In My Custody

by Stella Marie Alden

  No one has ever loved me like this and it’s overwhelming. I spread my legs wider, about to climax.

  His breath hitches. “Fuck. I need a condom.”

  “Pill. On the pill. Clean.” If he doesn’t enter now, I may solve the mystery of spontaneous human combustion.

  He drags off his pants and his cock springs out. “Trust me?

  “Damn it. Move Quinn!”

  “You come with me. Eyes here.”

  Slowly he slides into my heat, stretching me like the first time only better. He inches in another centimeter while I hold my breath. Shaking, he takes me until we’re core to core and I’m on the brink of another orgasm, worthy of the Guinness Book.

  On his elbows, he pulls out fully and enters me again, this time faster.

  When he does it a third time, something inside me snaps and I arch up, hard and fast.

  Dammit. Give me what I need.

  I do this repeatedly while he meets me, a bit surprised at first, then all in. At some point, the sectional comes apart in the middle and without missing a beat we continue our heated passion on the rough rug. Sweating, working for our release, I wrap my legs around his waist and lock my ankles behind his thighs.

  “Fuck it, Sienna. Cum with me!” He thrusts, I scream, and my clit hits his base.

  When his rough thumb comes between us…

  “Holy Fuck. Oh God, Oh yes!” Behind my eyelids, fireworks go off in a whole array of colors.

  “Shhiiiiit!” An earthquake explodes between us.

  Then, we both collapse in a puddle, nigh onto dead.

  I’m not sure how long we just lay there, but it’s long enough for his body to feel heavy. I push and he rolls off me with a groan.

  Never before have I had rugburns on my ass and elbows, nor the incredible sex that went along with it. Sore but incredibly sated, I curl up next to his sleeping form.

  Chapter 11

  Andy

  When I open my eyes, locks of soft hair tickle my nose and block my vision. My arm tingles because I haven’t moved it since she rested her head on my shoulder. She is so damn gorgeous, I’m dying to make love again but my inner-lawyer takes over. I need to wake the fuck up and delegate some work to my associates.

  At the sight of my devastated living room, my jaw drops. Her bra ended up above the fireplace, our shirts on the floor, and there’s pants between my leather sectional. We actually split the fabric and there’s tiny pieces of foam everywhere. One of my shoes is in the middle of the floor, the other unaccounted for. God knows what happened to my socks.

  Holy shit, what a wild ride.

  Carefully, I place a pillow under her head and slide my arm out from under her. My morning wood swells toward her beautiful, naked body, ready for another go. When I count the number of times we made love, it’s hard to believe I’ve got any sperm left. In the past, the women I’ve slept with have always been reserved, made me do most of the work. Last night made me realize what I’d been missing.

  She’s all sex-mussed and I’m feeling pretty fucking good as I fold her clothes and place them on a chair. Then, while she snoozes, I quietly shut the sliding door that separates the living room from my office. I slip on the black jeans I wore last night and get to work.

  By noon, I’ve figured out the logistics for the next couple weeks and purchase tickets to Charlotte. I also have scheduled the murder recording to be emailed the minute we leave New York.

  Time to get out of Dodge.

  When door rollers scrape against metal, I look up, and my heart misses a beat. She’s wearing my t-shirt and nothing else. It’s so damn enticing when she tugs the hem down that I have to stop myself from fucking her right there in the doorway.

  She grabs her folded clothes and gives me a sleepy, shy smile. “Bathroom?”

  “Upstairs and to the right.” I stand, tongue tied. How do I tell her in one night, I’ve been baptized, reborn, and gone to heaven? Back on earth, I want to do it all over again. When her lovely blue eyes lift to mine, oh hell, blood runs south but damn, I need to be civilized.

  A slight blush creeps to her cheeks. “Mind if I shower?”

  Rather than think of water running over that gorgeous body, I force thoughts of the Buonanno family hoping to shrink my swollen cock.

  I give her a boy-scout smile. “Go for it. The top drawer by the sink has a guest toothbrush, soap, and little samples. Take what you need or use mine. There’s towels in the closet which is the door to the right.”

  Her lips, swollen by a night of passionate love-making drop into a small frown. “I-I guess you’re used to company… a lot.”

  It takes me a second to get her drift. Wanting her sweet smile back, I stand, walk across my oriental rug, and pull her into my arms. Immediately, I’m intoxicated by her scent and our sweaty night together.

  “Family comes to visit me, luv, not women. I never, ever, had a night like last night. You’ve ruined me forever.”

  Is it too soon to tell her I’m head over heels and never letting her go? When a Quinn falls, it’s forever. Once, my brother made the mistake of settling for less and his first marriage was a disaster. It took my sister-in-law, Mel, to set him straight. Now, I want the same kind of love he has.

  She laughs as she slides out of my arms. “I really got to pee.”

  “Sorry. You’re just so damn irresistible.” I kiss the top of her head, loving how the lower globes of her ass wiggle as she heads up the stairs.

  Focus, Quinn.

  When the shower water runs in the upstairs bathroom, I call Jack. “Hey, ready to visit North Carolina?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  “Is a clam’s ass watertight?”

  “Do one legged ducks swim in circles?”

  Ha. I know what he’s waiting for. “Will my mom make her world-renowned, blue ribbon, barbecue ribs?”

  He laughs. “As long as that dear sweet woman cooks, I’ll never say no to an invite. What time is our flight?”

  “I got us on the six-forty-five out of JFK.”

  “Okay, you need a piece?”

  “No, I got a pistol and license but bring an empty case for me.”

  “Keep Sienna close and by close I don’t mean sleeping with her. Got it? Stay on high alert. Until I get there, you’re her bodyguard, not her lawyer, not her lover.”

  His chastising would piss me off except he’s right. I was so into her, I forgot about the murder in the woods. Hell, I forgot my own name.”

  “Understood. Later.” Even as I hang up, her sweet voice echoes in the upstairs bathroom and I grow hard. Not touching her today may be the hardest thing I’ll ever do.

  Thinking like a bodyguard, I walk to the front window, tilt the shutter, and check out the block. There’s nothing suspicious so I make my way upstairs. In the kitchen, I grind some coffee beans and start a pot of coffee. Then, I crack open a couple eggs and scramble them.

  Judging from the energy she expended last night, she must be starving. Smiling, I throw some frozen hash browns into the microwave and put two slices of whole wheat bread into the toaster.

  Two plates, two napkins, and two mugs go onto the dining room table covered in white linen.

  She comes out in just a towel, wet feet making marks on my pristine hardwood floor. Quickly, I grab another towel and wipe up as I push her back onto the tiled floor and kiss her.

  “Oh, sorry.” She’s left her toothbrush on the counter top, along with the toothpaste which I put away into the drawer. I straighten the shower curtain and squeegee the wall while she watches me with her face scrunched up in question mark.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  Fuck. Busted. “No, no. I, ah. I like things orderly.”

  This is exactly why I don’t bring women home.

  She eyes me like the other women who’ve briefly come into my life. They find out I’m a little OCD and I never hear from them again.

  I laugh it off, take her towel, and kiss her until all thoughts of my crazi
ness leave her head. When she drops her towel, the kissing grows real serious but I remember Jack’s warning, moan, and with my hands on her soft waist, place her sweet, sweet body a few inches back.

  “What? Why stop?” Her warm lips are open, inviting, and I want nothing more than to cover them with mine until she squirms in my arms and…

  A deep breath allows well-needed oxygen to enter my brain. “I just spoke to Jack. I’m supposed to be guarding you. I can’t watch over you like this.” I glance down at the huge bulge in my pants.

  She smiles seductively, reaches out and touches my cock. Lust ignites but I got to be strong, for her.

  I grab her wrists and pull her clever fingers to my lips. “We should talk about our next moves.”

  “I think your moves are just fine.” Her grin makes me wonder why I’m not already inside her.

  Internally cursing the fates, I pick up the towel, wrap it around her waist, and pat her butt. “Clothes, Sienna. Now.”

  Suddenly, a knock at the door makes me jump to the window where below, a UPS truck is parked in front of the house. A big man in a brown uniform fidgets with a package at my door.

  “Shit. I didn’t order anything.” The hairs stand on the back of my neck as I push Sienna into the bathroom. “Stay put. Stay quiet. Lock the door.”

  The doorbell rings again.

  What? Do these guys think I’m an idiot?

  I call Jack to see where my security detail is and his voicemail answers, “If you’re not trying to sell me some crap, leave a message.”

  Pure adrenaline pumps through my veins as I try to figure what I should do. There’s one guy on the corner watching with too much interest and… Ah hell, a furniture delivery truck is in front of another brownstone down the street, the driver looking this way.

  There’s no way to tell the good guys from the bad.

  Ambush.

  However, unless they use automatic weapons, it’s damned near impossible to get in through my outer gate. Similarly, the lower windows are all barred with heavy iron. The hardware on my building dates back to the riots in the sixties.

  Air hisses out my lungs when the guy gives up and puts a sticky note on my door. To anyone watching, it looks official. Soon after, another guy walking a dog gets into the furniture truck and they all drive away.

  I wait for a good fifteen minutes before calling to Sienna. “You can come out, now.”

  I can’t help but wonder, would I have opened the door if I was in the middle of making love? Probably not, but still, it reminds me of how close they got to her.

  Our breakfast cold, I place her plate in the microwave and pull out a chair.

  “Coffee?”

  Dressed in yesterday’s outfit, she plops down in a chair, and holds up her mug. “Who was at the door?”

  How much should I tell her? “UPS.”

  “Did you order something good?”

  “No. Actually, I didn’t order a goddamned thing.” I pour dark liquid out of the carafe and her eyebrows raise until she gets what I’m saying.

  “Shit. Was it Peter?” She jumps to the front and looks out.

  “Good God, stay out of the window.” I grab her by the waist and sit her down in front of a carton of cream.

  When I’m sure she’s not going to jump up again, I take a deep breath, and recall what just took place. “I didn’t see Peter but there were at least four men ready to storm my door.”

  The microwave dings, the toast is hard as a rock and the eggs dried so I toss it in the garbage.

  She eyes the mess, stands, and squats to pull out a carton of eggs from my refrigerator. Then, she washes out the small fry pan. Before she can use a metal fork on the stick-free surface, I hand her a spatula and put the cream back in the refrigerator.

  After, I wipe up the counter top where she spilled egg whites. Before she notices my compulsion to keep things neat, I kiss her mindless.

  When we come up for air, I figure now is as good a time as any to give her the bad news. “We’re leaving tonight for North Carolina.”

  “No. no way. I got gigs lined up. If I cancel, I lose my credibility. It’ll be worse than starting over.”

  “Certainly, if you explain the circumstances, everyone will understand.”

  “Right. Let me try it out on you. My dead husband just came back to life so I need to leave town for a while.”

  I grimace. “Yeah, I hear you but it doesn’t matter. We’re leaving. End of story.”

  “Don’t you think you should’ve asked me first?”

  It pisses me off she thinks so little of her life. “What the fuck, Sienna? Someone is trying to kill you.”

  “Well, yeah. And?”

  “I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “I’ll be fine. I assume you sent the police the audio file, right? What more could anyone want with me? There’s no logical reason to want me dead.”

  “What about the hard drive?”

  “I don’t know, dammit. You’re my lawyer. Do something. I’m not leaving.” Her chin juts out and arms cross over his chest.

  I haven’t seen this stubborn side of her or maybe I have and it didn’t bother me so much. I’m falling hard for this woman and yet I wonder if we’re compatible enough to stay together for a few minutes, let alone, a lifetime.

  No longer hungry, I head downstairs. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. I’d advise you to stay clear of the front of the house. That UPS truck is probably parked around the corner or a sniper could pick you off in a heartbeat.”

  “It was probably a real UPS truck. You’re just making all this shit up. Besides, I thought you said Jack sent some hot shot security guards.” She snorts through her nose, stopping me in my tracks.

  Shit, she was right and I am off my game. It can’t happen again.

  “Think what you will. You’re not leaving.”

  “I got a rehearsal and a gig this afternoon. I’m going.”

  “Dammit, Sienna. If I have to handcuff you to a radiator, I will.” I take two steps toward her and instead of backing up, she meets me chest to chest, those stunning eyes all fired up.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.”

  Generally, I’m an easy-going guy but she’s brought out a side of me I’ve never seen before, more like my father, if truth be told.

  I cringe as it dawns on me why I always date women without spunk, without heart. They keep the monsters inside me at bay. I can have mindless sex without worry. If I end up with Alzheimer’s, it won’t matter. They can stick me in a home and there won’t be any wife or kids to dread visiting me.

  I pace like a caged lion across the small living room with her upstairs, slamming doors and breaking things. Every so often I glance out the front window, waiting for Jack. He should be here within the hour.

  After a while, it goes quiet and I relax. Suddenly, I hear her soulful voice, walk up the stairs, and peek into my kitchen. She’s singing with her eyes closed, earbuds plugged into her cell phone. It’s the same song that broke my fucking heart in the club.

  Her voice cracks with a little sob, making me feel like one mean SOB.

  Chapter 12

  Sienna

  There’s no way in hell I’m leaving the city. My lawyer-lover doesn’t get it. My gig isn’t a job, it’s every musician’s dream come true. If I blow it, I may never get another opportunity.

  Andy really pisses me off. I should never have slept with him. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t, obviously.

  Guys like him need to marry debutante soccer moms, women who went to the right colleges, smart but not too smart. They say all the right things. They cut off crusts from sandwiches and know how to make three bean casseroles. Honestly, I’m not even sure what a casserole is. Hell, I even dripped water onto his hardwood floors this morning and didn’t put the cover on the toothpaste straight. Every time I made a mess, I made him crazy. We could never be together long term.

  I probably should tidy up t
he living room and plump pillows. After, I’m getting the hell out of here. Damn it all. My throat gets tight at the thought of never seeing my handsome suit again. I know, I know. It was just one night and we were running hot from all the shit that went on during the day. It was just, sex, dammit. Trouble is, my brain is wired all wrong. Other people have sex.

  I make love.

  Shit. This is exactly how I got into trouble with Peter. I thought when we did the nasty, it meant something. He didn’t. Why he married me, I may never know.

  I press the green arrow on my cell phone to start my tunes, mostly old jazz favorites. Inhaling I start to sing along with my band. “Don’t know why…” I channel Ethel Waters and get lost in Stormy Weather, one of my favorite songs. I choke up when I think about how it rains on her life all the time. Mine, too.

  When I wipe my wet lashes, Andy’s standing in his stairwell, staring at me. His beautiful body is framed by the dark wood of the door, no doubt hand-rubbed by him into perfection.

  Why does he have to look at me with all that heat?

  He strides across the kitchen and pulls out my earbuds. “Do you have to do that?”

  “Do what?” I jut out my chin and frown. How could he have made such beautiful love with me last night and be such a jerk this afternoon?

  “Sing? You make a hole where my soul used to be. You’re part goddess, part siren. I want to throw you over my shoulder, take you to my bed, and fuck you into silence. Either that or gag your gorgeous mouth so you can’t sing when I’m supposed to be guarding you. One of the biggest crime families in the city is after you and all I can think is how good it feels inside you.”

  I note how he doesn’t use the phrase, make love. Men never do. I hate how I feel so defensive, how his offer of sex thrills me. I hate everything about Andy Quinn, especially how I crave his touch.

  “You can’t assume they’re after me because of Peter.” Better to change the subject and argue something I can win.

  The few feet separating us might as well be a mile. Just last night we were wrapped in each other, making passionate love. Now, we’re enemies.

  Sex, S E X. I spell it in my head. Sex is not equal to love.