by Lisa Bilbrey
“Hold on, beautiful,” he said, and before she could question him, he lifted her out of the truck, slung her over his shoulder, and was halfway to the front door, causing her to squeal.
“You’re insane,” she laughed, swatting him on the ass.
“For you, baby, only for you.”
Derek carried her upstairs to their bedroom and carefully threw her onto the bed. Before she could scoot away, he grabbed her ankles and dragged her to him, causing her skirt to bunch at her waist. Derek slid his hands up over her calves, along her thighs, until his fingers touched the lacy edges of her panties.
“Do you remember the first time I made love to you?” he asked, slowly slipping her panties off and tossing them onto the floor.
“I do,” she murmured. “The night I told you about Leo. You made me feel so safe and wanted.”
“You were safe and most definitely wanted,” he said, removing her skirt and throwing it onto the floor with her panties.
He pulled her torso off the bed and removed her shirt and bra, leaving her naked in front of him. She felt vulnerable, yet loved at the same time.
“Do you trust me, beautiful?” he asked, sliding off the bed and removing his clothes one piece at a time.
“With everything I have.”
“Good.”
Derek climbed back onto the bed so that he was lying next to her. His hand came to rest on her hip as his mouth found hers, their lips moving slowly against each other’s.
His lips traveled along her jaw, down her neck, to the crevasse between her breasts. He dragged his lips from one nipple to the others, sucking on each.
“I need you inside me,” she begged.
Derek smiled as he crawled back up her body so that he was hovering over her. “I love you, Elle. Always and forever.”
“I love you, too.”
The words had barely left her mouth when he shifted his hips, filling her completely. The intimacy of the way how he loved her, had her struggling to keep from weeping. Derek, of all her lovers, always knew how tender her heart was, how fragile she felt at times. He was the glue that kept their family together.
Fourteen
Elle slipped out of bed before her lovers, as usual, but instead of sneaking off to work, she wandered downstairs and started making her famous banana nut pancakes. She rarely made them anymore. They took too long, she told herself as an excuse not to make them, but today, she wanted to do something special for her family.
Today, she wanted to start over and stop letting people have so much control over her. Today, she was done being scared.
Elle had just slipped the last of the pancakes off the griddle when she heard the door to the kitchen creak open and she looked over her shoulder, finding Callum leaning against the doorframe.
“Hey,” she said, feeling her skin warm under his penetrating stare. “Want to grab the butter from the fridge?”
“Sure,” he said, but instead of walking over to the refrigerator, he moved so that he was standing right behind her. His hands slid across her hips, pulling her body against his.
Elle gasped. “What are you doing?”
“What does it feel like I’m doing?” he whispered, his warm breath cascading across her skin. “You smell good enough to eat, baby.” Callum sucked on the skin behind her ear. “But I’d rather fuck you.”
“Oh, my God,” Elle whimpered, her legs weakening as his fingers tightened against her hips. “The girls—”
“Are fast asleep,” he said, sliding his hands into her panties. “I need to be inside of you. It’s been too damn long.”
The desperation in his voice washed away any reluctance of being caught that she had. Turning in his arms, she raked her fingers through his hair before fisting the back and pulling his mouth down against hers.
Callum ripped her panties down to her knees before lifting her onto the counter, pushing the plate of pancakes onto the floor in the process.
“Those were for . . . holy hell . . . breakfast.”
“They can eat cereal,” he growled, tearing her panties the rest of the way off and tossing them into the sink. “Pull the string on my pants.”
Elle fumbled to get hold of the draw strings of his pants, but once she did, she pulled them loose. Then, using her feet, she pushed them down over his ass until they hit the ground with a soft thump. Callum was not wearing underwear.
“Oh, someone’s happy to see me,” she cooed, wrapping her fingers around his long, hard cock.
“He’ll be much happier when he’s inside you.” Callum gently lifted her fingers from around him and placed her hand on the counter. Then, lining himself up, he slowly pushed inside her. “Oh, fuck yeah, that’s heaven, baby.”
Elle couldn’t keep the moans from escaping as Callum set his pace, slow yet with force that had her trying to brace herself. In his own way, he was claiming her body as his, her soul as belonging to him, her heart as his property. Callum slid his hand up to the back of her neck, tangling his fingers in her long, dark hair as he kept his eyes locked on hers.
“Can you feel me?” he asked, the only other sound in the room was from his hips hitting against her thighs. “Can you, Elle? Can you feel how much I need you?”
“I can,” she grunted, trying to hold back her orgasm, but knowing she was failing as her pussy tightened around him. “Callum, fuck!”
“Shh, baby, and let me love you,” he cooed, hooking his arms under her thighs and practically lifting her off the counter. The new angle had him hitting spots inside her vagina that hadn’t been touched in too long. “Goddamn, your pussy is so fucking tight.”
“Don’t stop,” she gasped, struggling to keep from crying out again. “Please, never stop loving me.”
“Look at me,” Callum demanded and when her eyes met his, she stifled the urge to cry. His bright blues were filled with need and lust, ownership and sovereignty. “I’m never stopping. Not ever. You belong to me, to Derek, to Sadie. Do you fucking hear me?”
When Elle didn’t answer, Callum brought his hand from underneath her thigh and grabbed her hair, pulling her head down to just millimeters from his.
“Answer me, damn it,” he growled, stilling his hips so that he was balls deep inside her.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, fucking yes!”
“Don’t you ever forget it, either,” he said, loosening his grip on her hair as he started thrusting again. “I need you, Elle. All of you.”
“I need you, too,” she said, placing her hands on either side of his face. “I love you.”
Callum groaned and stilled his hips once more as his orgasm hit and he came inside her. He slipped out of her and picked her panties out of the sink, cringing when he saw they were wet.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she giggled. “You made up for it.”
Callum smiled and helped her off the counter, keeping his arm around her until she was steady on her feet once again. “Hearing you say you love me — fuck, Elle, it always makes me come hard.”
“I do, though. Love you, I mean,” she murmured, her cheeks warming with her confession. “I know I’ve kind of checked out the last few months, but my love for you, for Derek and Sadie, that’s never waned. Never. Not once.”
“Hey, we know,” he said, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “We’ve never once doubted your love for us, Elle. We just don’t want you pushing us away anymore, either.”
“I’ll try not to,” she promised.
“Good. Now, go shower while I clean up this mess,” he laughed, tilting his head to the stack of pancakes crushed on the floor.
Elle kissed him before grabbing her cane and leaving him to clean their mess. Her body tingled from their love making. The rawness in the way he took her matched the sweetness in the way Derek touched her the night before. Each of her lovers were special in their own way, each knowing exactly what she needed and when she needed it. She hadn’t been a good wife to them, but she vowed in that moment to do better.
Sadie and Derek were still in bed when she entered their bedroom, though both were wide awake. They were leaned against each other, whispering. Their own love shining brightly. Elle smiled as she closed the door behind her.
“Morning.”
“Good morning. Figured you were already at work,” Sadie quipped, rolling on her back and sitting up. The sheet, which had been covering her nude body, bunched around her waist, leaving her breasts exposed. Where many women their age had started to age, their breasts sagging, Sadie’s were still perky.
“Thought I’d make breakfast for everyone. Banana nut pancakes,” she added, laughing when Derek’s eyes widened and he let out a happy squeal. “But Callum might have, kind of, knocked them onto the floor.”
“What?” he grumbled. “How?”
“Um,” Elle paused, once more feeling her blush warming her skin.
“Oh,” Derek chuckled. “Was it good at least?”
Elle nodded. “My pussy’s still tingling.”
“Hot damn,” Derek murmured.
“Better hurry, lovers,” Elle teased, sliding her nightgown over her head and tossing it onto the bed. Sadie and Derek’s eyes traveled down the length of her nude body, their mouth’s opening wide. “Don’t want to be late.”
Derek and Sadie scrambled off the bed, but the sound of the girls’ door opening, and shutting had them searching in haste for their clothes. Elle laughed as she slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Moments later, she heard the telltale sound of the girls squealing as Derek, she assumed, tickled them.
—FA—
Callum took the girls to school before heading over to meet up with Nate. Derek and Sadie had a meeting with one of the biggest hotel chains in the city, which left Elle to make her drive into work alone — something that hadn’t happened in a while thanks to the dangers always lurking around her. Though, she hadn’t been in a rush to get to work, she had an appointment with a new, potential client who had insisted on working directly with Elle. It had made her nervous, but Samuel had agreed to sit in the meeting with her. If Elle truly wanted control back of her life, she’d have to start taking chances. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Samuel was leaning against the back of his car when she pulled Sadie’s car into the parking garage and parked in her usual space. She hadn’t gotten around to replacing her car, it had been too painful. When she climbed out, Samuel smiled and looked inside the car, then frowned.
“You’re by yourself?” he asked, his tone laced with disappointment. “Is that why my son called me at seven this morning and told me to be waiting for you?”
“He did?” Elle laughed when he nodded. “Sorry. Callum is meeting Nate and the Asciari Brothers across town to sign off on the strip mall on Vista Avenue. Derek and Sadie were meeting a client for brunch to discuss the renovation of the Harmon Hotel.”
“No shit?” he asked, his eyes widening. “I’ve been after Marten Harmon for years to let me redo his hotel. How’d you get him to change his mind?”
“I didn’t,” Elle scoffed. “Sadie did. What can I say? My wife has brass balls.”
Samuel laughed and gestured for Elle to lead the way to the elevator. “That she does, and she ain’t afraid to use them, either.”
Greta was seated behind her counter. Her normally impeccable hair looked unbrushed and she was pale. As they stepped off the elevator, she shifted her eyes to Elle, who noticed the deep purple circles encasing her eyes.
“Morning,” Greta said, trying to smile.
“Good morning.” Elle stopped next to her desk and frowned. “You okay, Greta?”
“Oh, yes, yes,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “Mitch Peterson is waiting for you in the conference room, Elle. Seemed quite impatient.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said, reaching out and gripping Greta’s hand. Her fingers were cold. “We’d be lost without you. I hope you know that.”
Greta smiled, but didn’t reply as she slipped her hand from Elle’s.
With a stifled sigh, Elle didn’t push the subject, but made a mental note to follow up with her later. Greta was too important to overlook. Where Samuel was the patriarch of the company, Greta had taken the role of Godmother.
Mitch Peterson was seated on the far end of the conference table, a yellow notepad and pen before him. His legs were crossed at the knee and he had one elbow on the table and his other hand gripping the arm of the chair. His thinning blond hair had been slicked back with gel and his dark blue eyes narrowed as Samuel followed Elle into the room.
“Mr. Peterson,” Elle said, cautiously holding her hand out. “I’m Elle Davis. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” he said, wrapping his fingers around hers. His palms were sweaty, his nails long and edgy. His clothes were wrinkled and there was a small hole along the pocket on his dress shirt. His eyes shifted from Elle to Samuel and his smile tightened. “The infamous Samuel Davis. I didn’t realize you would be joining us today.”
“Is that a problem?” Samuel asked, not bothering to offer him a hand.
“No, no, of course not,” he lied. Elle knew it, Samuel knew it, and based on the look on Mitch’s face, he knew he hadn’t been successful, either.
“Why don’t we have a seat and get started?” Elle suggested, the need to get away from Mitch intensified.
“Okay.”
While he sat back in the same chair, Elle and Samuel sat as far away from him as they could. Something was odd about Mitch Peterson, something that had Elle feeling nervous.
“Mr. Peterson—”
“Please, call me Mitch,” he said, interrupting her.
“Okay,” she said, sharply. “What can I do for you today?”
“Oh, um,” he stammered. “I’m looking for someone to build me a house. A big house. Bigger than big.”
“Bigger than big?” she repeated. “Can you be more specific?”
“Oh, you know, three, four bedrooms. A couple bathrooms. I’ll let you surprise me,” he said, grinning. “You graduated from UC Berkeley, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she said. “Can you give me more than just the number of bathrooms? What kind of floor plan are you looking for?”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Spacious, I guess. You’re originally from Oklahoma? No, wait it was Texas, wasn’t it?”
“What is going on?” Elle asked. “I’m getting the distinct feeling that you couldn’t care less about me building you a house, Mr. Peterson.”
His smile returned, this time more real than before as he straightened up in his seat and picked up his pen. “You’re right. I don’t want you to build me a house. I want to know the truth about you.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Mitch cackled. “From what I’ve learned about you, Elle Reid Davis, you are anything but dumb. I want to know why Trixie Maxwell targeted you six years ago. I want to know why every employee in your company received nude pictures of you. Simply put, I want to know you.”
“You’re a reporter.”
It wasn’t question. It made sense now. Why he was so insistence to meet with her and not with one of her junior architects.
“I am,” he admitted. “With the Daily Gazette.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Samuel roared, slamming his hand on the table as he stood. “How dare you come in here like this? Do you have no shame?”
“Samuel, stop,” Elle said, standing and putting her hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at her. “He’s just curious. Isn’t that right, Mr. Peterson?”
“Curious is a good word.” He scooted to the edge of his seat. “Intrigued is better. The whole city has been talking about you and your designs for years. About you and your relationships. About why Trixie Maxwell shot you in this building six years ago and left you for dead. And now, you have a new problem, don’t you?”
“And if I
do?” she countered. “What makes you think I’d talk to you?”
“You haven’t kicked me out.”
“Yet,” she said, but the sound of her cell phone vibrating on the table drew her attention away from the reporter. She flipped her phone over, frowning when she saw Grover Hills Elementary flashing across the screen. She tightened her grip on her cane as she slid her finger across the green accept arrow and hobbled toward the door.
“This is Elle Davis.”
“Mrs. Davis, this is Grover Hills Elementary.”
“Yes, I know. Is everything okay with Flora and Willow?” she asked, noting the way Mitch was watching her closely.
“No,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “I’m sorry, but we can’t find them.”
“What do you mean you can’t find them?” Elle asked, her lips trembling as she shifted her attention to Samuel. “Are you telling me my girls are missing?”
“I . . . I’m afraid so,” she said. “We’ve called your husbands and wife, of course. You should get here as soon as possible.”
“Okay,” Elle whispered before ending the call. “Samuel . . .”
“Let’s go,” he said without another word.
Mitch stayed seated as Samuel swept Elle out of the room, down the hallway, and to the elevator. She felt numb. Her girls had been taken. Her daughters were in danger. How could this happen?
She knew how: Trixie Maxwell was the how and the why. She would go after anyone and everyone Elle cared about, including two beautiful little girls if that meant she could get closer to Elle.
“Crazy, psychotic bitch,” Elle muttered.
“You think they were taken by Trixie?” Samuel asked as the elevator moved at an insanely slow pace.
“Who else hates me enough to take them?” Elle whimpered.
Finally, the elevator stopped with a sight jerk and the doors slid open, but before either could move an inch, two people covered from head-to-toe in black, leaving only their mouths and eyes exposed, barreled into the elevator, slamming Elle and Samuel against the back wall.