by Meg Ripley
“Good. Great, actually.” He felt almost giddy and he wondered if it would be appropriate to touch her. He wanted to kiss her again, but he would settle for a brief hug, or holding her hand or something as ridiculously simple as that. She stepped out of reach before he could make up his mind, gesturing for him to follow her, and lead him down the hall.
“This is the guest room. The bathroom is right here to the left. And uh, what time would you like your wake-up call?” She seemed a little flustered and couldn’t quite meet his eye. Did she think he would be upset by being put in the guest room?
“Well, I’d like to take you to breakfast. Wake me at eight, we’ll hit the road by nine?”
Her demeanor shifted and she nodded. “Perfect. The bathroom’s right there if you need it.”
“To the left.” Jason smiled. “Got it.”
Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she muttered something about laundry and scurried away. Jason stood there for another beat, wondering if that meant he had no choice but to turn in for the night. He would have liked to spend a little more time chatting with her—well, he wanted to do more than chat. And maybe she sensed that, and that’s why she ushered him to his room.
The room itself was nicely made-up with a comfortable bed. There were a few framed photographs, but no other touches of anything personal. The closet had some winter gear; the dresser drawers were empty. Jason had only a small overnight bag—one he kept packed in his car with a change of clothes and a toothbrush in case of an emergency. This wasn’t the first time his travel bag had come in handy. He dug out his toothbrush and opened his bedroom door, only to find Mary standing right there.
“Oh!” She jumped and the color in her cheeks deepened. “I uh, was going to ask if you needed anything.”
“Towel?”
“There are some in the bathroom.”
“Toothpaste?”
“Bathroom.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“Okay, well, if you need anything else, I’ll just be in my room.” She pointed to the door at the end of the hall and once again hurried away like she couldn’t wait to escape him. It would almost be enough to make him second-guess himself, but she already told him she was interested in spending more time with him. Maybe she was just shy? Though what she had to be shy about now, he had no idea.
The bathroom was as neat and tidy as the rest of the house, and he found the toothpaste in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. He relied on muscle memory to complete the ritual, his mind still on Mary. In fact, he was so preoccupied by thoughts of her that when she knocked on the door, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“One moment!” He quickly rinsed his mouth and wiped his face dry, opening the door to find she’d changed into a long T-shirt, baggy enough to obscure the curve of her breasts, but short enough to give him a nice view of her legs. He was thankful that he’d kept his pants on and wasn’t standing there in his boxers, half-erect at the sight of her, but he’d taken his shirt off, and her attention seemed to be stuck on his bare chest.
“I was just checking to see if…”
“Yes?”
“If maybe you’d rather...well…”
Jason folded his arms, the corners of his mouth trying to quirk into a smile. “If I’d rather what?”
“Um, well, I was just thinking—”
“Mary?”
“Yes?”
It would have been easy to tease her a little, draw this out and see if he could make her cheeks turn that rose hue again, but he wasn’t interested in the game. If she wanted him to make the first move, he would. With no further hesitation, he took her by the arm and pulled her against him, feeling the heat of her skin through her thin T-shirt before his mouth claimed hers.
For a moment, she was stiff against him, her lips almost rigid, and alarms went off in Jason’s head. Had he misread her? Was she about to push him away and slap his face, and should he stop before she had the chance to? He decided that would be the wisest course of action, but in the split second before he pulled away, she relaxed, her hand going to the back of his head, her lips parting, turning soft and sweet.
His heart jumped, blood thundering in his ears and thrumming through his veins, making him throb. He wrapped his arm around her, with no other desire than to hold her and taste her until they were both weak in the knees.
She broke away first, her mouth pulling into a wry smile. “I don’t know why you make me feel so shy.”
“I make you feel shy? I feel like I’m freshman again on my first date. Should I hold her hand? Does she want me to kiss her?”
“Did she?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t try.”
Mary stepped closer, her arms winding around his neck. “That’s funny. I didn’t get a kiss on my first date either.”
“Twenty is such an awkward age.”
“Twenty? You said you were a freshman.”
“Oh, in college, of course. You think I got dates in high school?”
She laughed. “Why not? You’re not completely ugly and you seem like a pretty nice guy.”
“Not completely ugly? That’s the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to me.”
“Well, you know what I mean.”
Jason shook his head. “I really don’t.”
“You’re an extremely handsome man, Jason. You never noticed that before? And I doubt you were an ugly duckling.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I...didn’t feel very social in high school. It was a rough time. Dating wasn’t really on my radar.”
She tilted her head, a small frown pulling between her brows. “Why?”
“My mother died the summer before I started high school.”
“Oh, Jason, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“Don’t apologize. Or maybe I should have apologized for bringing up your dead mother earlier.” He frowned. “And for doing it again just now.”
She laughed softly and dropped her brow to his shoulder, her arms sliding lower down his back. “You’re forgiven. Would you like to come to bed now?”
“Like, come to your bed?”
“Yes, my bed.”
“Oh, I’d very much like to do that.”
“Come on.” She took him by the hand and led him through the short hallway. He felt giddy again and couldn’t keep the smile from his face when she pulled the door closed behind them and pulled him into another long, sensual kiss. Her hand slid between them, seeking his growing cock, massaging him until he was stiff and aching. He had never felt desire so acutely, and he almost reached his breaking point when she sank to her knees and engulfed him with her hot mouth.
“Oh...oh god,” he said thickly; his fingers threading through her hair. She teased him with slow swirls of her tongue until his balls pulled tight and he felt tingles all the way to his scalp. His knees nearly buckled and he pushed his hips forward slightly, seeking every extra millimeter he could get along her tongue and down her throat.
He fucked her mouth with short, shallow thrusts; half of his own accord, half guided by the slight pressure on his hips from her fingertips. He watched every second, transfixed by the sight of her lips pulled tightly around his dick, by the flush of her cheeks and the hungry way she looked at him from beneath her lashes.
He didn’t want to come too soon and lose the slow, sweet torture of her mouth gliding over him. But she made him feel too much all at once, and not just physically. Just looking at her sent a maelstrom of heat through him, and when that met the actual heat of her mouth, there were fireworks; too many explosive reactions to ignore.
“Mary, honey, I’m going to—”
He expected her to pull away but she only tightened her hold on him, and when he realized that she wanted him to come in her mouth, he couldn’t hold back the final explosion that rocked him from top to bottom. When she finally let him slide from her mouth, he felt weak but not satisfied. Not quite yet.
“Get on the bed,” he said thic
kly, taking her arm to help her to her feet. They almost stumbled over each other in their haste, and he fell on her with a wicked hunger, seeking the taste of her mouth, of her sweat, and then of her desire, a slick fluid coating her inner thighs and her lower lips. He buried his tongue between the ridges of flesh, seeking the bundle of nerves that made her cry out and clench around him. He forced her legs apart again, holding her thighs in place as he darted his tongue in and out, attacking her clit until she was writhing and begging him for more between long, low moans.
He couldn’t get enough of her. The more he tasted her, the more he craved her. He wanted a deluge of all his senses; wanted her to overwhelm him in every sense of the word. The taste of her, the sound of her, the feel and scent and sight of her was more than he could ever hope for, and yet was simply not enough. Even as he lapped at her with his tongue, coating his mouth in the taste of her pleasure, he knew he needed more.
“I need...Jason, I need...”
“What, honey? Tell me.”
“Inside. Your fingers. Please.”
He obeyed immediately, burying two large fingers inside her clenching passage. She gasped and thrust her hips, fucking herself on his fingers and against his tongue, moving her hips faster and faster until she erupted, covering him with her intoxicating taste and scent. Just feeling her pleasure was enough to make him hard again.
“I need to fuck you,” Jason grunted.
“The condoms are in that drawer. Yeah, in the top one.”
He zeroed in on the foil packets and managed to grab one with his slick fingers, fumbling in the dark until he finally tore the corner. His fingers were shaking ever so slightly and sweat dripped into his eyes, but he managed to get the condom on and kneeled between her legs.
There were no more words between them, just a silent communication of mutual desire as he pressed forward into her welcoming body.
He started slowly, trying to take his time; trying not to be over-eager. Trying not to unleash himself completely when he felt her teeth on his neck. Trying to remind himself that he was in control when she clenched her muscles around him. But she cut through everything like a machete hacking through the jungle. He had no control; no idea of anything except responding to her, answering the call of her body.
“Don’t stop...just like that...don’t stop…” she gasped out, one hand gripping the headboard above her, the other buried in his hair, the two of them completely locked together.
Is this how it’s supposed to feel? he wondered as the pleasure reached new crescendos. Every time he thought it couldn’t get any better, it did. She did. Better and better, until the memory of everybody else, of the whole world, faded completely out of his mind.
He didn’t know what triggered the orgasm, exactly, but he felt it whip through her, as quick as lightning slashing through a summer sky. The sudden, electric clench of her body was too much, and he felt himself exploding for the second time, the pleasure just as intense as before, if not more so.
And this time, he could do nothing but collapse, pulling her against him before exhaustion overtook him and deadened him to the world.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jason woke suddenly, his eyes flying open as Mary’s gasp turned his blood to ice. He didn’t need to hear what followed to know that something was terribly wrong, and the softly spoken questions only confirmed his fear.
“What happened? When? Where is he now?”
Jason sat up, reached for his boxers, twitching a little when she touched his shoulder. “Could you drive me to Albany, please?”
“Of course. Where in Albany?”
“The police department. To identify a body.”
Jason’s mouth ran dry and he pulled his pants on quickly. “Whose?”
“My father’s.”
Jason’s cold blood flashed with ancient fire, and he was ready to shift right there in her bedroom and whisk her away; not to Albany, but somewhere safe until he could hunt down whoever harmed that sweet old man and tear his limbs from his body. It took all of his willpower to hold himself in his human form, and he said as evenly as he could, “Get dressed. I’ll be in the car.”
It killed him to leave her alone with the burden of the devastating news, but she took her opportunity for privacy and didn’t ask him to stay. He hunted down the rest of his clothes and found a box of granola bars in her cupboard, bringing that and a jug of orange juice. She wouldn’t want to stop to eat breakfast, but she would definitely need to keep her energy up.
He only had the car running for a few minutes before she emerged, looking calm and well put together. When their eyes met, she offered a watery, faltering smile, the corners of her mouth falling almost as soon as they turned up. That was all that betrayed her veneer; the only hint of the havoc wreaking inside of her.
Jason drove with purpose, at a loss to do anything besides honor her only stated request. It was his father’s brand of comfort; a proximate silence. It was still early enough to be dark outside, and he embraced the excuse to concentrate on navigation through the strange neighborhood and onto the parkway headed north.
They were only halfway there when the sun blasted the clouds pink, and in the strengthening light, he saw more of the strain etched on her face.
“How...uh...how are you holding up?”
“I don’t know. I’m just...numb...right now.”
“Numb. Well, numb is good, isn’t it?”
“Jason, are you more comfortable with silence?”
“No, I could talk. If you want to talk. Or we don’t have to, if you’d rather not.”
“I’d like to listen to some music.” She turned on the radio and selected the scan button. Classical music gave way to static and then the news broke through. By the time he heard her father’s name, he tried to change the station, but she slapped his hand away.
“It’s probably best if we don’t listen to this,” Jason tried.
“Shh. I want to hear it.”
Jason barely heard any of it at all. His heart was pounding in his ears, drowning out the reporter’s voice, and his attention was locked on the road.
“I’m going to pull over,” he finally said, thinking he’d be helping her.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The police were not releasing many details and so the news program had little to report; only that a body had been discovered that morning in the home of Neil Simmons and the police had not yet released an identification. There were signs of a struggle and the suspicion of foul play, but that was it. No information on who called the police, who found the body, or if there was anything missing.
“Maybe it’s not him,” Jason suggested with a note of forced optimism.
“A body was found in his house. He’s either the guy they take to the morgue or the guy they take to prison. And they called me to the morgue.”
Unable to argue the logic of that, he lapsed back into silence. She left the news on, though no updates would be reported. Not until the police spoke to her and had a positive ID and an investigation underway.
An investigation he planned to keep a close eye on. Not only for Mary’s benefit, but because Neil had been a good man and somebody Jason would have been happy to call a friend.
When they reached the county coroner, she allowed him to take her arm and escort her through the door. She gave her name to the receptionist, and a moment later, a deputy arrived to escort her to the back. Jason stuck close to her, determined to stay at her side until they forced him to leave.
A glass partition separated them from a small booth and a brightly lit room with a lone figure on the table. A man in crisp scrubs stepped forward and pulled the sheet down, allowing them a long look under the brutal light. There was no doubt about it. The man was Neil Simmons.
“Can you make an identification, ma’am?”
“Yes, it’s my father. It’s Neil Simmons.”
“Thank you, ma’am. My condolences for your loss. The detective is g
oing to want to speak with you.”
She blinked. “Right now?”
“I’m afraid so, Ms. Simmons.” A tall man joined them in the booth, crowding them as he presented his business card. “I’m Detective Tandy. I’ve been assigned to investigate your father’s death.”
“Was he...was it murder?”
“Murder is a very big word, Ms. Simmons. It requires a lot of evidence to hold it up. Evidence I’m still gathering. Would you mind speaking with me?”
“Of course, I’ll help anyway I can. I’m just...I mean he’s…”
“What’s that?” Jason blurted, too surprised to hold his question until a more appropriate time.
“What’s what?” Tandy asked.
“That brown mark on his chest.” It was tough to make out from their angle, no more than a line a quarter inch thick visible above the sheet, but once Jason noticed, he couldn’t take his eyes from it. It almost looked familiar.
“Did your father have any tattoos or birthmarks on his chest?” Jason asked.
“No. Nothing like that. What is it, Detective?”
Tandy gestured at the man in scrubs, and he pulled the sheet down further, exposing the late man’s torso. Once visible, it became clear that it was no mark at all, but rather a massive burn stretching from his waist to his throat. His skin was scorched almost black, charred pieces hanging off the wound. The pattern was obvious to Jason: a distinctive brand.
“Oh my god,” Mary breathed. “What is that?”
“It’s pending further investigation. But it appears to be a burn,” Tandy said.
“A burn? From what? A blow torch?”
“That’s pending investigation as well.”
“Pending investigation?” Mary’s voice started to rise, her words hardening.
“Yes. We need to get the results of the autopsy. The scene needs to be processed. We need to complete our investigation. Then I’ll be able to answer your questions.”
But Jason didn’t need to wait for the forensic reports to know what killed poor Mr. Simmons. He recognized the blistered remnant of a dragon’s claw.