Authors: Ronica Black
She flattened out her tongue and licked at Katherine’s engorged flesh.
“Oh…” Katherine let out a breathy moan.
Liz continued licking her, one big stroke at a time. Katherine’s knees buckled and Liz grabbed her buttocks, trying to steady her.
“Lie down,” she instructed, easing Katherine back on the bed while she remained on her knees.
The taste of her was sweeter than anything she could’ve imagined, and it was taking all of her strength to be patient and gentle, when what she really wanted to do was to devour her quickly and aggressively, to give in to the incredible appetite Katherine’s taste had awakened. But she knew that what she felt for Katherine went deeper than just a need for sex. She demanded more from herself when she was with her, and she wanted their first time to be special.
Feeling her twitch and jerk, Liz toyed with her, teasing her with her breath. “You want more?” she asked as she breathed upon her, her own body screaming its need for more.
“Yes, please. God.”
Liz grinned up at her. Then, licking her lips, she eased her mouth back down upon the soft flesh, kissing it deeply, swirling her tongue around the stiff clitoris while lapping at the nectar that was nature’s own sweet arousal.
She felt Katherine’s fingers in her hair and moved her tongue lower, to the source of the sweetness she so hungered for. Finding it warm, wet, and welcoming, she plunged her tongue deep within, feeling Katherine instantly tighten and bear down on her, luring her deeper. She expertly pumped her tongue up and down into the tight warm walls that held it captive.
Katherine bucked. “More,” she choked out, holding tight to the head between her legs.
Liz thrust her tongue, wanting to milk as much as she could. Persistent fingers dug into her hair and tugged at her head. Knowing it was time for more and unable to be patient, she lifted her head slightly and eased two fingers inside, curling them snug against the patch of skin that she knew was Katherine’s G-spot.
*
“Oh my God!” Erin’s eyes flew open. Liz was slowly fucking her with her fingers, and she was doing something else inside her. Something that was gripping her internally and causing a warm wash of pleasure to flood up through her center to her belly and beyond. It felt so good and she was a captive to the pleasure as her body bucked and writhed under the pumping hand.
“Yes, ride my fingers,” Liz cooed.
“Oh God, I can’t…” Erin tried to lift her head, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even focus her eyes. “I can’t take any more…It feels so good.”
Liz laughed. “Yes, you can. You can take so much more.” She lowered her head once again to feed. Once her tongue had stroked around the hard clitoris, she sucked it into her mouth and held it prisoner with her teeth as her tongue resumed its wet, firm assault.
Erin clenched her jaw and threw back her head, pushing herself tightly against Liz’s mouth between her legs, arching her back as the waves of pleasure increased and the pressure mounted within her. “I…I’m dying.” Her voice was like gravel, and quickly losing strength. Her eyes were clenched closed and she did indeed feel like she was dying, like she was drowning, the pleasure too great.
*
Liz held fast to her, sucking her flesh and fucking her deeper and faster. She could feel her own excitement building between her legs, and she rocked into Katherine, knowing the pressure from her leather underwear alone would send her over.
Katherine let loose of Liz’s hair and grabbed at the bed covers, her grip impossibly tight as she awaited the looming tidal wave of pleasure. She began to speak again, but she didn’t know what she was saying—the words sounded so unlike her, as if there were someone else inside her, possessing her soul.
“Fuck me! Harder, don’t ever fucking stop! Don’t…ever…fucking…stop!” She lost all control as waves of pleasure smashed through her over and over again. She clung once again to the dark head between her thighs and held it tightly as her hips bucked and fucked, riding out the stormy waves. A low, throaty howl resounded from her lungs, choking her up, before it eventually faded.
Liz held her tightly until the last of the spasms passed. Then, slowly and carefully, she moved her hand and mouth and crawled up on the bed next to the woman she had just made love to. Never before had she been so moved by the act of sex. Never had she had a woman who was so responsive, so verbal. As she lay down next to her, her own sated flesh gave one last twitch from the orgasm she had experienced on the same wave that had taken Katherine over.
She bent down and stroked the flushed cheek of the woman beneath her. “Katherine.” She wanted, needed to look into the expressive green eyes.
*
Erin heard the word from somewhere at the end of a tunnel, but she didn’t respond. The name had no meaning in the world she had entered.
“Katherine,” Liz whispered as she bent down to plant tiny kisses on her neck.
This time reality smashed back into Erin’s mind at warp speed. “Oh God.” She sat up quickly, avoiding Liz’s touch and her soft, pleading eyes. They were not the cold eyes everyone had told her she would see. Liz thought she was someone else. She had made love to Katherine Chandler, not Erin McKenzie.
What had she done? Not just to the investigation or to herself, but to this woman? Erin scooted off the bed and hastily pulled her clothes on. She didn’t care what anyone said—it wasn’t just sex, it had been so much more. She tried to swallow as she jerked on her pants, but her throat felt raw from the strain. Was sex between women always this powerful? She suddenly felt like crying, her emotions dangerously close to the surface after such an earth-shattering orgasm.
“Katherine, what’s wrong?” Liz was dressing just as quickly, a look of panic on her face. “Are you okay?”
Erin fastened her bra and reached for her boots. She didn’t bother to tie the laces. “I…I’m fine. I just need to go, that’s all.”
Liz stared at her, obviously baffled and upset by the drastic change in mood. “Did I…hurt you?”
“What? No.” She met Liz’s eyes and was shocked at the vulnerability she saw there
. Someone was wrong about you, so very wrong,
she thought as she watched the raw emotion play out on Liz’s beautiful face. Tears tightened her sore throat and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “I just have to go.” She tore away and ran out the door.
Liz didn’t chase her. She simply stood and stared after her, too shocked to move. Finally, she took the boot she was holding in her hand and threw it against the wall. “Fuck,” she said as it thumped and fell to the floor.
*
Patricia had been staring up at the top of the stairs since she saw Liz and Erin ascend to the top and disappear. Now, as she stood with a half-empty bottle of water in her hand, she barely had time to process the sight of Erin poised on the landing, wiping her eyes, before the young detective bolted down the stairs and out of the club.
Patricia opened the water and gulped, trying to look natural while her insides were screaming with the need to go after her. But she could not follow immediately without causing suspicion, and this was not the time to blow Erin’s cover.
As the minutes crawled by, she made her way to the side of the bar where Liz’s cameras couldn’t capture her, walked over to the wall, and nonchalantly leaned against it.
“Can I get a code 4 on Mac?” she said.
“Negative. She’s on foot.”
“Fuck!” Patricia pushed herself off the wall and walked as casually as she could from the club.
No one paid her any mind as she exited. Rain and dust stung her skin, carried by the angry wind. Shielding her eyes, knowing that cameras more than likely tracked her to her truck, she fished out her keys and climbed in. Once inside she cranked her engine, threw the truck into reverse, and drove out of the parking lot.
“Where is she?” she demanded.
“Negative,” J.R. replied.
“God damn it, one of you has to have seen where she went!” She scanned the streets while her windshield wipers skidded across the glass, doing little to clear away the light, dirty drizzle.
At the end of the block behind the club, she spotted her, on her knees on someone’s front lawn.
“Jesus,” Patricia mouthed to herself as she left her truck to face the powerful monsoon wind once more. She ran to Erin’s side and knelt down. “Mac! Are you okay?” She frantically checked her for any obvious signs of injury and, finding none, focused on her wet face.
“I feel sick.” Erin retched as she said the words, but nothing came up. “I’m so damned thirsty.”
“Come on.” Patricia slung Erin’s arm around her shoulders and helped her up into the Blazer.
She buckled her in, climbed behind the wheel, and drove slowly into the storm.
“Where are we going?” Erin’s voice was meek and strained, her eyes hazed and distant.
“Home.” Patricia made a turn at the stoplight and steered the Blazer toward her street. She was taking Erin home with her, the place she should’ve been all along.
Patricia sat on the edge of the bed and watched the young detective sleep. She looked so peaceful, almost angelic, as the bright morning light haloed her in gold. Her eyelids fluttered and her mouth opened to release muffled words. She threw her arm above her tousled hair and settled back into the peaceful confines of sleep.
Patricia hated to wake her after all she had been through the night before. Jealousy ate at her as she remembered the state Erin was in when she found her. She had been distraught and physically ill, and Patricia knew it had more to do with Elizabeth Adams than it did the drugs she had no doubt ingested. Erin had refused to discuss her encounter, leaving Patricia to draw her own conclusions. Erin had removed her wire. She had been completely alone with Elizabeth Adams for the better part of an hour.
Patricia clenched her jaw as Erin shifted once again in her sleep. Faint red marks dotted the skin on her neck and chest, remnants of a heated and hungry mouth. Visions of Liz and Erin devouring one another flashed in Patricia’s mind, and angry blood burned her cheeks. With a cold yet heated shudder, she forced herself up from the bed, suddenly needing to put distance between herself and Erin, as if the detective were tainted.
She almost left the room then, but she had a job to do first. Her insides churned as she recalled her most recent conversation with Ruiz. He wasn’t happy. Patricia had told him that Erin had gone dangerously far with their suspect and had put herself at risk by allowing herself to become impaired. Ruiz, clearly frustrated, predictably decided it was time to take her off the case. Patricia had agreed wholeheartedly.
But as she stared at Erin now, she knew it wasn’t because she feared for her life, it was because she was jealous. Jealous and angry and bitter, at Liz and at Erin. How could she have let Liz touch her? What happened after she removed the wire? There was only one reason she would have had to remove it—intimacy.
Questions burned her as Erin shifted again in the bed. Like it or not, Patricia knew she had to talk to the young detective. With a deep sigh, she placed her hand on Erin’s shoulder and gently shook her.
“Mac?” Her voice was a whisper, strained with angry emotion rather than gentleness.
Erin stirred slightly and moaned. A lump under the covers next to her stirred as well and Jack emerged, stretching as he walked.
“I wondered where you were.” Patricia eyed her sleepy dog, wishing things were as simple for her as they were for him. She wished all were well and she herself could curl up next to Erin. But she was afraid that would never happen now, and the probability stung her down deep, nauseating her.
“Erin?” She tried again, suddenly coldly detached, determined to do her job.
“Oh God.” Erin groaned and opened her eyes. “I feel like a train hit me.” Her voice was not yet awake.
“Yeah, I can see that. We need to talk.” Patricia forced indifference, fighting her feelings of attraction.
“Uh-oh. I’m beginning to hate it when you say that.” Erin sat up and leaned back against the headboard, rubbing her eyes. “Shoot.”
“I have some bad news. It’s Mark.” At Erin’s blank stare, she added, “Your Mark,” and saw the color drain from Erin’s face. “He was attacked last night. He’s going to be okay,” she said hastily. “He’s critical but stable.”
Erin lifted her eyes to meet Patricia’s. She sucked in a big, shaky breath as if she had just surfaced from a deep dive. “What happened?”
“He was found in a hotel parking lot, shot and stabbed,” Patricia replied, feeling way more than relief at the way things were panning out. Mark was injured and Erin had been found emotionally and physically distraught, not to mention impaired. The combination of factors was more than enough to take her off—and keep her off—the case. Patricia felt good about that, right or wrong.
Erin cupped a quick hand over her mouth. “Oh God.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“There’s something else you should know.” Patricia licked her dry lips, satisfied that Elizabeth Adams would never touch Erin again. “There was a picture of you pinned to his shirt.”
*
“What do we know?” Patricia asked, staring at the stark white of the hospital floor, already drawing her own conclusions in her head.
“We don’t know jack.” Stewart smacked his gum and searched his pockets for the pack of spearmint. He offered her some, to which she shook her head. “Did you show Mac that picture?”