The feeling of Claire's pulsing orgasm around my fingers and against my palm was amazing. The soft sounds of her ragged breathing finding its normal pace, filled my body with an insurmountable throbbing. I removed my hand from her, reaching for hers curled around the sheets and pried it free to drag it between us, I couldn't endure my torture any longer. I needed to feel her inside of me.
It didn't take long for Claire to respond, her fingers drawing around my own incredible wet warmth, slowly me teasing as I had her. I wiggled my hips, pushing down hard until I felt her enter me, making my body clench quickly to prevent a fast orgasm. Claire paused, waiting for me to begin moving again, my whole body moving up and down as I found the rhythm I wanted. I began moving faster and faster, Claire's hips moving up with her hand, keeping pace with me. My hands fell to her perfect breasts, her nipples hardening immediately when I grabbed them gently using her as a balance point as I moved erratically, losing control when I felt my orgasm reaching the precipice.
Claire thrust up hard, her hips and hand as one. As she did, I felt all the air leave my lungs when the orgasm hit me hard, eyes slamming shut as I heard her name echo against the walls of the room in a strangled voice that sounded oddly like mine.
Claire sat up with me, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold me as I shuddered. Her warm lips leaving soft kisses in the space between my breasts, holding firmly as I rode out the final waves of ecstasy she had unleashed upon me. I shivered when I felt her hand leave me to join the other one resting flat on my back, keeping me steady in her arms.
Claire kissed my collarbone, moving up to the underside of my chin before I leaned back into her arms, out of breath and completely exhausted. I smiled at her, taking a deep breath, running hands over her hair, stopping to hold the sides of her face. "Good morning."
Claire laughed, "Is this how you are going to wake me up every morning?" She quickly kissed me on the lips.
I shrugged lightly, "I don't think either of us could handle this, every morning and have enough energy to continue with the day." I leaned into her arms, burying my face in the blonde hair that had freed itself from the ponytail during the throes of passion, I murmured against her neck, "I also don't want to get spoiled by this." I sighed hard, squeezing her closer to me, before moving out of her arms to peer down in the blue green eyes that looked in mine in a way I would never grow tired of. Love and lust all rolled into one. I ran my hand down her cheek, brushing under her bottom lip with the tip of my thumb, "I love you." I said it quietly, but the emotion was there hanging in the weight of the three simple words. I could feel the slow stirrings of wanting to have her again and I did a poor job of hiding it from the woman as I smirked, licking my lips.
Claire blushed when she saw it, looking away, "I know." She grinned, looking back up at me, "Breakfast?" I saw her swallow slow, her voice breaking as the two syllable word navigated out of her mouth. Her attempt to move the conversation to something else. I also felt her squirm underneath me, only then realizing I was slowly moving back and forth, my hips acting on their own, wanting another go round with the woman.
I laughed, "I will take that as a hint, Senator." I kissed her slowly, deeply. Moaning as I forced myself to part from her and roll free from Claire to find my Purdue shirt, pulling it over my head. I could see in her eyes that she was worn out from the night before and my stomach had begun to beg for anything, but was ignored in the need to feed other desires.
I stood up, grinning as Claire's eyes went directly to my bare bottom. I turned to look over a shoulder, bending over to pick up the pajama pants and trusted purple sweatshirt I had left on the floor a few nights ago. "I’ll go make us some coffee and toast." I heard her sigh with a sad little whimper when I pulled the pants on, covering up. I turned to face Claire, flushed and tugging a blanket over her chest. "I don't think I have ever seen anything more beautiful." It came out a slow whisper, but it was the truth. Looking at her flushed, hair messy, exhausted but happy, Claire was beautiful, highlighted by the immense amount of love she held in her eyes.
It made my throat tighten and tears rise. I smiled, looking down as I walked to the other side of the bed to pick up her discarded sleep shirt. Handing it back to her, I whispered "Stay here, take a nap and I will bring you breakfast in bed." I brushed some messy hair back from her face, "Then we can discuss today's agenda."
Claire held my hand against her cheek, "There is no agenda other than rest and food. I cleared today's schedule so we could have one day to ourselves." She blushed again, shaking her head quickly, "Not that I was expecting this to happen." She moved my hand from her face, holding it, suddenly nervous, "I hope that you don't think I planned the night..."
I silenced her with a kiss, "I know you didn't." I met her eyes, grinning, wanting to repeat the three little words I spoke less than a minute ago. Repeat them over and over.
I stood up from the bed, zipping the sweatshirt to push back the sudden chill I felt. "Breakfast will be served in bed." I winked at her and left the room. Grinning from the way my body still tingled like tiny lighting storms had ran all over my skin overnight.
The smell of hot, fresh, expensive coffee brewing away woke me up with every thick aromatic breath I inhaled. I reluctantly left Claire in bed, hoping she would try to take a few more minutes of sleep while I set to making us a small breakfast. I tugged my purple sweatshirt closer around my neck, blushing when the shiny steel façade of the refrigerator reflected back all the tiny marks she left on my skin. A blush that was followed by my body heating up at the memories of how each one came to be.
Claire was unlike any I had ever been with, she was attentive and balanced. There was no intense struggle for control and struggle to keep control throughout. Claire would take when she wanted to take, then give when it was fitting, creating an intense connection between the both of us. We were both stubborn and strong women, and it showed in the bedroom. I never had another lover that compared to her, nor did I perceive I would want anyone other than Claire after last night. That thought alone made my heart swell in a way that made it feel complete.
I found two mugs in the cabinet above the coffee maker, one a dark blue one with a piece of pie drawn on the side in white, a tacky slogan telling me that Deb's pie was the best. The other was a white one with Davey's contract firm name blazoned along the curve of the cup. Setting the two next to the almost ready pot of coffee, I thought back to his words about getting involved with Claire, his words mixed with the sour memory of my shitty reactive behavior last night.
I had pushed her to the last breaking point and broke her. I felt it in the way she kissed me in the hallway and the look in her eyes when I shoved her off of me. Her blue green eyes telling me boldly and blatantly, no more.
Picking at a loose purple thread dangling from my sleeve, I knew I had to stop. Stop my shitty behavior of falling back on the comfortable lonely abyss of self- loathing I placed myself in for so long. Scotch would only keep me warm company until I drank it all, Claire would keep me warm company always and help change my destructive nature.
I took a deep breath, leaning against the counter, thinking back to the only time I ever went to Alcoholics Anonymous and the one thing that stuck in my head from that singular trip.
Davey forced me to go to AA with him when I had first started drinking after I moved to San Diego, drinking hard, fast and in excess. Stumbling through life unable to function as I drank relentlessly, teaching myself how to become a functioning drunk one liter of cheap scotch at a time. I sat with Davey in cold plastic chairs in the basement of a church, surrounded by others who, looking back now, I could have learned a lot from. They were full of hope as they saw one week to twenty years of sobriety. I was full of booze and hid my closed eyes behind sunglasses as only I hoped to fall asleep without anyone noticing.
The only thing I caught from that first and last meeting was a woman's story of falling into the depths of a glass shell that was a curved vodka bottle, and finding the one reason she c
limbed out. Standing in Claire’s kitchen, I now understood why her words were the only ones I paid attention to that day.
I couldn't even recall what she looked like, just that as she stood in the middle of the room, cheap shoes creaking on the linoleum floor, her words sunk into me.
"The day I stopped drinking was the same day my daughter threatened to never speak to me again. That moment looking in the eyes of my adult daughter, my little girl handing me an ultimatum. Her or the bottle, it hit me. I had something far more important to live for than living in all the bad things that happened. Leading me to pick up that first bottle and drain it like it was water." The woman looked around the room before settling on me, her gaze piercing through my sunglasses. I could feel her looking dead in my bloodshot eyes, unnerving me enough to continue paying attention. "To survive outside of the bottle you have to find the one thing or one person that makes you want to live when living is the most painful thing you are doing. The one thing that makes you want to live like you've never lived before and accept the pain, the bad memories, whatever it is. Accept it as a part of life and make you forget the whys of how that first drink met your lips. You have to find unconditional love that you will fight for as hard as it fights for you. It has to stop you dead in your tracks, wake you up. When you do, it will be the most beautiful day of your life and you will walk away from the booze and walk towards the one thing that is more addictive than drugs and alcohol. Love. Love will be that one thing."
The coffee maker beeping, breaking me from the memory, a long forgotten memory I had poured scotch all over the minute Davey dropped me off after the AA meeting.
I poured coffee into the mugs, steam curling around in the air and up to the ceiling. I ignored that woman and AA after that first day, ignoring her words and the positive environment I desperately needed, but cared little to want. Opting to live in easy misery.
I almost drank myself to death that night, Davey found me in the morning on the bathroom floor bleeding from the split chin I gave myself when I slipped and connected with the edge after downing a liter of scotch. I knocked myself out and had to have four stitches to close up the gash.
A handful of moments like that followed in the two years after that night. Tito and Davey always appeared to pick me up, stitch me up or clean me up. I could see they both were close to giving up, wanting to leave me to finish killing myself one sip at a time, not being able to crack through the walls I built in the days following Montreal.
Claire was the only one. The only one who cracked through and broke down those walls. She was what the woman was trying to tell me years ago, she was the unconditional love I needed to find to finally realize my life had to stop and change. I saw it this morning when I woke up with her next to me. This was the most beautiful day of my life and it had stopped me dead in my tracks. I had found the one person that made me want to stop and survive, fight and survive, let the Olivia's of the world and the bad memories fall away. Embrace what Claire had tried to give me from day one, hope that life could be what it once was, but better. I would have to show Claire I was done with my past and the way I poorly handled it when it charged at me like Olivia had the night before. Begging for my speedy death. I would just have to look at Claire to know she was one person I would stay alive for.
I opened the fridge to grab the milk, sitting in the middle of the shelves were stacks of white carry out boxes. I smirked, shaking my head, recognizing Nina's shorthand scrawled on the tops. I lifted one up, testing the weight of what was left, "Claire, you naughty little minx." I grabbed the boxes, setting them on the counter as I grabbed forks and napkins. I was grateful Claire had broken the no carry out rule, I was starving and nothing would taste better than leftover sesame chicken, but I would give her a little bit of hell for breaking the rules.
I set the two coffee mugs on top of the reheated containers of almond and sesame chicken. My stomach rumbling as the smells of the two mixed and hit my nose. When I pushed the bedroom door open, Claire was sitting up in the bed, smiling sleepily at my entrance, her smile fading at what she saw in my hands.
I sat on the edge of the bed next to her, handing over a cup of coffee as I set the containers on my lap, "I am not sure how coffee will go with Chinese." I raised my eyebrow at her, trying not to smile and maintain my false upset tone.
Claire clutched her coffee in both hands, watching as I opened the first container, "I know, but you were asleep and I had a craving. Nina brought it over herself and lectured me about breaking your rule." Claire watched as I took a slow bite of her almond chicken. I could see her mouth water, "She offered to cook for us. I did get you an order of your own." Her words soft as she struggled watching me eat her precious take out.
I broke, smiling as I heard little sad sighs from the blonde, sad sighs that I was not sharing. I handed her the container and a fork, "I know. I just like teasing you sometimes." I crawled over to sit next to Claire, watching her take a deep breath before the first bite followed by a soft sigh. I nudged her shoulder, "You know you make that exact same sound when I bite your hip?"
Claire nodded, smiling, "Both are equally delicious." She threw me a sensual look that gave me goosebumps.
I cleared my throat, "How did you get Nina to bring this? I would expect Johnny to come racing over here, hoping to get a few more minutes of staring at my chest."
Claire focused on the food, her smile still here but lessened, "Nina also delivered some cookies." She looked over, I knew what it meant and I felt my spirit dampen. I set the fork down, "What is it this time?”
She motioned to her dresser, a small white piece of paper sat against the mirror, "We can talk about it after we eat. I have to find someone to go to Tennessee and look at a church before the CIA does."
I stared at the piece of paper, sighing hard, at least we had a few hours of peace together.
Kit laid across the leather couch, the laptop perched on the large table in front of her. All of the emails about the Church of the Rising Son and Beekeeper, filling the screen. The decision to get through the emails, Nina's notes and the bits Heather Deveraux innocently spilled, was made after the leftovers were eaten. I wanted to clear it out of our way so Kit and I could spend the day together, doing nothing, thinking about nothing other than us and maybe sharing things that came with embarking on the beginnings of a new relationship. Not sifting through the vague clues of secret societies hunting me.
I paced around the room, mentally piecing things together, "That is all Heather said, Eddie was only questioned about the interior of Criterion and nothing else?"
Kit stifled a yawn, watching me pace back and forth on the antique Persian rug. "Yep, her lovely Eddie was only brought in to meet with Beekeeper because he had consistent access to the Criterion Centre. Mrs. Deveraux said he was equally confused as why that was the reason and not the new supply contract he was promised." She held out a hand to me, "Claire, will you please sit? Your pacing is making me dizzy."
I stopped in the center of the rug, arms folded against my chest, shaking my head out of frustration, "Eddie never moved past the reception desk or the account manager’s office. He was never given access to anything further than that, even his employees were met outside the loading dock where the materials were transferred to our own trucks and then transported to other loading docks. No one that is not part of the internal team, ever gets any further than the main lobby and docks." I rolled my neck, "All of my employees are vetted through a lengthy background process. Their movements are restricted to the areas they are assigned to, after that, the hive is essentially sealed off."
Kit looked at me, "The hive?"
I nodded, "It's what Dr. Zehren and I call the underground labs where we do most of the other work. It was our inside joke in regards to Beekeeper. You know, they are the bees but I have the hive?" I waved her off, "Its science humor." I moved to the couch, lifting Kit's legs up so I could sit down. "I had it built a few years ago when Erich and I began working on the organ project m
ore, experimenting with physical trials." I set her legs across my lap, hands on her knees, "I need to email Rebecca."
I could hear Kit roll her eyes, "Why? I think you and I can handle things."
Looking at the woman, I couldn't help but smile at the small amount of jealousy still hanging around Rebecca and Kit. "Kit, you don't need to be jealous." Kit frowned at me, hating that I called her out on it.
I slid a hand to the top of her thigh, "Rebecca was sent to Geneva to monitor things for me and take over a full time administrative position, and to root out a mole." I had gained Kit's full attention, "I have been suspicious for a while now of how Beekeeper and now the church were able to get too close to me when I am ridiculously detailed and careful. There had been a few network breaches which Ivan said could only be done from inside the Criterion. I locked things down three days before I met you. Rebecca took on the task of going through all of the current employee’s background to prepare for a full interview session for everyone. We need to find the leak and plug it, stop the seepage before it becomes a hemorrhage of information."
Kit shifted, moving her legs from my lap to curl up underneath her, leaning against me. She grabbed the laptop to scroll through more emails. "The other night, when I first read these emails, something stuck out to me." Kit brought up the emails from Davidek and Rebecca. "It was a small connection and at first I thought it could be a silly coincidence, but it makes more sense now the CIA wants to snoop down south." She canted the laptop towards me, "The name of the church, Rising Son. It meant little to me, thinking it was their homage to God or Jesus. Then when I went over the Beekeeper emails, I almost missed it." Kit pointed at the scanned image of one of the files, pointing at a handwritten note along the edge of the image. In a messy sideways scrawl was Project Rising Son. "It's too much to be a strange coincidence. Someone somewhere has purposefully named one after the other. It's hard to tell who came first since both have birth dates in the same year."
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