by W. Ferraro
“G-man, do you hear me? God Dammit! Don’t you dare die on me, you pussy!”
Stay with me. Don’t leave me…CeCe! There was no answer, only her beautiful smile before everything went black.
“Feel good, baby?” Derrick asked as he slowly moved between her thighs. God how he loved to make love to her, between her silken skin and the noises she made, he didn’t think he could get any more turned on than he already was.
“Faster, Derrick, I need to get off,” CeCe demanded, her teeth clamped on her full lower lip as she closed her eyes and arched her back, trying to align his cock just where she needed it.
“What’s the rush, Baby? We got all night.”
CeCe’s phone began to buzz with a vengeance.
“Ignore it,” he said as he felt his own body begin to close in on ecstasy.
“I can’t.” As if their bodies weren’t joined, she reached over and pulled her phone from where it lay on the nightstand. It hurt she could come out of the moment so easily. No longer moving, Derrick remained inside her, unable to keep his feelings off his face, but holding onto their physical connection.
“Shit!” CeCe shouted as she tried to extract herself from beneath Derrick.
“What is it? Where are you going?” He hated that she moved away from him. For months he had tried to get her to go out with him. When she finally agreed, he never thought there would be a better high. But, he was wrong; being in bed with CeCe was the ultimate of sensations.
“That was an automatic text message from the security system, my store has been broken into. I have to go.” She answered, as if what they were doing meant nothing to her.
“Wait. I’ll come with you.”
Finally, she needed him.
“No need, you’ll probably just be in the way, anyways.” That halted him, but he could see the moment she regretted her words. Turning, she pulled his tousled dark head toward her, and leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. Quickly pulling away, she bent over gathered her discarded clothes, hastily pulling them on as she found them; hopping on one foot as she slipped on each of her stilettos. Then she walked out of Derrick’s room, and house, without a backwards glance.
The drive from Derrick’s house to the store usually only took fifteen minutes, but it might as well have been fifteen hours. Fear and dread coursed through CeCe, but more than anything her blood ran hot with anger. She was pissed off! How dare someone try to wreck what she has worked so hard to create. She had to laugh at herself. Talk about channeling Dylan. But the momentary humor quickly died when she pulled up to the plaza where CeCe’s was located. Parked in front of her store were two cruisers and a third unmarked police car. The lights within the store were shining bright, and from ten yards away, she could see the bowling ball size hole in the glass door. CeCe leapt from the car and effortlessly ran in her heels. Officer Mike Nickles was the first to see her.
“CeCe. Careful before you fall. There is glass everywhere.” His beefy hand shot out to stop her momentum.
Ignoring him, she advanced, her eyes racing, taking in the store as the confusion began to build. With the exception of the broken glass, nothing looked disrupted. She could even see the register, closed and unmoved. She didn’t trust her vision and needed to check everything herself, but Officer Nickles made sure she couldn’t do that. Oh really!?!
“Mike, please, I need to check my store,” she purred, giving him her coyest look, knowing the power it had on the male psyche.
Mike could feel his ears turning red along with his cheeks. Just hearing Cecille Cervetti say his name, made his manhood twitch to life. He hoped the dark blue of his uniform would hide any evidence of the effect she had on him. Perhaps he could allow her to enter, even though it was against orders; of course, he would have to be with her, and maybe she would grab onto him if anything became too much to deal with…Before he could finish the thought, his partner and the lieutenant made their way out of the back room, across the store’s floor, and out the front door.
CeCe was about to demand to know what was going on, but the sound of a very familiar male voice cut her off before she could start.
“Idarraga! What the fuck is going on? Why is anyone breaking into my kid sister’s store? What did they take?”
CeCe couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Dylan! Of course, they would call Dylan. Everyone knew they weren’t related, but Dylan tossed the term “kid sister” around any chance he got, especially when speaking to other men about her. Groaning, CeCe turned to face the only man she could completely trust. Given his appearance, it would appear he had been similarly engaged when he got the call. His dark hair hung over his forehead, as always, and fury was evident in his jaw locked and narrowed eyes.
CeCe waited, allowing Dylan to do his visual check before he engulfed her, pulling her tight to him. She was surrounded by warmth and strength that only Dylan could offer. Ever since the nightmarish night, thirteen years ago, Dylan has always been there for her. With Dylan around, she was never alone. She was safe. As irked as she was the police called him, she was grateful he was here with her to get some answers.
“Cees, you okay?”
“Other than the fact someone broke into my store, I’m peachy.” CeCe answered, returning his hug.
“That’s a girl; keep your sarcasm evident, helps being pissed off, too.” Dylan chucked her under the chin and winked as they turned to the lieutenant for answers.
Maximo Idarraga, a handsome younger police lieutenant, looked like he should be investigating the clubs and nightlife of Miami rather than the petty happenings in a rural Vermont town. He didn’t pull any punches as he approached the duo to fill them in on the details.
“Ms. Cervetti, do you know anyone that would want to break into your store or would want to harm you?”
“What, this isn’t a run of the mill burglary? What did you find, Max?” Dylan asked, his annoyance unmistakable.
Shifting only his gaze to Dylan, Idarraga took a moment to consider the well-known, put-up-with-no-shit Hamden resident. The fact they weren’t in Hamden meant very little to Dylan, and he’d made it known to everyone. “Look, Cross, I called you as a courtesy and expect us to be square now. Right now, I am the one asking the questions.” Max returned his attention to the very attractive storeowner. He needed to remain professional, but the beautiful woman made anything with a dick take notice. The way she arched her beautifully manicured brow showed her surprise that someone would speak to Dylan that way. “Please, Ms. Cervetti, answer the question.”
“No. No one. Did they take anything?” She replied to the handsome Latino-looking man, who spoke with the hint of a sexy accent.
“From what we can see, nothing is disturbed, but you would better be able to tell us. Come, I’ll walk you in.” She entered the store, hearing the crunch of broken glass beneath her shoes. She felt the warmth of a hand at her back, and knew it was the lieutenant’s hand and not Dylan’s. Modern society was filled with constant and never-ending cock challenges. In most situations CeCe found it amusing but at the moment it was one more part of the evening that was pissing her off.
Once inside, she quickly scanned the store and confirmed nothing was missing from the floor, and the desk and register were untouched. Suddenly, fear gripped her throat, and CeCe ran to her office in the back; concerned for her design sketches nearly overwhelming her. She chided herself for taking so long to consider her drawings could be the target of the break-in. Ignoring the group of men as they crowded into the office after her, she rushed to her desk and pulled out her sketchbook. Relief flooded her as she saw nothing was missing or damaged. Straightening, she took a deep breath to regain her composure as her gaze fell on her office chair and she noticed the single item out of place in the store. In fact, it wasn’t even supposed to be in her store.
Dumbfounded, CeCe turned to the men, “I don’t understand. Someone broke in to deliver flowers?” Bewildered, she picked up the dozen long-stem white roses from their perch on the green velvet chair.
“Ms. Cervetti, are you saying the flowers were not there when you left tonight?” Idarraga questioned.
“No, Lieutenant, they weren’t. Considering my ass was in the chair, I’d think I’d remember the thorns,” sarcasm effortlessly dripping from her tongue.
Unable to hide his smirk, Max continued, “Well, if you weren’t sitting on the thorns, then it is safe to say the suspect left them for you. You are sure nothing else is missing? You came back here abruptly and looked through that book,” he continued, indicating the black covered spiral pad, now sitting on her desk.
“I thought, perhaps, my sketches would be gone, but no, they are all here. Besides, they are worthless to anyone except me.” Implying more than she meant to admit —the umpteenth rejection letter came from designer apprenticeship the day prior —she voiced more than the fear of her store being broken into. Once again, she looked toward the gorgeous and expensive bouquet. Gripping the paper wrapped stems; CeCe brought them to her nose, inhaling the sweet and distinct smell of roses. The beautiful buds were large than your run of the mill white roses and simply amazing.
“When we first arrived, we went to your security feed, but the system was turned off; is that normal?” Idarrago asked, jotting notes down in his small notebook.
Now it was CeCe’s turn to blush. Dylan was going to flip, but no helping that now. “Yeah, about that, it hasn’t worked in about three months.” She glanced at Dylan, not surprised to see the furious look he was giving her, she continued, “Nothing ever happens here, and after the pipes burst back in April, I just never got around to getting it back up and running.”
“Cees! What they hell are you thinking not having a working security video? Especially when you are here alone at night.”
“Well, jeez, Dylan, if I thought some wacko would break in here, not steal anything, and leave me gorgeous expensive flowers, I would have made sure to get the video feed up and running.” CeCe couldn’t help the smart-mouthed retort. She was tired and cranky. Not to mention sexually frustrated, considering she missed out on her orgasm earlier. She didn’t need to be reprimanded by Dylan.
“Ms. Cervetti, I agree with Dylan, it should be a high priority to get your security system back online.”
“I’ll take care of it tomorrow morning.” CeCe answered, exasperated from Idarraga chastising her, too.
“I’ll make the call. It will be working by 10AM,” Dylan answered.
“D, you don’t need to call, I am perfectly capable of calling myself. After all, I believe it is my name on the sign outside, not yours.
The infamous Cross stare was now hammering down on her.
“Lieutenant, there is a glass replacement company here, asking for the go ahead to replace the front door.” Idarraga looked to CeCe, noticing her surprised expression.
“That’s my guy; I called on my way here,” Dylan explained, looking smug and authoritative.
“Of course it is. Thanks, D.” CeCe relented and placed the bouquet on her desk, giving in to his take-over rather than go another couple of rounds.
Idarraga nodded permission for the glass replacement before turning back to CeCe. Closing the short distance, he handed her a card he pulled from his inside breast pocket as he said, “Here is my card, if you have any other problems, or if you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to call. With your confirmation that nothing was taken or damaged, there really isn’t much we can do. Unfortunately, delivering flowers to a beautiful woman isn’t against the law. If you can think of anything, anything at all, please call right away. My cell is listed on the back. It really is prudent for you to get your video feed back up and running. I’ll have patrols increased at the plaza for the next few nights. Hopefully this is an isolated incident.”
She accepted the card, suddenly mentally and physically drained and just wanting her bed. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Dylan returned to CeCe’s office after escorting the officers out and checking on the glass installation. “Cees, you sure you’re okay?”
Even though she knew Dylan wouldn’t think less of her, CeCe refused to let the tears fall as she collapsed into her chair. She couldn’t help but laugh, “Just my luck, some sick fuck would want to give me flowers and choose to go about it in such an unorthodox and fucked up way.”
“Yeah, well I don’t like it.” Dylan walked around her desk, sitting on the edge next to her chair. “Where were you when you got the call?”
Yeah, like she was going to tell him exactly where she was. “I was at my date’s house.”
Unable to pass up the chance to tease her, Dylan taunted, “Your date, huh? Anyone I know?”
“Just some guy, no one special.” CeCe didn’t do special; guys were around for only one reason, to spoil her rotten. She expected them to willingly spend their money on her, buy her things, take her to the finest places, show her a good time, and feed her physical needs, and when she had her fill, they were expected to happily, and quietly, accept her severing ties. It had to be this way; she would accept nothing else.
“You going back there?” Dylan he felt foolish asking, already knowing the answer.
“No. I’m gonna head back to my apartment, there is a bottle of tequila in my freezer that is calling my name.” She pulled herself out of her chair, and walked out, shutting the lights off as she went.
“Well, I’m coming with you.”
“No, D, really, I’m alright.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t go home and explain to Natalie I let you go home by yourself, let alone without checking your place out to make sure it was safe. I’m kind of attached to my boys.”
The irony of such a thought, made CeCe laugh out loud. Natalie Cross, Dylan’s wife, and one of CeCe’s best friends, didn’t have a mean bone in her body. The fact CeCe knew Natalie was quite fond of Dylan’s body parts, only made her laugh that much harder.
At the incessant buzzing of the alarm clock, CeCe came out of her hibernation cocoon and slid her legs over the side of the bed. God how she hated mornings! As far as CeCe was concerned, the only good thing about the morning was coffee, lots and lots of coffee. Padding to the kitchen, CeCe was greeted by the amazing aroma of her coffee maker already brewing a full pot of liquid heaven, well the morning kind anyways. But CeCe didn’t set the coffee maker to auto-start. Then she saw the note scrawled on the back of an envelope.
I knew you would need this. Your security system will be back up and running before you get to the store this morning. Regardless of whose name is on the storefront, YOU are my responsibility, so no girly hissy fits, just deal. Call me if anything happens again. I MEAN IT! ~Dylan
The note brought a big smile to her face. Its protectiveness brought back the memory of the night she met Dylan thirteen years ago. When he became her knight in shining armor and showed her real men did exist. She always knew Troy had a temper, but she never thought he would physically assault her. Not Troy. He was the hunky jock while she was the quiet art-focused, mediocre student. Vermont’s version of Beauty and the Geek. To everyone’s astonishment, they dated all through high school. She was half of the couple everyone wanted to be. But that all changed the winter after they graduated, and CeCe saw Troy’s true colors while he was home visiting from UCLA after she accidently spilled her orange soda in his pristine 1999 Monte Carlo.
All these years later, she can’t help wondering if he had shaken the soda before handing her the bottle so the carbonation would explode when she twisted the cap.
“You stupid bitch! Always making such a mess with everything. I just had the fucking car detailed!”
The apology was on her tongue when the punch landed, high on her cheekbone. Pain shot through her eye socket and it felt like her cheekbone was cracked. Covering her cheek with her hand, her eyes wide, she was stunned at his actions.
“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, constantly fucking everything up. All I wanted to do was have a nice night out and you had to fuck it up. I should have never come home…especially
to you. Get the fuck out of my car, I’ll even make it easy for you!” Troy pulled to the curb and slowed down—he didn’t even fully stop—reached across CeCe, pulled the handle, and pushed her shoulder.
She fell out of the car onto the trash—and God only knows what else—covered sidewalk, landing on her hands and knees. The floral mini dress Troy asked her to wear did nothing to save her palms and knees from the impact of the concrete. Troy had driven off before she could even get to her feet, leaving her in a sketchy party of Burlington with only bars open at that time of night.
Not one person that saw what happened asked if she was all right, they only stared and went about their business. Tears ran down her face as the biting wind whipped against her uncovered flesh. The pain in her cheek and extremities were quickly forgotten when the fear settled in as she realized she didn’t know what to do. She had no phone, no money, and if she had any chance of avoiding hypothermia, she needed to get inside. Looking up and down the street, none of the bars looked welcoming, but she had no choice. Choosing the closest one, she walked to the heavy wooden door and pulled. She entered the smoke filled bar that smelled of stale lives and hopeless futures. A few of the patrons looked up from their perches at the bar when she entered, but quickly returned to their endless glasses of liquid escapes. Even the bartender didn’t address her, as it was apparent she was underage.
