by B. B. Hamel
“Kid had problems, sure, but his dad was handling it.”
“His dad was hiding it. Jean was a walking time bomb for this sort of thing.”
I sighed. I knew she was right, but still some part of me blamed myself for all the hurt that I’d caused.
“Stop blaming yourself,” she said softly, whispering in my ear. “You saved lives. You didn’t take any.”
I grunted. “Fine.”
“Plus,” she said, smiling wickedly, “you’re much sexier when you’re confident.”
I laughed and reached around her to grab her ass. “Even with a knife wound, I’m still the sexiest man you know.”
“I can’t deny it.”
“Damn right.”
She leaned over and kissed me on the lips.
It really was over. Laney was safe and Jean was dead. No more women had to die because of some sick fuck’s revenge.
His totally misguided revenge. He never did find out that I wasn’t the cause of his father’s death, even though I blamed myself.
Didn’t matter anymore. Really never did matter. It happened and I had tried to make it right. Maybe I did, in some small way.
Maybe I could start to move on, forgive myself.
With Laney’s help, anything seemed possible.
29
Laney
Months later
“How’s it going, college girl?”
I smiled at Easton as I walked into our apartment. Really, it was more like his office. We’d set it up almost identical to the one back in Mishawaka, with the reception and desk up front and our living space in the back.
“Class was shit,” I said, “but we’re almost done.”
Back in Chicago for my senior year. Because of Easton’s job, I didn’t really have to work to support myself anymore. He was making a killing working as a private eye in the city, way more than he could ever have dreamed.
Maybe “killing” wasn’t the best word to use.
After Easton had gotten out of the hospital, we started figuring out what the hell we meant to each other. I was in love, madly and deeply, but we were still stepsiblings.
Eventually, we had to come out to our parents. They didn’t take it well.
Easton moved back to Chicago with me, started his practice. I hadn’t spoken to my dad since, and Easton was more than glad not to speak to his mother. After everything, he still seemed to hold a grudge.
“Come here,” he said.
I walked over and sat down in his lap. He moved the chair back away from the desk to make room.
“That’s better,” I said. “Catch any bad guys today?”
“Only one pervert today,” he said, grinning. “Do you know what a furry is?”
I made a face. “I do, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Come on. It involves a wolf and a zebra.”
“No way,” I said, putting my hand over his mouth. “Stop right there.”
He bit me gently and I laughed, pulling my hand back.
“Don’t get me started about this city,” he said. “There’s so much shit.”
“Yeah, but you’re a good thing.”
“I try.”
I kissed him gently on the lips.
Life together was right. It was good. I knew what I wanted and I was making it happen. Easton was teaching me what he knew from the FBI, and sometimes I went out on assignments for his private practice with him. School was going well, and I’d never been happier.
His hands slipped along my body, and I felt that old familiar thrill.
“Easton,” I warned. “I have to study.”
“Study later,” he whispered. “Remember the first time, back in Mishawaka? On my desk?”
I blushed. “How could I forget?”
He stood, lifting me into the air, and placed me back down on the desk. “I was thinking about that earlier.”
He cleared some things off the desk, tossing them onto the ground. He kissed my neck, my lips, and I felt myself melting into him, needing it.
The nightmare was behind us. We were moving on, together.
I let him slide my pants down and pull them off. I let him kiss my thighs, my pussy. I let him taste how soaked I was.
“Been thinking about this taste all day,” he whispered.
“Easton,” I moaned. “I really need to study.”
“You can study soon.” He gently moved my panties aside and began to tongue my clit. “I want to study you first.”
“Shit,” I gasped, realizing he had me.
I let him lick my pussy and slide a finger deep inside me. I was completely his, and most days were like that. I wanted his body, his muscular, taut body, sweating against mine, powerful and in control.
I rocked my hips, riding his tongue, begging him to keep going.
I wanted to come, to come in his mouth, to release every ounce of stress from my day.
“Fuck, Laney,” he said. “I love this pussy, your body, everything about you.”
“Keep doing that,” I gasped, “and I’ll love you too.”
He smirked and kept sliding his fingers inside me, his tongue working my clit in furious circles.
I reached forward and grasped his hair, working my hips as he licked me. My whole body was tense with anticipation.
Slowly, so agonizingly slowly, we worked into a rhythm together. My orgasm crested and worked over me, sending my body into those amazing, convulsive spasms.
“Good girl,” he said. “Come for me.”
“Ah, Easton,” I moaned as the orgasm rolled through me.
Finally it passed.
That feeling never got old. It never, ever got old. The way he so powerfully took me, wanted me, and made me feel like that drove me wild.
I climbed down off the desk and into his lap again, resting my head on his chest. He kissed my neck gently, laughing to himself.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, breathless.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Come on, tell me.”
“It’s just that, you have no idea what’s coming for you later.”
I giggled. “What do you mean?”
“That was just a warm up.”
I nestled my head against him. “Good.”
And I knew he wasn’t lying. I knew he was still starving and always would be. I knew I wanted him too, as much as he wanted me.
It was just like that now. Our monsters were behind us, far, far away.
It was just Easton now, close, always close, for as long as I wanted.
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Craving something dark and dirty?
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I’m good at two things: rough sex and brutal violence, and I don’t know which one I love more.
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