by Kaylea Cross
Bay had positioned himself on the other side of the bed and was preparing to take a nap, oblivious to what else was going on in the room.
“Show me what you’re packing. I want to approve it first,” he said to her.
“You mean my underwear?” She said as she unzipped the gym bag. “I never knew SEALs liked underwear so much, but you definitely do.”
“We all do. If anyone tells you different, they can’t be trusted. It’s part of your equipment, and we like good equipment.”
“I like your equipment just fine, Cooper.”
“And I love yours, Miss Libby Brownlee.”
Will it always be like this? All the little things in my life that now have meaning? Seeing him in my girlie bedroom, watching me pack things, looking over my body and making me wet with anticipation?
She drew a pair of pink panties out of her drawer and held them up.
“I approve,” he said.
“And these?” She held up a red satin thong and bra combination.
“Deadly. Put them in. But trust me, you won’t wear them for long if I ever catch you wearing them.”
“You like white?” She held up two pairs of white lace panties.
“I love white. Especially on you.”
She added some shirts, after holding them up to him and receiving his nod of approval. She added two pairs of jeans and an oversized sweater and another pair of shoes. She looked at Morgan, still resting on his chest. Cooper held the stuffed dog out to her.
“Thanks.” She smelled the toy and then lay him down on top of her clothes in the rolling gym bag and zipped it up. “Done.”
Cooper curled his finger, asking her to come over to the bed. “Not done. Not nearly done with you.” He sat up and placed his hands on her backside. “These have to go,” he said as he unzipped her pants and let them fall. She was standing in another pair of white lace panties. “Nice. These I like. You can wear these again some time. I approve.”
“Oh, really?”
“Absolutely,” he whispered to the apex of her legs. One long finger slipped around the elastic and found her wet lips which opened to receive him. Slowly he encircled her opening as he kissed her belly button. “So nice. So lovely. I am so hungry.”
He slid her panties down her thighs and leaned back on the bed and looked at her nakedness from the waist down.
“I never get tired looking at you.”
Libby removed her shirt, but left her lace bra on. She wanted him to remove it. She turned around and bent over so he could take care of the clasp.
“You have the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen. I love that ass.”
“I’m glad you approve. Now, would you release my restraints?” She said as she gazed over her shoulder at him kneeling on the bed behind her. She moved closer and soon felt his fingers on her bra clasps. And then she stood with her back turned to him, fully naked.
Coop’s hands smoothed over her belly, as he kissed first one buttock, then the other. She could feel his knees barely pushing into the backs of her thighs. He pushed her shoulders a bit forward and laced his fingers between her butt cheeks until he found her opening and inserted two fingers there.
She moaned at the pure pleasure of him feeling her arousal, as she heard his breathing grow raspy. “So lovely. So…” He bowed his head as she arched her rear up, giving him full access to her sex. He slid his tongue along the lips of her labia until he breached her opening. He lapped as he stroked her with fingers, applying pressure to her clit. “Come for me, Libby,” he whispered.
Libby squeezed her breasts and then dug her fingers into her own thighs as her whole world was focused on the feel of his tongue inside her, loving her, tasting her. He ministered to her patiently, slowly, letting her feel everything he was doing. Finally, she was overcome and a long series of rolling spasms began. Her knees began to buckle as she shook, wrung out from the pleasure his tongue was giving her body.
“Come.” His deep murmur rumbled down her spine. He drew her back toward the bed as he moved his legs to sitting position on the edge of the bed. Sitting behind her, he separated her cheeks and placed her opening right at the head of his cock and held her there. She wrapped her ankles around his, spreading her knees as he pulled her down on his lap and then back up. The slow feel of him tunneling deep inside her, as she stretched to accept all of him, as his commanding cock demanded to be fed was driving her wild with pleasure. His knees moved up to support the backs of hers as she was impaled by the thick girth of him over and over again, each time deeper than the last.
His angle and position as it rubbed against the walls of her insides almost hurt, but it was exactly what she wanted, needed. She bounced on him, feeling the ribbing pleasure inside her. Coop’s massive hands squeezed and massaged her breasts as they filled his palms, as her nipples knotted against his pinching fingertips. He pushed deep and up off the bed, supporting her with his thighs. She held her hair up on her head, the pleasure almost too much to bear. He kissed her neck and whispered into her ear, “I can’t get enough of you, Libby. I can’t get enough.”
“Yes. I want more.” And then she almost said it. “I…want more.”
He came to standing position and carefully positioned her onto the bed on her stomach but stayed inside her. She drew to her knees, raising her rear up to accept him deeper and he stroked long and hard, bending over her, holding her hands pressed into the bed above her head. She was coming apart again. His thighs were slapping against hers as he increased the rhythm. She clutched the comforter as pillows bounced and fell to the floor. She reached back with one hand to feel his thighs tight against hers, to feel the mating of flesh on flesh. Everywhere he touched her she was on fire. She smelled the faint lemon of his aftershave as he breathed into the side of her head, as his sweat washed her cheek. His hip action was smooth and circular, lifting her, sending her to new heights with each stroke.
She reached under her raised torso with one hand, squeezing his balls, and he moaned. He began to jerk inside her and she exploded. Locked in a lover’s death grip he held onto her, squeezing her hips, forcing himself deep inside her as he spilled.
* * *
He hadn’t remembered falling asleep, but from the position of the sun through the window, they’d probably been at the house more than an hour. He’d wanted to get some work done, but he couldn’t help himself. Libby was becoming a serious addiction for him, and not one he wanted to lose anytime soon.
He moved against her, one hand resting in that glorious space between her two lovely breasts. His lips found the nape of her neck and he began kissing her there. He was still inside her, which was something that was happening more often, the more they made love. He’d never met anyone who loved to do all the things he wanted to do sexually. The intensity with which she loved him was something he was becoming dependent on.
What are you saying?
As his hand idly slid over the smooth goodness of her upper arm, and as he heard her muffled moans into the comforter, all he wanted to do was be inside this woman. Her pleasure was his pleasure. He’d never felt that way before. He loved watching her come, watching her reach new highs of ecstasy. And knowing he had caused this change in her thrilled him. It wasn’t anything that he wanted to end. As he’d told her, he couldn’t get enough. Each time he wanted more. Couldn’t wait until the next time.
He’d never had a problem with stamina. But suddenly he felt strong as a mythical beast and knew he could fuck all night long and half the next day too.
He remembered the beautiful azure pool in their backyard.
“I want you in the water.”
She laughed into the comforter. “Later.”
“I want you in the water,” he repeated.
She moved her butt into him again and groaned. She spread her legs between his and turned over from their side position to beg him to mount her from on top. He followed her lead, but leaned over and pulled her leg over and withdrew while he turned her delicately over.
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br /> They were chest to chest. His fingers explored her wetness, and the mixed juices of their lovemaking. She gripped his shaft and worked her palm up and down. He pushed himself into her hand and reveled in the feeling of her tightening against his sensitive flesh.
She slid down the bed and he let her take him into her mouth and he gasped. She took his whole length as she sucked and rolled her tongue over the ridges and veins of his cock. She twirled the probing end of her tongue over his crown and he lurched.
“The—pool—I—must—have—you in the water. I—must—agh!” It was no use, she was locked onto him and would not let go. She sucked his balls, flicking them around her mouth with her tongue.
“Cooper,” she murmured. “Come. Come for me.”
God, what was happening? Just minutes after making love he was ready again with full intensity. This had never happened to him before. Her hot mouth moved back and forth. He found himself arching and driving himself in as deep as she could take him. She would not let go.
“Please,” she whispered. She let the tip of her tongue press into the little ridge at his crown and that was all it took. He was surprised how much sperm he had left. When he was finished, she shimmied up the bed and placed her head into that spot just under his chin and they fell back together as he held her there until their breathing returned to normal.
“You are something else, Miss Libby.” He didn’t know what else to say. Well, yes, he knew what to say, but he dared not say it.
She rolled her body on top of his and he enjoyed the feel of her softness draped against his. His hands touched the delicate skin of her pert buttocks, the firm backs of her thighs. They moved up and down her spine as she purred like a kitten and dug her arms around him, under him, pressing her chest to his and listening to his heartbeat with the side of her face.
It wasn’t just the sex, he thought as he looked up at the white canopy over the bed. It was that he never wanted her to go. He wouldn’t be able to ever let her go.
Never.
And suddenly, it was even more important he complete this mission to get this weirdo away from—yes—from the love of his life.
He wasn’t going to say it yet, but yes, Cooper knew he was finally in love.
Chapter Thirty-four
Detective Clark Riverton was on his way over to Detective Mayfield’s office, on recommendation of Cooper’s liaison, Timmons. He was determined to check out Cooper’s background. He knew the kid wasn’t the real suspect. But the case wasn’t going anywhere at the moment, and he had to be doing something. So, eliminating him as a person of interest was part of the job he could do. He wasn’t focusing on what he couldn’t do.
His cell phone chirped. It wasn’t a number he recognized.
“Riverton.”
“Detective Riverton, this is Gus Mayfield of the downtown precinct. I’m afraid something’s come up, and I’m not going to be at the office.”
“Sorry to hear that. Can I meet you later today?”
“Um. Well, it’s kind of a personal thing. Not sure how long it’s gonna take.”
“I got you.” Riverton was disappointed. He’d wanted to get this done today. “Look, this isn’t really a big deal, Mayfield. What I’ve got to ask you will only take five or six minutes.”
“How about over the phone?”
“No. I have a photograph I need you to identify, if you can.”
Riverton heard some background noise. There were two women arguing in an adjacent room. “Sorry about that,” Mayfield mumbled.
“I don’t mind. Used to it,” Riverton lied. “Is everything okay. You—”
“Ah hell. I’m over at—a friend’s house. She’s a lady friend and she’s having some trouble with her daughter.”
“No problem. I don’t mind.” Riverton paused and then added, “Please. I really need to do this today. It’s kinda holding up the investigation.”
Mayfield finally agreed to give Riverton the address of his friend.
* * *
The house was covered with bougainvillea vines in full bloom of bright fuchsia. Large dahlias exploded four feet in the air in front of a raised concrete porch with metal handrail. Cana lilies and zinnias lined the fence dividing the house from the front yard next door. True to form, the fence was painted white on the house side, while the neighbor’s side hadn’t been painted in a decade.
As Riverton got out of the unmarked police car parked nose to nose with a San Diego cruiser, he glanced up and down the street. The salmon-colored bungalow with tile roof was the only house one would look at on a drive-by. The person who lived there wanted to be seen. It was a statement.
A huge man in khaki uniform, bearing a badge he knew to be San Diego PD, appeared in the shadows on the porch and waited for him to open the rickety gate and walk up through the owner’s flower garden. The hulking man looked out of place, until Riverton saw his kind blue eyes and forehead lined with worry.
And then he got it. Mayfield was worried what Riverton would think of this. This woman, whomever she was, had a special connection to Mayfield, and the man was trusting Riverton could keep a secret.
“Thanks. I’m sorry about all this, but I’m going to be tied up for a few hours here.”
“No problem, Mayfield.” Riverton extended his hand and the two men shook. He swung an arm through the air in a broad gesture towards the fourth of July in greenery and flowers defining the front yard. “Quite a place to conduct a covert operation.”
Mayfield winced and adjusted his belt, weighted down with his sidearm, flashlight and other implements of his trade that must have calc’ed out to be thirty pounds. Riverton said a little prayer of gratitude he hadn’t had to spend much time doing that early in his career. He’d made detective right away and desk work suited him better.
He heard the women shouting at each other in Spanish the same time he saw Mayfield turn his head and go alert.
“I gotta go inside. You’re welcome to come in, if you want,” he said over his shoulder.
“Don’t want to intrude, Mayfield.”
“I might need the backup. Women, you know—”
“I understand.”
The two men entered the house. A dish had shattered in the kitchen. A younger woman was ranting. Riverton was glad he didn’t understand Spanish, except for a few swear words. The level of disrespect annoyed him.
“Mia,” An older woman’s voice shouted in English, “You will stop this right now. You do not mean these words.”
Mayfield had breached the doorway to the kitchen and had stood slightly in front of a handsome Spanish-looking woman not more than five feet tall, with silver strands feathered through her otherwise jet-black hair. Her braids were wound back and forth on the crown of her head. She wore a white flower- smocked dress and red flip-flops. Her tiny toes were painted red to match.
Riverton noticed how the woman clutched Mayfield about the waist and held her other hand in his massive paw in front of the two of them.
They’re lovers. Riverton was happy for the man. He noted it gave him actual joy. But then the young woman burst into another tirade, and he focused on the problem at hand.
The young woman launched into another string of epithets.
“In English,” the older woman shouted. Mayfield hushed her.
“In English? Well fuck you, mama. Fuck all of you. How’s that?”
“Mia, no one wants anything but the best for you. Armando is buying you a house, Mia. You will have a clean, nice place to live,” the woman said.
“Well fuck Armando, too. He can’t just decide where I should live. Who I should have as friends. It’s my fucking life. I’m a mother now. I’m making all the decisions for me and my daughter.”
“Mia, that’s not what we’re trying to do. Your mother is sick with worry about you, and we’re only trying to help,” Mayfield pleaded.
Riverton noted Mia had a knife in her hand. He saw Mayfield hold his palm out to him. It had been second nature to go for his piece, b
ut Mayfield didn’t want to play it that way. But all bets would be off if she went for either Mayfield or her mother.
“If you won’t talk to me, Mia, talk to your brother. Talk to Armando.”
At this, Riverton’s attention was piqued.
Armando? The SEAL Armando? That Armando?
“Of course. The good son, huh, Mama? Me, I’m the screw-up, right? Poor Mia who can’t fend for herself. Well, you know what? I am fending for myself. And part of this is I gotta get away from this fucking family. Everybody has to make my business their business. Did it ever occur to you I don’t need it? I like the way I live, who I am.”
She lowered the knife, closing her eyes to wipe hair from her forehead, briefly showing her exhaustion. Riverton took quick advantage and wrested the weapon from her hand before she had a chance to come to. Mia struggled, but he had her left arm held tight behind her back and yanked it up until she stopped moving. Without thinking, he grabbed her other wrist and placed a zip tie on her.
Mia launched another string of expletives and attempted to kick Riverton with her pointed toe high-heeled shoes.
“You wanna go for a walk with me, missy?” Riverton said, as he clutched her squirming body. It pissed him off the girl had such a lack of respect for her mother. “How about showing me you can be a good mother and calm the fuck down?”
A firm hand pulled him backward. The handsome SEAL, Armando, quietly took his place. Riverton hadn’t heard him come in.
As Mia looked into the eyes of her brother, she collapsed into his chest, and sobbed. Armando held her, whispering things to her in Spanish. He rubbed his fingers through her jet-black hair and hugged her with a big arm covered in tattoos.
“You dumb shit, Mia. Don’t you know we love you?” he said.
Riverton was struck with how tender Armando was with his wayward sister. Mia was built like a showgirl, he noted. Long, beautiful legs he tried not to stare at. Smooth, supple skin and—he had to look away. She would light up any convention or room of men anywhere on the planet. She was indeed a sexual siren.