He pulled back, and she fought him for the pleasure of feeling his strength. Inch by inch he emptied her, before thrusting back in ferociously again and again. He grabbed her hands when she reached for him and held them spread wide against the bed. She was powerless against his steely grasp. He pumped inside her, pinning her body down, making her gasp with the strength of each thrust. His pubic bone rubbed against her clit. His furry chest scratched against her breasts with each move forward and back. The burning in her core intensified, until she knew it was going to be impossible to obey his directions. She tried to hold back. “Nolan…”
“Come, Marisa,” he shouted, and she did, white light filling her vision as her body shuddered. His cock pulsed inside her at the same time. His face contorted as he grunted his pleasure, and she abandoned herself to the moment, her pussy milking him. She tried to wrap her arms around him, yet found comfort in the way he held her down instead, controlling her writhing body with his strength.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his weight on her, even though she knew he was holding himself up at least in part. Just as well; this way she could breathe. She clenched her pussy as he slid out of her, but it didn’t stop him. He rolled her over on top of him once his back was against the bed, cradling her head to his chest. He felt solid. Dependable.
“Mmm,” she murmured.
“You were wonderful.”
She smiled, registering his words before she fell asleep.
Chapter Four
Nolan woke up in the morning to find that Marisa had rolled over and was snoring softly. He was careful not to disturb her as he slipped out of bed. He watched her for several minutes. She looked beautiful there, naked and peaceful. At last he turned away and headed for the kitchen.
He found a good-size frying pan in a cupboard, some eggs in the fridge, and some veggie bacon in the freezer—he’d make do with that, even if it couldn’t possibly be as good as the real thing. Maybe it was healthier. As far as he could see, there wasn’t any meat in the house. Apparently Marisa was a vegetarian. That would make for some interesting times, but he intended to date her, not to live with her. He wasn’t looking for a full-time slave—those were far too much work—and in any case, life as a cop’s partner was tough. Better to take things one night at a time and not be too serious. Date other people if the opportunity arose.
For some reason the idea of Marisa dating someone else made his stomach tighten up in knots. No way should I feel that possessive after one date. And that was from imagining her sitting at a restaurant with some other guy. The idea of her kneeling in front of someone or getting naked—no, best not to go there.
The bacon sizzled, sort of. It definitely had less fat than the real kind. He didn’t know if it would lend its flavor to the eggs as well either, but he decided to find out. He set the strips of bacon to dry on a paper towel and started in on the eggs, intending to make them over easy.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” said a soft feminine voice from the doorway. He turned. She didn’t sound angry, and she was smiling. She looked damn sexy in the very short terry-cloth robe she wore.
“As you wish.” He gave a bow and turned back to the eggs. “Breakfast in a few minutes.” He had an instant hard-on at the sight of her, and if he kept looking, he’d be wondering if the bottom of the robe would part enough for a glimpse of her pussy, as if he was a schoolboy who’d never seen one before. The memory of how she’d felt around his cock didn’t help him focus, but fortunately he could make eggs on autopilot.
“You’ll probably want plates, Sir.” She had an impish grin on her face when she set them on one of the empty burners, and he was sure the way she brushed against his bare arm was no accident. She looked him over, slowly and obviously. He decided that leaving his shirt off had definitely been the right move.
“Plates are good.” He grinned back. Her “Sir” sounded more ironic than serious, but he didn’t need to be “on” all the time, especially outside the bedroom. He flipped the eggs onto the plates, two on each, added five strips of “bacon,” and set both on the small round kitchen table. There was only one chair there, a blue metal folding chair. He was guessing she didn’t have company often.
They both looked at the chair and back at each other. “I’ll go get another one,” Marisa said.
Nolan shook his head. “I eat standing up half the time anyway.” He pulled the chair out and gestured for Marisa to sit.
“Thank you.” She sat slowly, giving him time to slide the chair underneath her. “I was afraid you’d have me sit on the floor.”
“No, that’s not necessary.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Eating while standing is bad for your digestion.”
“Really?” He had located the silverware drawer earlier while looking for a spatula, and got a pair of forks and two knives out, placing them alongside the plates.
“I think it has to be. You need to be relaxed to enjoy your food.”
“I do it all the time.”
She closed her eyes. Only the steadiness of her posture and the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply stopped him from thinking she was passing out. He put his hand out to touch her shoulder. His cell phone buzzed.
He glanced down at it. “Sorry, Marisa, I have to call in.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
He walked out to the living room and called headquarters. He had the feeling he wasn’t going to get to enjoy his breakfast nearly as much as he’d intended.
Frank, the dispatcher, told him some punk had held up the grocery store, and they needed him to go over and have a look. Price and McSweeney were evicting a drunk from the county library, and Garret was on leave and taking his family to New York. Nolan went back to the kitchen after he hung up. “Sorry, Marisa. Duty calls.”
She nodded. “I know. I had a premonition.”
He made a face at her, not sure what to make of the comment. “Let me get my shirt.”
She nodded. By the time he was dressed, she was at the front door, now open. She’d transferred the bacon and eggs to a paper plate, with a plastic fork and knife laid on top of them. “You can eat in the car.”
“Thanks.” He grinned, appreciating her thoughtfulness.
She didn’t grin back. “You think I’m lying about the premonition.”
“Not lying exactly. I’ve really got to go.”
Her frown deepened. “Not exactly. Go, then.”
He wished he had time to argue with her, to explain that he believed that she believed. And that maybe she shaded things to bolster that belief. But it was already twenty-five minutes to the grocery store. Travel time couldn’t be helped out in the country, but it didn’t make the citizens happy about it even when time didn’t matter. If it was a stranger who held up the store, he’d be in another county by the time Nolan could get after him. If it was someone local, they’d be caught, because secrets didn’t last here, except perhaps those of near hermits like Marisa, and even then there was plenty of talk. Either way he’d told the chief where he was coming from, and there’d be hell to pay if he was too late. It might take a while to straighten things out with Marisa. He’d have to get back to her some other time.
He was three steps away when she said angrily, “And don’t come back. I have to admit it was nice while it lasted.”
He wasted several seconds staring after the door she closed behind her.
Fucking hell.
MARISA SHUT THE door and threw the deadbolt behind it. She knew already that the man whose car engine was now roaring to life was going to haunt her dreams. She didn’t blame him for what he was. But she wasn’t willing to change to be what he wanted.
She’d had a particularly clear vision before the phone call. Her visions were always shrouded in metaphor, but not this time. Maybe the sex had sharpened her powers. She hadn’t met the man who held up the store, but she could pick him out of a line-up. But what good would it do to tell Nolan? He’d never believe her.
And neither would a court.
I don’t need a true believer. I just need someone who will listen to me without calling me a liar. Or worse, thinking I’m one without being willing to risk saying it. It had been such a perfect night. She’d never been so turned on. But I’m stronger than that. I’m a woman. I’m a part of the Goddess. Maybe submitting was never for me, anyway. But how can something that felt so good be contrary to who I am? She didn’t have an answer to that. Maybe another opportunity would come with someone who trusted her. Trust had to go two ways, in any relationship, but especially one where you let the other person take control.
She sat down and used the side of her fork to cut off a little of her egg. He’d done them to perfection, damn him. To let good food go to waste would be petty. She forced herself to slow down, to savor the eggs and the salty brown vegetarian strips. It wasn’t easy, but she’d manage it.
She walked over to the computer, intending to update her profile on the BDSM network site she’d signed up for so long ago. Maybe she could experience all that again with someone else. Yet she couldn’t get Nolan’s face out of her mind, couldn’t help but wonder if she made the profile look more seductive, maybe she’d get his attention. Maybe a second time things would turn out differently.
Submissive. Single. Looking for Relationship, the screen read. Would a real submissive have told her dominant off so easily, after two wonderful orgasms, a night of cuddling, and wonder of wonders, breakfast? She made a face and then made up her mind. A few pull-down menus later, she clicked off Submissive and replaced it with None of the above. Looking for a Relationship turned into Just Curious. Single became Not Specified. She clicked on Save Changes, willing her heart to be strong and cold. I’m a witch. The same divine spark that is in Sophia and Freyja and Hera is in me. I bow to no man, ever again. Especially not Nolan Coralone. Even if it means I never get fucked that way again.
Since she didn’t have any mail of interest, she pulled up her project and focused on the code she was supposed to be working on, losing herself in the snakelike subroutines and obscure variables. As long as she kept to her brain, she would be fine. It was her heart that was giving her trouble.
* * * *
Two days later she’d finished. She’d grabbed a few naps, but mostly she had worked maniacally, eating microwave pizza and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches while barely taking her eyes off the screen. It was easier to figure out what was going on in the program if she didn’t let anything distract her. Loud music and two-liter bottles of Mountain Dew were enough to keep her going and stop the dreams she was having when she fell asleep. But now the project was done, the freezer was empty, and she was out of caffeine.
The phone had rung several times, and she’d let it go straight to voice mail. She hadn’t bothered to listen to the messages or even checked the missed call log. Her phone didn’t usually ring much at all, so she was pretty sure that at least some of the calls were Nolan. She didn’t want to know. He’d left a hole in her heart that she didn’t want to probe. How could she be happy with someone who thought she was making up stories—or worse, crazy? If she could have been angry with him, it would have been easier, but he saw the world differently, and she firmly believed in letting other people travel their own religious or non-religious path.
And mine, I walk alone.
There had been times she put on makeup to go into town, but she didn’t care to admit to herself she cared what other people saw in her. She usually avoided the mirror entirely. Her eyes probably looked like a raccoon’s given the sleep she hadn’t had, but oh well. She tossed on a light jacket over an anime tee, struggled into faded blue jeans that must have shrunk their last time through the wash, and got in her beat-up green Honda to head to the grocery store.
Her first instinct when she saw Nolan looking at tomatoes was to flee. But she needed groceries, and she’d been running from his phone calls already. He hadn’t seen her, but it wasn’t a large store, and judging from the emptiness of his cart, he’d just started shopping. They’d encounter each other eventually. She straightened her back and strode forward, pushing her cart right past him. “Morning!” she called out as cheerfully as she could as she passed, aware a few moments later that it was actually late afternoon. Her sleep habits had been out of sync, at that. I slept more peacefully against his chest.
“Marisa!” he exclaimed. She kept going. She could skip fresh fruits and vegetables if she needed to, even though she usually avoided prepared foods when she wasn’t working. Frozen Pizza. And Chocolate.
She found the candy aisle and was placing a big bag of dark-chocolate bars into her cart when she felt his hand on her arm. “Marisa,” he said, his voice as soft as his grip was firm.
She tried to shake him free.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say things very well. I don’t doubt the sincerity of your belief, and I didn’t mean to call you a liar.”
She looked at his face. She didn’t doubt his sincerity either. I don’t need you to believe what I believe. I need you to believe in me. It was so tempting to imagine he could. She waited. She wasn’t sure she could resist if he asked her to forgive him. She wasn’t sure she could resist if he grabbed her and kissed her either. He made her feel soft and feminine in a way she didn’t normally feel.
For a long moment, they stared at each other. He didn’t make a move on her, and he didn’t ask for forgiveness.
“Let go of my arm,” she said at last.
“I will if you tell me you didn’t feel the connection that I felt.”
Damn straight, I felt a connection. I could drown in you. The instinct to flee grew again. All it would take to get away was one little lie. But her whole lonely life, far in the country, was arranged so that she never had to hide who she was, never had to lie. Who was he to challenge that?
“I felt something pretty strong, Marisa. I can’t explain it, but I still felt it. I believe in it. And I want to experience it again.”
A young mother and her infant son had entered the aisle. There was a gangly man in the store polo shirt there too, stocking the cereal that was opposite the candy. An audience she didn’t need.
She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined herself an oak tree, strong and unmoving in the wind. She would not bend. And she knew how to get away. “Do you happen to know where the cheesecake aisle is? Because I’m looking for some cheesecake.”
His eyes went dark for a second, and then he released her arm. She knew that he would honor her safe word. She’d trusted him to do that much, not merely because she thought him trustworthy, but because if she didn’t, her only other way out was to scream. He wouldn’t like that much, especially if they ended up calling the cops on him. She smirked and walked away.
“I noticed you didn’t say no, Marisa. You have my number. Call me when you’re feeling brave.” Nolan turned and walked away.
“Cheesecake is in aisle ten, ma’am,” said the store employee.
She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to eat less right then, but she thanked him and wheeled her cart along in the opposite direction from the way Nolan went.
Chapter Five
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Nolan wished he was standing as usual, rather than sitting in the chair that Chief Jacobsen had directed him to occupy. The chair was never a good sign, and Nolan was tired. He’d been up since two a.m. because of a fight at a bar halfway across the county.
“With all due respect, Sergeant, it isn’t up to you.” Jacobsen frowned at him. Normally, the chief, who had only a smattering of police training, was happy to yield to his more experienced subordinate. When he wasn’t, and especially when he used his rank rather than his first name, Nolan knew that politics was at play. Jacobsen served at the pleasure of the Landon County board of supervisors. Supervisor Mackey’s son had been missing for six days, and he was losing patience with police efforts to find him.
“Then may I suggest you send someone else?”
> Jacobsen frowned again. “Why would I do that? You were able to get her to help with the Dailey girl. You’re the obvious choice. Besides, Price is a lout with women, and McSweeney’s got a jealous wife who frets anytime he’s taking a pretty woman’s statement.”
He couldn’t deny either of the two. “Marisa and I have a history.”
“Exactly.”
“Whose stupid idea was this?” Nolan thought he knew, but he wanted to hear it anyway.
“Dismissed, Sergeant. I have other headaches to deal with.”
Nolan nodded and got to his feet. Jacobsen’s mind was obviously made up. Since Jacobsen wasn’t usually an ass, he was probably getting pressure from the supervisor, and Nolan knew if he stayed, he was going to end up in an argument with the wrong man. He was better off being angry somewhere else.
Nolan walked out of the office. Maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with all this much longer. He had an application in to join the Virginia Beach force, which might suit him better. But fantasizing about that wasn’t going to help get the current job done. He checked out a patrol car so he wouldn’t have to use his own. He didn’t want Marisa thinking he was coming on a social call.
Gerald Mackey was a troubled kid. A bright boy, he had a history of misbehavior all through high school, but nothing that had involved the police except for one busted keg party when he was seventeen. Most of it was normal kid stuff, a boy in search of his identity, acting up in every more outlandish ways as he tried to find who he was. Sophomore year was all-black year. His junior year he dyed his hair purple. As a senior he tried out for the football team, which probably wouldn’t have worked horribly well even in the suburbs, but the rural kids on the football team didn’t much care for “Jerry the freak” and made sure to hit him extra hard. Somewhere in the process of trying to ingratiate himself, Jerry’s grades tanked, and failing English canceled his ticket out of Landon County, which had been in the form of an acceptance from the University of Virginia. He needed a fresh start, but instead, he was back at high school, making up a semester of English and working the night shift at the Gallagher’s service station. One night he hadn’t shown up.
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