by Amy Brent
Inside, the white tiles were a library of graffiti. There was everything scrawled there from “Jessica Williamson is a slut” to more mundane observations such as “cockroaches will be here at the end.”
As I took a piss, my gaze was drawn to the sappier tile laments. In red pen was written, “Where is she?” Only a few tiles down there was the similarly vague “don’t lose it” in black.
Back at the table, the blonde patted my empty chair. I paused.
I really just wanted to go home and go to bed. All these girls were hot—I recognized that in a logical sense—but my dick wasn’t having it. I felt as attracted to them as I had to Trisha Nichols, which was a big whopping nothing. The knowledge that I should be having a good time and hooking up with one of them didn’t make that reality. It just made everything worse.
“What?” Mark said, his gaze suddenly swiveling toward me. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
Inwardly, I thanked Mark. He had just given me the excuse I needed. I hadn’t been sure how to bring it up, and the wily old bastard had brought it up for me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m really tired.”
Mark’s arms were slung around one girl each, one being the red-haired pixie girl from the beginning. He had a few empty beer bottles in front of him and a slack grin on his face.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” he asked point-blank.
I stared into his accusing eyes, turned on my heel, and walked away.
“Goodbye, Mark,” I called over my shoulder.
As I walked out of the bar, my heart sank deeper in my chest. Really, I hadn’t answered Mark because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think of Kathryn. Not now. I didn’t want to consider if he was right.
The whole night, she had been on the edge of my mind, the swallowed-down excuse for everything I hadn’t dared acknowledge.
But now that I was alone outside and walking in the wrong direction, it was obvious. The only legs I wanted to get in between tonight were Kathryn’s. Maybe this was my fault. Maybe the whole mistress idea had been dumb and asking for trouble at best. Right now, it was true. I wasn’t sure if I just had a crazy amount of lust for her or if it was something more. Whatever it was, I didn’t care. I just wanted to see her.
Suddenly, I turned on my heel and started walking the right way. I didn’t want spend a moment longer out here walking down this city street. There was something supremely tragic about walking home alone late at night.
I’d only done it a few times before, but it was enough to put me off for good. Now it was the same as always. Sounds filtered over, sounds of the fun everyone else was having in the bars and clubs, or even stumbling in drunken groups down the street, while I had ample time and the peace and quiet to go over all the things I shouldn’t have said or done, most concerning Kathryn.
Looking up at the stars, as stereotypical as it was, I wondered if Kathryn was doing it too. Or if she was just brushing her teeth, or crawling into bed. Or even if she was sleeping, her long lashes flickering every so often with her soft breath.
I wondered about Kathryn.
Chapter 23
Kathryn
Please let this be it.
My whole body was tense with anticipation as I scanned through the police database. My first Google attempt for “Trisha Nichols” on my laptop at home last night had turned up a big fat nothing other than the LinkedIn profile of a thin woman who admittedly had intense eyes.
This computer, however, wasn’t exactly the latest technology. In the last budget, the government had cut funding for our department, which had, in turn, cut funding for our technological tools. As a result, right now I was using a computer that had probably been obsolete five years ago.
As it flickered through the police database from result to result, it emitted a garbling sound like it might spontaneously combust at any point, or just shut down forever. With this old computer, which I’d affectionately named Crasher for its tendency to do just that, all you could do was hope and pray, which was precisely what I was doing now.
I needed to get this case wrapped up, and not just from a work standpoint. Ever since the first time I’d met Eric Black, it had started to feel wrong. Now that an actual end was in sight, I wasn’t going to slow down. Not a chance.
When the computer finally dinged with success, I practically fell out of my seat in surprise. The content on the screen was even more surprising, though. Trisha Nichols had a restraining order filed against her by Eric Black almost a year ago.
A triumphant smile blazed onto my face as I read on. She’d been fired for stalking and overall disruptive behavior. Clearly, this embezzling allegation had just been Trisha’s cheap bid at revenge.
I printed out the report and headed for the only place that mattered now.
In his office, Sgt. Williams lifted his snow-white head as soon as I stepped inside. It was as if he’d been waiting for me. Pride surged into my chest as I handed him the printout.
“You are as good as your word, Kathryn,” he said, scanning it quickly. “Not really the result we were expecting, but a closed case nonetheless.”
He handed the sheet back to me with a curt nod.
“Although I still don’t agree with your methods, I have to admit you got a result faster than we probably would have otherwise. Most likely, this would’ve stayed on our books as an unsolved case for months, maybe even years. Now we’ll have to get to work clearing Mr. Black’s name.”
As he shook my hand, I resisted the urge to hug him outright. Getting praise from Sgt. Williams was like getting praise from God himself.
“Of course,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “someone is going to have to break the news to Mr. Black.”
“I should do it,” I said immediately, “I’m the one who’s been deceiving him this whole time.”
“That does seem like it would be best,” Sgt. Williams said. “Although, you haven’t been deceiving him, Kathryn. You’ve been doing your job.”
He nodded to himself, as if it were as simple as that, then continued. “As for another case, how about you take tomorrow off, spend Friday getting the rest of the information from Eric, and then we’ll look into a case that meets your caliber.”
“Great,” I said. “Thank you, Sergeant.”
I was almost out the door when he said, “And, Kathryn?”
“Yes?”
Sgt. Williams was holding his ballpoint pen at an awkward angle, like there was something he wanted to say but wasn’t quite sure how to phrase it.
“Just be sure that when revealing the truth to Mr. Black, you are—careful,” he said. “I know how”—he cleared his throat—“intimate you two were.”
I gulped.
“Yes, sir,” I said before darting out.
Outside his office, I stood stock-still for a minute. My gaze dully scanned the rows of cubicles of hardworking officers as the enormity of the situation crashed over me.
Eric and I had spoken nearly every day for the past two weeks and spent time together every other day. Would he ever forgive me?
The same new grunt as before—Helena, I think her name was—walked by me on her way to the coffee machine, staring.
That sent me back to my office to collect my things. There was no point in obsessing over the whole Eric issue yet. Maybe he would take it better than I feared.
Inside my office, the big standard clock indicated it was 11:15. If I was quick, maybe I could meet Eric for lunch and break it to him then. Anything to get this horrible weight off my chest.
When I called him, he sounded surprised but happy.
“You couldn’t even get through half the day without me, huh?” he asked.
Despite the circumstances, an irresistible smile crept onto my face.
“Guess not. I was wondering if you wanted to meet for lunch.”
“I know just the place,” Eric said, “Mama Evita’s. Although, to make it work, you’ll have to be there in less than half an hour. I have a meeting
early this afternoon.”
“I can do that,” I said, immediately. “Although my outfit may not be up to the usual standards.”
Eric chuckled.
“I’ll survive. See you.”
“See you,” I said, hanging up.
I eyed the clock cheerlessly, ticking away the guilty minutes I had remaining.
Less than thirty minutes until I had to break the truth to him. Less than thirty minutes until my revelation would change everything.
Mama Evita’s looked exactly how you’d expect. It was a big red stone home with white shutters. When I stepped inside, I was greeted by a kindly older woman with her hair done in light brown curls—presumably Mama Evita herself.
“I’m with—”
“Mr. Black?” she supplied politely, and I nodded.
She swept a well-kept hand in the direction of what looked to be the dining room.
“Right this way, miss.”
As I soon discovered, my waitress was probably not Mama Evita. The whole restaurant, in fact, was serviced by women who could have been Mama Evita but probably were not. Otherwise, that would mean there was a blond Mama Evita, a straight gray-haired Mama Evita, even a tall knobby Mama Evita. All these potential mamas wore black spectacles and looked over the age of forty.
When I sat down, Eric immediately leaned in and explained. “Word on the street is that all these ladies lived in a nunnery somewhere but got bored and decided to open an Italian restaurant. I don’t buy it though.”
Grinning at him, I asked, “What’s your take then?”
Looking around at the homey yet well-furnished interior, Eric declared, “I think they’re bored housewives. Their kids grew up, their husbands died or dissolved into senility. They just wanted something to do.”
“But then why was it opened in the first place. What was the catalyst?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the wood-paneled walls.
Eric shrugged.
“Don’t ask me. I just come here for the spaghetti.”
Finally noticing what I was wearing, Eric’s blue gaze rested on my white blouse.
“Should have figured you’d looked sexy as hell even in work clothes,” he said with a regretful sigh.
Under the table, his hand came to my knee and squeezed.
“What, and that’s a bad thing?” I asked, raising a brow.
Leaning in, he tapped my lower lip with his pointer finger.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Some bread for the table,” said our Mama Evita in an accent I couldn’t place as she put a basket bursting with bread on the table.
“We’re actually ready to order,” Eric said before she could leave. “I’m in kind of a time crunch today.”
“Of course,” the woman said, nodding her head so vigorously that a few plastered-down curls wiggled out of place.
“I’ll have the spaghetti,” Eric said, looking at the clock, “and—” His gaze flicked over to me.
I stared at the menu for a minute before shrugging and saying, “I trust you.”
Eric winked.
“Spaghetti for Kathryn too, please. Thank you.”
Gathering our menus in her round arms, the woman smiled, nodding some more.
“Of course.”
As soon as she left, Eric turned his taunting gaze my way.
“Are you sure you trust me?” he asked in a low voice as his hand snaked up my leg.
A tremor of desire shot through me. Eric was not making this easy on me.
Over the table, grasping my hand, he whispered, “Calm down, Kathryn. You’re driving me nuts here. I’m just trying to enjoy my meal, okay?”
Shrugging my knee away, I glared at him for a minute before giving into the laughter bubbling in me.
“I would ask how your day was,” Eric continued, his other hand finding my wrist, “but I don’t need to ask. We both know it just got a hell of a lot better.”
“Speak for yourself,” I joked, snaking my own hand under the table to grab his knee. “You’re the one who wants me to sleep over every other night.”
At my thoughtless jab, Eric’s face fell.
Clasping my wrist tightly, he wrenched it up to his lips, where he delivered a deep, suckling kiss.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it too.”
Suppressed desire ratcheted through me. A quick look around indicated that no one was noticing what was going on between us. The tablecloth over the table was long, and the nearest other diners were half a room away.
Eric moved his chair as far forward as it would go as his hand inched up my thigh higher and higher.
Suddenly, I darted up.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, rushing away before he could even answer.
Inside the single-stall bathroom, I wiped away the wetness of my pussy and then focused on my burned-up face. Splashing water on it did the trick, as did reminding myself of the reason I was here. I had to tell Eric the truth. The circles under my eyes right now weren’t just from late nights with him; they were from mounting guilt. It wasn’t right to go on misleading him like this, especially now that I knew he was innocent of the allegations.
Right before I left, I paused, reminding myself again that I had to tell Eric the truth—now.
I opened the door to find Eric.
He shoved me back inside and locked the door behind us.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he said by way of explanation, unbuttoning my pants.
“Eric,” I gasped as he ripped them and my panties down.
By now, he’d undone his own and was pressing himself into me.
“What was that?” he asked cruelly as I moaned. “I couldn’t hear you.”
He jabbed his dick into me, and I collapsed onto him. Resisting my need was useless. This was what I needed right now.
“How did you even get so hard?” I asked as my pussy was once again stuffed with a wonderfully raging erection.
“Touching you. Plus your touch on my knee helped,” he rasped, digging into me. “But then I thought about how your pussy felt, and I knew I had to see if I remembered correctly.”
With that, he drilled himself into me deeper with a series of unending thrusts.
“And,” I groaned, “did you remember correctly?”
Eric slammed his mouth onto mine just as he thrust into me the hardest and deepest yet. I drooped against the wall, and into my pounding ear, he rasped, “Not a chance. It was even better than I thought.”
His thrusts slammed me into the creaky wall of the bathroom. Any minute one of the innumerable Mama Evita’s was sure to drum on the door angrily, or even a diner who needed to use the bathroom.
The next thrust into me slapped those considerations away. None of that mattered now. All that mattered, all I wanted and needed, was to sate the red-hot flame of desire Eric had awakened in me.
As he smeared his hand into my mouth, I started nibbling and sucking on his fingers feverishly. He used the newly wet hand to mash into my clit as he fucked me.
“Not fair,” I protested breathlessly.
“Just come, bitch,” Eric said, slapping the words out of my mouth.
The shock of the blow raked my insides with another white-hot burn of pleasure. Already, I was on the edge.
When Eric added kissing and exploring the slopes of my ear into the mix, my release overtook me. The orgasm stabbed into me deeper with every thrust of his merciless dick. On and on. I was coming, my hand clapped over my mouth, yet my whole body was screaming. Every limb of mine was screaming. The room was screaming. Even Eric’s dick as it emptied itself into me was screaming. It was all screaming glorious ecstasy.
Afterward, although we were dazed, we wasted no time basking in the afterglow. Eric quickly procured some toilet paper and we wiped ourselves off.
He smiled at me and then his phone rang.
After answering it, he responded “yes” a few times. Then he said, “I’ll be right there.”
There was regret on his
face when he turned to me.
“I’m so, so sorry, Kathryn.”
Chapter 24
Eric
A work emergency, seriously?
As I raced out to my car, my teeth angrily tore at some dry skin on my lower lip. How was it that these work emergencies happened at the most inconvenient times?
At least Kathryn had handled it well. After I’d broken the news to her that I had to go in right away and defend against another hacking attempt on Virus Killer by the Russians, she had readily understood, although I could tell that she was disappointed and there was something she wasn’t saying.
However, there was simply no time to find out what she was holding back.
To make matters worse, once we finally existed the bathroom, our waitress was there eyeing us knowingly.
My mind had gone completely blank, but Kathryn had smoothly said, “My boyfriend was helping me put on a necklace.”
As unlikely an excuse as it had been, it was better than the alternative of saying nothing. Kathryn’s quick thinking impressed me, no question. She was a better liar than I would’ve wagered. She had done the deed with a straight face and a calm tone. She’d mentioned something about being a good liar in her childhood, sure, but I’d written it off as the cocky, cute assurances of a girl who didn’t really know what she was doing.
Anyway, here I was in my car, rushing on my way to the scene of the crime.
At work, it once again took me a grand total of twenty minutes to exterminate the Russian hackers. This time, I made sure to send a nice little surprise their way, too. They had to learn that they couldn’t mess with Virus Killer and get away with it unscathed.
Done with that, it was time to head to the meeting. One thing led to another and soon it was five on the dot and the workday was over.
A quick call to Kathryn had her readily agreeing to dinner, albeit in a curt manner.
I got to the restaurant first and was seated. When Kathryn arrived, I knew immediately because a few of the men at the other tables started to fidget and turn her way. As soon as I saw her, I could see why. Jesus, the woman had outdone herself again. Kathryn was dressed in a slinky red and black lace dress. It was a dead ringer of that sexy lingerie she’d worn at my place last time.
