Authors: Ranae Rose
“Do you want me to redo your bandages?” she gasped. “Before we—”
“No. That can wait. Everything can wait.” He sank onto the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
It felt good to have absolutely nothing between them, and his hand was looking a lot better. Breathing a sigh, she gave in, softening against him, liking the way his hard body supported her. The nights spent without him had been lonely, cold, and she never wanted to feel that way again. “I missed you so much.”
She’d gone seven years without him, and the several recent days he’d been kept from her had been too much – she wasn’t ready to be separated from him again. She never would be – that fact was as solid in her mind as his ring was on her finger.
“Missed you too, Detective Lettvin.” He flashed her a half-grin that lit up the strong planes of his face in a way so sexy her heart skipped a beat. “Soon to be Kemp.”
She shook her head, suppressing a laugh even as pressure welled behind her eyes, stinging. “The fact that you’re free has nothing to do with my pathetic detective work and everything to do with Mike coming forward. He—”
She paused, not wanting to ruin the moment but unable to fight off the wave of regret that washed over her, the guilt and shock that hadn’t begun to fade yet. “I had no idea what he was planning to do, Donovan. I would’ve tried to stop him, would’ve gone to the police sooner.”
At the thought of what Detective Wagner had discovered that evening at Mike’s house, her stomach lurched, killing the butterflies Donovan’s return had planted there.
“He’d done what he’d done,” Donovan said, still holding her close, “and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life behind bars because of it. Can’t say I blame him – it was his choice.”
Maybe, but…
“Suicide? It’s just…”
She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting themselves, had all but lost it when she’d seen Donovan burn his hand. “I feel bad. I was the last person to talk to him, and I didn’t realize what he was planning. He must’ve been in hell, and I didn’t do anything to… I don’t know, make it less hellish. I was so shortsighted – all I could think about was that his confession meant I’d get to see you again.”
After confessing to Clementine, Mike had gone straight home and taken his own life, leaving behind a note including the same confession he’d made to her.
The police had discovered his body and that the trunk of his car had been bloodstained, just like he’d said.
She’d been his last point of human contact on earth. It was a sobering thought, and she couldn’t help but feel that she’d wasted an opportunity to somehow make a difference, however terrible the circumstances had been.
“If I knew I was going to die, your face would be the last one I’d want to see. Just looking at you would make it less hellish,” Donovan said.
She aimed for a dry tone, trying not to cringe inwardly at even the mention of Donovan dying. “Somehow I doubt Mike felt the same way.”
“Don’t think about it, Clementine. The past doesn’t change, no matter how much you think about it.”
It was a truth, although not one that was particularly helpful. Still, he ought to know – his dreams, his sleepwalking, proved that his mind was full of things he’d learned not to dwell on. At least, not all the time. Closing her eyes, she focused on the bliss of his touch, the heat of his skin against hers.
“I love you, Clementine. I thought about this every day I spent locked up away from you. About went crazy, and I wasn’t even there a week – good thing they didn’t keep me any longer.” His voice was somehow soothing and exciting at the same time.
“I thought about it too.” She had, though it had been more about her desire to be close to him than sexual desire. Her nerves had been too shot to leave room for that.
He ran a hand slowly over the front of her bra, caressing her breasts and stroking her nipples through the lace before moving his hand to her back. “You’ll have to help with this,” he said, his fingers fluttering over the clasp. “Not sure I can handle it one-handed.”
She unhooked the clasp and removed the bra, then her panties, baring all of herself to him. Feeling his gaze on her body was a thrill – one that sent heat crackling over her skin like electricity. She barely moved as he ran a hand over her hip and up her body, slowly caressing her everywhere, eventually cupping her breasts.
In return, she ran a hand up his thigh, smoothing her fingers over solid muscle before letting them delve into his lap, curling around the shaft of his cock. He was firmer and hotter there, pulsing against her palm. As she ran her hand from root to tip, he groaned, causing her core to draw tight in anticipation.
His hold on her breast went from a caress to a squeeze, his fingertips denting her flesh and inciting an ache for more.
She stroked him faster and harder, pausing to trace the slit at the head of his dick with her thumb and to cup his balls below.
“Can’t take much more,” he breathed. “Feels like I’ve been away from you for a lot longer than a few days.”
She stilled her hand on his shaft, leaving her fingers wrapped around its thickness. “Lie back, then.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and he touched the inner rim of his lip with the tip of his tongue, the muscles in his throat shifting.
“You liked it that way last time,” she said, her thighs burning with the memory of being on top of him. She’d liked it too; the position allowed him to penetrate her deeply – completely. Gravity kept her close to him, necessitating the tight skin-to-skin contact she craved.
He reclined against the bed, body tense against the blanket and hair damp on a pillow. The bruise over his collarbone had faded, and she was able to look past it, to appreciate the broadness and strength of his shoulders, the way they dented the mattress, still shining here and there with water from the shower.
The box of condoms was right where they’d left it – she hadn’t had a chance yet to see a doctor about going back on the pill – and she reached for one, tearing the package open as she straddled him.
The feeling of his hard thighs pressing against the insides of hers was enough to make her head spin, nerves buzzing. She sheathed him, fingers gliding down the sides of his dick, rolling the transparent sleeve to the base. When her fingertips met the dark hair there, he sighed.
The soft sound spurred her on, bringing her desire to boiling-point. Entire body tingling, she rose and lowered herself back down, feeling the head of his cock bump her clit, then slide against her folds below.
He gripped his shaft by the base, steadying himself as she sank down, slowly succumbing to the invading pressure of him inside her, the bliss of being reunited in the most visceral way possible. The absoluteness of it drove all other thoughts from her mind, dulling her worries and sharpening her senses as she took all of it – all of him – in.
“Feels so good,” he said, gripping her by the hip and thrusting, rocking her with the force of his movement.
She agreed with a gasp instead of words, arching her spine as pleasure radiated through her, concentrated in the core of her being.
Slowly at first, then quickly, they rocked the mattress against its antique frame. When she leaned forward with a hand sprawled against the comforter for support, he caressed her breasts with one hand, eventually rising to taste their hardened tips. The feeling of his mouth on her nipples was electric, the pleasure all-consuming as it merged with the delight of being filled and stretched by him.
Bolts of white-hot sensation raced through her core, causing it to draw tight around his shaft. He thrust harder, tongue hot and teeth lightly scraping against her nipple.
That was it – she tipped over the edge, her entire body tensing, inside and out. Frozen by pleasure, she was motionless as he rocked into her, each stroke pushing her climax higher, deeper. Contractions rippled through her pussy, leaving her hyper-aware of the size and shape of him inside her, the scrape of the tip of his cock against a place so sensitive her head swam every time he hit it.
She exhaled hard, the noise of her own breath rushing in her ears as he moved beneath her, his stubbled jaw tickling the curve of her breast as he bit down lightly on her nipple.
Gasping, she pushed her hips back against his, feeling him sink a little deeper, his groin pressing against her swollen clit and sending a final burst of ecstasy rippling through her, hard-edged and fading as she said his name.
Finally lying back with his shoulders against the mattress again, he continued to rock her. Her gaze grew hazy, images blurring around the edges, but his eyes gleamed grey and sharp as he looked at her, expression hungry.
In the wake of her climax, her pussy was ultra-sensitive – she felt the subtleties in his every movement, even the rhythm of his breathing. She pushed anyway, finally putting her quivering thighs to work as she fucked him back, rising and falling, her clit bumping the flat plane of his groin each time she went down.
He swore and she knew he was close. He was hard as a rock beneath her – not just inside her, but everywhere, his muscles clearly defined in the muted glow of the overhead light. Eyes half-closed, he exhaled hard, his chest rising and falling, echoing the motion of his hips. She worked to keep up with him, to match his force, doubling the intensity.
He said her name when he came, eyes shut, hand gripping her hip hard, finally stilling her. His last few strokes made her bounce on his hips, the motion radiating into every bit of her body. When he stopped, she was still reeling, pussy wrapped tight around his shaft.
When she slid off of him, he captured her with an arm around her waist and pulled her down onto the bed. It felt natural to let her body conform to the shape of his, to lie half on top of him so she could feel his heart beat and listen to his breathing growing slower, steadier.
Lying there, she was thoroughly warm and content for the first time in days. The ebb and flow of his breathing reminded her of the ocean surf, and for a few long moments, she might as well have been on a Florida beach with him again. The weight of the ring on her finger lulled her into a daze, and by the time he spoke, she was half asleep.
“It’s late,” he said. “You still up for dinner?”
“As long as you are.” A fresh wave of satisfaction washed over her as she thought of what he’d promised, what they’d planned. “I’m definitely going to need coffee, though.” It was past midnight; beyond the bedroom window, the world was veiled in star-studded darkness.
“Good.” He rose, sliding to the edge of the bed as he unsheathed his still-hard dick. “I’m dying for some real food.”
She rose too, stretching before bending to pick up her bra and panties. “We could’ve gone to get something to eat first thing – I didn’t realize I was starving you.”
“You know me better than that, Clementine. When I want you, it’s all I can think about. No way was I going anywhere until I got you here.” He motioned toward the bed as he pulled his jeans up onto his hips, looking sinfully good in denim and no shirt.
Heat flooded her system, promising a full-body blush.
“Now that we’re going though,” he said, his gaze drifting to her left hand, where her engagement ring had been ever since he’d given it to her, “I’ve got an idea I want to tell you about. I think you’re going to like it.”
* * * * *
The last person Clementine had expected to run into at Ann’s was her mother, though maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised – everybody in Willow Heights ate at Ann’s, from second shift factory workers to McMansion dwellers. As a cold November wind chased her through the door, she nearly collided with the other woman.
“Clementine.” Pamela’s eyes widened, and she clutched a to-go cup of coffee against her wool jacket. “What are you doing here? I heard that Donovan sold the house.”
Clementine nodded. “He did.” The sale to Hugh Jeffries had officially taken place just days ago. Now Donovan was free of the responsibility of a mortgage and had a few thousand extra dollars in his bank account as a bonus. “We rented a moving truck and are taking the last of our things to Harrisburg now.”