by K. C. Crowne
“That’s the secret?” she asked, chuckling and shaking her head. “All these years, I had no idea.”
“Yep. He loved nutmeg. He put that stuff on everything.”
Elle took a bite of bacon and seemed to be lost in thought. “Huh, I guess he did. I never noticed. Sometimes it feels like I didn’t even know him at all.”
“A child will never know everything about their parents.”
“Yeah, I know, but I wish I could.”
There was a long silence as we ate the rest of our food.
“Does it ever feel like you never really know anyone?” she asked, staring down at her empty plate.
“I think so. We may not know everything about someone. We may not know that nutmeg is their favorite spice or everything they did in the past, but the things that matter? Yes, it’s possible.”
“And what matters? Who decides what’s important and what’s not when knowing someone?”
I shrugged and licked my fork clean, placing it on the plate. “You sure do ask hard questions, Elle. Always did.”
She grinned at me. “Some things don’t change.”
I thought about her question for a long while, but she ended up answering it on her own.
“You know, what matters is up to the individual, but I think we can all agree that some parts of a person are more important than others. Like, can you trust them? Are they the type of person who will be there for you when you need them?”
“It almost feels like you’re going somewhere with this. Like it’s relevant to everything that’s going on.”
“I am,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Because people keep asking me how I can still believe your innocent, even as the evidence continues to stack up. It’s because I know the things that matter about you. I know the type of person you are. And you’re not someone who would accept bribes, and you’re most certainly not a murderer.”
She stood up and walked over to me, reaching for my plate. I grabbed her hand, intending to stop her since I should do the dishes. She’d cooked, after all.
But when I grabbed her hand, she just stopped and stared at me, her brown eyes the color of sweet bourbon, a golden tinge to them that I’d never noticed before.
Her lips were pink, and not from lipstick.
I didn’t even know who made the first move, but somehow, those lips came closer and were touching mine.
So soft and warm.
Her tongue was velvety soft against my own.
Her jacket fell to the floor with a whoosh, her silk shirt brushing against my hands as I fisted the material, pulling at it.
Elle moved closer to me, climbing into my lap. Her body pressed against my erection, grinding against me. Her movements were clumsy. The chair wasn’t sturdy enough for both of us. The sound of glass shattering pulled my attention from her body against mine.
And I realized what I was doing.
I jerked away from her mouth and dropped my hands. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t—”
Elle stepped back, getting to her feet. Her cheeks were no longer pink, but bright red. She wouldn’t meet my gaze.
I stood up too, to find the empty plate on the floor, in pieces along with the beer bottle. “I need to clean this up,” I muttered, trying to distract myself from what had just happened.
That didn’t just happen. It couldn’t have. I didn’t just kiss my deceased best friend’s daughter. I didn’t just have her in my lap, grinding against my erection. The erection that I had for her.
“I think you should go,” I mumbled, not looking at her.
“No,” she said. Just a simple one-word response to my request.
“Excuse me?” I said, looking up in surprise.
“No, I’m not going anywhere. I came here to help you, Jeremiah, and I’m not leaving until we figure out what we’re going to do.”
She stood in my kitchen, her chin kicked out defiantly, hands crossed in front of her chest. Her cheeks were slowly returning to their normal color.
“Elle, we just—” I couldn’t put into words what we’d just done. It still felt so wrong to me. So very wrong. I looked down at the mess on the floor, feeling it was the perfect metaphor for my life at the moment.
But then I looked back up and saw her. Her beautiful blonde hair had fallen from loose around her face, and she looked more dishevelled than I’d ever seen her before.
But God, she still looked like an angel to me. My cock twitched in my pants, aching as it pressed against my jeans.
She needed to leave. I had to get her out of there before I did something stupid.
Again.
Elle
Jeremiah tried not to meet my gaze. He wouldn’t look at me for more than a second, but he stole glances in my direction as he lowered himself to clean up the mess on the floor.
My lips felt warm and tingly, and I could still feel his mouth against mine. His tongue sliding over my own.
I’d felt his erection pressing against me when I straddled him. His hands nearly ripped off my clothes.
But then I knocked the plate off the table, and it ended so suddenly.
I cursed myself for being so clumsy.
For being so careless.
In more ways than one.
I shouldn’t be kissing him; he was my dad’s best friend. Yes, I’d had a crush on him for as long as I could remember, but that didn’t mean it should become a reality.
Especially with everything going on.
“Here, let me help you,” I mumbled, hurrying to the closet in the hallway outside of the kitchen. I grabbed the broom and dustpan, and Jeremiah took the broom from me.
I knelt, dustpan in hand.
“I’ve got it,” he grumbled. “You should go.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I retorted. “I came over to help you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“You’ve helped enough.” He swept the mess into the dustpan I was holding. He didn’t fight me about that, at least.
“We haven’t figured out what we’re going to do about this problem yet.”
“We don’t have to do it tonight.”
“If not now, when? You can’t continue to avoid the issue.” My voice was raised. I stared up at him as he finished sweeping the glass. Once the floor was clear, I stood and walked over to the trash can to dump the mess into it.
“I’m not avoiding anything. I know I’m innocent and the truth will come out eventually.” As he said those words, his voice shook. Just a bit. He wanted to believe it, he kept telling himself that, but he had some doubts.
“Yeah, because innocent people never end up behind bars,” I said dryly, rolling my eyes as I turned to face him. “Spoiler alert, Jeremiah. They do. All the damned time. And I don’t want you to be one of them. Your daughters need you.”
He looked me dead in the eyes, and it took my breath away. I felt like I couldn’t breathe for a second, and that look alone could warm a whole house on a cold winter’s night.
I wasn’t aware of my feet moving forward until I was standing right in front of him. He stared down at me, towering over me. His jaw was set tight, his lips pursed as if he was trying to keep them shut.
Or keep them away from mine.
I licked my lips, remembering how surprisingly soft his had felt. For such a rough, tough man, his kiss had been gentler than I’d expected.
Filled with need, but soft and sweet at the same time.
That summed up Jeremiah perfectly, in my opinion. He was tough on the outside, but warm and gooey on the inside. And very few people got to see the gooey center of him. I was one of the lucky few.
“Elle, I have a lawyer. We can handle this without your help.” His words were stern, almost like he was talking to his daughter.
“And you also have a journalist, someone with detective skills that rival the FBI’s.” Maybe a slight exaggeration, but oh well. I was good and I knew it. No need to water it down and pretend to be humble.
“You’re so damn stubborn, do you
know that?”
I cracked a smile. “Admit it, you always liked that part of me.”
“Sometimes. But sometimes it’s a tad bit annoying.”
His face moved closer to mine; his hand was on my arm. All of it happened in a blink of an eye.
“How do you feel now?” I asked, breathless. I licked my lips again and stood on my tiptoes, trying to lift myself to his height.
He leaned down to meet me, his lips pressing into mine. He answered the question not with his words, but with his body.
He held onto my arms, backing us both up until I was pressed against the counter. Jeremiah’s hungry hands pulled at my top, yanking it up over my head and disposing it onto the ground.
He grabbed my ass, lifting me off the floor and sitting me on the counter. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pressed against me. His erection rubbed my most sensitive parts, only the clothing separating us.
And he was making quick work of my skirt, lifting it up. I fumbled with his belt, then his zipper. I needed to free him from those jeans.
I needed to feel him against me.
Inside me.
Jeremiah’s fingers rubbed against the crotch of my panties; he had to feel the wetness. He had to see how much I wanted him, how much I needed him. How much I craved him.
His fingers slipped inside my panties, circling my clit. I groaned against his mouth. “Please, Jeremiah, I need you.”
He buried his fingers inside me, causing my thighs to shake from pleasure. I gripped his shirt, pulling at it - wanting it off, wanting to see him naked. But our position didn’t make it easy, and I soon became lost in the sensation of his fingers stretching me, moving in and out of me.
His lips moved down to my neck, then my cleavage, dotting kisses along my flesh. Sweet, gentle kisses again, but his fingers were anything but sweet inside me. He fingered me like he had a mission in life to make me orgasm as quickly as possible, and it was working.
“Oh God,” I cried out, my entire body tensing. “Oh God, Jeremiah, I’m—”
I never finished the sentence, at least not with words that made any sense. I groaned as I came, and he never let up - even as my body squirmed and flailed.
As the last wave of pleasure washed over me, I knew it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
Reaching down, I slipped his pants over his hips. His boxers too. I took him in my hands, and marvelled at his thickness and length. He was bigger than I expected, though I don’t know why I thought he’d be anything but well-endowed. He was a large man.
Jeremiah moved forward, and I guided him to my opening. He held my panties aside, and before I could even take a breath to prepare myself, he thrust into me. I whimpered, clinging to him for dear life as he stretched me wider than I’d been stretched before. My entire body reacted to his penetration.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice soft. He rested his forehead against mine and, stared into my eyes.
“No, not at all. It feels so good.”
“Good.” He began moving in and out of me, and there was so much intensity in his movements. As if he was desperate.
Each thrust seemed to reach deeper and deeper, and I was a ragdoll in his arms. I was pressed against him, my face falling forward, resting in the crook of his neck as he fucked me. There was nothing gentle in that part. He fucked me wildly and with passion, and I loved every moment of it.
My pussy spasmed around his cock, clenching and releasing as I came close to climax again. Jeremiah’s breathing was ragged, his movements more desperate. Thunderous groans came from his lips.
No, not groans. Growls.
“Jeremiah, I’m close,” I whimpered.
“Cum for me, Elle,” he demanded.
My body exploded with pleasure as I obeyed his command, my orgasm bringing out his own. He thrust into me, one long, deep thrust, and that was it. He remained inside me, his cock pulsing as I spasmed around him.
We came together.
And it was beautiful.
Our bodies remained connected for several moments, until he slipped his cock out of me. A rush of warmth coated my thighs, and it was a beautiful, intimate feeling.
Jeremiah took my face in his hands, forcing me to stare into his eyes. I offered a sleepy smile, but his face was completely serious.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
My smile disappeared. “What do you mean? Don’t be sorry. I wanted it as much as you did, Jeremiah.”
“I know, but you’re Carl’s daughter. It’s wrong.” He stepped away from me, nearly tripping on his pants around his ankles. He pulled them up quickly, not looking at me as he did.
I hopped down from the counter. “Yes, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown-ass woman, and I wanted that as much as you did.”
Jeremiah didn’t speak. He picked up my shirt and handed it to me.
I quickly, jerkily dressed. “If you think this means I’m not going to help you with the case, you’re wrong. I’m still going to do that.”
“It could get ugly, Elle.”
“I know that. I know how these things go, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes. For both you and your girls.”
Jeremiah closed his eyes and a pained expression crossed his face. He knew there was no way he would win this argument. No way. I’d do what I want.
“Can we talk about this another time, please?”
I wanted to keep pushing it, but Jeremiah looked exhausted. He looked on the verge of tears, and that’s saying a lot for a man like him. I only saw him cry once in his life, and that was at my daddy’s funeral.
“Sure, of course. Just know that I’m going to get to work on this as soon as possible.”
He didn’t answer me. He didn’t even acknowledge what I’d said, but I knew he’d heard me. He just knew there was no use arguing with me.
“I’ll leave for now,” I whispered, knowing when Jeremiah was shutting down. If I stayed, it wouldn’t matter. He claimed I was stubborn, but so was he. He would shut down and shut me out for the rest of the night; he needed his space.
I’d give him his space. He had a lot to process, as did I.
I walked toward the hallway, stopping to pick up my jacket.
“You left your other one here too.”
“I can pick it up later,” I said, watching him closely. He nodded. I continued walking, and Jeremiah followed me to the door.
“I’d walk you to the car, but the girls…”
“It’s alright. I’m a big girl.”
I thought about it for a moment and finally decided to go for it. I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his cheek.
“Talk soon, Jeremiah.”
“Talk soon.”
I walked out to my car, knowing Jeremiah was in the doorway, watching me. The light from his house created a path to my car. I climbed inside, and as I pulled out, I waved at him.
Once I was on the main road, the reality of what we’d done hit me hard.
I just fucked my father’s best friend, who also happened to be the man of my dreams. The man I had compared every other man to for as long as I could remember, and none of them had stacked up.
“Siri, call Josie.”
The phone only rang once. “Hey, feeling better?” my best friend asked over the speakerphone.
“Oh, hell yes. Girl, you have no idea.”
Jeremiah
What did I do?
I stared up at the ceiling, the sun was beginning to stream in through the curtains. I’d been lying in my bed, tossing and turning for hours. The girls would be awake soon, and I didn’t get a minute of sleep.
It was going to be a long day.
Luckily, I didn’t have to go into work. Not that my reasons for taking the day off were a good one - I was put on leave while they investigated the charges. While that would probably upset most normal folks, I was a little relieved. Not because I was tired from lack of sleep, but because after everything, I reall
y just wanted to spend time at home with my girls.
Speaking of which… It started as a muffled cry, then the other joined in and it was a screaming fest.
Breakfast time.
For them, not me. I still needed to go to the store. Elle had used the last of the eggs and bacon the night before and I—
Elle.
I fucked Elle.
I mentally kicked myself again. If I could have physically done so, I would have.
Stop it, Jeremiah. Feed your girls. Go to the store. You can deal with Elle later. Add it to your list of things to do, along with trying to clear your name and not go to prison for murder.
I didn’t remember walking into the kitchen, or even preparing the bottles. I was in my head but trying hard not to think too much. The kitchen reminded me of her.
Right here, on this very counter. The one you’re preparing your daughter’s bottles on. You fucked your best friend’s daughter right here.
Had the tables been reversed and Carl was still alive when my daughters were of age, I’d have killed him.
I knew he’d have done the same if he was alive.
But he wasn’t.
I dishonored him by fucking his daughter.
I cursed myself as I took the two bottles and walked toward the nursery. I was a father now, I should have known better. I should have had more self-control.
I entered the nursery to Amelia and Grace crying in harmony. You know, prior to having kids, anytime I was around crying babies, it annoyed me. Now that I had my own, it only broke my heart to hear their pitiful cries.
I’d do anything to make sure they never had to cry again.
After changing dirty diapers as quickly as possible, I took a page from Piper’s playbook, putting the girls in their carriers. Then I sat down in the middle of the floor, a bottle in each hand, and fed my babies.
Elle was right about us not having food in the house, and I was running low on formula too. I needed to get to the store. I could put in a grocery delivery order, but then I remembered that made for a terrible alibi. I needed to be seen more, just in case someone else ended up dead.
Sad that I had to think about things like that, but it was true. I couldn’t stay locked in my house if I wanted to prove my innocence.
