray walls to make a statement without being too dark. His gray plaid jersey sheets are inviting and warm, like the man himself. I grab the bottom of my shirt, and he places his hand over mine.
“No, allow me.”
I drop my arms, and he nibbles his way down my neck as his fingers dart underneath my top to caress my heated skin. He strips me down, touching every inch of me he can reach. I step from my skirt and stand before him in my black silk boy shorts and red bra with black ribbon laced through it. He runs his fingertips down my strap and across the tops of my breasts. A chill races down my spine and I arch toward him. He slaps my ass and squeezes.
“Love this ass, sassy. You have no idea the havoc you been wreaking on me. You walk by, and I’m at half-mast.” He pops my bra one-handed and slips the garment down my arms, tossing it to the floor. Cupping my breasts, he leans in and flicks each nipple with his tongue. I moan as I grip his shoulders and bend my knees to remain upright. He sucks my left tit into his mouth. I cup the back of his head. Each draw pulls at my core. He goes from left to right never letting one side get jealous of the other. My belly clenches and my inner thighs grow slick.
He releases me with a pop. “I can smell how much you want me. Panties off. Now.” I shove them down my hips and legs, stepping away from them as he crooks his fingers and I follow him to the bed like he’s the Pied Piper. He strips off his shirt, tossing it onto the ground. The gauze is a reminder of what brought us together. Completely nude, he crawls onto the bed and lays flat on his back.
“Come and ride my face, sassy.”
I don’t think anyone has ever said anything as erotic as that sentence. I climb over him on the bed and face away from him.
“Grab the headboard and have a seat.” I do as he asks, hissing as his tongue licks a path across my weeping slit. He hums his approval and latches on lik
e a man long denied dinner. I grip the headboard tight to stay upright as he plunges his tongue inside and out, nuzzling my clit with his nose. I catch his rhythm, winding my hips as the cries spill from my lips.
“Yes, right there, Ollie. Oh my God.”
He latches onto my clit and pushes two long fingers inside of me. I grasp them, riding them as the sensation overwhelms me. I shatter, shaking as I call out this name, unable to think or say anything more as I ride the white wave of completion. I slip to the side onto the bed, breathing hard as my world continues to swirl with colors. A gentle kiss from Ollie makes me moan. I can taste myself on his tongue. I wonder if he can taste himself. The fact that he didn’t mind was a huge turn on. There’s a level of intimacy in that action I’ve never achieved with another. The links that bind us tighten once more. A flicker of fear lights. What happens if this doesn’t work out?
“You doing okay, sassy?” He kisses my temple and extinguishes my concern.
“Yes.” Rolling onto my side, I gently touch his bandage. “Are you?”
“Better than I’ve been in a long time. I don’t think you know how much of an impact you’ve had on me since you entered my world.”
“I feel the exact same way.” I cup his face and bask in the warmth in his gaze. Deep down I worry one day he’ll blame me for the robbery. I think it would break a piece of me if he did. Because in my mind, he’d be absolutely correct. Some days the guilt slices me bone deep. If he hadn’t walked me to my car he’d never have been shot ... but I might not be here, and we wouldn’t be here together. I tell myself it was meant to work out this way. Maybe one day I’ll believe it.
Chapter Seven
Ollie
“What are you planning on doing with him this weekend?” Allie asks. This is the behavior I’ve been dreading. The shrill tone, pursed lips, and arms folded across her chest scream aggressive. Things are still tense between us, though we make a good show of hiding it from Rolly. He knows things have changed between us. I no longer stay over at his mother’s home, and Quinn has become a new constant.