In the Still of the Night

by Samantha Lucas

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  Chapter Four

  Mica adjusted the hot and cold taps, not taking his eyes off the angel in his bathroom. She stood naked and coy with one leg in front of the other, covering herself shyly with one arm, and biting her thumbnail. He wished he could say she'd been the only woman ever in his home but, quite frankly, there had been too many. Crazy, but she was different. Even after a few short hours, Mica's heart knew that he wanted her to be the last woman.

  Steam rolled toward the ceiling. Mica held his hand out to her. She took it, and something kindred sparked between them. He watched her step from the deep, red carpet to the white, marble tile surrounding the tub and shower stall. Mica knew she trusted him, and he doubted she trusted many or easily, a fact that made him feel special, unique. Made him feel responsible.

  In the morning, he'd begin to unravel the mystery before him, maybe take her to his doctor, get some books on—well, on communication with someone who couldn't speak, he guessed. But right now, with his view glued to her ass as she stepped into the shower, he didn't want to think at all.

  The shower had seven heads, three on either side and one straight up. He adjusted them so the two of them were surrounded in heated water and mist, then he pulled her body close to his. Though he'd already touched her, kissed her, been inside her, he still shivered at the contact of her skin to his. Her cheek was wet under his palm as he gently slid his hand over her face into her hair. He pulled her closer until their lips met. Her little whimper told him what he needed to know as he stroked her mouth leisurely, the shower spray making the kiss wetter and more erotic. She made it hotter than any kiss he'd ever shared before.

  She smoldered under his touch. Her hardened nipples rubbed against his chest while her tongue touched, caressed, searched. Soft hands moved smoothly over his chest to his neck and into his hair, exploring, discovering. Mica kept his attention on her mouth. Sucking gently on her tongue, he let her fingers wander. His cock was hard and throbbing again, but then, he wasn't sure it had ever completely relaxed. It poked the softness of her belly, while he cradled her head, tipping it for better access to her mouth.

  Everything she was seemed on display for him. Mica was awed and humbled by the magnificent offering of her generous enthusiasm. He sucked her lower lip until she laughed. Foreheads pressed together, they looked into each other's eyes. She might not have had words to express herself, but Mica couldn't help but see the intelligence in her. Even without words, she was so communicative, so animated with her expressions, and her hands. He actually forgot at times that she couldn't speak. His heart heard her loud and clear—and in his book, that was all that mattered.

  "Want soap?"

  She nodded.

  Mica grabbed a fuzzy wash mitt and squeezed scented shower gel onto it. He twirled his finger in the space between them. “Turn around. I'll get your back."

  She did so without question, pulling her hair to the side, then groaned when Mica began washing her. He ran the mitt over her shoulders, neck, and upper back, rinsed her, then pulled her back against his chest and suckled at her nape.

  "I multi-task. Watch."

  With her captive against him, he used the mitt to wash her neck, collarbone and breasts. His mouth made little nips along her shoulders, and her knees buckled. Mica supported her against him as he ran his tongue along the outer shell of her ear, then dipped inside. He smiled as he felt her tremble in his arms.

  Pulling back, he took the mitt and ran it along her lower back. He took his time when he got to her ass, holding her still with one arm cradled around her waist, her side pulled into him. She giggled and squirmed. Then he surprised her when he pressed his tongue deep inside her mouth. Against her lips, he murmured, “I love your ass."

  She sighed, then giggled, but Mica saw the frustration in her eyes and it broke his heart. He had come to know that look in the short time they'd been together; she wanted to tell him something. Thumb caressing her cheek, he smiled and spread soap over his own chest.

  "Here.” He held his arms wide. “Write it in the soap."

  Smiling, she released a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite.

  "I would have had you write it on your own chest so I wouldn't have had to read it backwards, but who are we kidding? I wouldn't have seen any words on those beauties, honey. I'm a letch, may as well face up to it."

  He winked and gave her his best wolfish grin. Answering him with a flare of passion, she grabbed him and kissed him deeply with wild abandon. She took him by surprise, and he had to balance them, but the step back put them right under the overhead. Water poured down on their heads as their tongues loved one another with a swell of passion unmatched by anything Mica had ever experienced in his life.

  When she released him the soap was gone. She took the shower gel herself and lathered him up again. Carefully, she printed out a soapy, drippy, Good Heart ... Tears misted her eyes as she pointed at the already fading words, then at Mica. He got a lump in his throat the size of Alaska, and all the swallowing in the world couldn't diminish it.

  "You overwhelm me.” He took her face in his hands, kissed her intensely, and ran his hands over her back and down her ass, cupping her, pulling her hard against his erection. “I need you, angel, in a way that doesn't make any sense and I can't explain.” Their mouths pulled back to one another like magnetic kissing dolls. They kissed, tongues battling, caressing, dancing. Mica grew so hard, pre-cum dripped from his tip when he finally pulled her up, raising her against him until his cock nudged her opening.

  He freed one hand, then reached between their bodies and guided himself inside her. With her legs wrapped tight around him, he turned her toward the wall and started a hard, insistent pounding. She answered him with unrestrained passion. Her kisses grew wild, her hands fisted in his hair. As water pelted them from all angles, she pulled her legs tighter around him in a desperate show of need that led Mica to reply with unrestrained recklessness. He pressed her body against the marble shower wall until he felt her spasms begin, then he adjusted her in his arms, tilting her so his cock would slide deeper.

  "I'm not gonna come until you do this time, love."

  He balanced her and reached between their bodies. Using his thumb, he abraded her clit with an edge of desperation. Without any finesse, she came around him, squeezed his cock hard, and caused his own mind-splitting orgasm to roar through his body.

  Together they slid down the shower wall. Mica adjusted his head to block her face from the spray, but it didn't matter; a second later, she dropped her head against his chest and sighed, giving him the tiniest of kisses against his right pec. He shivered. Resting his head atop hers and cradling her body to him, he pulled her as close as possible—and still it wasn't close enough. He wanted to crawl right inside the woman and stay forever.

  He would have laughed if he had the strength. Never in his life had he even thought of marriage. On the contrary, he'd always thought of himself as a lifelong bachelor. He'd never thought there could possibly be one woman that would satisfy him enough to want to give up the others. In the afterglow of phenomenal sex, the woman in his arms resembled the woman he never thought existed. Un-fucking believable.

  Jayden cried. In all the years since she'd been initiated into the practice, she'd experienced a lot, but never even close to what she'd found in Mica's arms. He was funny, passionate, and sensitive, and he made her come because he cared about her, not as some show of pathetic control.

  Talk about sexual revolution.

  She blinked into the shower spray, caressed his cheek, and met his gaze. Thank you. She knew she'd never be able to tell him how much this meant to her, how deeply he touched her heart. She wouldn't even begin to know how, words or not. What they'd shared here was beautiful, and there simply weren't words to express it.

  Snuggled back against him, blissfully lethargic and content, she refused to play the ‘what if’ game. The way she'd survived the past seven years was to accept her fate f
or what it was—and hers had been written long before she'd met a handsome knight in a back alley. But if she was one to play that game, she imagined Mica as the man that child she'd once been had dreamed of. Her hero.

  Of course, no one was perfect, but—maybe because of the situation—they'd come together without walls or pretenses. There was an urgency to cut through any social crap and get to the heart of things. There were no little games between them. They'd skipped all the flirting, hedging, and getting close just to pull away. Two souls came together—with honesty—and communicated through bodies and hearts where mere words would never reach.

  Her tears fell, even as Mica clutched her to his chest, rose from the shower floor, turned off the flow of water that was still blessedly hot, and stepped from the shower with her in his arms. He draped a bathrobe around her shoulders and carried her to the bed, but she barely noticed the trip. To feel so much instinctive trust in a person was such a new experience it dazzled her, even as her mind resisted.

  Without words, Mica laid her on the bed and came down over her. Passion and need still blazed in his eyes, and she feared she met it note for note. Would he really make love to her again? It was hours before morning. Hours before she had to sneak out and never look back. She wanted to experience a lifetime between then and now, but was it possible?

  "You are so incredibly beautiful.” He braced himself with elbows on either side of her head, touched her cheeks with fingertips rough from years of work, though manicured like a gentleman's. “I don't think I'll ever meet another woman like you, angel."

  His lips tasted her as if it were the first time. She wondered at how she could still feel the tiny winged creatures fluttering in her heart and stomach after they had already shared so much intimacy.

  And I'll never meet another man like you, Lancelot.

  She smiled, laughed, then cried softly. He held her so close she felt as if their bodies had miraculously become one. Then, much to her surprise, she felt him slide inside her. Her muscles squeezed in welcome. She moaned, pressing her head back into the pillows. He felt so good.

  "You've turned me into an animal.” He laughed. “But before I get us into the same situation we just rectified...” He pulled out slowly. Even though she tried to grab him and force him to stay inside, she was too slow. He dropped a quick kiss on her nose and whispered, “I made you a promise earlier, honey. I intend to keep it."

  Jayden wasn't sure she could take much more. Her voice made a strange scratching sound when she tried to force out the word No, but no more came out. Too intent on his course of action, Mica didn't seem to notice.

  He pressed a kiss into the soft curve of her belly, dipped his finger inside her, then made a slow pass over her labia, spreading her juices. Jayden moaned. As much as she'd tried to stop him, she was alive again under his masterful touch, and she knew she'd die if he stopped.

  She moaned again, deep in pleasure.

  "That's right, angel. Moan for me.” His eyes glowed with a wicked glint she loved, and she writhed under his ministrations. “Do I make you wild, love?"

  She moaned, nodding furiously, blind with passion. His mouth suckled, nibbled and licked her pussy until she wanted to scream, needed to scream, but wasn't sure she could. She moaned, gasped, and whimpered, writhed and squirmed and loved every minute.

  "You have no idea how good you taste.” His finger circled her clit while she held her breath. “I could eat you forever."

  One last long stroke with his tongue, and she came unglued. Arching off the bed, she screamed out in a passion she knew few ever felt, she thanked God she'd been given this night to experience a lifetime.

  She was half-dead, half-asleep, numb, paralyzed, and breathless. Her skin glossed with a sheen of sweat and still zinging from the sparks, she imagined steam rose off it from how hot he'd made her. She tried to move her hand to cup his precious face as he moved beside her, but like her words, her hand didn't obey her mind's command. Sleepily, she giggled at her inability to focus.

  He kissed her head and pulled her body tight against his. She felt so safe, cherished, and loved. It was an absolute miracle. Head on his shoulder, one arm motionless across his chest, one leg entwined between his, Jayden drifted off to a deep, peaceful sleep, happier than she'd ever been.

  * * * *

  Mica slid out of the bed as dawn broke across the eastern sky. Pressing a kiss into his angel's hair, he hoped she slept for a while longer. When she awoke, he wanted to have some news for her, a plan drawn up. He couldn't imagine how frightened and alone she must feel and if he only gave her one thing, he wanted her to know she wasn't alone.

  After slipping on a pair of worn sweats, he stole from the room to the kitchen. While he waited for coffee to brew, he called Vasquez. Without giving too many details, he asked his friend to take over for him for a few days.

  "Does this mean Thursday's poker game is off?"

  Mica laughed. “We'll have to see.” He filled a mug, satisfied with himself, and pulled the remote from a drawer beneath the microwave. “I may be wrapped up for, oh, I don't know...” He couldn't hold back a toothy grin he knew would have given him away if Vasquez had been in his kitchen with him. “A couple of months?"

  He pointed the remote at the TV mounted in the corner near the ceiling. The morning news came on. The twenty-four hour news station was going over the latest Wall Street statistics. Mica turned his back on it. He'd discovered that the only way for him to handle the stock market was to let his broker worry about it.

  "Okay. Who is she? It can't be Marlene. Or Deborah.” Vasquez drew in a sharp breath. “It's that redhead from the club!"

  Mica chuckled. “Maybe last week it was.” He thought of the leggy redhead he'd hired to sing in one of his clubs. He'd had a couple of dreams about those legs, but nothing had ever come of it. He knew now that nothing ever would. He placed his mug on the counter and pulled a pan from the rack over the island. “You don't know her, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention that my absence is because of a woman. Say I have a rash or something. Say I went to visit my parents. I don't care, but I don't want anybody to get the idea I'm holed up with a woman somewhere."

  "But you are."

  He pulled eggs and vegetables from the fridge. “It's complicated, and I haven't figured it all out yet."

  "Fine. Fine. But I won't tell people you went to visit your parents. Who'd believe it?"

  Mica cringed as he broke eggs into the yellow mixing bowl. It was true; he never went home. He had his parents up to visit a couple times a year, but from the day he walked out of Harley's Bog, he'd never gone back. He intended to keep it that way. Bad memories there was no point in reliving.

  "I like the rash story. I think I'll use that."

  Mica laughed again as he chopped the array of vegetables.

  "Go right ahead. I probably deserve it."

  "Man, you are a goner."

  Mica stopped mid-chop. “Vasquez, you have no idea."

  He said good-bye and promised to check back in a day or two, then went back to cooking. He wanted his angel to start the day with a good dose of protein. They had a lot to accomplish today and if he remembered last night correctly, he imagined they would burn up a lot more fuel between the sheets.

  A grin on his face—the type of goofy grin a guy usually wore after mind-blowing sex—he heated his pan over the commercial-grade stove.

  "Son of a bitch!"

  Forgetting the pan and the eggs, Mica grabbed for the remote and turned up the volume. His mystery woman's face filed the screen. Her long, dark hair pulled up in a sophisticated knot, she wore makeup and diamond earrings with a matching choker.

  "Shit. She looks ten years older."

  The words Top News Story scrolled along the bottom in red.

  "Jayden Lloyd—wife of notorious shipping magnate Lorenzo Lloyd—disappeared last night from the couple's home in upstate New York. Spokespersons for the Lloyd family report that a one million dollar reward to anyone with infor
mation that leads to Mrs. Lloyd's safe return. Three years ago it was reported that Mrs. Lloyd had suffered a mental collapse just before being subpoenaed before a grand jury investigation of Lorenzo Lloyd's then business partner, Elliot Pierson.

  "A spokesperson for the Lloyds also reports that Mrs. Lloyd still hasn't recovered from that incident and does not have a strong grip on reality. She is a possible danger to herself. Anyone with information on the missing woman is urged to call the number on your screen."

  * * * *

  Jayden's eyes slowly focused. Sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the entire room in bright, warm sunlight. Gone were any traces of last night's storm, but her heart still held every moment of Mica's lovemaking. The plants grouped in the small sitting area joyously basked in morning luxury.

  Suddenly, panic gripped her.

  Oh, God.

  Hand to her forehead, she sat up. The sheets slipped over her breasts to puddle in her lap.

  I fell asleep! How could I?

  She had to get out before Mica came back. Struggling to clear her brain from its morning fog, she searched the floor for her clothes, only to remember that Mica had taken them to wash.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

  On hands and knees, she stared blankly at the floor until she heard him come into the room. Bare feet stopped at the edge of the bed. She looked up to find a man she barely recognized standing in front of her. His brow was furrowed, his mouth tight. She fell back on her rear when he threw a yellow legal pad and a pen at her.

  "Glad you're up. We need to have a conversation ... Mrs. Lloyd."

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  Chapter Five

  Jayden reared back on the bed, shocked. Tucking her legs beneath her, in total disregard of her nakedness, all she saw was the hurt and disillusionment in his deep golden eyes. It made her sick. She swallowed hard against the sensation, knowing she was the cause of it.

  How did you find out?