by Tiana Cole
I shook my head. “The paper doesn't give up its sources. The paper does…” I raised my voice when he started to protest, “…investigate all leads and tips for their veracity. But it doesn't reveal them, so I can’t tell you anything except that my editor is interested in what you’re doing up in that lab.”
Derek’s expression was still taut. “He’s pretty interested if he sent you in. You’re not a small-time beat reporter.”
Clearly he was trying to butter me up, but it worked. I gentled my tone. “Yeah, well, I’m a sniffer at heart.”
He leaned forward on his elbows. The candlelight played on his handsome features and I felt a little desperate, like I was falling under his spell. “And what have you sniffed out about me?”
My hesitation was my downfall. “You don’t strike me as the illegal type.” God, how did I botch this so terribly? Had I been more in control I would have pounced on him, but the wine and his smile had me off my game, confused. It would take me forever to get this opportunity again.
Derek Johnson’s long fingers tented. “No, because I’m not the illegal type. More wine?”
Derek
By the time I paid the check I had no idea if I’d convinced Denise Willard to abandon her quest to ruin me or not. She had ruined me just a tiny bit, though. We walked across the now-crowded restaurant, my hands gently resting on her back to guide her, and her dress was cut low enough in the back that my fingers brushed bare skin.
Maybe offering a nightcap at my apartment wasn't a bad idea.
The late-summer air was cool, and we were close enough to the lake to feel it. Chicago as a rule experienced wretched weather, but it was smiling on Denise and me that night. We stood on the sidewalk in front of Seven Bridges and stared at each other.
“Did you drive?”
Her hazel eyes flickered onto the road, packed with cars in their late-night search for social interaction. “No, I took a taxi.”
My fingers grazed her elbow and turned her towards me. “That’s silly. I'll drive you. My car is just over here.” There was a slight second of hesitation, then her steps fell in place next to mine. The walk to the car was quiet; I don’t know what was running through her mind, but I was thinking that I’d rather not drop her off at her apartment. I wanted to bring her back to my place, but was unsure how to present the idea to her. It had been so long since I’d been in a similar situation with a woman that any suggestion sounded creepy in my mind.
When we slid into the seats of my sedan, though, she surprised me by saying, “I wouldn't mind a nightcap. Should we extend our evening a little bit longer?”
I turned the key in the ignition and paused. “I’d love to. At the risk of sounding presumptive, I live just a few minutes from here. And,” I hurried to add, “I’ll drive you to your apartment whenever you’d like.”
Her eyes glanced down; her long lashes fanned out across her cheekbones. God, she was unquestionably pretty. Pretty, in a sweet way, but also sexy. And it had been five years since I’d noticed a sexy woman in any capacity, so I thought—hoped—that I’d be able to latch onto this one for as long as I could.
Finally, Denise answered in a breathy voice, “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s go to your place.”
I didn't realize I was holding my breath; it poured from my lips in a long exhale. With a flick of my wrist I had the car on, smoothly backing out of the parking spot and purring along the deck. We drove along the lake to my apartment. The car interior was quiet, and heavy with possibility. I wasn't sure how to do this with a woman—I was way out of practice—but I would follow her lead.
Chapter 7
Denise
Derek’s apartment was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It sat on Lakeside Drive, where all of the biggest players in Chicago live—I’m talking about politicians, sports stars, and all of the social elite. And although Derek didn't strike me as “social elite,” it somehow didn't surprise me that he had a penthouse apartment with a view of the lake. In my digging I’d found that he was a trust-fund kid of some sort.
He drove his sleek sedan under a swanky apartment building; in the garage there we stepped directly onto an elevator, and when it stopped we were on the 15th floor, staring directly into an expansive, dark wood foyer that was open all the way across the Great Room to the window. Although it was dark, the lack of lights in the view proved it to be Lake Michigan.
I felt his fingertips on my back, gently prodding me into the apartment.
“Well, this is a grand palace,” my voice was injected with enough sarcasm to cover my nervousness.
Derek walked over to the spacious kitchen and flipped on a light. The apartment, when lit, was even more magnificent. The decorations alone looked unbelievably expensive, aside from the ace location on the water. His trust fund must have been sizeable; the internet was too tasteful to say.
He dropped his keys and phone on the counter and threw me an attractive, sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. It’s awful, though. I barely spend enough time here to enjoy it.”
I followed him to the counter and propped my elbows on it, facing him. “Too much time spent in the secret lab?”
His brown eyes narrowed. “The lab, yes. It’s not secret.”
“Then why won’t you tell me about it?”
Derek leaned forward until his face was inches from mine. The heat grew between us as we both flicked our eyes to each other’s mouths. Literally just an inch on my part, and I would probably let him take me there on the marble counter.
God, my brain. I was so unprofessional.
“Because,” Derek whispered, his wine-soaked breath covering my face. “You’re a sneaky reporter.”
I allowed the corner of my mouth to tug into a smile. “I’m not sneaky,” I whispered back.
We hovered that way for another second, each of us daring the other to make the first move. Finally, he pulled away with a small sigh. “I'll get you that drink,” he said, edging towards a cherry wood liquor cabinet. “Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa?”
I walked across the wood planks to the living area; nearly the entire floor was edged by a wall of glass. I imagined the view to be astounding any time of year—when the sun was actually up. The couch was a lush number in cool leather. I sat down and watched Derek fix our drinks, thinking that, as classy as he was, the surroundings looked nothing like him. For a flash of a second I wondered if he was married. My guts twisted at the thought—surely I’d have found something on a Mrs. Derek Johnson, wouldn't I? I mean, it was my job to dig up people’s dirt, and a wife wasn't even that hidden.
I would look immediately, as soon as I left Derek’s apartment.
Whenever that would be.
He crossed the room, two lowballs in his hands. He was long and lean and all of the things that distracted me from why I was there—at least partially why I’d gone to dinner with him. Somehow the game changes when a reporter enters somebody’s apartment. But I’d ponder that later.
The couch sank under his weight. He made a good drink, stiff enough to know what you were getting into but also smooth enough that you didn't mind.
“So,” he settled back against the cushions, his arm stretched behind my shoulders. “Tell me about your first big break. Who did you take down?”
I settled my head in the crook of his shoulder and took a long pull from my drink. “Well, there was this guy, a mayor of a small town in Iowa…”
“Iowa?”
“We have to start somewhere. Anyway, he was actually siphoning money from the General Improvements fund to send to his mistress, who ran a meth lab out of her home.“
Derek wrinkled his nose. “Ugh.”
I nodded. “Yeah. He didn't do a very good job at covering his tracks, and I had an easy time finding the money trail. I took my findings to the local paper and said, ‘Here’s my first story. Hire me.’ And they did.”
His eyes narrowed and I felt his fingertips brush across the skin of my upper arm. I shuddered, and not in a bad w
ay. “How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
Derek’s laughter filled the room, endearing me to him even more. When I’d first started digging into his life I was certain he’d be some stuffy, fancy snob of a doctor. It was funny to find that he had all of the trappings of the role, but didn't fill it.
I had no idea what I was doing.
I had a small idea.
I turned my face to his and kissed him. My body instantly went into shock mode, covered with delicious tingles and urging for more. Derek’s hand covered mine as he removed my glass and set it on the coffee table. By the time his hands found his way to the hem of my dress , I’d drowned out all sensible protests.
Pushing him back against the couch, I quickly straddled him while we kissed, feeling his tongue dance against mine. Breaking the kiss, I hurriedly undid his necktie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a surprisingly muscular chest. For a man who spent so much time working, I was taken aback by his physique. Clearly the doctor made an attempt to keep himself in shape, and it was paying off wonderfully. He was unquestionably attractive, and as he returned my lustful gaze I could feel my panties begin to dampen. I leaned in to kiss him again, allowing his hands to explore my body while grinding myself into him. I made no attempt to stop him when his skilled hands pulled the straps of my dress down around my shoulders, then reached to my back to unzip it while we mouthed each other hungrily.
When he tugged my dress down, revealing my black bra underneath, I helped him by unclasping it for him and setting my breasts free. I tossed it aside and could feel the bulge growing in his pants as he looked at my bare chest. It was obvious, much to my relief, that he approved of my full, perky breasts, and jolts of pleasure surged through me when he took one of my hard nipples in his mouth. I let out a small moan as he licked and sucked it, and reached down to feel the hardness in his slacks. He was fully erect, and from what I could tell, was also quite endowed. Slinking down between his legs while looking up at him seductively, I slowly undid his belt and unzipped his pants, shooting him a mischievous smirk as I pulled his boxer-briefs down. His impressive cock sprang out, thick and throbbing, and he threw his head back with a groan when I took it in my hand.
“God, that feels good,” he breathed as I begin to stroke him up and down.
“You like that?” I asked, teasing him by flicking my tongue against the tip of his dick.
It really wasn’t in my nature to get so sexual so quickly with a man I barely knew, but there was an undeniable chemistry between us that the alcohol had only heightened. I’d also been so preoccupied with work that it had been some time since I’d been with a man. Somehow, I got a feeling Derek that hadn’t been with anyone in a while, either. Against my better judgment, I took his hard cock in my mouth and felt his body shudder as I began to suck him, gliding my hand along his thick shaft. His hands squeezed my shoulders tightly as he watched, his face painted with a mixture of awe and pleasure.
“Holy shit,” he gasped as I took him so deep I almost gagged. I could taste his pre-cum, and it only turned me on even more. As I continued to work his dick with my mouth, I kicked my heels off and slid my panties down to play with my swollen clit. I wasn’t surprised by how wet I was and managed my panties the rest of the way off, tossing them alongside my bra on the sofa. On my knees before him, I licked and jerked his cock while his hips began to thrust. I could tell he was aching to cum, but was doing his best to hold out. Yes, there was no question that he hadn’t felt a woman’s touch in far too long.
I trailed kisses up his stomach to his chest, positioning myself on top of him again while hiking up my dress to guide his cock inside of me. We both moaned at the sensation, his rigid shaft filling me completely as his mouth found my nipple once more. Feeling his hands on my hips, I began to ride him as my hands clenched the back of the sofa tightly.
“You’re so big,” I groaned as I accommodated his girth.
His said nothing, just released a series of carnal grunts as his cock plunged in and out of my warm slit. My breasts bounced in his face and he took them in his hands to steady them, rubbing his thumbs over my dark, hard nipples as our pace grew increasingly faster. I could tell by his wincing eyes, flush face, and gritted teeth that he was close to orgasm again, but I was determined to beat him to it. I could feel my own climax rising, and seconds later it exploded through my body.
“Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!” I screamed as came, my hands, now in fists, pounding the back of the sofa as the powerful orgasm shook me to my core. “I’m… I’m cumming!” I wailed. Apparently the alcohol had not only removed my sexual inhibitions, it had given me the mouth of a porn star as well.
I collapsed on top of him for a moment while I recovered from the intense climax, his cock, drenched with my warm juices, still buried inside of me. He moved his hands to my ass and we slowly began again until his hard shaft was ramming into me with a fury. It was his turn now, and I wasn’t going to disappoint. My grip returning to the back of the sofa, I rode him while hearing myself utter words I didn’t know I was capable of even speaking.
“That’s it,” I growled. “I want you to fucking cum for me.”
“Yeah?” he panted, his hands still on my ass and fingers digging into my bare flesh.
“I want it,” I insisted breathily. “Fill me with that hot fucking cum.”
As if on command, his body shuddered and he let out a long, guttural groan as he emptied himself inside of me. I could feel his warm load, and it seemed to be a rather large one. Apparently the doctor had gotten his rocks off in far too long.
I collapsed on top of him again, his bare chest heaving against mine as he fought to regain his wind. His hands rubbed my back, a tender gesture I couldn’t help but appreciate, and after a long moment he finally spoke.
“That was amazing.”
Derek
Well, that was satisfying.
I’d worried throughout the evening, torn between my desire for Denise and the fact that I hadn't been with a woman in over five years. That turned out to be a non-issue, however, as we seemed to manage just fine… and more than once, to be honest. We’d moved from the sofa to my bedroom, eventually falling asleep tangled in a bed that hadn't seen such joy in years.
I woke up much earlier than a languid morning allowed for, from habit of sleeping in my lab. It was just before dawn and Denise was still dead asleep. For a few minutes I watched her, again overwhelmed by her beauty, by how easily our bodies meshed together, how much we smiled and laughed as we made love.
With a sigh I slid from the bed and padded into the kitchen. The first thing I had to do was check the samples. I pulled out my phone and messaged the secret number.
Logan, how are the kids?
Like a good grad student, he was sleeping at the lab. I guess, had Denise not happened, I’d be with him.
Everything is intact. No indication of anything yet.
Well, that was better than nothing. I’d support cells not dying any day.
With a clunk I tossed my phone back on the counter. Maybe the best thing was to just tell Denise what I was up to—she could still write an article on me, but it would be truth instead of sensationalism. Not that I thought she would write an untruthful article, but if I had any control over what she wrote, I should at least try to inject some truth into the situation.
An hour later I’d made coffee, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. I was extremely lucky there was any food to speak of in my apartment—the cleaning lady had taken to doing my shopping as well. Apparently she felt bad that the apartment was generally already clean when she arrived every week, but whatever. When I needed food it was there, so what did it matter?
I was slicing strawberries when Denise shuffled into the kitchen wearing my bathrobe. My mind was a flurry of emotions; I couldn't, in good conscience, expect her to put her red dress back on, but seeing her in my robe evoked so many images of Maria doing the same that I had to just stop and stare.
She halted when she saw
me, raising a hand to run through her tousled curls. Her face held a hint of sheepishness. “So. Good morning.”
“Yes, it is,” I answered, walking around the kitchen island to pull her into my arms and plant a chaste kiss on her lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”
After pulling away a few inches, Denise cast her eyes downward. “Are you? That’s nice. I’m sorry about your robe. It was hanging on the bathroom door and I figured it was better than rifling through your drawers.”
“You’re fine. You look beautiful. Do you want some breakfast?”
We parted ways and sat on the terrace. It was a quiet, companionable meal. Denise was wowed by the view, and I was happy with that. When the act of eating slowed down and it was just us and the bustle of the world below, I said, “Let me tell you about my work.”
My companion laid down her fork and focused her hazel eyes on me. “Come again?”
“What I do in my lab. You want to know, right?”
She bit her lip for a moment. “I do.”
I sighed and folded my hands across my stomach. “My wife, Maria, died of an aggressive form of leukemia five years ago. Leukemia is usually one of the more treatable cancers, but the cells on this type had a strain we’d never seen—something aggressive and fast moving that responded very poorly to treatment. We were supposed to have much longer than we did.”
Denise’s features were frozen—patient, empathetic, surprised. My story wasn't anything near what she was expecting, I could tell.
“That… is awful. I’m sorry, Derek. So sorry.”
“We’d only been married two years. Thought we had plenty of time for children, travel, and a long life together. But none of that happened. Soon after, my grandfather left me the money and I basically bought the top floor of the hospital to dedicate to research.”
Her jaw dropped. “You own the hospital?”
With a shrug I hedged, “Not really. I own part of the hospital, enough to carry on as I please upstairs. I'll show you the lab. It’s all state of the art equipment. Since Maria’s death I've been studying her leukemia in my spare time, Eventually I started trying to formulate cures on my own. It’s a branch of medicine I’m not trained in, so it’s a lot of trial and error.”