by Elise Whyles
“First thing tomorrow morning I want you to call Robert. Get him working on stopping the calls from Mike. The man is not to be calling you or having any contact whatsoever.”
“Can he get rid of my mother too?” Gillian forced a giggle. “Look, I’m sorry I missed our meeting. Just a lot on my mind and I forgot. I better get going. I still have to grab some boxes before I get home and clean up. I have to work and then I have company coming tonight.”
“Oh? Boxes? Company? Have you been…”
“I started dating a very nice man. We’re going to have dinner tonight at my place. The boxes are because I’ve given up my lease and need to find somewhere to live.”
“Well, I’ll wish you the best with both the dating and the move. I’ve scheduled you in for Friday, so please try and make it this time.”
“Friday? I’ll be here, and thank you for letting me know about Mother. I hope she doesn’t bother you again.” Gillian shuffled from the house. She closed the front door and palmed her cell a second before it started ringing.
She smiled as she recognized her home number. Pride flared at the thought she’d managed to figure out how to forward her calls. She hit Talk. Maybe it’s Jack. “Hello?”
“Hey, babe, where you at?” Mike’s voice oozed over her.
“The police station. Just gave my statement in regards to your harassing calls.” Gillian leaned against the door, her hands shaking violently.
“Now that ain’t nice.”
“Do not call me. You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you back in my life in any way! Fucking nuts,” Gillian ground out, anger pushing at her fear until both were locked in a head-to-head battle she wasn’t sure either could win.
“Don’t take that tone with me. Your momma said she invited you to dinner. I expect you to dress nicely and go.”
“Like hell. You have no say in my life, not now, not ever.” Gillian whirled around, her eyes widening at the opening of the door. Doctor Reimer stood in the doorway, a pensive look on her face. “Rot in your cell and leave me the hell alone.”
“Sexless, useless, and dumb. Why your mother kept you—” The snap of the phone reverberated through her.
“I’ll see you Friday, Gillian. Call the police as soon as you get home and let them know he’s harassing you. I’ve already called Robert’s office.”
Gillian nodded and hurried to her car. She really needed a life of her own.
Chapter 18
Lying on his lumpy cot, he tossed a ball in the air and caught it. The thought of fifty thousand dollars was impressive, but the risks weren’t something he wanted or needed. He didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to be around men like Mike Kilpatrick. He shuddered at the image of Mike’s features as he spoke to him.
A simple job: remove an irritant. One who should have been gone a long time ago. Easy work. His eyes shone with a weird light, almost as though he was getting off on planning the job.
Ignoring the angry creaking of his bed, he rolled over to pick up the phone and dialed the number on a scrap of paper. Maybe he was over reactin’; no harm in checking it out. Right?
“Hello?” Smooth, sultry, the woman’s voice held little warmth.
“Heard you got a pest.”
“Yes, yes I do. Rather large one. It’s my understanding you can help me.”
“Possibly. If I can’t I got a friend. What do you need done?”
“There’s an obstacle between me and a rather large sum of money. I need the obstacle removed. She won’t be a problem at all. Too much of a mouse to do anything.”
His stomach knotted. “Price’s going up. Got a pen? I’ll give you a post office box number in town. Write down the details on what you want done and when and mail ’em to this address. I’ll pick ’em up in two days and get back to you on the price.” He hung up, the receiver hot in his hand. No, he wouldn’t do it.
With a trembling finger he dialed a number, waited, and counted the rings. “Hello, bonjour, Drumheller Royal Canadian Mounted Police. How may I direct your call?”
“I need to speak to someone to report a crime.”
“One moment please.”
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he leaned forward, his head resting on his palm, elbow on his knee. A brusque male voice came on and he straightened. “Yeah, I, um, I had a buddy in jail request I help with a job. You got a pen and paper and I’ll give you what details I have.”
“It’s a woman wants her daughter killed. They live here in town. I made initial contact, will have more information in two days. Do you have anyone who could intercept the mail?”
“We do. We’d like more details if we’re going to stop this woman.”
He leaned back against the wall, smiled, and held the phone closer to his ear. “Sure, sure. Glad to help. I ain’t about to go back to prison.”
* * * *
Gillian slipped her glasses into place and stared at the mirror above her bathroom sink. Her dark hair hung in curls around her face, a touch of makeup highlighted her eyes, and her full lips wore the rose-colored lipstick well. The faint color to her cheeks only added to her appeal.
She looked good. The blue blouse and simple black skirt didn’t reveal more than she was comfortable with and weren’t prudish. Straightening the blouse, she smoothed her skirt into place and turned the light off. She inhaled the smell of salmon and lemon filling the house. It was amazing what she’d managed to get done in just under an hour. She giggled softly at the memory of her boss’ stunned expression when she told him she had a date and needed to leave a few minutes early.
Jack had proven to be unfailingly gallant, their dates worked around the work schedules they had, and she was feeling more than a little spoiled. Dinner, movies, picnics, walks along the river, romantic get-togethers guaranteed to leave her burning for more. She shivered, her nipples hardening at the memory of their phone conversation the day before. “Tonight,” Gillian promised herself as she checked the oven. “Tonight, we’ll see if it’s as good as I remember.” The oven door closed with a soft thud as she turned the temperature off to allow the salmon to rest. She strode through the living room to the massive bay windows and lifted the curtains to peek out.
She flushed as she bumped against the television, pausing to double check she hadn’t left one of her adult-type research videos in the slot. With a sigh of relief, she glanced around the room. Nothing seemed out of place, everything had been put away, tidied up, and cleaned. She could smell the faint scent of her wood polish and smiled. Yes, he’d be pleased.
Candles rested on their holders, waiting for the strike of a match. Her computer desk was cleaned off, the only thing visible her desktop protector. Everything was as ready as it could be.
“He’ll be here soon. Dinner is nearly ready. I should get the bedroom ready.” Gillian scurried down the hall to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled open the bedside table’s drawer. Condoms, lubricant, even a few of those silk scarves. Her hand rested on her abdomen, the vague hope of calming the butterflies going by way of the wind. “Candles!” Shaky fingers lit the columns of wax sitting atop her dresser. The dancing flames gave just the right amount of light for her to feel secure. Blowing them out, she hurried back to the kitchen.
“Why on earth would I have him come here for a date?” She adjusted a plate on the table. Her fingers plucked at imaginary lint from a napkin. A glance at the clock revealed Jack would be arriving shortly, something she was immensely grateful for. Better to get dinner over with quick and painless rather than prolong the agony. Food wasn’t really what she wanted—no, she would rather know if he really wanted her.
Using the remote, she turned the stereo on and the soft throb of music filled the silence. The light from the fridge spilled out onto the floor as she pulled out a bottle of wine. She wrapped it in a chilled dish towel, set it on the counter, and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard.
Gillian jumped at the peel of the doorbell, smoothed her sweaty pa
lms down her skirt, and hurried to answer the summons. She smiled at the single white lily Jack held out to her. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Sniffing at it, she stood back, waving a hand at him to usher him inside. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Jack glanced around as he pulled off his leather jacket and hung it on the rack next to the door. Dressed in tan slacks, a white shirt, and tie, he looked mouth-watering.
Gillian hid her face in the flower, hoping he wouldn’t catch her licking her lips. Desire flooded through her, the urge to see if he tasted as good as he looked powerful. She turned and hurried toward the kitchen.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Gillian gestured to the leather couch. “Would you care for a glass of wine? Coffee will only take a few minutes.” She pressed the On button on the coffee maker before pulling dinner out of the oven. She set the pot on the stove, and then turned to study Jack. He was currently hunched over, studying her bookcase. She leaned back against the counter and sighed, her eyes trailing over the taut curve of his ass. His long legs encased in cotton. Her palms itched to touch, to cup him as he leaned forward, his attention caught on something.
“You have a wide collection of books here.” Jack glanced over his shoulder. “Some of these I’ve been dying to read.”
“Really?” Gillian walked over to stand next to him. The brush of her hand against his shoulder set her flesh on fire. Flames licked along her nerves and settled in her breasts. Inhaling sharply, she offered a weak smile as she rolled her shoulders, hoping to ease the pressure in her breasts. The slide of lace over her sensitive nipples sent shockwaves racing to her clit. A hollow feeling radiated from her core, building until she pressed her thighs tighter together in an attempt to squelch it. “Which ones?”
“I’m a huge fan of westerns; you have almost the entire collection of L’Amour books. Not to mention you’ve got some great texts on dinosaurs.” Jack straightened, turning to face her.
Gillian shivered at the whisper of his breath on her face. Her breathing stuttered. She leaned forward unconsciously, her eyes focused on his lips. Her fingertips burned with the need to touch, to see if the shadow of stubble was rough or smooth. A faint whine escaped her lips when he licked his.
Mimicking him, she licked her own lips before drawing the bottom one between her teeth to nibble. With a tilt of her head, she pressed closer, less than an inch between them. She could feel the heat of his skin, see the golden flecks in his eyes as he stared at her. She raised a hand, trailed her fingers around his face, close, but not touching. His hitch in breathing told her she was on the right track. Leaning closer, she ghosted her lips over his jaw, over his cheek, his ear, his neck. Her breathing as ragged as his. Her tongue darted out to lick at his Adam’s apple as it bobbed in response to her movement.
“Gilli, please.” Jack’s low growl drew a strangled giggle. Still, Gillian refused to touch him. Her lips caressed his ear lobe, her tongue painting the tip with moisture. She lifted her eyes to meet his and stood on tiptoe to nuzzle at his mouth, her tongue painting his bottom lip before withdrawing.
Each slow teasing movement darkened his gaze with lust. Control hung by a single thread stretched taut. Gillian held his gaze and licked at his lips again, sighing when he opened them. She shivered, her blood pulsing through her veins at the touch of his tongue against hers. Moans of pleasure escaped her control as their tongues stroked against each other. Each hot, wet brush shooting straight to her pussy. It throbbed, moisture collecting, dampening her panties. Still, she refused to touch, to caress beyond their tongues.
“Gilli, you need to—” Jack growled when she ducked her head to bite his neck gently, her teeth settling in the sensitive spot between his neck and his shoulder. Her tongue laved the slight wound for a second before she gasped. Jack’s hands tightened around her hips, pulling her flush into his body. She moaned at the hard bulge in the front of his jeans, her hips wiggling against it.
They both moaned when her movements caught both of them just right. Sensation swam, rolling and pitching her body in a wild storm of need. Her hands landed on his chest, her fingers plucking at his shirt as he rocked against her.
“Little seductress.” Jack growled against her lips. He deepened her kiss, thrusting his tongue in and out. She whimpered at the faint hint of chocolate and coffee on his tongue, her fingers clenching fistfuls of his shirt. Again and again he plundered her mouth, the ragged echo of his breathing filling her head.
Her head fell back as his lips moved down her throat. She tangled her fingers in his hair with each nibbling kiss. A shudder raced down her spine when his tongue darted out to lick the hollow of her throat before moving lower. Shards of electricity darted down her body.
Lace rasped over her aching nipples, her breasts heavy with need. She whimpered when he palmed one through her shirt, his fingers making lazy circles. Rubbing against him, she wallowed in the tension coiling in her belly.
“God, Gilli, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Of your taste,” Jack whispered in her ear. “I wanted you again and again in every way possible.”
“Please.” Gillian tugged on his tie, loosening it from around his neck before attacking his shirt, pulling it from his pants so her hands could creep beneath the fabric. She smirked at the jump of his muscles as her nails scored over his toned abs, her fingers raking through the springy hair on his chest. She paused at the hard little nubbins of his nipples, tweaking them and wallowing in his pleasured sounds.
“Tell me what you want.” Hard, unyielding, his tone crept over her as she arched against him. Her thigh slid between his, rubbing against his hard cock, and creating friction on her clit at the same time. “God yes, just like that. Harder, baby, harder.”
Gillian heard the ping of buttons flying as he ripped his shirt off. She gasped, licking her dry lips before leaning forward. Would he like it if she kissed his nipples? Skimming her lips over his pectoral muscle, she chuckled hoarsely at his tortured groan before placing chaste kisses across his chest. She glanced up and licked at his nipple, her tongue flicking it once, twice, before she withdrew and reached for her glasses.
“No.” Jack caught her hand and tugged them away from the dark frames. “Leave them on.”
“But…” Gillian fell silent at the press of his touch to her lips. Curling her fingers through his, she nodded her consent.
The brush of his fingertip down her throat to the top button of her simple cotton blouse made Gilli shimmy. She watched his face as he slid each button free. The look of want in his expression bolstered her courage. Heat pooled, gathering beneath her panties until she wondered if they were wet.
She sucked in a quick breath when his touch brushed over her belly button. Shards of pleasure rocked through her, sending waves of need straight to her crotch. Clinging to him, she tilted her head back, his lips drawing down her throat. She cried out when he palmed her crotch, his hand sliding over her skirt to cup her. He used the heel of his hand to stimulate her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.
Chapter 19
A whine of need escaped when he popped the button and slid the zipper down to slide the polyester of her skirt to the floor and caress her pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, he stroked her, pausing to flick at her aching clit with each movement. Her knees weak, she clung to him, her forehead pressed into his shoulder. Ragged, harsh breaths escaped her lungs as she shuddered and shivered with the tightening coil of her impending orgasm.
Biting her hand to muffle her cry of pleasure, Gillian barely felt Jack catch her as she exploded. Her pussy clenched and a wash of moisture flooded her again and again. “Yes, Jack, please.”
The coolness of her leather couch proved a welcome relief from the heat soaring through her. She arched into his touch, his fingers peeling her panties down her legs and tossing them aside.
“Touch yourself, Gilli. Come on, baby. You know you want to.” Jack coaxed her hand, directing her fingers to her throbbing cunt. “Yeah, like that. Stroke it, baby, yeah.
God you’re so beautiful, so sexy. I could spend all night watching you.”
Slow, steady, she stroked herself like he had, her fingers sliding through her essence, gliding across sensitive flesh until she was sure she was going to go crazy. She dipped a finger into her warm cunt and cried out at the crashing wave of pure sensation. Arching into her own touch, she undulated under her hand, her body empty, aching.
She stilled when she felt Jack’s calloused hand creep up her thigh, her eyes flashing open. “No, don’t stop. I want to see you pleasure yourself, touch yourself. Make yourself come again, Gilli, you can do it. I want to see you come apart. It’s so sexy and hot. Makes me hard as hell.”
At his words, her eyes darted to the front placket of his jeans. Reaching out, she undid the button, slid the zipper down slowly, her eyes locked on his as her knuckles grazed his hard cock. His shiver at her touch bolstered her confidence.
“Does that feel good?” Her face burned at the question, but she didn’t want to back down. If all she got was this, it was more than she’d ever had.
“You have no idea,” Jack rasped. His hand crushed into hers, dragging it up the placket of his pants to the elastic of his briefs. “Touch me, Gilli, I need to feel your hand on me.”
Unable to pull away from the heat of him, Gillian watched the fabric bunch in her fist as she pulled it down. His cock sprang out, the wide, thick head glistening. Hasty, wanting more, she tugged his clothes down a bit. She curled her fingers around his length. The hiss of his breath an aphrodisiac. She whimpered and her head fell back when he reached down, his thick fingers sliding into her slick pussy. Mimicking his movements, she moved her hand back and forth, her grip steady as she hovered on the edge.
She protested when he withdrew his fingers and then gasped when he stepped back, his clothes flying as he kicked them from his legs. Relief flooded her when he reached for his wallet and pulled out a condom. She stared as he rolled the clear latex down his shaft, his fist pumping it as he slid the protection into place.