My restraint dissolved as his other hand lowered my zipper leaving a heated trail in its wake. He pulled the front of my dress down exposing my silk bra, which barely contained my swollen breasts. He lifted one heavy breast out of its restraint and began rolling his fingers over my already hardened nipple, then followed suit with the other breast. His head lowered and alternated between biting and sucking each taut peak, and my body trembled spastically.
I tilted my head to the side, resting it on his chest, immediately feeling his heartbeat, as well as his uneven breathing. I smiled as I lightly tongued the shell of his ear before slowly dipping the tip inside. He growled; a low animalistic sound emanated from his chest. As my tongue flicked at the entrance to his ear, his fingers became more insistent. His breathing was irregular and I knew his control was as lacking as my own.
We were both desperately seeking a release. My body was strung tight; every flick of his finger, every lick of his tongue pushed me closer to the proverbial edge. I couldn’t stop and I didn’t want to. I was at the point where I didn’t care if anyone were watching. I pumped my hips back and forth, faster and faster. I could feel his cock harden against my backside as my gyrating movements masturbated him.
He was fucking me with his fingers, his tongue lashing across my oversensitive nipples. My pulse pounded wildly in my temples, my heart raced in my chest. I seriously thought I would combust then and there. I wantonly spread my legs wider, rocking, circling.
Then I felt it. It started way down low, deep inside and spread out across my belly like a fire. I buried my head in his chest effectively silencing my scream as an orgasm swept over me, the tingling pleasure flooding my senses, incapacitating me.
Cole, desperate for his own release pumped his hips underneath me as my body continued to move rhythmically, gliding over his cock. His head rolled back against the seat and a soft moan escaped his mouth as he shuddered, a look of euphoria slowly spread across his features.
When my breathing slowed a little, I lifted my head and was shocked to see that we had come to a complete stop in front of the apartment building. When, I don’t know. I instantly looked to the front realizing Ray had exited the vehicle and was standing outside, with his back to the Landaulet. I turned six shades of crimson. How did he know not to open the door?
Cole peered at me and smiled rakishly. He wasn’t fazed at all, wasn’t the tiniest bit uncomfortable. He assisted me in getting my dress back on, and zipped me up as I yanked it down at the hem. After he adjusted himself he slowly climbed out of the car and walked around to open my door. His suit jacket strategically draped over his arm, covering the front of his pants. As he helped me out, our eyes met and the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. With his other hand on the small of my back, guided me inside.
“Miss Preston, Mr. Grayson,” Joe said as he opened the door. “Goodnight.”
“Thanks, Joe. You too.” I smiled at him.
“Joe.” Cole cleared his throat and nodded he followed me through the door.
Our regular doorman, Tony, had recently suffered major heart attack, shocking everyone. He was the last person you’d ever think would have heart problems. He was a dye in the wool health nut that worked out regularly. No one, not even his physician, saw that one coming.
Joe, who was our part time doorman, along with Pat our doorman in-training, were trying to fill shoes that neither of them had any hope in hell of doing. I missed Tony and his ‘no holes barred’ personality, always the consummate professional who never put up with any crap from anyone.
We rode the elevator up in silence, my eyes trained on the floor. When we walked in to the apartment I kicked my shoes off my feet and bent down to pick them up. I flexed my toes as I stood in the foyer. My shoes, gorgeous nude suede open-toed, platform sling-backs, dangled from my hooked finger.
I glanced over to find Cole staring at me, an odd look on his face. Seems the hot car sex wasn’t enough to hold him over. In two strides he crossed to where I stood and swept me up in his arms carrying me towards my bedroom. My shoes fell noisily to the floor.
“Soon, we will be in our place,” he whispered while, nibbling on my ear.
“Stop talking…and fuck me,” I groaned.
He inhaled sharply. “I do love it when you talk dirty...”His chuckle had me swooning.
“Ace, do this…” I trailed off, my intention clear. “I. Want. You…” my breath coming in pants against his neck. The smell of his skin was totally intoxicating, and I was getting drunk just breathing him in.
A primal growl resounded in his chest as he dropped me onto the bed tumbling on top of me. He rolled to the side, kicking his pants off. His breath was hot on my neck, stirring my blood. He reached up and pulled my zipper down pulling my dress over my head revealing stockings and garters, which earned me a slow hiss through his clenched teeth. The heat in his fingers left a trail as he unhooked my bra, releasing my breasts. I lay there panting wearing just my panties, garters and stockings.
“Jesus, Grace…you kill me,” he said.
“Just do me…” Our earlier tryst in the back of the Landaulet momentarily forgotten, there was just the here and now.
Cole had just pulled my lace top stockings down my legs, and was making me totally wild, sensually encircling my bellybutton with his tongue, when the doorbell rang.
“Seriously?” I questioned looking up, my breathing labored. I wrapped my legs around his midsection, holding him in place. “Don’t go,” I pouted overdramatically.
“I’ll be right back.” The irritation sharp in his voice.
Pulling his pants back on he stepped into the hallway, obviously frustrated at having been interrupted.
“Cole…” my voice faded.
“Just stay there,” he said as he spun around, his tone commanding.
“I’ll answer the door, you stay here.”
I was met with a snarl and an imposing scowl, and decided to stay put.
I heard his footsteps fade as his bare feet padded down the long hallway. Several moments later I heard distant angry mumbling, followed by silence then more footsteps. I looked up to see Cole’s shadow looming the doorway, his silhouette outlined by the overhead light in the hallway.
“Grace!” he shouted, his tone clipped.
“What is it?”
“This idiot won’t let me accept your package, says you have to sign for it,” he mumbled indicating with his thumb behind him.
“Package? This late? Who the hell…” I stood up, quickly changing the tone of my voice, thinking it better to diffuse his anger, “Um…No… No problem.” I uttered. “I’ve got it. Tell him I’ll be a minute.” I wrapped my robe around me and walked to the bathroom sink to splash cool water over my face. After I dried myself off with a towel, I walked through the bedroom and living area into the hallway. I smiled weakly taking the proffered pen and signed my name on the paper clipped to the clipboard.
Joe, the part-time doorman, watched me, a crass smile on his face. I followed his field of vision to find his gaze firmly planted on my breasts. I knew you couldn’t see through it, my robe was thick, but his staring made me very uncomfortable. Cole noticed immediately and put his body between Joe and me. I do believe I heard him snarl. It seemed Joe was fully aware he’d interrupted our tête-à-tête, and was more than happy he did. He stood there smiling eerily. His whole demeanor gave me a creepy vibe.
“Thank you...Grace…um, Miss Preston,” Joe uttered under his breath.
My eyes widened as I looked at him, surprised by his casual use of my name. The doormen, as well as the rest of the staff here, had always acted with one hundred percent professionalism, keeping their greetings to Miss, Ms., Mister, etc. at all times. I eyed him as I took the extended package. He tipped his hat stepping backwards.
“Will there be anything else, Miss Preston?” he asked, the same odd grin clinging to his mouth.
“You got your signature.” Cole stepped closer towards Joe and I had to stifle a lau
gh as I watched Joe quickly take two steps back.
“No Joe. Thank you.” I interjected trying to deflect the tension that was rapidly building. I started to turn when I realized the hour. “Joe?” I asked facing him, “who delivered a package this late. It is a little unusual isn’t it?”
Joe smiled insipidly, his eyes never leaving the imposing, hostile male standing between us. “Yes, it is. Looks like the new guy Pat didn’t see it earlier. I spotted it when I came on duty tonight.” He stammered. “I knew you just arrived so I figured I’d bring it up to you…in case it was important.” He blurted out, obviously uncomfortable.
“Mmm.” I eyed him suspiciously. “Thanks Joe. Goodnight.”
I turned around and carried the package into the kitchen looking for something to open it with. I opened the drawer finding a pair of scissors. I could hear Cole curse under his breath as he locked the door after Joe, slipping the chain into place. I peeled the tape back and opened the top peering inside.
“Oh…Oh…Holy Shit!” I screamed. “Holy Shit… what the hell!”
I looked up to see Cole standing in the doorway of the kitchen. When he saw the terror in my eyes, a look of concerned surprise filled his once angry glare. He crossed over to where the now discarded box lay on the floor and picked it up placing it on the counter. He spread the flaps and looked inside. His head snapped up, and he pushed the box further back on the counter top and quickly walked to where I stood visibly shaking. Wrapping his arms around me, he guided me over to the breakfast bar.
“Is…is that what I think it is?” I asked horrified.
“Looks like it. Stay here.” He walked over to the wall, lifted the receiver and dialed 911.
“I need to file an emergency report, my name…my name is Cole Grayson…. Grayson…G.R.A.Y.S.O.N…I reside at 1442 Central Park West…Yes…correct…PH 1…The Penthouse…Yes.” He looked at me and I could see he was clearly irritated, his patience wearing thin. His eyes opened wide when it registered I was trembling violently. I could feel the blood drain from my face. Then the first wave of nausea washed over me leaving me lightheaded, and weak in the knees.
Cole promptly walked over to me, stretching the phone cord to its capacity, and dragged the stool out from under the breakfast bar, gently pushing me down on it. Standing next to me he answered the questions asked with a controlled anger. His arm around me held my body close to his for support as his hand rubbing circles on my back.
“Grace Preston. Yes. P.R.E.S.T.O.N. She is here now. If at all possible, I’d like to request Detective Dean Johansen. Yes… I’d appreciate that…Yes, we have a history. Thank you. Thank you for your help. My cell number is…” Cole rattled off a series of numbers that I was unable to register, my mind no longer able to process what he was saying at all. My head pounded in concert with my heart. I lifted both hands to the sides of my head and using my fingers, rubbed both temples hard in an attempt to push the throbbing dull ache back inside.
“I don’t understand. Who would do…I mean why? Why me, who would…who?” I said, my voice fading, a sick feeling spread through my gut. “Excuse me, I think I’m going to be sick…” I jumped off the stool and ran to the bathroom.
Cole quickly hung up and was right behind me as I lowered myself to my knees in front of the toilet. He leaned in grabbing my hair holding it off my face while I vomited…so much for our lovely dinner.
When I was finished, he took a face cloth from the linen closet and held it under the cold running water. Squeezing it out he pressed it to the back of my neck. I immediately felt better. The shocking chill was stunning, sobering. Still weak, I turned and sat cross-legged on the cold marble floor, one arm holding the facecloth in place, the other slung around my knees. Shaking my head, I looked at Cole unable to focus. I stared right through him, as if he weren’t even there.
“Who would do such a horrible thing?” My eyes filled with tears, I blinked them away quickly. “Was it real? I mean, is it real? Human…” I swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in the back of my throat.
“Looks like it.” He leaned down and helped me to my feet. Enclosing me in his arms he held me close and kissed my forehead. “Grace, go inside and get dressed. The police will be here soon.” He spoke gently, as if I were a child.
“That poor girl…is she…?” I left that question open, not willing to go down that road. I glanced into the mirror in the foyer and realized my robe had partially opened revealing a considerably good view of my naked breasts.
“Damn.” I closed my robe and made my way to the bedroom returning a few minutes later wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail.
“Better?” I smiled weakly.
“Much.” He said taking my hand, walking me over to the sofa. “Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”
I had a feeling of déjà vu watching Cole walk over to the bar to pour us a drink.
“Drink this.”
I grabbed the glass he held out bringing it to my lips and immediately drained the contents.
“Another?” He raised a perfectly arched brow.
“No thank you,” I said handing him the empty glass, “I’ll just throw it up.” I smiled weakly. “Did I hear you correctly? You asked for that detective. Detective Johansen…from…when…Jonathan…”
I was unable to finish my thought. A horrible chill ran down my spine causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. “You don’t think this is related to…”
“I don’t know. I just thought if this,” his eyes darted to where the box stood on the counter, “is a threat of some kind, he’d be the best to advise us.”
“Oh.” I forcibly pushed the thought of Jonathan out of my head afraid I’d vomit again. Suddenly I thought of Michelle. “Cole, could you go and check on Michelle, Please?”
“Of course. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
I heard him leave the apartment, walk down the hall, and knock on Michelle’s door. A few minutes later I could hear Michelle and Cole talking in the distance, which quickly turned into a loud expletive followed by my door flying open. Michelle stood in the archway to my living room holding a box that very much resembled the one I had just opened. She was wearing sweats and a tee shirt, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her free hand. Her hair was sticking up in a messy ponytail perched on the top of her head.
“Grace?” She asked tentatively holding out the box for Cole to take.
She was trembling, her face paled as she looked from me to the box on the counter and back to me again. “Gracie, you ok?”
“Yes.” I looked down at my fidgeting fingers, trying not to let her see the terror in my eyes.
“Grace.” Her tone hardened.
“Shelle, why does shit like this keep happening?”
“I don’t know Gracie…” She paused and turned her head to Cole. “Cole, can you grab us both a drink…Holy Fuck.” Michelle walked over to the sofa and sat down throwing her arms around me holding me tightly.
“We’ll get through this.” She reassured me, with a lacing of doubt in her voice. “Fuck… fuck…so help me if I find out that that crazy fucker had anything to do with this. He’ll wish he died.”
“Police should be here soon,” Cole confirmed.
“Good.” She tightened her grip on me. “You should ask for the detective from…” she trailed off.
“I did.”
They worked in unison. It was almost comical watching as they tried to comfort me while maintaining the steadiness in their voices. I found myself trying to hold back a laugh several times. Then thought of the poor girl whose finger…my stomach rolled…Damn it.
Chapter 4
It was thirty long minutes later when the doorbell finally rang. Cole opened the door and stepped back as Detective Dean Johansen and his partner Detective Carrie Verdi walked into the apartment. They quickly exchanged handshakes and the usual pleasantries. Dean’s gaze combed the room as though he were assessing a crime scene. His intellig
ent brown eyes not overlooking, or missing, a single detail.
He walked over to the counter, reached into his pocket and pulled out blue plastic gloves. The sound of the plastic snapping as he pulled them over his hands, startled me. After slipping them on he opened the flap of the cardboard box, peering inside. Without so much as a grimace, he tilted the box to the side allowing Detective Verdi to look inside. She pulled her gloves on before taking the box from his hands and lifted it up, looking for any address or markings on the outside, I assumed.
Without saying a word or glancing in our direction, he pulled out his keys and opened the small knife that dangled from the key ring and cut through the tape that secured the box Michelle had received. He pried the flaps open and reaching in pulled out a note card.
Detective Johansen scanned the note briefly and handed it to Detective Verdi.
I sat down and Michelle sat next to me. Cole walked around the back of the sofa and rested his hands on both of our shoulders.
Detective Johansen walked over and stood in front of us.
“You two causing trouble for me again?” He asked as he raised his eyes to look at us.
He stared directly at us both trying to look as dispassionate as he could but failed miserably.
“What does the note say Detective?” Michelle inquired in her no nonsense way.
“Miss Maloney…” Detective Johansen started to respond.
“I think we have a right to know what the note said.” She looked at me and we both nodded. “It was addressed to us, wasn’t it…so…”
Before she could finish her tirade, Detective Johansen reluctantly held the note out for Cole.
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