For a few moments, he went for the kill—jackrabbit-hammering her into oblivion. He’d never heard her scream so damn loud before, and he almost lost his control when she squirted on his cock. Turning her back towards him, he yanked her up by the throat and made her wrap her legs around him.
“SHIT!”
He groaned as he plunged inside her, fucking her hard. The water was getting cold, but the sensations were too much, too good, to stop now. They were hooked on one another, physically, mentally, and emotionally. They owned each other’s heart, and he was too far gone to turn back. He sucked on the side of her neck, then drifted to her breasts, and licked her hard nipples. Grabbing her ass, he lifted her up and down, forcing her to ride his rigid cock and take each of his nasty, harsh jabs.
“Jack! Jack!”
She bit her lower lip and that faraway look in her eyes showed bright. Another orgasm… then another. As she came, the sticky wetness of her honey streamed down his shaft and he loved every drop she offered him. His hip muscles began to ache, but he couldn’t stop or slow the pace even if he wanted to.
“Fill me up, baby!”
Reaching the threshold, he pushed her back flat against the shower wall and exploded inside of her.
“Uhhhhh! Kim!” He growled, his head throbbing as he juddered and his muscles twitched wildly, the last of his velvety seed firing into her welcoming, soft walls. After taking a moment to recover in each other’s arms, SiR’s, ‘The Recipe,’ serenaded them as they stepped out of the shower, dried off, and put on clothing to sleep in.
She picked up her phone while he was slipping into the pajama pants he brought over for the night.
“I’m going to grab something to drink,” he said. “You want anything?”
“Uh,” she frowned as she stared at the screen, “um… no, I’m fine, baby. Drink whatever you want though. What’s mine is yours.”’
He wondered about her shift in mood, but decided to give her a minute before asking. As he headed to the kitchen, he thought he heard her talking.
“Kim. Do you need me?” he hollered, opening the refrigerator.
“No, baby! I’m talking to someone.”
Who in the hell is she speaking to this late at night?
He’d never been what he would call a jealous man in any relationship, but something was happening to him, and it had everything to do with this woman who’d stormed into his world with an iron basket, a body that could stop traffic, and a beautiful soul. At times, he found himself wondering what she was doing when they weren’t together, and his imagination would get the best of him. Askuwheteau had been right in accusing him of not only being in love, but setting up the trappings for his perfect prey. Not even for a second did he believe he’d ever get married again, but deep down, he’d wanted to find a woman who made him feel the way Kim did. He just never believed it would happen. Well, he’d been wrong. His dream had come true. The unseen was not only faith, but love. It wasn’t tangible; it was an emotion. A mindset. An action.
He grabbed a jug of orange juice and poured himself a tall glass of it. When he turned around to put it back in the refrigerator, Kim was standing there, holding her phone, looking at him out of the corner of her eye—as if she were too ashamed to face him head on.
“What is it?” He slid the juice back in the refrigerator and closed the door.
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
“Mad at you about what?”
She swallowed and after a little hesitation, handed him the phone. He cautiously took it from her hand.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jack Currant. My name is Walt Cottage, Kim’s mother’s ex-husband. I’d like to talk to you.”
“Okay. About what?”
He shot a glance at Kim. The woman was definitely avoiding eye contact as she bit her nails and twisted about like some tattered flag on a pole. She had been somewhat vague about her visit with the man. She’d stated everything had gone fine, that she learned a bit more about her mother, stayed the night at a hotel, then drove back home in the morning without much fanfare.
Kim, what the hell have you done?
“Well, I was hoping Kim had told you in advance what she requested of me, but since she didn’t, as she explained to me a moment ago, I will fill you in.”
“Yeah. All right.” Jack grabbed his orange juice from the counter and sat down at a small two-seater table in the kitchen. He took a gulp, then leaned back in the chair. The man ran down his time in college, his background, and then the big whamo came: he had been a high-ranking FBI official in the Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch.