“Well, we’re assuming it’s someone we know. That’s probably stupid, but bear with me here.”
“All right.” Peta put the “bickies”, which apparently translated into a plate of cookies, on the table and moved to him, carefully kneeling down on the floor between his legs.
He gulped. “Uh...what are you doing? “
She’d slid her hands along his thighs and was just resting them there. “Letting the tea steep. Listening to you as you expound your amazingly acute observations on murder. Relaxing...go on. You were talking about Cary?”
He swallowed as she settled herself comfortably. Very comfortably.
She was in her element. She had Max distracted with the talk of murder and mayhem, and she herself was about to distract his brain out of his ears. She hadn’t spent one summer researching male genitalia for nothing.
Her hands slid to his fly, and she heard his breath catch as she let her fingers rest on his zipper. A rather solid bulge was distorting the fabric.
“Max. You’re not talking.”
“Uhhh...”
She snickered to herself. She’d actually rendered the great Max Wolfe speechless. Or at least her fingers had as they slowly tugged the zipper down and released the swollen flesh beneath. It thrust between the two halves of his fly, still confined by his underwear, but more than ready to come out and play. She licked her lips.
“So Cary might need money, yes?” She asked the question as she pushed Max’s pants down around his hips, making him wiggle in the chair so that she could free him. He may have been speechless, but it was a quite willing wiggle.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah. Cary might have needed...ahh—”
She held him. Held his hard cock, ran her hands over it and took a good long look at this good long piece of manhood that he wielded like some medieval sword on the women he conquered.
“Keep talking,” she urged. Payback. Pure poetic payback. She grinned as she lowered her mouth to him.
“I...shit, Peta...oh lord—“
He was smooth as silk in between her lips as she bent to him. She’d ached for this moment, ever since he’d rendered her totally useless in the library. Wanted the chance to show him what it felt like, to turn to jelly in someone’s arms and lose oneself in their touch.
Now was her chance. “You’re not talking,” she whispered. Her breath spread over his slick cock.
“You’re right,” he rasped.
She risked a look up at him, beneath her eyelashes and her heart thumped at the expression on his face.
He burned.
His eyes seared her with fires that she’d personally stoked, his hair was mussed, a delightful color was sweeping across his cheeks, and those wonderful Wolfe lips were slightly parted.
Yes, there was no doubt about it, she was turning him on. And of course the ramrod hard cock in her mouth was a dead giveaway too.
“Peta...” His hand went to her head, and she paused, wondering if he was going to stop her. But no. He simply ran his fingers through her hair, and rubbed her scalp beneath it, neither pushing her nor holding her in place, but just resting his hand alongside her head as she moved on him.
She felt a swell of pleasure flood from her loins to her lips. He tasted wonderful. Uniquely him, all man, with a dash of soap and fabric softener thrown in to the mix.
She couldn’t help but smile around his cock as she traced the long veins down to its base with her tongue.
He moaned.
“Christ, babe,” he muttered.
“How come you’re not talking to me, Mr. Holmes?” she grinned, letting her lips dot light kisses along his length.
“Because that’s not my pipe you’ve got in your mouth, Dr. Watson,” gritted out Max. “You don’t have to—“
“Oh but I want to. Do you mind?”
“Mind?” The retort gushed out on a large exhalation as her tongue found a particularly sensitive spot. She returned to it again and again, making his hips squirm.
“No, I don’t...I don’t...oh sheeeiiittt,” gasped Max. “D’you know what you’re doing to me?”
She didn’t answer. She was too busy setting up a rhythm between her hand and her mouth, and spreading moisture over as much of him as she could swallow at one time. And, surprisingly enough, that was quite a bit.
She let her other hand delve between his thighs and find his balls. He jerked as she caressed them, gently rolling them around over her hand.
Her mouth slipped off him for a moment. “Is that nice?” she inquired politely.
Max groaned.
She’d take that as a yes. She returned with renewed enthusiasm to his cock, playing and loving it with her mouth and her hands. She did all the things she’d read about, invented a few more, and when she found that particularly sensitive pressure point behind his balls, he gasped out loud.
“Peta...too much...I’m gonna come, honey—” His voice was harsh as he fought to hold himself back.
“That’s okay. You made me come. Now it’s my turn.” She blew a breath over the very tip and licked at the small bead of pre-come that oozed from the tiny eye.
He choked. “Peta, shit, Petaaaa...”
He was in the very throes of ecstasy. The thought flashed through his mind that this phrase, used extensively by the many romance writers whose work he’d edited, actually meant something when a woman’s mouth was clamped firmly around one’s cock.
He pulled her head away, amazing himself as he did so. He wanted her. He loved her mouth on him, and would happily have come right then and there, but things were changing for him. Superstud Max Wolfe wanted more.
He shivered as the realization flooded him, and promised himself some time to figure it all out. Later. Right now, there was only one thing he wanted.
“Sweetheart,” he said. “I want to be in you when I come.” He reached down to his pants pocket as she leaned back with a question in her eyes.
Pulling a condom out, he passed it to her. “Please. Put this on me.”
He knew his voice was rough, harsh even, since he was fighting tooth and nail to hold on to his orgasm. Her touch as she unrolled the latex sheath damn near sent him over the edge.
But something held him back. Some need, some desire, something from way down deep inside him that was telling him not to erupt into this woman’s hands, but into her body, where he belonged.
Belonged. That was a novel concept. “Now take your jeans off, honey. Everything. Ride me, Peta.”
“What, here? In the kitchen?” She sounded scandalized, and a painful grin slid over Max’s lips.
“Afraid you’ll shock the tea cozy?”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at him, then dropped her hands to her belt. His heart rate soared as she kicked off her shoes, stripped her jeans, and slid her panties down with them.
He could smell her, see her moisture shining between her thighs, and even though he was milliseconds away from coming, he still wanted to devour her, taste her, cover her with licks and kisses and get her naked skin against his.
Blushing, she looked at him helplessly, the erotic picture she made as she stood there, naked from the waist down, burning his retinas straight through to his balls.
He opened his arms, holding them out and beckoning her to straddle his lap.
“Is this going to work?”
“Oh yeah, babe. It’ll work. C’mere.”
Carefully, she spread her legs and eased herself onto his lap. “Put me inside you, sweetheart.” Her heat singed his thighs.
“All right,” she whispered. The intent look in her eyes as she reached for his cock and positioned it at the opening of her sex nearly undid him.
He bit his lip, allowing the small pain to keep him from exploding as her hot wetness began to slide down over him.
“Ah, God, yeah,” he sighed.
“Oh Max,” she whimpered. “This is...this is amazing.”
“Isn’t it though?” he answered. His hands slipped behind her, grabbing her
buttocks and positioning her just exactly where he wanted her. She settled all the way down on him, resting on him for a moment and apparently examining the sensations she was experiencing.
“You fill me,” she breathed.
“I know,” he answered. “I know.”
Her feet touched the floor either side of the kitchen chair, and in response to a slight movement of his hands, she rose a little then sank back down.
He moaned. “Oh yeah, just like that, babe. Oh God.”
Peta rode him. Max’s mind blanked, and he lost himself in her. She was loving him with her body, experimenting, playing, tightening her muscles around his cock as she moved.
It was heaven. Bliss. Beyond description. Max couldn’t think at all—he could only feel.
She took him so deep that he swore he could feel her womb as she pressed down on him.
Knowing her movements would make him come within seconds, he slowed her with one hand on her hip and slid the other between their bodies to find her clit.
A gasp told him he’d been accurate. He toyed with it, slicking her moisture around and holding her motionless, watching the sweat break out on her lip as she tried to obey, tried to fight the urge to move on him.
Their breath mingled and their eyes met, gray staring into hazel. For one blinding moment, Max could see himself, as if reflected by Peta’s soul.
He looked—strange. Soft, hot and passionate, and he barely recognized the man staring back at him. A shiver took him that had nothing to do with her cunt or his cock. This was something else.
His fingers worked her, making her shudder and shake and she moaned as she rested her forehead against his.
“Max...I...”
“Let it go, babe. Come for me. Come now...” He pushed harder against her clit as she gave up the battle and ground her hips against him.
He was so primed for orgasm that her first inner twitchings were enough.
His buttocks clenched painfully and he cried out as the final dam broke and he spurted deep inside Peta.
She sobbed in his arms, trembling with her own orgasm, and feeding his with the thousand minute inner fingers that were running up and down his cock like little lightning bolts of pleasure.
Their world shook as their bodies merged and melded into one throbbing and screaming moment of release.
Her hands dug painfully into his shoulders, and he realized he’d clamped his own fingers deeply into one of her buttocks. He slowly eased the pressure, letting her put her weight down fully on his lap.
Once again he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Flooded with feelings he couldn’t explain, Max rested there, content, holding his woman. Their skin was stuck together from the heat they’d generated, and she was panting a little as the tension left her and she leaned in to his embrace.
“Are you all right?” He asked the question cautiously, hoping she wouldn’t ask him the same thing. He wasn’t sure if he was all right. Or ever would be again.
“Flat out knackered,” she mumbled.
Max frowned, and was about to ask for a translation when their world rocked again.
Literally, this time.
Chapter Twenty
“What the...” Peta pulled herself up with a quick jerk, almost leaping off Max’s cock as the house shuddered around them.
That had been one hell of a loud crash outside.
She struggled with her panties, cursing the weakness that still sent trembles through her limbs. Her ankle was aching, her thighs were sticky, and she’d never felt better. She cursed whoever or whatever it was that had destroyed the moment.
“Wait for me.” Max disposed of the condom and hurried to pull his own clothes back into place. Together they staggered to the front door and opened it, unsure of what they’d find outside.
Darkness had fallen, and the sleet had changed to snow, coating the roads and the slush with a fresh veneer of white.
A snow plow, bearing the logo of the Mayfield Department of Public Works, was angled drunkenly up on one snowbank, tangled with two cars and an unfortunate dumpster.
The driver was out of the cab, and staring at something on the sidewalk in front of Peta’s house.
He looked up as she opened her door. “Christ, call the cops and an ambulance, will you? I think I hit this guy...”
Max dashed for the phone as she carefully made her way down the steps. He was at her side again within moments.
“The cops are on their way,” he called, as he followed her to the dark mass sprawled in the snow.
“Oh Mary Mother of God...” breathed Peta.
It was a body. A man’s body, lying face down in front of them with blood staining the whiteness around him.
“I swear I didn’t see him until it was too late, so help me,” gasped the driver. “I was just doing the regular plowing, and he staggered out in front of me. I couldn’t stop in time. Oh shit...is he hurt bad?”
Max bent down, and Peta held her breath as he touched his fingers to the man’s neck.
He glanced up at her and shook his head. “Nothing. I can’t feel anything.”
Sirens sounded, and two police cars pulled carefully alongside, lights flashing and radios blaring. Frank Summers leaped from the first one.
“You guys all right?” he barked.
“We’re fine,” Max called back. “It’s this guy. Snowplow hit him, apparently...” He nodded at the man lying at their feet.
Frank walked carefully around, and leaned over, doing the same thing Max had just done—searching for a pulse.
“Oh fuck,” he breathed. “Doesn’t look good.” Gently he eased him onto his back.
The wide-open sightless eyes of Mike Dean stared at the snowy sky. A pool of blood stained the front of his jacket and the handle of a knife could clearly be seen protruding from his chest.
Peta swallowed. And swallowed again. And then rushed behind the nearest shrub and heaved up everything in her stomach and down to her toes. The image of Dean’s body, all bloody, and that knife—Peta retched again.
A hand was rubbing between her shoulder blades. “You okay, babe?”
“Shit, Max, go away. Please just let me be sick in private...”
The hand kept rubbing. “Take deep breaths, honey. It’s okay.”
She swallowed and grabbed a handful of snow, rubbing its harsh coldness over her face and into her mouth.
The shock of the icy crystals brought her out of her nausea. “Sorry. I’ve never seen anything like that...”
He hugged her and she took comfort from his touch. “I know, love. I’m sorry too. If I’d had any idea...”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fine now. It was just the shock. Come on, Frank will probably have questions.”
Squaring her shoulders, she turned back to the street, unaware of the look of admiration in Max’s eyes. It was time to find out what the fuck was going on.
Frank had men everywhere and more cars were arriving. Big lights and yellow cordon tapes were appearing, and the body lay undisturbed on the sidewalk, as police scurried around securing the scene.
The two of them walked carefully to Frank’s side.
“Nasty business, this,” he said as they approached.
“Murder usually is, isn’t it?” answered Peta acerbically.
“Well, we don’t get too many, that’s for sure.” Frank frowned. “And Mike Dean, too. So soon after his ex-wife.”
Max frowned as well. “Does this get him off the suspect list for her killing, Frank?”
The Lieutenant sighed. “I suppose we’ll never know, now.”
An officer hurried up. “Found some blood further up the street, Lieutenant,” he said curtly, and Frank nodded at Peta and Max.
“You two would be better off out of this. Let us do our job and I’ll stop by in a while.”
Peta agreed. She was shaking a little now, and realized that the street had filled with onlookers. The last thing the police needed was a crowd, and already uniformed officers
were attempting to herd people back into their homes.
“We’ll be here if you need anything, Frank.” She turned to Max. He took her hand without a word and led her back indoors.
Sitting at the kitchen table, she shook. She couldn’t stop. Tremors rattled her from her teeth to her kneecaps, and she was barely aware of Max as he moved around the kitchen.
A cup of steaming tea appeared in front of her along with a curt command. “Drink this.”
Obediently, she lifted the mug, finding that she needed two hands to stop it from slopping all over the place. She winced as the boiling sweet liquid burned her lips. “Ack, that’s...that’s awful. How much sugar did you put in it?”
“Dunno. And I had to nuke it, too. You need hot and sweet right now, Peta. It’s the shock that’s making you shiver. Drink it.”
She took a shuddering breath and swallowed, letting the heat flood down her throat and warm her belly. Max was right. It did help. Good old tea—better than Valium any day.
As the shaking eased, she raised her head and stared at him. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes worried as he stared back at her.
“I don’t like this, Max. I don’t like this at all. What the hell is going on?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Looks like someone’s got it in for the Dean family, married or not.”
Her thoughts ran wild as he prowled her kitchen. Unable to sit still, it seemed, he opened and closed cupboards, fussing around, fidgeting with crockery and doing God-knew-what.
The smell of bacon finally penetrated her contemplative fog, and she stared as a plate appeared on the table in front of her.
“Eat,” he ordered. Putting another plate down, he pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.
“What’s this?”
“Peanut butter and bacon sandwiches.”
“You’re joking.” She poked cautiously at the creation on her plate.
“The Colonial version of beans on toast. Protein and carbs. Eat.”
“Er...Max...” Mindful of the state of her stomach, Peta looked cautiously at hisoffering.
My Hero Page 15
