by Ronica Black
Jamie approached them, crying, her arms wrapping them in a protective shield. Chan buried her face in the young woman’s hair, wishing that there really were such a thing as a protective shield. Wishing that none of this were true.
Grandma Meg soon arrived and held them tight, crying softly along with Hank. Eventually, Chan could take no more and she freed herself from Meg’s arms to run upstairs to her room. She jumped into her bed and pulled the covers up over her head.
It was there, under the comforting safety of her blankets, that she first cried. Not just out of sorrow but out of confusion and fear. She couldn’t understand what had happened and why. And she didn’t know what would happen to her and Hank. She cried and cried, until eventually things grew quiet downstairs. She heard her bedroom door open, and Hank came to crawl in next to her under the covers.
Grandma Meg came in too and tried to talk to her while sitting on the edge of the bed, but Chan couldn’t bring herself to speak. Their grandmother seemed to sense that they needed to be with each other and that they needed to rest. She tucked them in with tears still shining in her eyes and left them to cuddle together and fall asleep.
As Chan drifted off holding her little brother, questions continued to bombard her mind. What happened? How? Where?
In the days that followed her questions were answered, and Chan was aware that everything was changing around her. People were coming and going from the house, Grandma Meg said something about lawyers, delivery boys brought flowers.
Her parents were dead, never to come home again. Someone had said they were in heaven and that she would see them again someday. But she wasn’t quite sure what or where heaven was. So how could she find them? How could she get to them?
Chan began hiding out in her parents’ closet. It was quiet there and she could hide from the people who continued to say silly things like “bless your heart” and “it will be okay” and who wanted to pat her on the head. Sometimes Hank would climb in next to her, holding his Stretch Armstrong doll, and she would slide the door closed, hiding them from the dozens of adults roaming through the house, eating and drinking, whispering about the tragedy and those “poor, poor, kids.”
“Why are you sittin’ in the closet?” he asked her one afternoon.
“Because you can smell Mom and Dad in here. And nobody bugs you.”
He sniffed and began to cry. “I miss Mommy. I miss Daddy too. When are they gonna come back, Chan?”
She stared into the darkness. “They’re not coming back, Hank.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
Knocking sounded from her office door, and Chan greeted her next client with a polite smile. The young woman seated herself on the couch as Chan grabbed a pen and flipped open the appropriate chart. Like it or not, it was time to work. Her loneliness, the lingering sense of emptiness, Officer Monroe—all of it would have to wait.
Chapter Eight
Sarah tossed and turned, yearning for more sleep. Morning sunlight edged in around the blinds, softly illuminating her room. The clock on her night table read seven thirty. She had only slept for four hours. To her dismay, her troubling thoughts had continued well after her shift and into the next one. Her only escape had been the book she had read well into the early morning hours, putting it down only when she could no longer keep her eyes open. Reading was usually the only way she could fall asleep. Her mind wouldn’t allow her simply to lie in bed waiting for the quiet peace to come. It needed distractions, pleasant, romantic ones. Loves and lives she could safely dream of having.
She rolled onto her back and stared up at her ceiling. Closing her eyes briefly, she tried to relax. At once images came. First of her father, then, of Chandler.
Frustrated, she threw back her covers and got out of bed. She moved to the dresser mirror, where she reviewed her reflection. She stood firm, cut and strong in her white sleep tank and tight cotton boxer shorts. Unwittingly, she raised her hand and ran it lightly up and down the hard bulge of a bicep. She shuddered, not used to touch, whether it was her own or someone else’s.
Raising the thin material of the tank top, she skimmed her fingertips across her skin, grazing the edges of her abdominal muscles. Her eyes fell closed as she imagined a woman’s touch, Chandler’s touch…Her insides flooded with need and then quickly a cold anxiety. She opened her eyes and glared at her reflection. Why are you doing this to yourself? Thinking this way, and about Chandler. She knew what it would lead to. Getting all worked up and turned on. Her body tightening and filling with desire. Tightening and filling to the point of near implosion.
The shrill ring of her doorbell startled her, and she glanced at the clock again and wondered who it could be. Maria? Maybe the older neighbor needed something. She trotted into her living room and pulled open the door without checking through the peephole. A gasp escaped her throat as Danielle stood regarding her with cocky ease.
“Well, good morning,” Danielle said. “I often wondered what it was you slept in.”
Sarah felt her face flush. Anger followed close on its heels. She hated how vulnerable this woman could make her feel. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
Danielle brushed her way inside, looking around and ignoring her question. Sarah stiffened as she caught the scent of her perfume. Her mind and body reacted to its teasing scent, which reminded her of the numerous powerful orgasms she had given Danielle. The control, the power Sarah remembered, stirred her body as Danielle continued to speak.
“I never had the pleasure of spending the entire night with you.” She eyed Sarah hungrily. “Or the pleasure of seeing your apartment.”
That’s because I never allowed it. And now I’m glad I didn’t. Danielle’s sarcastic tone instantly made her feel judged and intruded upon.
“What are these, movie posters?” She laughed a little as her eyes swept over the numerous framed classic film posters. Movies that, no doubt, Danielle had never seen. They were romantic films, and Sarah knew firsthand just how little the word “romance” meant to Danielle. Not to mention the word “love.” No, Danielle didn’t believe in love. And she had scoffed at Sarah’s belief in such an idealized concept. The notion of someone loving another so much that they would lay down their life for them failed to impress Danielle Turner. She had once told Sarah that it was sick to even think that way.
“What are you doing here?” Sarah repeated, closing the door and resisting the urge to fold her arms. She didn’t want Danielle to see how easily she could still be rattled.
Danielle’s dark eyes settled on her once again, running up and down her body. She dug in her large leather shoulder bag, retrieving a chocolate brown garment Sarah recognized as one of her uniform jackets.
“You left this at my place.” She handed it to Sarah. “I’ve been meaning to bring it by.”
Sarah took it slowly, studying the face of her ex-lover. Danielle hadn’t changed much over the past few months. Her skin was tanned, and freckles dotted her forearms and the bridge of her nose. Her five foot eight body stood delicate and thin. Her hair was dark brown, similar to Sarah’s but with a different cut. Danielle wore it trimmed around her ears and longer in the back. When she styled the thick waves for work, it looked professional and hardly the bold mullet it really was.
Sarah tossed the jacket on her sofa, knowing by Danielle’s tasteful attire that she was on her way into her office. Tailored pressed pants and a matching blouse fit her body perfectly, the blouse showing off more freckles at the base of her neck, leading down the top of her exposed chest. Danielle was a paralegal who claimed to be more intelligent than the attorneys she worked for.
“You shouldn’t have bothered.” Sarah’s voice was heavy and thick as memories stirred her insides. “I have another.”
Danielle’s dark, thin lips curled into a devilish grin. “Oh, well, it was no trouble.” She took a step closer to Sarah. Her eyes glinted with desire. “Besides, I wanted to see you again.”
“What for?” Sarah t
ried to sound tough, uninterested but her emotions swirled in confusion.
Danielle continued to grin, either seeing right through her bravado or knowing her too well to buy into it.
“What for?” she repeated lightly, cocking her head, teasing. “I’ve missed you.” Her long fingers found Sarah’s clenched jaw, then tickled their way down her neck, lingering above her chest. “I’ve missed us.”
Sarah struggled to control her racing heart. She was upset at herself for reacting so easily to the woman who had hurt her with harsh, devastating words. Danielle seemed only to care about herself. Now that Sarah knew just what kind of person Danielle was, she no longer wanted to see her, she didn’t even want to think about her. She wasn’t worth wasting a breath over. “There was no us,” she managed through a rough-sounding throat.
Soft laughter floated from Danielle as she took yet another step closer. “Come now. You enjoyed the things you did to me, I know you did.” Her hot breath upon Sarah’s skin sent lightning bolts of desire through her. “Didn’t you?”
Sarah clenched her fists as her inner battle raged on. She closed her eyes, trying to regain some control.
Danielle sighed as she did so, and her hand lightly grazed up and down Sarah’s awakening neck. “Yes, you did enjoy it. ” The corner of her mouth lifted, hinting at the victory she felt. She knew she had won and was letting Sarah know it. “And now, you want what I want, don’t you. You want to fuck me.”
The words entered Sarah’s pounding ears and stabbed into her mind. Sucking in a shaky breath, she opened her eyes, no longer ruled by reason, but by the powerful need to conquer. She narrowed her eyes as she studied the woman before her. Yes, she wanted her. Wanted to take back the control Danielle had stripped from her, leaving her feeling helpless and alone. She needed to take her, make her come, make her beg.
With the thought of that revenge surging through her, she grabbed Danielle by the wrists and shoved her up against the front door.
Evil laughter escaped Danielle once more. “Yes, baby, take me.”
Sarah felt Danielle’s body go limp against her and her fire raged hotter and brighter. A violent need to fuck overcame her and she tore at her ex-lover’s expensive blouse, ripping it, sending the buttons flying. Danielle’s eyes flashed as she laughed again, loving it. Anger nipped at Sarah’s throat at the obvious enjoyment, fueling her behavior further.
She stripped the blouse away and pressed into Danielle, biting her neck, determined to stifle the laughter. She heard and felt a sharp intake of breath as Danielle shuddered and then tensed beneath her. A groan of satisfaction escaped Sarah as she bit and sucked on the delicate flesh just between Danielle’s shoulder and neck.
Fingers dug into Sarah’s back and knotted into her hair. At the same time, she hastily lowered her hands and worked the button of Danielle’s slacks. With every noise Danielle made, Sarah responded with firm teeth, silencing her. She didn’t want to hear her enjoyment, couldn’t stand to. What she wanted was something more, something so dominant it nearly weakened her knees. She wanted to hear her beg.
Sarah groaned again at the thought as her mouth worked the damp, sweet-smelling skin. She nipped her way down, following the trail of freckles to Danielle’s white, satin bra. The pants followed the commands of her forceful hands, eventually sliding past Danielle’s sharp, crescent hips. As they did, Sarah tugged the bra away from her small, mostly nipple breasts. She heard Danielle sigh just before they were claimed as Sarah’s own.
Danielle cried out, arching her back up and away from the door. Her fingers tightened against Sarah’s scalp, painfully pulling on her hair. Sarah thrived on the pain and forced the panties down Danielle’s thighs, until they fell and pooled loosely around her ankles.
Then, with a flash of white-hot heat, Sarah pulled her mouth away and looked hard into the dark eyes before her. She saw the need and hunger splintering the irises; Danielle was a mere cry away from voicing her desires and seeking what she craved. Sarah fought back a smile. Yes, this was what she wanted. She was so close to getting it now.
With assured purpose, she gripped one of Danielle’s smooth, firm thighs, hoisting it against her hip, opening and exposing the wet, glistening core of Danielle’s desire. Another flash of desire lightened the dark eyes and, in turn, heated her own skin.
“Tell me,” Sarah whispered, trailing her free hand up, grazing the moist skin of Danielle’s inner thigh. “Tell me what it is you want.”
Danielle writhed against the door, her breath quickening as Sarah’s hand neared her flesh. “I want you to fuck me,” she said, her voice still strong and confident.
Sarah focused on the pulsing vein in her neck, watching it spill need into her blood. Carefully, she eased her fingers up, outlining the slick, swollen lips, making Danielle gasp.
Sarah knew she was aching, knew she was wanting it. Painfully so. Her yearning was warm, wetting her flesh thoroughly, and Sarah knew she had probably been wet the moment she stepped foot into the apartment. Yes, she had been thinking about it for a while. A long while.
Sarah warmed inwardly and decided she wanted to hear it for herself.
“You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?” Her fingers smoothed up and down Danielle’s lips, trailing very carefully to just inside them, not quite touching the stiff and pointing clitoris.
Danielle jerked at the teasing fingers. “Yes,” she whispered.
“How long?”
“A while.”
Dissatisfied with the response, Sarah flicked her thumb across the small but very demanding clitoris. She felt its stiff prominence and knew the direct contact would rock through Danielle. “How long?” she asked again, loving the control, allowing it to feed her like a drug. She grazed her thumb across the tiny root again, causing Danielle to bump her head against the door.
“Weeks,” Danielle finally managed. “I’ve been wanting it for weeks now.”
“You’ve been thinking about me for that long?” Satisfaction ran through her like a strong current, her thumb strumming, once then twice.
“Argh yes!” Danielle cried out. “I can’t stop thinking about it!”
Sarah chuckled softly, running her thumb around the full flesh, rubbing against its side.
Danielle bit her lower lip and shook her head.
Sarah continued to play her carefully, knowing exactly what to do. She wound around and around the clitoris, winding it up like a toy, filling it with blood. Tighter and tighter, fuller and fuller, until it pulsed, desperate to erupt.
“Oh God, please.” Danielle fastened her eyes on Sarah.
“Please what?”
“Fuck me.”
“Fuck you?”
“Yes, fuck me!”
Sarah grazed the tip of the shaft repeatedly, bringing Danielle closer and closer to orgasm. Then, just as she felt her tense, she lowered her hand and plunged inside, where she was deep and tight and hot.
Danielle exhaled her vulnerability over and over again with short wails of pleasure, letting Sarah know just how in control she was. Danielle only expressed herself during sex, and even then it did little to reveal her soul. But Sarah didn’t care now. She didn’t care if Danielle had a soul at all. No, all she wanted now was her need. And she had it. Had it wrapped tight down against her hand.
“Is this what you want?”
“Mmm, yes.” She could hardly speak, Sarah was thrusting into her so powerfully, ramming her tight against the door, holding on to her leg, ensuring her position.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes! Yes! I want it. Want you to fuck me.”
Sarah felt the hard, full need for control burst inside of herself. As it fell and spread through her like the afterglow of a firework, her insides lit up and warmed. She had it now. Had what she was after. Elated and satisfied, she pulled her hand from Danielle and watched as she nearly fell. Sarah released her leg as well and took a step back.
Danielle staggered, her eyes wild and confused. �
��What, what are you doing?” She stood looking at Sarah, her body covered with sweat, her bra resting in an awkward angle against her chest.
“Get out,” Sarah coolly demanded, holding her eyes.
“What?”
“I said, get out,” she repeated firmly.
Danielle studied her a moment and then, trying to save face, gave a little laugh. “I should’ve known.” She reached down and tugged up her pants as she spoke. “You never could—”
“Thanks for the jacket.” Sarah interrupted, bending down and tossing Danielle her torn blouse.
Danielle caught it with surprise and then adjusted her bra to cover her breasts. She smiled. “It’s a good thing I know you so well. I brought an extra one.” She shot Sarah a sly grin.
Without bothering to pull on the tattered remains of her shirt, Danielle opened the door and stepped out into the morning light in her slacks and white bra.
Burning with anger once again, Sarah slammed the door in her face and turned to rest against it. Danielle had known she would give in. Had known it all along.
Bitch. Sarah shoved away from the door and walked to the bathroom, suddenly desperate to wash the woman away, something she knew would be near impossible to do. She could wash away her scent and the feel of her, but she could never wash away her words.
You’re an idealistic dreamer, and one who runs from the physical passion she fantasizes about! You’re a fake, Sarah. A fake.
Sarah turned the water on as hot as she could stand it. It beat down, stabbing her skin with heat. She allowed the stream to punish her flesh, let it blast away any and all traces of her ex-lover. After she scrubbed her body she turned the water to cold and gritted her teeth as it pelted her hot skin. She stood for a half an hour, refusing to move, refusing to let Danielle win. When she began to shiver uncontrollably she finally killed the water and stepped out. She had done this many times before in her life, washing away the touch of someone else. It was a ritual she knew well, and sometimes, by pretending that her body was like a chalkboard, that anything on it could be erased, sometimes, that thought alone was the only thing that got her through.
