by Mary Birk
“Oh.” She backed away, but he pulled her closer.
“Come on, luv. We’re going to need that if this is to be any kind of a success.” He unbuttoned the metal button above the zipper on her jeans, and took hold of the tab. He slowly pulled the zipper down, spread the flap open, and eased his hand underneath and between her legs, murmuring approval. “You’re getting ready, as well. When you get wet like that, it’s to take your fellow in.”
Despite her nervousness, his touch sent a pulse of longing through her, quickly followed by one of disappointment when he moved away to take off his own shirt. His body was compact, his muscles tight, and he smelled clean and male.
She reached to unfasten his jeans, tentatively touching him through his briefs. “Wow.” She squeezed harder, loving the pure muscular feel of it.
He moved her to the bed, laid her down, and took off her jeans and knickers. “Wow, as well, to you.”
“I feel silly.”
“You don’t look silly. You look sexy and beautiful.” He took off his jeans and got into bed next to her, pulling her head against his chest. “Still scared?”
“No, not scared. You’re sure you don’t mind doing this?”
“For God’s sake, Allison, look down. Do I look like I’m having second thoughts?”
She smiled. “Thanks again.” Doing this with someone she trusted made it so much easier.
“This is a first. A beautiful woman thanking me for making love to her.” His hand caressed her, while he began kissing her neck. He slid one finger, then two, inside her. “Feel okay?”
“Feels great.”
He moved his kisses to her mouth, his fingers moving in and out of her. Her hand went around him, holding him firmly, this time with no clothes between them, and he groaned. “Feels great for me, as well.”
“Do you always get this hard?”
“Yep.”
“What do you call it?” She ran the finger of her other hand around the tip, and all of a sudden, he was wet. She rubbed that around as well, the moisture making her finger slide easier.
He gave a crooked, almost embarrassed smile. “Why?”
“I never know what to call it. What do you call it?”
“My cock.”
“That’s the word I like, too.”
“You’re talking too much.”
“Sorry.” She kissed him, while his fingers focused in on a spot that made her shudder. “Do that again.”
He obliged, kissing her back. “Were you doing this much with the other guys?” He added another finger, and she closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of increased fullness.
“Waist down, only through our clothes.”
His lips moved to her breasts, and his tongue encircled one nipple, then the other. “This?”
She nodded. “But I wanted more.”
“That’s a good sign. It’s supposed to make you want more.” His lips clamped around one nipple, and her body arched up.
As he sucked, an intense yearning filled her, and she began rapidly moving her hand tightly up and down him. She knew what she wanted. She wanted him inside her.
“You have a condom for me?”
She stiffened. How could she have forgotten that? “Oh, no, I didn’t even think about it.”
His fingers stopped their stroking. “I don’t suppose you’re on birth control?”
“Why would I be on birth control?” She wished she didn’t sound so pathetic.
“Then we can’t do this without a condom.” He kissed her softly on the mouth. “I can make you come without being inside you.”
“I want you inside me. That’s the whole point of this. Besides, if you stop, I’ll die.”
He laughed, but in a pained way. “You won’t die, sweetheart. You’ll just be a virgin a little longer. I, on the other hand, might die.”
She moved him to her, wanting to make him forget himself and just do it. She felt wetness between them where he hovered against her and she moved her hips to entice him in.
He pulled away. “Dangerous, lassie. Tempting, but dangerous.”
“Don’t you have any? What do you do with all those girls?”
“They’re the prepared kind of girls. On birth control, and bring condoms with them.”
She kissed him. “It’s just one time, nothing will happen. Besides, if you always wear condoms with them, then there’s no chance of you giving me anything, you know.” She didn’t want to insult him by saying the word disease.
He pulled his mouth away, shaking his head. “Babies, sweetheart. There’s a definite chance of babies.”
“How much is the chance for one time?”
“Too big a chance to take.”
“Bloody hell.”
“I can pull out before I come, but that’s not one hundred percent. Probably not even fifty percent.”
“Okay, let’s do that.” She covered his lips with her own, kissing him deeply. She wasn’t going to let him stop now.
He broke the kiss and removed her arms from around his neck. “No, sweetness. Wait here. I’ll see if I can find one upstairs, or else I’ll run out to the shops.” He put his finger on her chin. “And you get yourself on some kind of birth control before you start taking this lovely show on the road, or we’ll have to turn your little sitting room out there into a nursery.”
“I will. Hurry up.”
In the end, he found two foil packets in his room, and they started again. This was one sweet girl, Harry thought. She’d put herself on simmer until he got back, but as soon as he touched her, she was right back where she’d been. Luckily, he’d had no trouble keeping the thought as well.
He’d gotten a little nervous when he pushed into her, reaching the point where he was afraid he was going to hurt her. He felt it, a barrier, a weak barrier, but he knew it was there. He crooned to her trying to reassure her, but he realized she was well past needing soothing, her hips arching up to him.
“Do it, Harry. Quick. I’m ready.”
He pushed, and she winced.
“Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Fine. Keep going.”
Afterwards, she looked down at the towel. “Not too bad. Just a little blood.”
“How do you feel?”
She gave him a lazy smile. “Wonderful.”
“You didn’t come. Sorry.”
“I was close, but I was too nervous.”
“Be sure you go for that next time. Sex is supposed to be as good for you as it was for me.”
“I still liked it a lot.”
“I can make you come without going inside you where you’re sore.” He found her abandoned glass of wine, handed it to her, and took his own.
“That’s probably too much to ask from your landlord.”
“Not a bit of it. It comes with the opening-up service.”
“Okay. As soon as I finish my wine; I need to be really relaxed.”
“Go for it.” He went into the loo and came back with a warm washcloth. “I’ll clean you up while you drink.”
“I feel like a baby.”
“You don’t look like a baby. Babe, yeah, baby, no.” He raised her bottom, wiped her clean, then eased her off the towel. “We won’t be needing this anymore.”
“Harry, you absolutely promise you’ll never tell anyone?”
“How can I? I’d have to admit you didn’t come, and I’d look like a rotten lover. I’m as invested as you are in keeping this secret.”
“That wasn’t your fault. I was totally turned on.”
He grinned. “Either that, or you’d make a great porno star.”
“Did I make too much noise?”
“Not a bit of it. It turned me on, too.”
She smiled, pleased, then took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready. What now?”
“Have you ever made yourself come, or had one of those over-the-clothes fellows do it?”
She felt her face heat. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this.”
&
nbsp; “We’re past that point. Answer the question.”
He was right. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’ve done it to myself, but not with anyone else.”
“Tell me what you like.” He looked at the empty wine bottle. “Should I fetch more wine?”
“Not for me, I’m feeling perfectly relaxed.”
“Good. Now, talk me through it, and I’ll see where I can add some flourishes of my own. I happen to like this part a lot.” He spread her legs and lowered his mouth to her.
She shot up, no longer in the least relaxed. “I thought you meant with your hand. You can’t do that, Harry. We work together.”
He pushed her back down. “Hand you can do yourself anytime. Relax, you’ll like it.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s mortifying.”
“You’ll get over it. Tell me when it’s working for you. Boss me around a bit.” He looked up for a moment, and grinned. “You know you want to.”
She closed her eyes and swallowed, then leaned back as he did what she’d only read about. It felt great. “Do I taste like blood?”
“You taste like woman.” He lifted his head from between her legs. “Have you done this for any of your fellows?”
“Not yet.”
“Jesus, girl. Going out with you must have been sweet torture.”
If it hadn’t been Harry, she’d have been embarrassed of how loudly she cried out when she came. But he said she could make as much noise as she wanted, and she couldn’t have held back if she’d tried.
They would have used the other foil packet to take care of the erection he ended up with after she came, but the inside of her was too sore. So, she made him talk her through doing for him what he’d done for her, which worked out fine. Probably not as good as the more experienced women he dated, but she got the job done, and he’d seemed happy.
SUNDAY, APRIL 11
Chapter 32
“JUST THERE. You missed that spot.” Harry pointed to a light spot toward the ceiling.
“You’re more than welcome to take my place up here, Harry.” But she dabbed paint on the spot he’d pointed out.
“I bought the paint.”
“It’s your house; you should buy the paint. You’re getting free labor.” She gave a little laugh. “Well, almost free.”
They’d be fine, he thought with relief.
Harry held the ladder as Allison descended. She was garbed out in some old pants and a shirt that kept riding up to display parts of her bare midriff.
“Good job.”
“Thanks.” She pushed back a lock of her hair and he noticed her snub nose had a spot of paint on it. Lemon cream, the color she’d decided on after much concentrated comparing of dozens of yellows that looked pretty much the same to him.
She looked at her watch. “You’d better get going. It’s half-seven. You’ve got to be late for some girl somewhere. I’ll finish up here. I’ll wash out the brushes and clear away the mess. In the morning we’ll have a clean, light kitchen. It will be glorious. Maybe I’ll make griddle cakes if you’re home by then.” She grinned. “Or if you have a guest, for both of you. We’re a very enlightened household.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about her cavalier attitude toward his social life after what they’d done last night. “I don’t feed my dates breakfast. You know that. Strict rule. One cup of tea and bye-bye, birdie.”
“One got chocolate cake.”
“Incidental. I didn’t make it and it didn’t make her stay longer. Fancy a beer?”
She gazed critically around the room inspecting her work. “Love one.”
He opened the fridge and took out two beers, handing one to her after taking off the cap. He opened his own and watched her as she tilted hers back in her mouth. He lifted his bottle in a gesture of cheers. “Great job.”
“Thanks. It’ll lighten up as it dries.”
“Looks fine to me now.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She took a long swallow and he noticed how her perspiration had dampened the area of her t-shirt under her breasts. She went over to the window and tugged at it, trying to get it open. The shirt rode up. “Can you give me a hand? It will help to get the paint smell out.”
He moved her aside and opened the window. The fresh air, though chilly, was a relief after the paint fumes. “We’ll have to close it after a bit or we’ll freeze.”
“What do you think about curtains?”
He hadn’t even considered putting up curtains, but it would give the room a little more privacy. “Sounds good.”
“They’re easy to make. If you pay for the material, I’ll sew them on my mum’s machine.”
“Deal.”
“Something in a light muslin?”
“Sure.” He hoped muslin wasn’t something too nancy. It sounded like an obnoxiously healthy cereal. But so far, her ideas had been good. Taking care to keep his voice casual, he asked, “I was thinking I’d stay in tonight. You going out?”
“No, I’m too tired, besides I want to see how the paint looks when it dries.”
“You’re okay then? I mean, well, you know.” He felt almost shy with her, which made no sense considering what they’d done. He needed to stay natural, stay real.
“Grand.”
“Sore?”
“No.” She made a wry face. “Maybe a little, but it’s not bad. Kind of a nice sore. I feel like a huge weight’s been lifted off me. Now I’m normal, or at least what passes for normal.”
“You’ll get an appointment to get some kind of birth control? You can’t count on condoms alone.”
“I will. Don’t worry.” She flipped on the overhead light. “So, do I get a meets-expectations?”
He tried to decide how to answer that. Despite her matter-of-fact attitude, even a dolt like him recognized that having sex with Allison had been risky, and talking about it afterwards was always dangerous ground, even under normal circumstances.
“An exceeds-expectations.”
“I knew you’d like it. It brightens everything up.” She pointed her beer at the freshly painted wall, and he realized she’d been asking him about the paint.
He pretended he’d known that. “It’s a lot of work.”
“I don’t mind.” She took another drink of her beer. “I don’t suppose you’d want to watch a film or something? I was planning to use your telly tonight, so if you’re really staying home, perhaps we could collaborate on a choice of film?”
Harry started rinsing out paint brushes. “We could do that. But first, what about food? What do you fancy? Pizza, Indian, or Chinese? Management treat for the workers.”
“I get to pick?”
“Sure.” He wet his finger in the sink and moved toward her. She backed up, but he reassured her. “Paint on your nose.” He gently rubbed his finger over her nose. “There, all clean.”
“Thanks.” She looked down, as if she was embarrassed at his touch. He backed away and she moved toward the stairs to her rooms. “I’ll change while you order dinner.”
“Wait—what did you decide? What do you want to eat?”
“How about pizza? Eddie’s taking me to an Indian restaurant tomorrow.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
Giving him an exasperated glance, she added, “For lunch. Just lunch.”
“Then pizza it is.”
When she disappeared upstairs, he hurriedly called Rita and cancelled their date, then ordered the pizza.
Because the best position to see the telly was the sofa, they sat on it to eat their dinner and watch the film. They’d had no trouble agreeing on a film and Allison laughed at all the parts he thought were funny. He glanced at her out of the side of his eye so she wouldn’t notice him looking at her. She was engrossed in the film, her face raptly attentive to the action on the screen.
He liked their easy, comfortable relationship. Even when she got prickly with him, when he teased her or annoyed her, it was comfortable, like with a sister, only better. He couldn’t he
lp but wonder if what they’d done last night would change their relationship. He’d heard about the friends with benefits concept. He’d never had a friend that was a girl, but he supposed it could work just as well for housemates, though Allison hadn’t given any indication she wanted to sleep with him again.
He wouldn’t bring it up, but if she wanted to, well, they could think about it, he supposed.
MONDAY, APRIL 12
Chapter 33
REID WAS AWAKENED by the ringing of his mobile phone. He reached over to where it lay on the bedside table, gently and reluctantly dislodging the sleeping Anne from her position against his chest.
“Reid here.” He kept his voice low, but saw his wife stir at the noise. He glanced at the clock next to the bed. Half six. He should have been up by now, but they hadn’t gotten to sleep until the wee hours.
“What’s up?” He listened then said, “I’ll be there straightaway.” He switched off his mobile and headed for the shower.
Anne turned over sleepily. “What is it? Who was that?”
“A girl’s body’s been found. It looks like it might be Lizzie Frost.”
Now awake, her voice was alarmed. “Oh, no.”
He turned around briefly and nodded. “I’ve got to hurry. I’m meeting the ME there.”
Anne scrambled out of bed, put on her slippers and robe. “I’ll make coffee.”
* * * * *
A young girl’s naked body had been heaved into the ditch, crumpled up like a used tissue, with no care taken to position her. This wasn’t the work of a serial killer reenacting some scenario or fantasy. Whoever had done it had treated the job of getting rid of Lizzie Frost’s body as if it had been a simple case of throwing out the trash.
Reid shut his eyes briefly, took a breath, and went to face it. The Scene of Crime team, all suited up, was busily at work, preserving the scene, and collecting evidence. A photographer took stills, while another officer ran the video camera.
They’d been there for over an hour when he sensed, rather than heard, his detective sergeant approach, but Reid didn’t let his gaze leave the dead child. Her skin was flaccid and pale, except for the red striping indicating she’d been whipped. Even her hair appeared lifeless. He needed to burn the image into his mind. She deserved to be remembered, to be avenged.