Peppermint Creek Inn (17 page)

“I want to…taste you,” she breathed.

Wow!

He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe she would be so willing… Ah, hell, he was wasting time. His fingers quickly curled beneath the elastic of his underwear and he pulled it down over his hips.

The thin material slipped over his straining cock and she gasped as it sprang free from the material. Her mouth was opening, and then he was pushing his rigid flesh between those pretty lips, sighing as her heated cavern slid against the thick tip of his cock.

He watched in stunned awe as her mouth closed around his flesh and he felt a powerful sucking on his rod. The searing sensation almost blew his mind. Almost made him explode right then and there. But he held himself under rigid control. It was hard. Real hard not to come as she sensuously explored the tip of his mushroom-shaped cock with her hot little tongue.

He closed his eyes, only to see all too clearly a vision of him going down on her during their picnic.

His eyes popped open once again as her mouth moved away from his cockhead and she licked one of his bloated balls. He swallowed harshly as her sharp teeth nipped sensuously at the skin. Awesome sensations shattered his composure.

“No time for exploring, woman. I need you now,” he hissed.

Grabbing both sides of her head, he guided her head back to his cock.

God! He couldn’t hold himself back and when she opened her mouth, he thrust into her.

She was hungry for him. The frantic way her lips stretched over his rigid flesh, her cheeks drawing in and out as she sucked hard, proved it. She sucked so firmly, he growled at the erotic pleasures that constricted his belly.

The length of her tongue tenderly caressed the underneath area of his cock. Incredible pressure built along his entire shaft.

He began thrusting.

Her succulent mouth smoothed over him expertly. Her hands were fondling his balls now, and he gritted his teeth at the way she squeezed and kneaded.

God, she was good.

Her moist mouth continued to seduce his stiff rod.

His body tightened more. Tensed and coiled with need.

She sucked harder, drawing his erection deeper into her moist cavern with each plunge.

Oh, yes! He could feel the orgasm coming. Could feel his control slipping.

“I’m coming,” he said in a strangled whisper.

Thunder crackled overhead. Stars flashed behind his eyes as he closed them and went with the oncoming lusty sensations.

And then his gut squeezed even harder, spasmed with an unbelievable carnal force and he just blew.

The climax ripped him apart.

Made him cry out. Made him thrust harder—deeper—faster as he strove for release.

She kept pace with his gyrations. Deep-throating him, giving him everything his tortured cock demanded.

She sucked harder. So hard, a deep groan of appreciation was ripped from his mouth.

“Sweetness!” he hissed.

His breath caught in his lungs and his hands held her head tighter, her silky curls flowed erotically over his wrists and brushed against his knees. His ragged cries shot through the bedroom as hot jets of sperm spewed down her throat.

Astonishing vibrations racked him.

Over and over.

Slamming through his balls, clenching his cock—her mouth squeezing all his creamy semen from him. And she drank every drop. Whimpering and moaning with every swallow as his jerking cock continued to unload.

By the time he was finished, her hot hands were curled intimately around each of his balls and she was holding on so tight to him he figured she was keeping herself from falling over.

He let go of her head and her hot bursts of breath caressed his scrotum and cock. She looked so beautiful with her face all flushed in the buttery light, her lips swollen and red from sucking him into mind-boggling oblivion.

Something warm and cozy, and intensely beautiful fluttered to life deep inside him. It blossomed and pushed through the black eternity of where his memories should be. Pressed through the layers of puzzling images of those hooker-infested nights he dreamed about, sliced through the visions of him slapping bills into the palms of cops with leering faces.

Instinctively, he realized he’d never felt this intensely about a woman in his life. And if he had, surely he’d remember such an overwhelming feeling of passion, this overwhelming need to be with a woman, wouldn’t he?

He shook his head slowly, not quite believing he could feel this deeply about Sara Clarke. Although it wasn’t too shocking, especially considering the fantastic way his heart had twisted the very first time he’d seen her coming up the walk that stormy night he’d fallen asleep on the veranda swing.

He frowned as she pulled away and slumped back onto the bed drawing the covers over herself.

No, he couldn’t let this go any further.

She was a stranger to him. And he was a fugitive. A man without a past. A man without a future.

She didn’t see anything in him except a lost man who needed a blowjob. It had been her female instinct that made her respond to him when she’d seen his cock straining for relief. That’s all. Just a female instinct.

To his surprise, a playful little smile tilted up her lips. “I guess I shouldn’t have done that.”

She was echoing the words he’d said after he’d sucked her pussy following their picnic. Obviously she was feeling frisky, wanting him to join her in bed. Make love to her.

Shit! He’d screwed up again.

He pulled his briefs back up.

Another bolt of thunder shot through the room making her eyes grow wide with fear again.

“Please, stay.”

He nodded.

She made no verbal invitation for him to climb into bed with her, yet he wanted to desperately. The flash of lust in her eyes said she wanted him to. But if he did, he’d mount her. Without a doubt, he would start fucking her. His cock was already growing hard again. His mind already swirling with the carnal visions of what he wanted to do to her.

But he couldn’t go to her. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave her. He had to stop it here. Stop it before things got so out of hand she developed feelings for him. That’s the last thing he wanted. She was still recovering from the tragedy of her husband getting murdered and miscarrying twins. He couldn’t add to her pain just because he was horny.

He would stop it right here and now by sending her a message that would be unmistakable. It would hurt her, but a little hurt now was a whole lot better than a lot of hatred later.

“I’ll stay…but on the chair.”

The sound of her stunned inhalation stabbed at his heart, making him want to take her into his comforting arms again just as he’d done at the picnic. And look what had happened when he’d done that.

He gritted his teeth in frustration, and plopped his sorry ass into the nearby armchair and watched her. Watched how the playful smile slipped from her lips. Watched how a sad pouty frown marred her mouth.

“I can’t let this go any further,” he tried to explain.

She looked as if she was going to protest, but changed her mind. Instead, she burrowed deeper beneath the comforter and said nothing.

They both remained silent as the storm tossed around the house. Finally, her eyes fluttered sleepily and she fell asleep.

He stayed until the storm passed on and the sky began to lighten. Then he left her and took a very long and very cold shower. After getting dressed, he located the master keys on the giant key rack inside the kitchen door. Giving Sara one last look as she slept soundly on the sofa bed, he smiled at the warm way his heart twisted and then headed outside.

Everything was still dripping and wet from last night’s storm when he stepped onto the wraparound veranda into the cool crisp gray dawn. The air felt damp and misty as it swirled against his bare arms, making him shiver violently. He should go back inside and grab the borrowed flannel shirt he’d draped over the kitchen chair last night, but decided against it. He’d warm up soon enough once he began to search through the contents of the office and the log structure. But first, he headed toward the truck.

Last night he’d cleared away the tree and branches. And now in the light he could see the damage inflicted on the cab of Sara’s truck. The tree had crashed onto the vehicle—spider-webbed the entire rear window, cracked a side window and wrenched a deep dent into the roof of the cab.

But the dent could be hammered out and the windows replaced. It wouldn’t look pretty, but the truck would still be drivable.

He climbed into the vehicle and jammed the key into the ignition. Nothing happened. He popped the hood, got out of the truck and lifted the lid. Some poking and prodding revealed a loose battery cable.

Retrieving an adjustable wrench from the toolbox he found in the extended cab, he quickly tightened the cable. Finding no more loose connections or visible leaks, he turned the ignition again and let out a tight sigh when the truck roared to life. Maybe, deep down, he had been hoping the truck wouldn’t be repairable, enabling him to stay here in this peaceful place for just a little while longer.

The tiny one room office cabin where Sara’s husband had been murdered was first on his agenda. Apparently, the building hadn’t been used since the murder of her husband, because the desk and bookshelves were all bare and the place, after being scrubbed clean, had been left to accumulate cobwebs here and there.

He found the area where Sara had pulled her husband up against the wall to use it to stop the flow of her husband’s blood. There was a slight nick in the pine wall, most likely where the missing bullet had lodged. He ripped out the plank with little difficulty and inspected it.

The bullet had never gone through. He searched through the fibers of insulation inside the wall just to be sure. It was quite obvious to him, someone, most likely the authorities, had already sifted through the fibers, because the insulation was loose and in disarray. Whoever had been searching here had done a very thorough job.

There was definitely nothing here now. Replacing the pine panel he ventured outside, to the west side of the tiny one-room office. Sara had said she’d seen something flash past the window on the fateful day of her husband’s murder. Shortly after that, the phone and lights had gone out.

Tom nodded knowingly when along the west side of the building he located the incoming electrical wires leading into the cabin almost directly above the west window. A foot away he spotted the incoming telephone line.

After carefully examining the two lines, he trudged over to what was left of Peppermint Creek Inn’s giant log building.

Damp air swirled around him as he stepped among the giant blackened timbers. He searched for anything suspicious, anything that didn’t belong. He sifted through the charred logs, metal and skeletons of burned furniture with meticulous fashion. Examined every shred of burned carpet fibers, electrical wiring, anything that hadn’t been burned beyond recognition.

Just when he was about to give up, he spotted something unusual. Something that made him wonder why the police hadn’t located it, because if they had, the items would most certainly be in an evidence lockup, not littering a crime scene.

—

The cheerful chattering of a blue jay pulled at Sara. Slowly, ever so slowly, she found her way out of sleep and opened her eyes. The living room was sunny and warm. Pleasant. She yawned and stretched like a Cheshire cat all the while wondering how she’d been able to sleep so well. She hadn’t slept this peacefully in years.

No dreams, no worries, absolutely nothing. Just oblivious peace. Peering over at the battery-operated clock on an end table, she gasped in surprise. Nine forty-five. How could this be possible? She was almost always up before six.

With a sudden burst of energy, Sara rolled out of the sofa bed. She felt great today. Absolutely fantastic. Just like floating on one of those giant puffy clouds she’d seen during yesterday’s picnic when Tom had suckled her pussy.

Just thinking about Tom brought more happiness shimmering through her. She could understand his hesitation to make love to her last night. He was afraid he’d hurt her. Afraid their sexual attraction would lead to something else. A man with such restraint had to have a good soul.

This morning she planned on telling him she wanted him to make love to her. Wanted it with her every fiber. To hell with the consequences. She just wanted to be loved again.

The cheerfulness inside her continued to soar and the idea of feeling this happy frightened her a little, because it had been so long since she’d experienced it. Nonetheless, she liked this carefree feeling. She liked it a lot.

Bright sunlight spilled through the windows, coating the kitchen with a joyous warmth as she tied the sash on her robe and walked into the room. The fresh aroma of brewing coffee filled the air with a tangy aroma making Sara smile. She hadn’t had a man make her coffee in so long and it felt good. Folding her arms across her breasts, she wondered where Tom was this morning. She’d checked his room, but it had been empty. His bed made.

She leaned over the kitchen counter, and peeked out the window and found him chopping wood. He looked up, waved, cast her a gorgeous, crooked grin that made her toes curl and returned to his chopping. He wore a white muscle shirt and Sara watched with awe as the muscles bunched up in his arms when he lifted the ax and swung a mighty chop, making the wood explode from his fantastic blow.

In one split second, from out of nowhere, she spied the dark, menacing shadow. It raced straight for Tom. He held a long, shiny steak knife in his hand.

Screaming, she crashed her palms against the window in a desperate attempt to alert him. The rattling was so intense she wondered why he couldn’t hear it or her warning screams. He continued to chop wood, totally oblivious of the dark shadow who now stood right behind him.

She smashed her fists harder. Screamed as the gleaming knife lifted, ready to strike…

Sara awoke with a start.

An intense feeling of doom smothered her, making it hard for her to breathe. She was drenched in sweat, her limbs trembling uncontrollably. The living room was as quiet as a tomb and almost as dark. Wide-eyed with anxiety, she peered through the dimness at the clock. Seven twenty-five.