by Jan Springer
“Spread your legs for me, sweetness and I’ll show you exactly how I can make you know how you feel.”
“And if I said no?”
“I’ll bite your nipples, if you don’t comply. And I bite hard.”
She shivered visibly.
“Do it now, sweetness.”
A sexy smile tilted her pink lips and her breasts heaved with excitement as she debated whether to test his patience. In the end, she spread her legs wide for him.
“Put your hands on my shoulders and keep them there.”
She did as he instructed and he got down on his hands and knees. His cock tightened even harder as he looked up and saw her heavy breasts dangling like ripe melons above him. Her eyes were now dark with desire and she whimpered as his gaze slid to her pussy. Her pussy lips were ripe, pink and swollen. Her clit was plump and purpled with arousal and had dropped past her labia. Cream stained her inner legs.
She was prepared for him. Already wet. Well lubricated. Ready to be penetrated by his weighty and engorged cock.
For a moment he thought of standing, of slamming his shaft into her tight pussy and forgetting about foreplay. Managing to clamp down on the lust threatening to make him lose control, he instead concentrated on grabbing the showerhead where it had fallen on the stall floor and switched it to full pulse.
The warm spray gushed harder. Faster.
Aiming it between her legs, he watched eagerly as the harsh jet of water slammed against her succulent clit. She yelped at the impact, her nails digging sharply and painfully into his shoulders.
Oh, yeah. She was hot and she was enjoying the sharp spray coming at her pussy.
He kept the pulsing showerhead mere inches from her quivering vagina and watched as her nostrils flared. Listened to her erotic moans slip from between her luscious lips.
Her body tightened. Her legs trembled. Her eyelids fluttered.
She arched her hips against the showerhead giving him an awesome view of the bottom curves of her cute quivering ass cheeks, the smooth plastic end of the butt plug he’d placed inside her again. The erotic sight sent blades of lust searing along his shaft.
The muscles in her thighs quivered. She gasped out his name and he cupped her cunt, stopping the spray from arousing her any further. He could feel the sticky heat of her pussy, the plump outline of her clit pressed erotically against his palm. God! She was literally dripping with desire.
The cinnamon smell of her sex slammed into his nostrils and his cock pulsed in answer.
His heartbeat thumped madly in his ears. She cried out as his fingers found her swollen clitoris and he stroked her pleasure nub quickly, efficiently, until her hips gyrated.
When he released the pressure, she staggered. In a flash he stood, his right hand sliding over the sensual curve of her wet hip. With his other hand, he guided his aching cock between her velvety pussy lips and slipped into her tiny cunt in one thrust that had her backing hard against the wall and whimpering her approval.
With the butt plug inside her, she was tight. Unbelievably, beautifully tight. He just couldn’t get over it. The eager way her vaginal muscles clamped around his hard flesh had him clenching his teeth against the white-hot blades of lightning that threatened to rip him apart. But he didn’t want to come just yet. He wanted to fuck her slowly. Wanted to watch the beautiful pink flush stain her cheeks.
Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders making him wince.
Shit!
He wouldn’t be surprised if she was drawing blood. Clasping her hips hard, he started a slow thrust. An agonizing slow withdrawal that had her gasping and her silky, greedy pussy trying to suck him back in.
She shook and trembled as he continued the torturous pace. He could feel the sperm building fast in his testicles. Pulsing and throbbing until the pressure in his balls almost had him dropping to his knees.
Her thighs closed, her vaginal muscles clenched tighter around him as he slammed back into her. It was then that he realized he didn’t have a condom nearby.
Cripes! Wearing no condom was getting to be a bad habit.
“Protection,” he ground out. He was ready to pull out when her hands curled harder around his shoulders, stopping him.
“Don’t,” she whimpered. “I want this. I want us. God! I want you, Tom. Just like this. No barriers.”
There was a hysterical edge to her voice. It sent a tiny fissure of fear racing through him, but she bucked her hips hard and ground her pelvis into him, chasing away his fear with lusty blades of arousal.
He would think later. Right now, he needed to please her.
He thrust into her tiny slit again.
Hard and fast.
Fierce and mighty.
Her tight cunt spasmed around his length, unleashing something wildly exhilarating. He just about lost his mind in the carnal bliss.
He was so hot now. Consumed with need. With pleasure. Wanting to make love to her. Burning with fire.
Rocking his hips against her, he met her every buck with fierce pounding thrusts. Her slippery cunt clenched harder. He drove his thick rod into her over and over again until the pressure in his balls exploded.
His cock burst like a stick of dynamite spewing hot jets deep into her wildly bucking body.
Both their climaxes seemed never ending. Sweat trickled into his eyes, yet he kept thrusting.
Flesh slapped against flesh.
He ground harder. His balls emptying more of his love juices.
God help him, this climax was awesome.
Her cunt was slick. Well oiled. Demanding.
Oh, so demanding as she milked him dry.
When they came down from their highs, he lifted her weary body into his arms and carried her to bed.
—
The tantalizing aroma of fresh brewing coffee mingling with sizzling bacon and eggs roused Tom from his satisfying sleep. He opened his eyes and instinctively reached out for Sara. His hand fell on emptiness.
He experienced a momentary panic, but the heavenly memories of last night flooded through him bringing a contented smile to his lips. He didn’t have to remember if he’d ever made love to another woman in his life. Something told him that after Sara there would never be another.
No two bodies could fit so perfectly together. All her soft curves matching with his hard angles. As if they’d been molded for each other.
As if they were…soul mates?
The warmth filling his heart froze and a groan of pure anguish ripped through him making him bolt straight up in the bed.
Today could very well be their last day together. When her sister or Garry called again and they discovered he was a fugitive, they’d have no choice but to turn him in.
Unless he did something drastic. Like take matters into his own hands. Like go on the run and take Sara with him.
It wasn’t the kind of future he wanted for her but at the moment it was the only way they could stay together. They could use the ten grand they’d found in the bike’s saddlebags and hop in her truck and head for Thunder Bay. Once there, they could ditch the truck in a mall parking lot and get on a bus or a train. His heart picked up speed as the idea took root. People disappeared without a trace everyday.
Excitement built as he hopped out of bed and quickly donned his clothing.
They could head way out west. Maybe to British Columbia? He could get a job on the docks. They could have kids.
He smiled as he remembered fucking Sara without a condom more than once. The thought of it made an odd kind of warmth that he’d never experienced before slip through him.
Maybe he’d made her pregnant.
There was no way in hell he’d let a kid of his grow up without a dad. No way he would live without Sara.
What they needed to do was get a real solid plan together, but first he’d put the truck into the barn and get the motorcycle in the back of it.
By the time he was finished with that task, breakfast would be ready and he’d allow Sara one more peacefu
l meal before breaking the news to her, before telling her he wanted to stay with her forever and they had to go on the run. While they packed, they could plan how to make everyone believe she was on another peppermint product delivery trip. It would keep anyone from looking for them for several days.
If they were lucky, they’d be on the road in a couple of hours.
Yes, this could definitely work.
Grabbing his leather jacket, he put it on and withdrew the truck keys from the pocket before heading for the back door. His heart pounded wickedly in his chest as he trotted across the cool mist-enshrouded yard and opened the barn doors.
Once they got a few miles down the highway, they could dump the bike somewhere on a side road or drag it into the woods so no one would ever find it.
Shit! He really could make this happen. Why the hell had he been so resistant to the idea before? He’d been a fool thinking he could live without her. A dreamer thinking Jo and Garry could help him. There were no guarantees they would even believe him. They might simply turn him over to the authorities. He’d never see her again.
Yes, this idea of going on the run definitely sounded like the way to go. Maybe when he regained his memory, and he’d learn the truth and he was innocent he’d have the ammunition he needed to keep himself out of jail. He and Sara might not even have to be fugitives for long.
Leading the bike to the edge of the open barn doors, he popped the stand and started toward the parking lot where they’d left the truck. He’d taken only several steps out of the barn when he stiffened. A shadow stood in the white fog not more than twenty feet away. For a moment, he thought it was Sara but the gun in the person’s hand made him realize he was wrong.
Before he had a chance to react, a woman’s determined voice sliced through the misty silence.
“Hold it right there, mister!”
Chapter Fourteen
Tom froze dead in his tracks. A cold chill sizzled up his spine.
“Get those arms up in the air or I’ll blow sunlight right through your brains,” the woman ordered crisply.
He hesitated. If he could make a run for it, he could disappear into the dark bowels of the barn and escape through the back window. Sara might hear the gunshot and have a chance at getting away. On the other hand, she might walk outside and straight into a bullet.
“Do it! Now!” Another voice. A man’s voice.
Shit! He was surrounded. No use running. His best bet to save Sara would be to wait for an opportunity to escape. Reluctantly he raised his arms skyward.
“Now move toward us!” the man ordered sharply.
Tom swallowed hard against his nervousness and his gut scrunched up with a sick feeling of dread as he slowly began walking toward the two mist-enshrouded shadows.
As he got closer, the shadows took shape. To his horror, he recognized the man from his earlier hallucinations or visions or whatever the hell they had been, the same man whose blood he’d tried to stop from flowing out of what had once been his throat seemed very much alive.
The only differences between the man in his memory and this man was the white handlebar mustache growing beneath this man’s pudgy nose, the gun, which he held in his pudgy hand, and the wheelchair he sat in.
A wave of dizziness swooped over him and he faltered as bright flashes of light produced images.
Shattering glass. This old man yelling at him to run. Then this man’s eyes staring unseeing at him. The smell of death hanging heavy in the air.
“My God, I thought you were dead?” The words escaped Tom’s lips in a rush.
“Wish I could say the same for you, mister!” the old man growled, his knuckles whitened as they tightened around his gun.
Another figure stepped out of the mist. The woman. “Told you I saw someone lurking in the fog.”
The sweet feminine voice instantly captured his attention. A tall and slender brunette with forget-me-not blue eyes. She was very pretty but it was the pistol she trained on him that held most of his attention.
“I’m Tom Smith,” he offered to both of them.
A satisfied knowing smile whipped across the woman’s lips.
The old man laughed bitterly. “Don’t toy with us, pup. We know who you are.”
“You know who I am?”
Bittersweet relief swept through every fiber of Tom’s being.
—
Sara threw a few more strips of bacon into the frying pan. They sizzled crazily and she smiled as the delicious aroma wafted up to her nostrils. This morning she would cook Tom a feast fit for a king. Because that’s who he was. A king. And she, his queen.
Last night when he’d made love to her, he’d brought out the woman in her so many times, so easily. And today she looked forward to experiencing the same love.
God, she felt so happy. She’d found another man to share her life with, and this time she’d never let anyone take him away from her. Not even—
The hushed sounds of faraway voices filtered through the slightly open kitchen window. Sara’s breath caught in her throat. Was it Justin Jeffries? And the police? Her heart crashed against her chest as she dared a peek out the window. She saw nothing. Had she imagined the voices? Maybe. But just to be on the safe side she’d better go out and take a quick look. She took the frying pan off the stove, setting it safely aside on the counter and tiptoed out onto the front veranda.
“What in the world is going on here!” Sara yelled as she spotted Garry and her sister Jocelyn pointing their guns at Tom.
“Caught this killer lurking out in the barn. Has he harmed you in anyway, Sara?” Jocelyn’s cold voice shocked Sara, and she looked at Tom. His eyes pleading for a helping hand out of this mess.
“Dear Lord! Take your guns off him. He’s not a murderer.”
“Did he touch you?” Garry commanded.
Sara jumped at his rough voice.
“What is the matter with you two?”
“That’s the man they say murdered my brother.”
Sara’s mouth opened in utter shock. “Robin?” Her voice a shocked whisper. She barely heard Tom’s strangled gasp. She couldn’t think. Her surroundings swam before her eyes.
“Sara, are you okay?” Tom’s concerned words barely registered on her ears. She saw him step forward.
“Stay away from her or I’ll shoot you dead!” Garry shouted at him. Tom stopped.
This wasn’t possible. How could Robin be dead? How could Tom be the murderer of Garry’s brother? A sick thought slammed into Sara’s gut making her gasp. Tom’s memories. The old man in his memories had been Robin. A slow tremble began to jostle her insides.
“C’mon, Sara,” her sister urged. “Let’s get you inside.” Sara felt her sister firmly take hold of her elbow. “Can you handle him, Gar—?” Jo yelled back to Garry.
“With pleasure.”
Numbly, Sara felt herself being led back into her house. In the kitchen, she slumped dejectedly into a chair before her legs could give out.
Jocelyn sat down opposite Sara.
“Robin’s dead? How? When?”
“A little over two weeks ago.”
“This is insane.” Sara shook her head with disbelief. “Not Tom. It’s not possible.”
Jo gently patted Sara’s clenched fists. “You’ve fallen in love with him haven’t you?”
“How—?”
“It’s written all over your face.” Jocelyn sighed deeply.
“Oh, Jo, I was so sure he wasn’t a murderer. That what he’d said about Justin Jeffries was true.”
“What?” Jo’s eyes narrowed curiously. “What has he said about Justin Jeffries?”
“That Justin killed Sam Blake in cold blood and that it’s likely Justin killed Jack, too.”
“His partner? You mean Sam Blake is dead?”
“Yes, but no one knows about it except Tom, Justin and me.”
“Sounds like a lot has been going on around here. I’d like to hear more about this man of yours. But I don’t know if we can be
lieve him.”
“Why not?”
“They have witnesses against him, Sara. One of them is a high-ranking cop. The other is a detective. Both say he pulled the trigger that killed Garry’s brother. They found a stash of cocaine at Robin’s house. They said it was a thwarted drug deal.”
Sara shook her head. “That’s not possible.”
Jo smiled weakly.
“That’s what’s so strange about this case. There’s no way Robin would ever be buying or selling drugs. Garry thinks it’s a plant. We were checking out all the possibilities. We tried to contact you but the phones were out. Then when I finally got through, I would have left a message, but I wanted to tell you, not speak to a machine.”
Sara nodded with understanding.
“Sara, honey, I want you to tell me everything you know about this guy.”
She choked back a sob and nodded. She’d tell Jo every single detail if it helped free Tom. Everything.
—
Out in the barn, Tom sat on a hard wooden stool, his hand was cuffed once again. This time to the wooden leg of a very heavy workbench. A twisted groan escaped his throat as he thought about what Sara was going through. For her to realize he really was a murderer. And to make matters worse he killed someone she loved.
God, he felt sick.
The old man in the wheelchair eyed him stonily. The pale skin of his wrinkled face was well creased like the leather of his old neglected motorcycle saddlebags. Pure hatred brewed in his smoldering blue eyes as they drilled a hole right through him. And the old man’s fingers twitched nervously on the trigger as the fingers from his other hand stroked his mustache thoughtfully.
Again, Tom found himself in another life-and-death predicament. And quite frankly he was beginning to get fed up with it.
“If I wasn’t involved with the justice system, I’d blow your brains out right here and now.”
Tom grimaced at the raw emotion in the man’s voice. He wished there was something he could do to ease the man’s pain.
“Why did you kill him?” The words shot through Tom like a bullet. How could he respond to the question when he couldn’t remember what had happened himself?