Murder Mayhem and Mama

by Christie Craig

  At a snail’s pace his fingers inched between her legs, gliding over her yet still teasing by not moving to the center. His moist kisses against the back of her neck sent delicious messages down her spine, while his fingers, oh so close, sent even more.

  Impatient, she twisted, rose and sat sideways on his lap. The bubbling water waved around them. His hard shaft found its place between her legs, not inside, but when the ridge around his sex pressed against the spot his finger had yet to touch, she dropped the glass. The flute bobbed atop the stirring water, spilling the last sip of bubbly.

  Brit caught the glass, set it on the floor then pulled her into his kiss. His mouth covered hers, and they shared air. Their tongues danced and mated and his hips rose and lowered. His sex, cradled between her thighs, moved between her legs, creating a hot desire for more.

  Reaching down, she wrapped her hand around him and felt him throb beneath her palm. She shifted, wanting that hardness inside her. Water sloshed around them and his erection found its way to her opening again. Her body cried out to be one, and she started to slide down, to take him inside.

  “Bed.” His voice sounded deep. The next thing she knew, he had her wrapped in a towel, carrying her out of the steamy room. The chill of bedroom air sent goose bumps over her wet body. He pulled her against his chest—against a wall of male warmth.

  Gently, he lay her down on the bed. He took his time, letting his gaze stroke her body. Finally, he lay down beside her, pulling a sheet from the bottom of the bed to cover them. “Cold?”

  “A little.” She ran her palm over his chest.

  Drawing her closer, he dipped down and his mouth took hers. His hands explored, caressed and tempted. And she did her own exploring, sweeping her palm over his chest, and then lower to hold him in her palm again. Moaning, he flipped her over on her back and caught both her hands in his one and held it over her head.

  The chill in the air was forgotten as the heat built inside her. He kissed her breasts until she arched her back off the mattress, every nerve in her body begged for release. His free hand moved between her legs again, and she felt his fingers slide into the waiting wetness he’d created.

  “Please.” She shifted her hips upward.

  He inhaled sharply. “Not yet,” he whispered, pulling his hand away from the moisture between her legs, as if he understood exactly what she wanted.

  “You’ve got to come first.” He slid his fingers down again and took his touch deeper between her legs—dipping in and out.

  “Now,” she mumbled, and tried to free her hands, but his kiss swallowed her protest and his grip on her wrists tightened ever so lightly.

  When his lips pulled back, he released her hands and then ducked under the sheets, and breathed kisses down her breasts, her stomach. Lower. His intentions became clear. Awkwardness shot through her. Oral sex never really worked for her.

  She just wasn’t good at this. She stared at his sheet-covered body between her legs. “You don’t have to.” Then his tongue moved against her.

  “Relax,” he whispered against her thigh.

  She reached down and pulled him up by the shoulders. “Seriously, you don’t have to.”

  His head popped out. With the sheet still half draped over his head, he arched a puzzled brow. “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s not…” She took a deep breath. “I mean, I’ve never…”

  “Never?” He grinned, his eyes sparkled with humor.

  She felt her face heat up. “I’m not as experienced as you are. And it’s always seemed too…”

  “Too what?” He was still grinning.

  “Just too.” She swallowed her embarrassment.

  “Give me three minutes. If you don’t like it, I’ll try something else.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. Just try it.” He grinned. “I’m good at it.” He brought his tongue out and swiped it across his bottom lip.

  He slipped his hand down beneath the sheet and his fingers moved over the outside of her lips ever so softly. “I’m really, really good at it.”

  The swirl of pleasure had her withering. He studied as if waiting for her answer, but again, before she responded, he dipped back down under the covers.

  Soft flutter-like kisses moved along the inside of her thigh. She held her breath, waiting for the feel of his tongue, and then he was there.

  Not too hard, not too soft, and not in a hurry, he did amazing, amazing things. Her last rational thought was that he hadn’t lied. He was really good at this.

  Before his three minutes were up, her breath caught with the beginning of an orgasm. And not just any orgasm, but the kind that she’d heard about, but never experienced before. The kind that shook her inside and out. She dropped back on her pillow. She’d never felt like this with sex.

  Never.

  Never this high. “Oh.”

  Never this bright. “Oh.”

  Never with Brit. “Ohhhhh.”

  As she tried to catch her breath, he kissed his way up her body. When his head appeared from the sheet, he wore a smile and pure male pride glittered in his eyes. “You like?”

  She still wasn’t able to talk, so she nodded.

  He chuckled and moved up beside her, propping up on his elbow. Feeling brave and slightly wanton, and wanting to return the gift he’d just given her, she pushed flat against the mattress. With the sheet still draping over them, she crawled on top and started kiss her way down his body. She arrived just below his navel when he caught her by both her elbows and pulled her up. When she looked up, his eyes were filled with heat.

  “Let’s save that for another time.”

  She grinned. “Give me three minutes.”

  He laughed, but didn’t let her go. “Not now. I won’t last a second. Later, I’ll remind you that you owe me.” He pulled her up beside him and ran his hand down the side of her cheek. The humor in his eyes faded into something different, something much more serious. “Thank you.”

  “For what. You wouldn’t let me do it.” Right then it hit her that she’d never done this before, never really had fun having sex, never allowed herself to really be present. Before it had been something that happened, and yes, it had been pleasurable, some of the time, but never… fun.

  He laughed again. “For being here. For reminding me how to laugh. How to sleep.” He inhaled. “For reminding me how it feels to be alive.”

  She smiled, completely understanding his sentiments. “You did the same for me.”

  Stretching his arm across her to the night stand, he opened a drawer.

  He glanced at her, his smile in place. “Not a toilet bowl condom.”

  Grinning, she watched him open the packet, slide the condom on, then he rolled on top of her. With his arms extended on each side, he kept his weight off her. His biceps bulged, his shoulders looked wide, solid. His hair, blacker when damp, hung across his brow.

  His gaze, hungry and ready, met hers. Slowly he pushed his hips against hers. She felt the weight of his sex on her thigh, and the coolness of the condom sent another chill through her. He arched his hips up and resettled between her legs. He hesitated, gazing into her eyes.

  She ran her fingers down his neck, to his shoulder and lifted her hips ever so slightly. He pressed deeper, finding his place. Fitting inside her, stretching her, filling her with all kinds of wonderful. “Mmm,” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice strained.

  His ins and outs started slow, each stroke bringing them closer, each stroke quicker, harder than the last. She moved with him, aware of how their bodies came together, aware of how his chest dipped down and brushed her nipples with his upward strokes, aware of how his lips breathed against hers. Aware of his scent, sandalwood and musk. And sex. Hers. His.

  His hips pumped faster. Harder. “Now. Now,” he growled.

  Everything inside her went bright. She tightened her legs around him, and her clenching orgasm pumped around his.

  He made a deep noise agai
nst her throat as he pushed deep into her one last time. She threaded her fingers through his hair.

  He rolled to his side, holding her close, keeping their bodies joined. “Holy Hell, but that was fantastic,” he mumbled, gasping for air.

  She stayed in his arms, her cheek against his chest, listening to the thunder of his heart and feeling her own match the beat. Minutes passed before either of them moved.

  Finally, he pulled away, leaving her body. His smile came slowly, sweetly. “Seriously, that was amazing.”

  She nodded. He kissed her, then leaned against the pillows, cuddling her to his chest. Seconds passed. She waited for the awkwardness to hit. Instead came a comfortable silence, or at least until he spoke, “Damn, we really screwed up,”

  Cali couldn’t fathom how he could call this a mistake only seconds after he’d said how good it had been. Her throat ached and she vowed not to cry. She had loved it.

  “What were we thinking?” he continued. “We should have been doing this from the moment we met.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A few hours later, Brit leaned against the headboard a contented man. Cali smiled at him as she tossed away the to-go cartons that had held the fried rice. He didn’t like to brag, and he seldom did aloud. But Cali was putty in his hands, his for the taking, and she’d enjoyed every moment of it. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile so brightly, or seem so relaxed.

  They had made love a second time, sat in bed, and ate Chinese food straight from the boxes. Then she had insisted on doing laundry. Now, almost ten o’clock, they had showered and piled back into the bed. Or at least he had. Cali ran around the room as if she couldn’t rest until everything was neat.

  “Forget that.” Brit tackled her back into the bed.

  He ran his hand over her hip. She didn’t wear any panties, but had insisted on donning one of his dress shirts. He kept unbuttoning it; she kept buttoning it up.

  “Hey, look.” She pointed to the bedside table.

  Brit turned his head and saw Mama Cat sitting beside the phone. “Finally decided to come out, huh?”

  The cat’s half-gone ear twitched. Cali reached out, and the cat hissed.

  “I think she’s jealous,” Cali said, watching the cat leave.

  “I love it when two women fight over me.” He kissed her. God, he loved kissing her. “You think you can sleep?” he asked, rolling over and taking her on top of him. He still got a high when he felt her hair spill over his chest.

  Her smile brushed against his shoulder. “You wore me out.”

  “Good.” He ran his hand over her hip and tried to think about how to broach the subject of her taking some time off. “You can sleep in tomorrow.”

  She chuckled. “You call six sleeping in?”

  The bomb had to drop. “I don’t want you going to work.”

  As he expected, she stiffened, then sat up. “I have to.”

  “They can get a sub for a few days.” He sat up beside her.

  “I want to go to work.”

  He frowned. “Stan knows you’ll be there.”

  “I don’t care.” She sat up, ruler straight, her teacher posture. “I’ve let him chase me out of my apartment. I can’t even go to my mom’s house, and I need to get her things packed up, so I can put the house on the market. I’m not going to let him keep me from my job.”

  Brit understood how she felt, but damn it, he couldn’t stand the idea that Stan might try to get to her. Off and on the last hour, his gut had pumped acid just thinking that the freak had probably held Cali the way he held her—that the scum had buried himself inside her. Brit had never been jealous. He was now. And while he had to accept that he couldn’t change that she’d slept with the asshole, he couldn’t accept that the man would even have the pleasure of laying his eyes on her again.

  “A few days. A week at the most,” he said. “Please.”

  “No.”

  The “please” word was losing its power. “It’s not safe.”

  “No.” She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. “I’m going to work. It’s the only normal thing I have in my life. I’m not giving it up. I need that right now.”

  Brit started to argue, but the blue steel in her eyes told him it was futile. “Okay,” he growled. “I’ll take you and pick you up. But don’t even think about going to lunch.”

  She nodded. “You need to take me to get my car in the morning.”

  He let out a deep breath and stretched out on the bed and stared holes in the ceiling.

  “Are you mad?” she asked.

  “Not at you. At the situation.” He brushed his hand down her arm. She scooted over and pillowed her head on his chest. He ran his hand over her back, and neither spoke again for a long time.

  “So much has happened this last week,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “I know.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and remembered what she’d said earlier. “I’ll help you pack up your mother’s things later this week. Do you have a storage place where you want to put them?”

  “Not yet.”

  He heard her swallow. The silence lingered, and he waited, sensing her need to talk.

  “Sometimes, I forget she’s gone. It’s like I’ll think of something to tell her or see the phone and think I should give her a call.”

  “I know.” And he did. He felt the same about Keith. He moved his hand to her back, caressing her, comforting her.

  She buried her head deeper on his chest.

  “Are you still dreaming about her?”

  She shifted. “Yeah.”

  The one-word answer came out with more emotion than it had letters. He rolled over. “Nightmares?”

  “No. She just talks to me.”

  He remembered what she’d told him about the dreams. “About lesbians?” He couldn’t help but smile.

  The slightest grin played on her lips in return. “She said her hospice nurse was a lesbian.”

  Brit took Cali’s hand in his. “Is she?”

  “I think so.” She stared at their hands locked together.

  The perfect fit. “What else does your mom talk about?” He brushed his thumb over the top of her hand.

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, strange huh?” She glanced away.

  “What does she say about me?”

  “She says our auras have the hots for each other.”

  “Our auras?” He chuckled.

  “Yeah.” She glanced at the ceiling. “Dr. Roberts says—”

  “Who’s Dr. Roberts?” He shifted to his side and brought her face back to him. “What doctor?”

  “The psychologist with the Hospice organization. The one I spoke to the other day when I went to the office.”

  He hadn’t known she’d spoken to a psychologist. “What does she say?”

  “She says that the dreams are just my own maternal instincts trying to help me out, to keep me from making mistakes.”

  He tried to understand what she was saying. “So it would be a mistake to let our auras get together?” He didn’t like thinking Cali’s maternal instincts wanted to keep them, or their auras, apart.

  “No. Mama likes you.” Cali bit down on her lip. He’d noticed her doing that when she felt nervous. “She tells me others things, too.” She sat up again and pulled her knees to her chest. “The night before Stan came to the school, she told me I shouldn’t go to lunch. And the night before last, she told me not to stay at the same hotel.”

  Brit digested what she was saying. “You think it’s really her?”

  She blinked those big blues. “Do you think I’m crazy?”

  Brit sat up beside her. “No. I think your dreams are strange. And I think they’re scaring you.”

  “Yeah, well, Dr. Roberts believes it’s just my instinct.”

  “What do you believe?” Concern threaded through his chest, and not because he thought she was crazy. He didn’t like seeing her doubting herself. He’d done hi
s share of doubting these past few weeks, and he knew that hurt.

  “She had to be right. I don’t believe in ghosts. It’s just strange.”

  He held her closer. “I think losing someone that we care about can do weird things to our minds. I went almost three weeks without sleep. I’d doze, but any time I really fell asleep, Keith’s image flashed in my mind. I thought I was losing my mind.”

  He inhaled. “I was a dickhead to everyone who crossed my path. Or I was until someone pointed it out to me.”

  She smiled. “You’re not a dickhead.”

  He grinned. “It was the word “little” that you used before dickhead that hurt.”

  She giggled. “I knew you weren’t little.”

  “Really?” He tossed her back on the mattress and rolled on top of her. “And how did you know?” He pushed his hips against hers, letting her notice it now. But damn, he’d had her twice and was still hard for her.

  “You had a condom in your coat.”

  “Huh?” He rolled off her, but pulled her to his side.

  Cali smiled. “In the zipper pocket; an extra large condom.”

  “No.” He shook his head, then remembered. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Shane did that.” He no more said her name when he realized he shouldn’t be talking about old girlfriends. “It ended almost two months ago. It wasn’t serious.”

  “What happened?” she asked in a hesitant voice.

  “We didn’t mesh.”

  “Mesh?” she asked, and then bit down on her lip. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She settled her head on his chest.

  But it didn’t feel okay. Not to talk about it and not even to keep quiet. As wonderful as tonight had been, he felt as if a lot of questions hung between them. A lot of things left unsaid.

  All in good time, Brit thought.

  ~

  Brit woke up with a tingling pain in his arm. Cali’s head lay pillowed on the crook of his elbow. He wiggled his fingers, but didn’t pull away. A smile spread to his lips as he watched her sleep. Morning light sprayed through the blinds and he welcomed the idea of a new day. Even his concerns about where all this would lead didn’t deter the feeling.