by Celia Loren
"Take my nightgown off," I whisper. I feel a rush as he instantly walks forward. He really is doing what I tell him to do. He stands in front of me and bends down, taking the hem of my white cotton nightie and slowly pulling it off over my head as I raise my arms. He tosses it onto the foot of the bed and then lowers his arms, awaiting further instruction. I take a deep breath, trying to work up my courage for the next command. "Go down on me," I murmur, hearing my breath catch in my throat a little.
He drops to one knee, then both. His hands wrap around my thighs, just below my ass, as he leans forward. He takes a slow lick of me, his tongue gliding across my clit as I moan. He begins to tortuously circle his tongue around and around. I may be giving the orders, but he's certainly the one with the power right now. His tongue stops moving and he sucks softly on my clit. My knees buckle slightly as I gasp.
"Up," I barely manage to say. He pulls his mouth away and gets to his feet, wiping his hand across his lips, damp with my pleasure. "Lie down on the bed." He turns and walks over, sliding to the middle of it and laying on his back. I walk over after him, biting my lip as I think of my next move. Even though I could just order him to fuck me right now, I want to give him some more pleasure first.
I kneel on the bed, crawling over to him and pressing my mouth down on his, working my tongue in between his lips. I pull back, and he opens his eyes. Their lightness and vulnerability surprise me. I bring one finger up to the bridge of his nose, feeling the slight crook in it.
"How'd you get this?" I ask.
"Fell out of a tree in the backyard. Hit my face on another branch on the way down."
I lean forward and kiss the spot gently, then his lips again, before moving down to his chest. My hands find his nipples and I roll them between my thumb and forefinger before moving my mouth over and sucking his right nipple into my mouth. He moans, and I keep moving south, kissing down his hard stomach before nuzzling my way through his happy trail. I skip his package for now, and flick my tongue teasingly against his balls. He jumps slightly, and I take one into my mouth, sucking his salty taste off it. I move to the other one, swirling it around in my mouth, before moving up to his shaft.
He groans as my lips close around his tip and I press down, taking him deep inside my mouth. I move slowly up and down, teasing him, before really closing my lips tightly and moving faster. I feel his hips raise slightly into the air, chasing my mouth, and stop.
Thankfully I had time to go to the doctor last week, so I don't have to take a break to get a condom before swinging one leg over him so that I'm kneeling over his dick. I reach down and wrap my hand around it as I lower myself down, feeling that delicious spread in my opening as he pulls me apart. I whimper as I feel him hit my g-spot as I reach his hips. I circle my hips once, twice, before raising myself back up.
We've never been in this position before, so I take a moment to run my fingers over each individual ab muscle that ripples over his stomach before gliding my hands across his chest. I tilt my head back as I continue the motion of my hips, closing my eyes even as I can feel his gaze on my face, watching me. I feel pleasure building up inside me as I speed up the pace, but I know what would make this even more fun.
"Take me from behind. Hard," I order him. He grins and reaches forward, picking me up by the waist and tossing me onto the bed next to him. I just manage to raise myself onto my hands and knees when I feel him pull my legs apart and slam into me. A cry bursts from my lips as his cock hits directly onto my g-spot. There's no time to recover; he's pushing my hips away and pulling them back against him, driving his member deep inside me again and again.
I feel my eyes roll back in my head as pleasure overwhelms me. His grunts behind me build to a loud groan as he thrusts once more and releases himself. I feel warmth spread deep inside as I collapse down, feeling him pull me to the side so he can pitch forward onto the bed next to me.
His lips are on my ear, kissing me and sucking gently on my lobe as I blink drowsily and reach behind me to wrap my arm around his head. His arm drapes over my waist and his large hand spreads itself out across my stomach.
"What'd you think?" he murmurs.
"Being a dominant has it's good points," I smile. "But I don't know if I'll ever like it more than being your submissive."
"Not that you're not great at ordering me around, but I like it the other way better, too."
"But you're still glad we did it?"
I feel him nod. "I wanted you to know what it's like for me, to have someone obey you like that, and I wanted you to know that I'd do that for you." He buries his face in my hair as he rubs his thumb back and forth across the hollow of my belly button.
I frown worriedly. That sounded suspiciously like relationship talk to me, even if he is couching it in terms of our sex life. I bring my free hand to my mouth and begin gnawing on the cuticle on my thumb. This is probably the moment I would have snuck out to my own bedroom, but we're already here. I feel like squirming, but can already feel him breathing deeply behind me as he drifts off to sleep.
Lately I've been able to fall asleep directly after we have sex, too, but not tonight. Tonight I stare off into the darkness as the minutes tick away.
Chapter Twenty-Five
This time I know what to do when the police buzz in at the front gate, but Mr. Redmond isn't answering any of his phones, and neither is Mark Scanlon. I turn to Ms. Mueller with a worried shrug as the doorbell rings and I head toward the foyer.
I open the front door to Jaime and a man and woman that I don't know. I motion them inside as I ask, "No Donohue today?"
"He's with your boss and the security guy down at the precinct," Jaime says.
"Why? What's going on?" I ask, a knot of fear forming in my stomach.
Jaime reaches into his coat pocket and produces a packet of papers. "We've got warrants to collect DNA from Ms. Mueller and Mrs. Redmond. Where are they?" he asks archly.
"Oh. Um, I just left Ms. Mueller in the kitchen, and Mrs. Redmond is probably in her guest house."
"A whole 'nother house for one person," Jaime mutters to himself as he strides past me, aware of the layout of the house by now. I hurry after the small group and see Ms. Mueller look up in surprise as we walk in.
"I'll just tell Mrs. Redmond you're here," I say, reaching for the phone on the wall.
"No," Jaime snaps at me, then turns back to Ms. Mueller. "We have a warrant to collect your DNA," he tells her flatly, handing her a few of the papers. "You can talk to a lawyer if you want, but everything's in order."
"Don't have a lawyer," Ms. Mueller murmurs as she glances over the papers. "Well, best get it over with. I'm no good with needles, though," she warns the man setting his case on the countertop.
"No needle," he replies, "Just a cheek swab." She nods and walks around the counter toward him, resolute as always.
Jaime nods toward the woman and heads for the door to the backyard. I follow them out, knowing how annoyed Mrs. Redmond is going to be to have unannounced visitors. She likes to always look her best.
I stand on the paving stone path as Jaime raps twice on the front door of the guest house. "Mrs. Redmond?" he calls. "Police!" He tries the door handle, then knocks again, more loudly. "Mrs. Redmond!"
"Yes? What is it?" she finally answers from the other side of the door. Jaime sighs in frustration.
"This is Detective Sullivan. We have a warrant to take a DNA sample from you."
There's a long pause. "No," she finally replies.
"Ma'am, you can call your attorney, but the warrant is good."
"This is ridiculous! I'm calling Brent!"
"He's down at the station with your attorney, so you might as well," Jaime calls back, his frustration clear in his voice.
"Why is he at the police station!?"
"We are taking DNA samples from everyone today, Mrs. Redmond," Jaime answers through gritted teeth.
"Well, you'll just have to wait, then," Mrs. Redmond calls back haughtily.
"Yo
u can choose to fight us on this, but I promise you it doesn't look good," Jaime says. "Any particular reason you don't want us to have your DNA?"
"Don't speak to me like that!" Mrs. Redmond's voice cuts through the closed door.
"I am a detective—" Jaime begins to yell back, when I decide to intercede.
"Jaime, could I have a word?" I ask him.
"A word?" he replies, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he growls, following me a little ways off the path. "What?"
"Well, first of all, I'm not sure why you're so pissed at me, and second, I don't think that Mrs. Redmond's reluctance to have you take DNA has anything to do with the case."
"What are you talking about?" he asks, his eyebrows snapping together.
"Well, you said you're taking DNA from everyone, right? Maybe she's worried that, just hypothetically speaking, you might see something about her that she doesn't want to get out."
"Cora, I have no idea what you're talking about," Jaime says flatly.
"Hypothetically speaking, I think that what she's worried about is that you'll take her DNA, and Whitney's DNA and Mr. Redmond's DNA, and you will see…" I gesture emphatically, only to be meant by his blank stare. "That, you know, Whitney's DNA doesn't match the others'."
"Wait, what?" Jaime exclaims, his jaw dropping.
"Sh!"
"You mean she's adopted?" he asks a little more quietly.
"No, she has a lot of Mrs. Redmond's facial features…but none of her father's or Mr. Redmond's. My guess is Mrs. Redmond had an affair." He continues to gape at me. "I mean, you never wondered? She and her brother look so different."
"I…well, OK…so how does this help me? What am I supposed to do with this information?"
"Well, you can't tell anyone, Jaime, promise me." He nods, and I continue. "Mrs. Redmond is always worried about appearances, so I think you just have to tell her that everything will be kept private. She doesn't want anything to get out, you know?"
"Alright…" Jaime replies.
"But also you can't let her know that you know," I add.
"Jesus," Jaime says, exasperated.
"I know how she comes off, but she's nicer than you think."
"Fine. For you," he says, and we turn back to the guest house. He pauses for a moment. "And thank you," he adds. As we walk back over, I see Mrs. Redmond peering at us through the window next to the door, but as we make eye contact, she disappears. Jaime slowly approaches the door and knocks—softly, this time.
"Mrs. Redmond, I just wanted to assure you that the results of this test will be kept completely confidential. Only myself, Detective Donohue, and our captain will be in on it." He looks over at me and pauses. "Also…we are only testing your DNA against DNA that we found on the victim." Whoa, what? They found DNA?
At first, only silence greets him from the other side of the door. "You hear all the time about leaks…"
"Ma'am, I give you my personal promise that the results will be private. And…and I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you earlier." I raise my eyebrows at him. Nice touch.
His work pays off; the door slowly opens. Mrs. Redmond stands proudly in the doorway, her hair perfect, even if her clothing is more casual than she usually likes to be seen in.
"Please come in," she says, elegantly sweeping her arm into the guest house's living room as though nothing has happened.
Since it seems like everything has been smoothed over, I hang back on the path. "Would you like anything to drink or eat, Mrs. Redmond?" I ask.
"No, thank you, Cora," she says as she closes the door, then stops. "Thank you," she says again, more meaningfully, and shuts the door. I turn back to the house, wondering how much she knows I said to Jaime. I've made the mistake before of underestimating her intelligence.
I busy myself dusting the living room so that I'm by the foyer when Jaime and his crew leave. "You found DNA?" I ask, hurrying over to him as he walks down the hall toward the front door.
"Yes," he replies shortly.
"Still mad at me?"
He shoots a look toward the techs and nods for them to head out the door before him. "I'm not…fine, I'm mad. But only because I'm worried about you." He takes a deep breath. "If you're worried about having a place to stay, you know you could always come live with me."
My eyes widen. "Jaime…"
"There was good stuff here," he says, gesturing between us.
"Not enough," I reply sadly. "And maybe when Grace…maybe that was the final straw for me, but we would have broken up anyway. It just sped things up a little."
He looks over my face, then nods. "Maybe I needed to hear that." He turns toward the still open door. "Be seeing you, Cora."
"Bye, Jaime," I call after him as I shut the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I serve Mrs. Redmond alone in the dining room as Ms. Mueller eats in the kitchen. Mrs. Redmond seems contemplative, pushing her food around on her plate more than she's actually eating it, while Ms. Mueller smiles to herself, her recently lightened mood sustaining itself even through the police's interruption today. I envy her.
I hear Mr. Redmond's car come up the driveway just as I clear his mother's place. "Finally," she murmurs. It seems he stayed late at the office to make up for the time spent at the police station. He and Aaron walk into the foyer just as I disappear into the kitchen.
A moment later, Aaron appears at the kitchen island, and I set a place for him next to Ms. Mueller.
"You all have your little swabs done?" he asks. Ms. Mueller nods.
"Not me," I reply with a shrug.
"Ah yes, the innocent one," he declares as he helps himself to the food.
"Well, I guess it's all relative," I reply, heading back out into the dining room to see if Mr. Redmond needs anything.
"He asked for you to bring his dinner to the study," Mrs. Redmond relays with a shrug, standing up and finishing her wine. "More work to do, I suppose."
I nod, and turn back around to fix him a plate. I carry it into the study on a tray with a glass of water, and carefully turn the knob, balancing they tray with one hand.
"Cora," he greets me from one of the chairs in the corner, and stands to meet me at his desk as I set down the tray. I'm surprised to be pulled into a tight hug as soon as it leaves my hands.
"Oh, are…are you alright?" I ask as I tentatively wrap my arms around his wide back. I've never felt him so needful before.
"Better now," he murmurs in my ear. "This weekend, on your day off, let's go for a drive up the coast. I need to get out of here."
I pull back. "Mr. Redmond, I don't think that's—"
"Brent. Call me Brent."
I feel a nervous tickling sensation rise from my stomach all the way up through my throat. "I…we discussed this," I protest.
"I know, but that was a while ago. I assumed…I mean, clearly things have changed," he says, frowning down at me.
I pull away completely, needing to get away from that gaze and his touch. "Oh, have they?" I ask.
"Yes, they have," he replies matter-of-factly. "You know that as well as I do." His tone irks me like it used to when we first met. So all-knowing.
"Maybe you're a little too used to getting what you want. I was very clear that what we'd be doing was purely sexual. Nothing more."
His lips twitch and he reaches up to loosen his tie. "I don't understand you, Cora. We have a connection. You fit here, in my life. Why do you insist on ignoring it?"
"I'm just doing my job, and I was very up-front—"
"You just can't stand the idea of someone caring about you," he says, his eyes pinning me in place.
My mouth goes dry. "It's none of your business."
"Of course it is. We're intimately involved in each other's lives, whether you like it or not. I mean, you probably know everything about my family at this point. My mom told me you stepped in with the cops today. And yes, Whitney's father was one of my father's friends. Good job. So do you really think your big bad secret is so much worse than ev
eryone else's?"
I feel like the floor is falling away from me. He's so angry, but he's telling me he cares about me. Why do I want to shed my own skin?
"It is. It is worse," I finally manage to squeak out.
"Bullshit," he growls. "You're just using whatever it is to avoid getting close to anyone."
"You wouldn't want to be close to me," I gasp.
"I don't know what else to do or say to convince you otherwise," he bursts out, the anger in his voice replaced by pain. "Whatever it is…I mean, it's something about your sister, right? About her death? Is it in here?" he asks, pulling out a drawer and yanking a file out, then shoving it toward me. "Would you rather me just read it?"
I glance down at the manila file. My name is on the edge in black ink. My background check. I reach for it and notice my hands are trembling. I open it, and scan down the bullet points of information about me.
Parents: divorced…father lives in…Sister: Grace MacAuliffe. Diseased. Killed in a car accident on the side of a highway when she was walking home.
I shut it. "It's not in there," I murmur. There's no way for him to know if I don't tell him.
"Cora, please," he whispers. I look up at him, his handsome face twisted with emotion. I can't imagine that things would go back to normal if I didn't tell him, anyway.
I take a deep breath, and stare at the floor as I speak. "Grace was walking home from band practice. They were rehearsing late because they had a big competition coming up." The words tumble out of me and I can't stop them. "I was supposed to pick her up. My parents were both working and I was coming home from college for the weekend. But I was working on this painting, lost track of time…she told everyone her sister was picking her up, so they drove off. She decided to just walk home. There was this short stretch where you had to walk along the highway, between school and home. It was dark. The driver didn't see her. I finally looked at my phone and saw all these missed calls, and I knew something bad had happened. Mom and Dad couldn't deal with me, what I did, or each other. They got divorced. I couldn't paint. Dropped out of school."