by Lynette Mae
The tantalizing touch continued the delicious torment as a warm mouth closed on a nipple, teeth biting down to a point just short of pain, sending a flood of arousal between her legs. She heard a deep, sensuous, definitely female laugh. Talented fingers moved between her legs into the source of wet heat and she moaned when they slipped inside her. Devon struggled to raise her head, wanting to see the face of the stranger drawing forth her passion, but a firm hand pushed her back down as the first warning shudder of climax gripped her thighs. Her hips jerked forcefully into the thrusting hand as pleasure streaked along her spine like a lit fuse racing toward her center. She felt the press of the woman’s thumb over her throbbing clitoris, and as she strained on the edge of oblivion, Jillian’s face came into view inches from her own.
“Jill–” She blinked and the face before her morphed into Jessie’s just as the orgasm ripped through her.
Devon’s eyes snapped open while tremors of arousal pulsated inside. Jillian’s laughter but Jessie’s face still flashed though her mind. Shit. I have to get a grip on myself. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. She sat up trying to orient herself and finally realized where she was. The closed drapes on the windows prevented her from guessing at the time, but she could still see some light leaking around the edges. Devon checked her watch and saw that it was almost seven o’clock. She had been asleep for two hours. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since eleven thirty that morning and motivating her to get cleaned up to go in search of a meal. Concentrating on that thought rather than the disturbing images in her brain, she climbed into the shower and let the cold water beat against her skin while she willed her mind to clear. She was sure some shrink would have a field day examining her latest dream with its twisted carnal outcome. Having no answers herself, Devon did her best not to dwell on it.
Fatigue and hunger sapped any interest in leaving the hotel grounds to search for a place to eat, so she opted for the onsite restaurant. Devon took a seat at the small outdoor bar area next to the kidney-shaped swimming pool and ordered a beer while she waited for her food. The evening was pleasantly warm. She enjoyed her meal, and the waterfall flowing into the pool created a tranquility that allowed her to relax. She wondered if Jessie was having a busy night at work and thought about the real date she'd take her on when she got back to Tampa. That made her smile. The bartender automatically brought her another beer and Devon sat back in the high backed barstool, happy to have her thoughts back on familiar ground.
“Mind if I join you?” Jillian’s unmistakable whiskey smooth voice penetrated Devon’s quiet musings. She flinched inwardly but didn’t move and continued to stare out over the pool as she sipped her beer.
Jillian climbed onto the neighboring stool, her thigh brushing against Devon’s. She ordered a beer and two shots of whiskey. Devon sat silently, waiting, afraid that if she looked at Jill, the reactions to her earlier dream would be visible on her face. The sound of that voice never failed to stir her senses. Even after all of these years, the reactions were still obviously hard wired to her central nervous system. Her mind cursed her body’s response to the contact of Jillian’s leg against her own, no doubt still feeling the effects of her distressingly erotic dream. This week would be interminable.
After a few minutes of silence, Jillian finally spoke. “I know you were as shocked as I was this morning.” She slid one shot of whiskey to her left, briefly touching the back of Devon’s hand.
Devon jerked her hand away. The muscle below her right eye twitched the way it always did when she was upset.
“Sorry,” Jillian said nearly inaudibly. She threw back her shot and chased it with the beer. “I really am sorry, Dev. I—I wanted to call you so many times…” Her voice caught and she pressed her palms on the bar.
Devon huffed, “Save it. I did call, but it’s kind of hard to get through on a disconnected number. You always knew how to get in touch with me, Jillian. I wrote to you every day for months without a response.” She stood, extracted a twenty from her pocket, and tossed it on the bar. “Finally, even my dumb ass got the message.” Devon motioned to the bartender. “Take the shots and her beer out of that.”
She turned to walk away, but Jillian grabbed her arm. Devon stiffened and closed her eyes, willing her skin to stop tingling where Jillian touched her. She looked down at her arm where Jillian held it, but refused to meet her eyes. The dredged up memories of the past had dangerously exposed her still painful wounds, and Jillian’s touch was too much right now.
“Good night,” she rasped. Jillian released her and Devon made her escape, leaving her ex-lover alone at the bar staring after her.
Chapter Nine
DAY TWO DAWNED full of dread. Devon opted for breakfast at the hotel instead of the cafeteria at the training center in order to delay the inevitable interaction with Jill. While she ate, she sorted through her thoughts trying to find a way to put them into more perspective that might allow her to compartmentalize her emotions. She was certain this was the only way she would make it through the week. Devon stirred her coffee and tapped her spoon on the lip of the ceramic mug, noticing how the olive green along the top bled into copper and then a deep brown at the handle. All of the colors were distinctive, yet blended together at nearly indistinguishable points, very much like her own feelings.
Last night, she’d been so flustered by Jillian’s re-appearance, her natural reaction was to lash out at her for all the pain that began the day Jill had walked out of her life. Jillian’s half-assed apology tapped into Devon’s temper, but somehow, she wasn’t even sure about her anger anymore. Once she’d gone upstairs, she regretted being so harsh with Jillian. What happened wasn’t either’s fault. So, why are you still clinging to your anger? she asked herself, already knowing the answer. Staying mad was easier than accepting what she couldn’t change.
The morning drills were hand-to-hand combat and ground fighting techniques designed to sharpen their skills. Bert matched up the students by approximate height and weight to minimize injury. Devon wasn’t really surprised that she and Jillian were paired up for the exercise.
“Are ya ready?” The question rolled playfully off Jillian's tongue. Devon had forgotten how much she loved that southern drawl. Jillian had a challenging gleam in her eyes. She bounced on the balls of her feet, hands in front of her, waiting for Devon’s advance.
“Yep.” Devon’s insides felt like jelly. She stared squarely back at Jill, fighting for her professional decorum, but lost the battle when an image of the two of them sparring in the army gym popped into her head. Back then Devon was the more muscular of the two, but Jill had shocked her with a leg sweep that dropped her flat on her back. She remembered the triumphant smile on Jillian’s face that day and the fun they always had in challenging each other.
The whistle blew and Devon lunged forward. She captured Jillian’s right wrist while simultaneously hooking her leg behind Jill’s for the sweep. Jillian was prepared and reacted quickly, shifting her weight to the outside to counter with an arm spear. Devon neutralized Jillian’s strike by stepping in and to the right. She crouched and drove her shoulder into Jill, like a linebacker’s tackle. Wrapping her arms around Jillian’s torso, she trapped Jill’s right arm against her side. Then she dropped her left leg back and twisted, allowing her momentum to carry them both to the mat facedown with Devon on top. Reinhardt blew the whistle to end the exercise.
The morning continued with more takedowns, and Devon realized that she was actually enjoying the training. She and Jillian had even managed to share a few laughs at each other’s expense during some of their less than graceful moments. The natural flow of their long ago friendship rose to the surface. The painful history between them notwithstanding, what was never in question was that they had always genuinely liked each other. The affectionate expression on Jill’s face as Devon helped her up following the last takedown reminded her of all of the hopes and dreams she once had, and emotion squeezed her heart.
“We’re heading to our favorite grill if anyone wants to join us,” Bert called out. “I’ve got room for two or three, the rest can follow.”
Normally, Devon would have readily joined the group to build on the camaraderie with her classmates, but today she hesitated. Jillian looked uncomfortable and the physical contact between them all morning had Devon off balance. She thought maybe she should skip the lunch outing to take some time to re-group.
John, the guy from Lakeland P.D., nudged her arm. “You coming, Dev?”
She felt Jillian watching her again and her decision hung in the balance while her classmate looked at her expectantly. A sit-down lunch would require more conversation than was possible during the sparring sessions or the pistol range and Devon wasn’t sure she could carry on idle conversation with Jill. Then again, she liked John, and wanted the chance to get to know him and the others a little better. Plus, they would be in a large group, it wasn’t as though it was a date or anything. The desire to hang out with the class won out. “Yeah, sure.” Across the room, Jillian’s body language visibly relaxed.
John smiled brightly at her. “Great. You wanna ride together? I’ll drive. My ride’s the blue pickup.”
At the pub they pushed several tables together and everyone grabbed a chair. Although sitting at opposite ends, Devon felt Jillian’s presence acutely. She stole a glance when the waitress brought their drinks, unnerved to find Jillian watching her with an intense expression. All too clearly she remembered the first time Jill looked at her that way. She heard the sound of a pool game at the back of the bar, just like that night in Boston when Jillian had taught her to play. By the time the game ended, the attraction between them had been undeniable. Looking back, Devon would have to say that was the night she fell for Jill. Nothing in her life was ever the same after that night. Why couldn’t I see the danger?
“What about you, Devon?” She realized someone was talking to her.
“Sorry, what was that?”
John was waiting. “Do you have a nickname? You know, on your SWAT team?”
She shook her head no, pushing through the fog of lingering memories to focus on the present.
“So, Sarge,” someone else said, “you gonna tell us what T.J. stands for?”
Devon watched Jillian smirk at him, wondering when she picked up this nickname and what the hell else would happen next in this crazy week. She felt like she was in some twisted soap opera plot. Mac had met a woman named T.J. at her cousin’s party and it was all but certain that she and Jillian were one in the same. Jillian and Devon had a history and unfinished business. Devon couldn’t decide if she wanted to smack Jillian or hug her. She wondered if this situation could get any more fucked up.
Bert spoke up and supplied the explanation. “You know the training dummy ‘Tactical Ted’? Most departments use one. If you don’t, it’s a torso and head figure, used to practice punches and strikes, that bounces back after he’s hit. Well, when Jill first joined the team, the guys put her through a lot of shit. They used her like a live version of the dummy, testing and tormenting her, and she always bounced back. Just like Ted. One day someone said, “We’ve got Tactical Ted and Tactical Jill. It stuck.” He raised his glass and gave Jill an admiring look. “Now the student has become the master. And there you have the story of Tactical Jill. T.J. for short.”
Well, that sealed it. Devon tried not to think about the fact that she was just having fantasies about a woman who her best friend slept with a couple of weeks ago. Worse? Mac wanted more. Worse than that? Jillian was pushing boundaries with her this week and no matter how much she tried to ignore it, it was getting to her. Devon found herself remembering too many good things about Jillian, and her hormones didn’t want to behave. T.J.
Shit.
WEDNESDAY MORNING WAS warm and humid with a cloudless blue sky overhead as Devon hopped out of her Jeep in the parking lot of the training center. Sleep had been elusive during the night, with her brain playing endless mind loops of memories. Snapshots of supreme happiness followed by unbearable sadness. First love and first heartbreak. That was Jillian Gray, extreme highs and devastating lows. Like the day Jillian severed their ties. Devon remembered the conversation vividly. She had thought that although Jillian was discharged, they could somehow find a way to remain a couple. Move on, was all Jillian had said. She ended their relationship with one swift, fatal cut that left Devon bleeding out. It took a long time to recover from that wound. But she had.
A blast of cold air greeted her as she pulled open the glass door to enter the building. All of the offices she passed by on her way to the cafeteria were dark, their normal occupants still an hour or so from arriving, she guessed. Someone was already here because a full pot sat on the warmer of the coffee machine. The self-service area was stocked with a variety of cereals in small single-serving type boxes, packets of instant oatmeal and cereal bars. The fresh fruit and bagels looked pretty good, providing several choices for breakfast. Devon poured herself a cup of coffee and splashed in a dash of cream. She heard movement from the direction of the doorway behind her. “Black, right?” she asked, filling a second cup, somehow knowing it was Jill.
“Yep.” Jillian’s fingers lightly brushed Devon’s as she took the offered beverage.
Devon busied herself mixing a bowl of instant oatmeal using the hot water on the second warmer. Next, she peeled a banana and sliced it into the bowl, hyper-aware of Jillian watching her. Devon sensed that she wasn’t her usual gregarious self this morning, but didn’t ask. It wasn’t her business. She tucked a bottle of juice under her arm and carried her breakfast toward a table to eat.
“You mind some company?” Uncertainty edged Jillian’s voice.
Devon gestured to the empty chairs around the table. “Take your pick.”
Jillian sat across from her. Devon noted a slight tremble in her hand when Jillian reached for her coffee. She was working up to something, and Devon tried not to imagine what it might be. Without warning, the memory of Jillian’s voice, scared and alone in the face of the military investigators, surfaced in Devon’s mind. A pang hit her stomach. It’s just residual bullshit. Don’t read anything into it. She concentrated on her oatmeal, feeling Jillian’s obvious internal struggle.
“Listen...” Jillian finally began as Devon finished her last bite. “I wanted to apologize for the last couple of days. I’ve behaved like an ass.”
Devon waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, really.” There was a long pause. Devon watched her closely. “I am sorry.” Now Jillian’s eyes revealed deep levels of sadness and regret that said she wasn’t talking about the flirting anymore. She was apologizing for her part in Devon’s pain. The sincerity reminded Devon that Jill had lost a great deal as well.
She leaned forward, returning the sentiment. “We should give each other a break.” They had a lot of past ground to cover but now wasn’t the time. Devon decided to let Jill off the hook, at least for the moment. “This is kinda crazy for us both.”
A small smile lifted the corner of Jillian’s mouth. “Thanks for that.”
“So,” Devon said wryly, “of all the places in the world, how did you end up here? I can’t believe we’re both cops in Florida. Unbelievable.”
Jillian sighed. “After my mom died, my father became even more bitter and hateful. He apparently only allowed me back into his house because of her. One night, during one of his drunken rages, he came after me. He was screaming at me, calling me a filthy queer. When he got into my face, I warned him to leave me alone. But he raised his fist like he was going to hit me. I ducked and he missed. I realized that we were o
n a collision course that was gonna end very badly. I had to do something. A friend of mine from college was down here and said they were hiring officers. That was about nine years ago.”
“I’m sorry about your mom,” Devon said. Jillian nodded, a thank you in her eyes.
“Anyway, after losing my mom, the army bouncing me for being gay...and...” Sorrow transformed her features. “Well, you know...”
Say it, the voice in Devon’s head urged.
There was a long pause before Jill finally looked at her. “Us.” Somehow her acknowledgement of their past was important. At least Devon knew she didn’t just flip the switch and move on to someone else.
She sipped her coffee and watched Devon over the rim. “I needed to start fresh. More than that, I needed to succeed at something. When I came here, I put every ounce of energy into being the best cop I could be. I needed to get some focus and discipline in my life, so I took Aikido. SWAT was the next goal on my list. I enjoy the challenge.” She paused. “Now here we are.”
“Here we are,” Devon echoed. Once again, she marveled at the parallels in their lives. An old affinity for Jillian swept over her like a warm ocean breeze.
“Have dinner with me,” Jillian said simply.
Devon sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. “Jill, I don’t know—”
“Please. Just dinner. Like I said, I know I’ve been acting out this week, but I really want to talk to you. I feel like we’ve got so much to say to each other, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to.” She bit her bottom lip and looked apprehensively at Devon, waiting for an answer.