by Skyla Madi
“No it’s not. Did you hear what I said? It’s awesome.” She grabbed the edge and wrapped the coverlet around her.
“Well, it’s mine and you can’t have it, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said, mounting his hips. “We’ll see about that.” As she leaned forward his knee came up and nudged her down to his chest. Their lips met. “You want me to kiss you now?” she said against his mouth.
“Yes.” His tongue found its way past her lips.
“Mmmm. Me likes.” His shaft grew rigid. She rubbed against him and her body responded the way she intended.
Oh, yes.
His hands cupped and squeezed her bottom. She pushed herself up so her hands were on his shoulders. “Get up. I wanna try something.”
“Does this something involve sex?” He pursed his lips and looked at her out of one eye.
“Of course. But I need you sitting on the floor for this.” He complied and lay out on the tan carpet. She smirked. “You have to sit up. Now bring your knees up.” She straddled him then rose up to give him space to maneuver. “No, not like that. A little lower. I think…there, that’s it.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Oh, you mean protection? Yeah, about that, I should’ve told you before. I take shots for that.”
“Are you sure?” He kissed her collarbone.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m not diseased or anything. Unless you are? Then…”
“Squeaky clean,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
Grace settled down, taking him inside her. With her head higher than his, her breasts were right in his face. This position required her to do all of the work but the payoff was deeper penetration. And…
Oh yes.
He found one of her nipples and sucked the tight bead into his mouth. She grasped the back of his head and held him in place for a minute or two…or three.
“What do you want me to do?” His eyes were at half-mast. He was already breathing out of his mouth. She licked her lips.
“I don’t know. Enjoy or…grab my ass or something.”
“Not a problem.”
Kama Sutra here I come.
She’d browsed the shelves of the bookstore and happened to come across a certain book accidently, or maybe on purpose. The thought made her grin.
Grace worked up a sweat in the first couple of minutes. Sex was hard work. No wonder men always tried to be on the bottom. She leaned her head back. She’d come to appreciate her nipples and body more since being with Mikey. He made her feel beautiful, sexy. The first orgasm left her thighs weak. She struggled to keep going. Luckily, Mikey was right there with helping hands, like he’d read her mind.
“Oh, Grace. Oh, fuck.”
Her inner walls started to contract. “Mikey!” His name erupted from her mouth. “Come with me, baby.”
The words barely made it past her lips when he shouted in ecstasy. He held onto her as they rode out the waves of pleasure. She flattened his cheek to her chest and stroked his hair.
“You still can’t have my blanket.” He released her and eased his back onto the floor.
“Darn it. Are you serious? My plan didn’t work,” she teased as she got up. “I’m gonna use your shower, do you mind?”
“No. And for future reference you don’t have to ask. Oh shit, what time is it?”
She walked into the bathroom. “Um, it’s Saturday. Do you have to work?”
He sighed. “Unfortunately yes. Not until one o’clock but I have something to do first. I promised to help a friend.”
She walked back into the bedroom. Mikey sat on the side of the bed checking his phone. His finger swiped across the glass screen. A line creased his forehead.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s getting late. I can drop you off at your apartment.”
“I’m not going back there. Lost my purse. I’m sure Cody picked it up.”
“Shit. Well, if you need a place to stay for a while, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” He rose to his feet and stood in front of her, cupping her face in his hands.
Grace looked into his blue eyes, in love with how free he made her feel. She was completely naked and unashamed. “’Kay. Thanks. Where do you have to go this morning? So early?”
“Botanical Park Gardens. Supposed to help plant some trees.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Can I come?”
“Yep.” He kissed her. Maybe the shower could wait.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Mikey
Webster Botanical Park Gardens was Mikey and his son’s favorite place to visit. Mikey felt like a pansy for admitting that out loud and covered up his embarrassment by pretending the only reason he’d volunteered this morning was because his neighbor needed help.
“So what do you need to help plant?” Grace asked while Mikey parked his car in the gravel lot.
“The guy that lives across the street from me. His wife died last winter and loved this place. He wanted to honor her memory by sponsoring a small plot.”
“Oh that’s,” Grace put her hand on her chest, “lovely.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”
They got out of the car. The parking lot gravel crunched beneath their feet. Mikey’s white-haired neighbor, Davis, met them at the entrance to the greenhouse turned gift shop and donation center. The guy had cloudy blue eyes and a ruddy face. His handshake was still firm even at eighty-two years old. Davis handed him a pair of leather work gloves.
“Who’s your lady friend?”
“This is my girlfriend, Grace. Grace, this is Davis, my neighbor.”
Grace extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, my dear.” Davis shook her hand. “Mikey tells me you’re an accountant.” He winked at Mikey.
Her face brightened. “Yes. CPA.” She peered over at Mikey.
Yeah, I’ve been talking about you.
“Well, shall we? The plot is over by the pond,” Davis said.
They walked through the greenhouse and made a right. Along the way, Mikey chatted with Davis about the plans for the garden bed.
The pond was actually a stone enclosed aboveground shallow pool with lily pads floating on the surface. Patches of water iris grew up out of the water and a statue of two frogs leaping over each other stood in the middle.
Grace and Mikey lagged behind Davis when they reached the path that wound around the pond. Mikey pointed out the different plants, explaining which ones were annuals and perennials like a florist.
“Wow, you know a lot about this stuff. How often do you visit?”
“Brayden likes this place.”
“So how often?”
“So, a lot.” She bent down and sniffed a few of the roses. Her behind looked amazing in the jeggings she’d put on when they stopped over her place for a few of her things. Mikey couldn’t wait to get her home later.
Davis stopped at an empty bed that surrounded the pond. A flatbed loaded with a Japanese maple and several cartons of perennial flowers and ornamental grasses had been left near the plot.
Mikey looked at the dirt and imagined the best way to plant the vegetation for optimal aesthetics. After all, he was the only artist of the three of them. “I think the maple should be the focal point but let’s make this interesting.”
“Whatever you suggest is fine with me,” Davis said.
Mikey rubbed his chin. “All right, the tree in the back on the right. Tall grasses in a cluster here,” he pointed on the left, “flowers in the middle, and low grasses up front.”
Grace nodded in agreement. “You’re such a botanist.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you heard me. Trying to make it seem like this isn’t your thing. Blaming your son for coming here so much. But I get it. I’m onto you.”
A lopsided grin spread across Mikey’s face. “I don’t think you know what you’re taking about. I don’t like this place.”
<
br /> They both chuckled.
“Liar. You do too.”
He came up to her; their chests brushed each other’s. Against her mouth he said, “Shhh, don’t spread rumors.” She stood on her tippy toes and pressed her lips to his.
“Ahem,” Davis cleared his throat. “When you two lovebirds are done I’ll be over here. Sitting on this bench. Right. Here.” He pointed to where he was going to sit.
Mikey laughed. “All right, all right. Let’s get started.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Harry
Harry should have cancelled his plans with Gena. Gracie still wasn’t taking his calls. She’d texted him with the last name of the man who’d attacked her but didn’t answer when he’d called her right back. Over the last forty-eight hours he’d left four messages, each one sounded more pathetic than the last.
The only thing he was interested in right now was getting Gena into the sack. Unfortunately, his moral code required him to buy her dinner first. Call him old-fashioned, he had to at least pretend to care. The truth was she had a similar look to his late wife. Same hair color and figure and all.
Gena sat across from him after they met each other at their usual restaurant. The fact that they had a “usual” anything surprised him. Gena was younger than him by about ten years, maybe more. Remembering her age, although he did know she was over forty, seemed too complicated a concept. Also, this would signify he wanted more than sex. Which he didn’t. He liked her, but he didn’t want to marry her. Harry wasn’t a total ass though; he treated her well when they were together and always picked up the check.
“Harry, I was thinking…”
Uh oh.
He raised his eyebrows. “Uh huh?”
“Yeah. Why don’t you come over to my place tonight?”
“Uh.” Harry held his breath. “I have an early day tomorrow.” He had no interest in sleeping anywhere except his own bed, whether or not Gena was involved, that was her decision.
“On a Sunday?”
“Um…I work some weekends, you know.”
“When was the last time?”
“My daughter was…someone tried to hurt her…” He hesitated because he really shouldn’t discuss an open case, but decided he could be vague. Besides he wanted Gena to stop with all her questions.
Gena covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry. Is she all right?”
He waved off her overly concerned expression. “Yeah, yeah. Shaken up a bit. She’s tough, though.”
“I guess so. That’s scary.” She leaned back in the booth.
“Now you see why I have to work?”
She nodded.
He kept his eyes on the table. “Thanks. You’re welcome to come over.”
“I might be talked into that.” The light from the candle on the table sparkled in her eyes. He asked for the check, feeling a renewed lust for her.
Harry turned the corner onto his street, Chippewa Park. Grace’s car was parked in Natalie’s driveway. He slumped down in his seat as low as he could and still be able to see over the dashboard.
What am I doing?
If she were looking out the window, she’d still know who was in the tan Buick. He only owned one vehicle.
The garage door trundled up painfully slow.
Jesus. Come on.
He groaned to himself.
“Is everything all right?” Gena asked.
“Yeah. I can’t wait to get inside.” He killed the engine after starting the torturous closing of the garage.
She sucked in a breath. “Oooh, I like the sound of that.”
Wha…oh.
He’d almost forgotten he was about to get laid. Guilt or no guilt over Gracie and her mother, he needed to relieve some stress before his head exploded.
His bones cracked maneuvering himself out of the car. He stretched his arms over his head and behind his back. At one time Harry had six-pack abs and he could’ve sworn he was once taller.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Just limbering up,” he said and opened the door to the house.
Gena took four steps and spun around. Harry ran into her in the darkened hallway outside the kitchen. She pulled him into a kiss. She was tall for a woman, or maybe it was the shrinking-man thing again. Oh, who cared? Harry broke the kiss and led her to the bedroom.
Once inside the room, she headed for the bed. He came up behind her while he unzipped his pants. She slid her hair over one of her shoulders. His lips found her neck and kissed and sucked.
“Oh, that feels good,” she moaned.
He undid her pants and moved them down her thighs. “Bend over,” he purred in her ear.
“Anything you want.”
Harry thanked God for women over forty who’d had hysterectomies. He pressed into her slick channel, deciding to make this a quickie in the process. Hard and fast was the way Gena liked doing it anyway. He wasn’t into making love any more than she was. Gena never minded when he called her Annie during sex. Who would put up with that other than someone not thinking long term? Not many women.
Sweat dripped down his cheek. He panted jagged breaths. He adjusted his grip on her hips. A couple more thrusts and the walls of her began milking him. She pitched forward and he followed, driving her into the mattress. His orgasm gathered and built.
“Oh…oh…oh…ahhh…Nat-alie…” He collapsed onto her back with an elbow on either side of her, his heart pounding.
“Did you…call me Natalie?”
“No.” He swallowed hard and licked his lips.
“Yeah, you did. Who’s Natalie?” She rolled to her side and pushed him off her back.
“Um…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You know, I put up with you calling me Annie because she’s your dead wife and there’s no threat to me, but Natalie? No. No way.” Gena stood and fixed her pants and underwear. “I’ll be leaving now. Fun while it lasted, huh?” She stomped down the hall.
“Hey, wait, let me give you a ride home,” he called but didn’t run after her.
“Don’t bother! I’ll walk!” The front door creaked.
Harry sat up on the bed. “You live over a mile away.”
“Goodbye, Harry!”
SLAM! The walls of the house shook.
“Natalie? Really?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Mikey
As far as receptionists went, Mandy had proven her staying power. She’d survived an entire week. Mikey liked her. She was sassy although respectful to customers. Her thin arms gave her tattoo sleeve femininity. The roses in thin black lines done with a fine needle only had splashes of color.
Mikey finished up his last client for the day. After the dude paid and was out the door, he cleaned up his work area, including the padded lounge chair. He had a seat and stretched out, laying his head against the headrest.
The phone rang.
“Ink Addiction,” Mandy answered. She listened to the caller. “Um…I’m not sure…what? …Um, I’ll have to see if he’s available.”
Mikey sat up and waved “no” at her. He was done for the night and wished he’d left instead of being lazy.
“Uh huh. I understand but he’s not taking any more clients tonight.” She held the phone away from her ear. Mikey heard the guy squawking on the other end from across the room. Mandy put the phone on her shoulder. “He’s insisting on talking to you.”
Mikey lumbered to his feet. Who is it? he mouthed on the way to the phone.
“It’s that guy,” she whispered.
He wasn’t in the mood for whatever idiot was on the phone; he could say ‘that guy’ about a number of his regulars.
“Hello, this is Mike.”
“Your receptionist said—”
He talked over the caller. “Sorry, but I’m not doing any more tattoos tonight, man. I’m all tapped out. We can schedule you for—”
“Not acceptable.”
Mikey didn’t listen to the rest. He re
cognized the voice. “Cody? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse you. You got some balls. Don’t contact me again!” Mikey slammed the phone down.
Mandy’s face lit up. “Wow. I don’t think I ever seen you get mad before.”
He braced himself on the counter. “I get mad sometimes.”
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Should I get that?” she asked.
Ring.
“Ink Addiction,” Mikey said into the phone. When he heard Cody’s familiar throat clearing, he hung the phone up and unplugged the cord from the back of its cradle. “I can’t believe that bastard. If you see him again, call the police.”
Mandy stared at him. “What happened?”
“He attacked Grace.”
Mandy’s eyes became saucers. “What?”
“You heard me right.”
“Oh my God.” She put her hand over her open mouth. “Is she all right? And more importantly, why is he not in jail?”
“Beats the hell out of me. She’s fine. Freaked out, but fine.”
“That’s messed up. He must have jumbo balls to call here after that.”
“Yep.” He blew out a breath. “I’m tired…Grace is waiting at my house for me. Let me walk you out.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Harry
Harry studied Cedric’s living room. He had photocopies of old news stories pinned to the wall. Pictures of the murder victims were stuck to a city road map at the locations where the bodies were found. The map was an artist’s rendition drawn in perspective and on the cartoonish side, meant for tourists. He scratched his head. “Good Lord, Cedric. When I asked for your help, I didn’t mean make a wall collage. What is all this stuff?”
“It’s only a few things. I was thinking about your suspect. The two murders were eerily similar to an unsolved from about a year ago.” Cedric limped over and stood next to him.
“I’m listening.” Harry sipped his coffee.