by Laura Sutton
“What made you start recording him a year ago? What changed? Did you finally want out?” Sam asked. “At least, that’s why I’m assuming you set up hidden cameras in your home.”
Debra dabbed her eyes gently with her napkin and nodded. “I wanted a divorce, and I wanted ammunition to use against him, to let me and the children go quietly.”
“You wanted to go quietly? But why, Debra?” Sam asked, a bewildered look on her face. “He was abusive. Why wouldn’t you want your abuser brought to justice, or at least, punished in divorce court?”
Eli agreed; why not punish the bastard? Hell, a heart attack was too peaceful a death for a wife-beater like George Cork.
Debra shrugged, frowning. “George was good on the pulpit, and he helped so many people, inspired so many, that I didn’t want to be responsible for taking that away from him. But I also couldn't suffer anymore as he struggled with his demons, either. Especially not after–”
She broke off on a sob, hand coming to cover her mouth. Sam leaned closer and put a comforting arm around the older woman while she trembled, struggling to compose herself.
Eli handed Debra his handkerchief. She took it with a watery smile.
“After what, Debra?” Sam pressed, but with delicacy. “We only want to help you, but to do that, we really need to know everything.”
Debra straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Candice, my oldest… she’s a bit of a rebel. Not anything bad, but she’s a teenager, figuring out her own identity, and that was not the identity George wanted her to have.
“First, the poor thing takes after me, looks-wise, and inherited my crummy metabolism. Second, she started to push back against George, and he didn’t take that well. She was listening to the wrong music, wearing the wrong clothes, basically just no longer the perfect representation of a preacher’s daughter. The first time he slapped her, I knew we had to leave, and I needed to take the children. But I didn’t kill him.”
Debra grabbed Sam’s hand, her eyes desperate and pleading. “Please believe me, I wanted to leave. I wanted to protect my children, but I did not kill him.”
Sam nodded gravely, “I believe you, Debra, and we will do everything we can to make sure you’re not convicted.”
Eli leaned back and sighed. He believed Debra, as well. Eli had met killers; hell, he had been raised by killers, and Debra was not a killer.
Unfortunately, the police and the district attorney did believe that Debra was a murderer. They were pushing hard for a plea deal, because their case was wholly circumstantial and would be hard to prove. Because Debra and George were such a high-profile couple, however, the real trial wouldn’t take place in the legal courtroom, but in the courtroom of public opinion, and Debra did not have that on her side.
The people who loved George blamed her and considered her a bad wife. Others believed George had hurt her but thought ‘well, here is this abused woman, of course she did it’. They had an uphill battle to fight, but Eli glanced across the table at Sam and smiled. She had accomplished more in one evening than he and Richard had managed in months. His respect for her, already high, shot up even more.
The rest of dinner went smoothly. There were laughs and stories, mainly from Sam and Debra about living and going to school in Louisiana, but Eli joined in as well. He was glad to see her so happy and light-hearted; he hadn’t realized how much he missed the sound of her laughter until he heard it once more.
They finished their dinner and Eli and Sam both walked Debra to her car. Sam promised to call Debra on Friday with any follow-up questions she might have. Eli shook Debra’s hand, and they watched her drive off.
Eli turned to Sam, suddenly more nervous than he had been on his first date when he was sixteen.
“So where did you park? So I can walk you to your car?” he asked her, struck by how lovely she was, her skin gleaming like pearl in the moonlight.
“Oh, I only live two blocks away – I actually grabbed a ride share, but it’s such a pleasant night, I think I’ll walk.” She smiled up at him.
Walk alone? At night? No, never.
“How about I walk you home?” he asked; he could get his car later. No way was he going to allow her to walk home alone. Anything could happen.
“Alright,” Sam agreed and turned in what Eli assumed was the direction of her apartment.
The walk was silent for a bit, and Eli was glad for it. He was still reeling, a bit, from the act that Sam was his new colleague at the firm. He needed to gather his thoughts and remind himself why, even if fate had brought this astounding woman back into his life, nothing had changed.
That’s what his brain said, at least, but not his heart. His heart was demanding he take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
“So, are you enjoying Alexandria?” Eli asked, groping for something to do with his tongue that didn’t include dropping to his knees on the busy sidewalk and fucking her sweet pussy with it.
“I suppose I haven’t really gotten to experience it much yet, but I do enjoy the jogging trails. I went for a walk Sunday afternoon and plan to do that more.” She shrugged a little. “What about you? You’ve lived here longer than I have. Do you enjoy it?”
‘More, now that you’re back in my life’ was how he wanted to answer, but instead he said, “I do, though I don’t really do much of anything besides work. There is this amazing bakery I love to go to in Arlandria, they have the best empanadas.”
“You have to give me the name of the bakery– I need to take a day and explore the city for myself. Maybe when we wrap up this case.” She stopped at the entrance of a tall, new-looking apartment building. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to tell her goodbye yet.
“Well this is me,” she said, gesturing to the glass doors of the building. “Thank you for the walk, it was nice.” She smiled at him, that sweet smile that made her eyes shine.
“Yes, it was,” he answered, his heart pounding.
“Well, I’d better–” She gestured toward the building and began to edge toward the building.
“Sam!” he called, a little too loudly, but she stopped and turned back around to face him.
“Yes?”
“I– well, that is…” He floundered for something, anything to say.
“Eli? What is it?” she asked, concern etched on her face.
“Oh, fuck it,” Eli growled and pulled her close, his lips slanting over hers and his tongue demanding entrance to her mouth without preamble. Sam moaned into the kiss and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. He couldn’t stop his hands from roaming, first down her back to grab her very generous ass and pull her against his hardening cock, then around her waist to run his fingers over her cleavage. Eli groaned and deepened the kiss even more, his tongue sliding hotly against hers. He kissed her like a man starving for her touch, and he was. He hadn’t even realized how much until the moment his lips met hers.
The sound of someone exiting the apartment doors and walking by them on the sidewalk interrupted the moment and Eli reined in the kiss, his hands moving to the relative safety of her waist.
“Would you like to come up?” Sam whispered, her lips still so close that they brushed his with every word.
Eli slid his eyes closed for a moment, his heart and mind locked in a battle of wills. He wanted her, had never stopped wanting her; hell, he needed her, but it still wasn’t safe to be with her. It would never be safe, not completely.
He felt her pull away. She took his silence as the rejection it should have been, but he tightened his hold on her waist, and leaned his forehead against hers.
“I would very much like to come up,” he answered finally and opened his eyes to find her smiling at him.
“Good,” she whispered and took him by the hand, pulling him into the building. He still wasn’t sure how he would protect her in the future, but right now, that night, all he wanted was her.
Chapter Seventeen
Samantha
The ride in the elevator was torture. Eli still h
eld her hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over her skin. She wanted to kiss him, but they weren’t alone in the elevator. Finally, it reached her floor, and she tugged Eli by the hand down the hall to her apartment.
While she was rummaging through her purse looking for her keys, Eli’s lips were on her neck. It felt so good, so right, that she couldn’t concentrate on the lock.
“Need some help, bimba?” Eli breathed into her ear and Sam moaned, leaning her head back against his shoulder.
“Open the door, Samantha,” she groaned to herself but finally she fitted the key into the lock, the door opened. The pair of them stumbled into her apartment, lips and hands roaming the moment they were in private.
“God, this dress has been driving me crazy all night,” Eli groaned into her neck, his hands pulling the skirt up. “Did you wear this to torture me, bimba?”
“Maybe,” she whispered against the skin of his neck, enjoying being in his arms, the hardness of his body under her hands.
“I knew it, and all I could think of all night was touching you, slipping under the table and burying my face between your legs and making you come on my tongue.”
Sam groaned at the image and curled her hands in his suit jacket, uncaring that she wrinkled the fine fabric. Eli pulled her dress up and Sam released him, raising her arms so he could remove it entirely.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes raking over her body, clad in only her black lace underthings. Sam reached for him, but Eli stopped her. “I just want to look at you for a second, bimba,” he told her, his voice a husky whisper.
He ran the pad of his finger over one of her hard nipples, tenting the lace and silk of her bra, and she gasped when he pinched it between his fingers. His mouth closed around the other nipple, sucking it into his hot mouth through her bra. Then he was sliding to his knees, still dressed in his suit, sliding her panties down her legs. Finally, at long last, his mouth was on her, his tongue slipping between her folds, and when her knees buckled she had to grab his shoulders to keep from falling to the floor.
“God, Eli!” she moaned when he slipped a finger inside her, flicking her clit with his tongue. Her orgasm built with every lick, every thrust of his finger. He slid two fingers inside her, then three, his other hand gripping her hip hard to keep her in place as he fucked her with his mouth. Eli wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking hard, and her world splintered into shards of light.
Bliss like she hadn’t experienced in a year coursed through wanting body. She shook and shook, crying out, hips flexing as rapture pulsed through her. At last it waned and she slumped against the wall, panting and dazed.
When she opened her eyes again, Eli was standing, eyes hot and starved. “Get on the bed, Samantha, on your hands and knees, bimba.”
Her knees threatened to soften again. She took a wobbly step away from the wall, then another, until she was at her bed. She climbed onto it as he had directed, the position exposed and incredibly wanton. She couldn’t see Eli, but the rustle of cloth said he was taking off his clothes. Anticipation for what would come next had her ever nerve ending on alert.
“You know, I should spank you for wearing that dress tonight, for teasing me in front of a client,” he said idly, and Sam bit back a moan, her pussy clenching around the void only he could fill.
He climbed on the bed behind her, his hands rubbing gently over the globes of her ass.
“You’re a naughty girl, Samantha,” he said, and smacked her ass. The shock of it made her gasp and flinch away, but once the sting faded, her arousal had been stoked even higher. Sam lowered her head to her folded arms on the bed, lifting her ass a little higher.
“Did you like that, bimba?” Eli asked softly and rubbed the spot he’d just hit, soothing the pinkened flesh.
“Yes,” she said into her arms.
“I didn’t hear you, Samantha. Did you like that?”
“Yes,” she repeated, louder that time. Eli draped his body over hers, hard cock pressed against her ass, chest and stomach against her back.
“Good girl,” he whispered hotly in her ear. “If I do anything you don’t like, tell me, and I will stop.”
“Alright,” she whispered back.
He trailed a line of hot, wet kisses down her spine. “Fuck, this a beautiful sight… your ass in the air, pussy red and wet and swollen for me.” Eli groaned and then smacked her ass again, a little harder. “Don’t tease me like that again, Samantha,” he growled, and smacked the other side of her ass.
Suddenly he was inside her, his thick length stretching her to her limits. He set a bruising pace, fast and deep, and all Sam could feel was relief. Finally, finally, finally. It had been too long. In the year of their separation, she had often wondered if she’d imagined how good it had been between them in Costa Rica, but… no, she hadn’t imagined it. The reality lived up to the memory, even surpassing it.
He grabbed her hips, pulling her tight against him, pistoning into her hard and quick. She reached back to try to touch him, to feel his skin as he fucked her so perfectly, but he grasped the hand reaching for him, and then the other, holding them behind her back. He had total control of her… and she fucking loved it.
Nothing had ever felt so good. She let slip the final shreds of her self-control and gave herself over to him completely, letting him move her, use her, however he liked. She was his, wholly, she existed for his pleasure… suddenly, forcefully, she came. Her back bowed, head thrown back while she cried out her release. Somehow, despite the powerful haze of sensation blinding and deafening her, she felt Eli pull from her and then the heated wetness of his semen spraying over her back. She collapsed onto her stomach, her muscles turned to jelly, and felt it trickle down her sides, the wet trails cooling in the conditioned air.
“Be right back,” Eli murmured. He climbed from the bed and padded off, presumably to her bathroom. The water went on and off, and then he was back on the bed with a warm, damp cloth, cleaning his spend off her skin.
“There we go. Come on, under the covers,” Eli directed softly.
Sam gathered the strength and slipped under the sheets, burrowing her face into her pillow, but when long moments passed and he didn’t join her, she extracted her head from the fluffy softness to peer at him with one sleepy eye.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, stomach clenching at the idea of him making love to her so fiercely, and then just… leaving. He wouldn’t do that to her, would he? Could he?
He was standing naked beside her bed, staring down at her with an unreadable expression.
“No, bimba. I’m going to make sure the door is locked, that’s all.”
“Mmkay.” The post-sex fatigue was taking over; she managed to stay awake just long enough for Eli to slip into bed beside her. He pulled her into his arms and she slept, the best sleep she’d had in a year.
Chapter Eighteen
Eli
Eli came awake slowly, squinting against the early morning sun flooding into the room. He was warm, a little over-warm, even, and that might be because Sam was draped over his chest, her hair tickling his nose and one of her legs between his. His cock gave a curious twitch against the plush cushion of her thigh, but he knew he didn’t have time even for a morning quickie; he had to get back to his apartment and shower and dress for the day.
“Sam, bimba, wake up,” he whispered, rubbing circles on her back.
“Mmmmm,” she groaned and stretched, and the arm she had slung around his waist tightened. She moved her head up to his shoulder, opened her eyes and smiled.
“Morning,” she mumbled, and he leaned in and kissed her soft, sleep-flushed cheek.
“Morning,” he replied with a grin.
“What time is it? Do you have time for a quick breakfast?” she asked and leaned across him to her bedside clock. “It’s 6am. What time do you need to be in the office?”
Sam sat up and the sheet fell away, putting her breasts on display, and he couldn’t help running the backs of fingers over her pretty
pink nipples.
“Hmmm,” he said, pretending to contemplate the time as he gently fondled her breasts.
“Eli…” She snapped her fingers impatiently in front of his face. “Breakfast?” She tried to appear annoyed but her grin and blush gave her away.
“Yeah, we’ve got time for breakfast,” he mumbled, rethinking the ‘no time for a quickie’ idea, but she slapped his hand away to climb out of bed and slip on a short, soft gray robe.
“No hanky panky, I’m starving. Want scrambled eggs?” she called out as she exited her bedroom door.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Eli said and flopped back on the pillows, willing his cock to go down. He took a couple of deep breaths, then grabbed his boxers and pants from the floor and slipped them on before following her out of her bedroom and into her tiny kitchen.
“Can you start the coffee?” Sam gestured to her coffee maker with a bag of rich-smelling grounds right next to it. Eli did as he was instructed and watched as she started frying bacon and whisking eggs. It was so simple and domestic, and a pang of longing shot through him, quickly and ruthlessly suppressed?
“So, how do you want to handle this?” Sam asked bluntly, dropping a lump of butter into the hot pan and waiting while it began to sizzle. Not meeting his eyes, she poured the eggs into the pan and sprinkled them with salt.
How did he want to handle this? The same dangers that had been there in Costa Rica remained, but how could he stay away from her when she was so close, and when his willpower was clearly so weak when it came to her? It was one thing when he didn’t know where she was, but now she was in his life again. Short of one of them quitting their job and moving away, she was in his life, and it looked like she was there to stay.
“Honestly,” he said, looking down at the coffee mugs, “I’m not sure. The fear about the darkness of my life touching you is still there, Sam. My family is still very dangerous, and it’s a danger I don’t ever want you affected by.”
