Kiss Across Deserts

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  “That feels…interesting,” he said, breathing hard.

  Sydney brought her hand back up to her swollen clit and this time, she pushed her fingertips up against it, letting the movement of Rafe’s stomach against her knuckles make her fingers stroke in time with his thrusting. Her orgasm leapt and she began to shake. She was so close to coming!

  Rafe’s fingers were touching her pussy, teasing the entrance, and in comparison to what his cock was doing to her, it was a delicate touch that nevertheless made her nerves sizzled. Her climax gathered, and her clit pounded in response.

  Then Rafe pulled his fingers backward through her cleft, the fingers that had soaked up her natural lubricant. He pressed them against her anus, and one slipped inside.

  Sydney threw her head back, her breath exploding out of her in a raw groan. Her climax tore through her, making her heart and her breath stop for a moment. She saw stars, dancing over her vision.

  “Keep going,” Rafe told her. “Come again.”

  Sydney kept stroking her clit, harder now and faster. A second climax caught fire and swiftly raged through her, as Rafe pumped into her deeper and harder. This time, he came, too, as he arched back, throwing out one hand for balance, the other gripping her hip.

  They stayed in those strained positions for a moment and Sydney could feel her heart in her ears. Then Rafe lifted her off him and placed her on the mattress. A yawn caught her by surprise and it spread through her, making her stretch out her arms and snapping all her tendons taut.

  Rafe pushed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s late. Why don’t you sleep? I bet you will sleep like an elephant now.” She saw his smile despite the dark.

  Sydney bit her lip. “That makes me feel like I just used you as a sleeping pill.”

  “Does it matter?” he asked. “It’s not like I didn’t get any fun out of it.”

  “Just sex. Right.”

  “Just sex. Exactly.” He patted her pillow and moved out of the way. “Come on. Your eyes are already drooping.”

  They were. Now that the fizz of the climax had dissipated, she could feel her body trying to shut down on her. Her thoughts were foggy. She realized she was lying down and didn’t remember deciding she would do that.

  The covers were pulled over her and Sydney stretched out her hand. “You don’t have to go,” she murmured.

  “Sleep,” he told her. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

  And he was. She woke to daylight and found Rafe curled around her from behind, his hand on her breast. His lips trailed over her neck, nuzzling. Sydney was almost instantly awake and aroused and she arched back as his fingers pulled her nipple out between them.

  His lips moved over her shoulder and along her arm, then to her hip. He pulled his hand away from her breast as he licked his way over her hip, rolling it and bringing her onto her back. Then he spread her thighs, very wide apart and held them that way. “Breakfast,” he announced, and sucked her vulva into his mouth. His tongue teased her clit, stroking it, and Sydney could only roll her head and moan. Her orgasm sparkled, leaving her breathless and yet still wanting more.

  But Rafe sat up decisively. “Real food,” he declared. “It’s a work day and I don’t know about you, but I have early appointments before court begins. You take the shower, I’ll get breakfast.”

  “Can you cook?”

  “Better than….” Rafe shut off like an ejected CD. He looked down at the floor, then drew in a breath. “I can cook,” he finished.

  But he had stepped into the shower with her only a few minutes later, and pushed her roughly up against the wall and taken her from behind. This time, it was his fingers on her clit, tugging on it, and stroking hard, until she had clamped around him with a choked cry, barely staying upright. Rafe had come at the same time, groaning through his climax.

  Already running late, Sydney had dressed hurriedly and rushed into the kitchenette where she could smell eggs and bacon and toast, making her stomach grumble.

  Rafe wore his trousers and nothing else, and that gave her a clear view of his ass, outlined in gray silk twill, making her breath stop for a second.

  He looked at her over his shoulder as he shoveled eggs and bacon onto her plate. “I can feel that,” he remarked.

  “You cannot!”

  He grinned. “Actually, I heard your breath stop.”

  “It was the smell of breakfast,” she lied. “I’m starving.”

  He put the plate on the little table in the corner, which was barely big enough for two people to sit at. It meant he had to reach around her and she leaned back as he leaned over her. He looked into her eyes. “I could help stimulate your appetite. You’ll enjoy it so much more.”

  She swallowed.

  “Should I take the lack of protest as a yes?”

  Sydney made herself nod.

  He had whipped away the plate, turned her and bent her over the table, then pushed her skirt up over her hips. The panties were pulled down to her knees, and he pushed into her in one long stroke, making her choke and gasp. As he thrust his cock swiftly and deeply, his fingers found her clit once more.

  They had come together, after which Rafe had restored her clothing with gentle movements.

  His plate was already draining in the second sink and for a moment, Sydney felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. But her rumbling stomach pulled her out of it and she ate hungrily while Rafe got dressed.

  He had squeezed her shoulder as he moved over to the front door and opened it. “Sorry to run out like this, but I’m horribly late and I want to change suits. My assistant has sharp eyes.”

  “It’s fine,” Sydney assured him. And it was. This was a rare moment of perfection. Her body was satiated and her heart was safe.

  “Tonight?” Rafe asked, the door open.

  “Yes, please.”

  * * * * *

  Rafe turned up every night that week. Sometimes they went out. Sometimes they stayed in. But every night ended with sex. When Rafe learned that she liked anal sex, he became even more inventive, bringing toys to torture her with. She fell asleep most nights exhausted and her body quivering with the aftermath of the most powerful orgasms she had ever experienced. But the next morning she would awaken and be eager for more.

  And Rafe would be there, willing to accommodate her need.

  She thought about him during work hours. Unbidden, sexy images of his strong body, or his lips doing wicked things to her, or his dark eyes, caught in a moment of mirth, glowing with good humor. His flashing smile. The way he made her feel whenever he touched her.

  On Thursday night, he arrived late, close to ten. “I’m sorry. Such is the life of a judge. I had to write my decision and it was a bastard case.” He pushed his hand through his wavy black hair, clearly frustrated.

  Because it was so late, Rafe had insisted Sydney stay on the sofa and continue reading. He plucked her copy of Parallel Lives off the shelf and settled next to her. “Plato is good for a chuckle,” he told her. “It’s been a while since I indulged.”

  They had stayed on the sofa reading once before, so Sydney settled back into the treatise on ancient Norway, shutting out everything around her for it was a heavy duty text. After a while, she looked up to clear her head and mentally breathe.

  Rafe was watching her.

  Sydney stared back. It seemed perfectly natural that he should be sitting on the other end of her sofa. It felt nice. The last week had been one of rare contentment for her. Perhaps that was why she put the book aside, then moved across the sofa toward him. His arm was lying across the back of the sofa, the other had been holding the book, but it lay open on his knee now.

  She put the book on the floor, then leaned even closer to him. Before her lips touched his, she hesitated.

  Rafe’s hand caught her head and drew her against him. Their lips met and they kissed. It was a powerful kiss, one that left her breathless and aching for more.

  Rafe got to his feet and picked up her hand and took her into the bedro
om. There, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her once more. His kisses were heady, making her languorous and weak. He didn’t stop kissing her, even as he laid her on the bed and stripped her of clothing. Not until he slid into her did he stop and even then, as he strained above her, his hips working, his lips would brush hers.

  He didn’t seem to want to stop kissing her and that was fine by Sydney. His kisses were like a drug.

  And so the week slipped into Saturday, a cooler day with the hint of fall. It had been Rafe’s idea to treat Bruce to a romp in a dog park, for Bruce had been neglected all week by both of them.

  Bruce had been bouncing with joy, bowling over other dogs with his happiness, and running back to nuzzle their hands as they watched him play. Even as they stood there in public, Rafe picked up her hand and kissed it.

  Then Bruce took off, a hundred pounds worth of dog on a mission. He barked joyfully and streaked across the park and through the gate and out into the larger park area before either of them could react. Rafe was quicker to respond. While Sydney was still wondering what had got into the dog, Rafe broke into a sprint, pounding after Bruce, the leash in his hand.

  Alarmed, but still wondering what on earth was going on, Sydney followed. She had rounded the graceful curve in the path just in time to see Bruce jump up and greet Alex nose to nose.

  Alex.

  Dismay spread through her, making her feel sick, as she watched him look from Rafe to her. Of course he figured it out. Of course there had been no way to hide it from him and spare him the truth.

  Sydney finished the last dregs of her now-cold tea, put the cup aside and pressed her hot face into her hands. Now, even Rafe did not want to be with her.

  But it was the look on Alex’s face that she kept coming back to. They had hurt him in perhaps the cruelest way in existence. The worst of it was that there was nothing they could do to take it back. Rafe had known that before she did.

  There was something that she could do, though. It would mean beggaring herself and risking wrath, but she would do it. For Alex.

  She unpacked the copies of non-secure papers she had left over from the Gallagher case, found what she was looking for and dialed the number.

  “Hello?” The voice was gruff, not melodious, like Gallagher’s was.

  “Is this, um, Veris Gerhardsson?” She found the name, where she had scribbled it in the margins of the sheet in front of her.

  There was a tiny silence. “I know your voice,” Gerhardsson said. “Lieutenant Stevens,” he added.

  “I’m not on duty. It’s just Sydney.”

  “If you’re not on duty, then my curiosity just doubled,” Gerhardsson said.

  “It’s about Alex.”

  “You have my full attention, Sydney.”

  She took a deep breath and began.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alex still couldn’t find Marit’s long hall. He had the feeling he had been looking a long time, but it felt like he had just begun. Beyond his perception, he could sense there was a very large world to explore, but first he wanted to find Marit again. He wanted to ask her to explain more about the danger he was to face.

  Besides, he didn’t want to go home, either. It was peaceful here. Nothing really bothered him, if he didn’t want it to.

  But there was something ahead. Beckoning. He couldn’t really see it, but it called to him like a magnet to filings. He was supposed to go there and so he leaned toward it. Suddenly he was there.

  It was a room he recognized. Captain Baker’s room at the precinct. Sydney’s precinct. She was there, standing right in front of him. She was facing Baker as he sat behind his desk and there were two other lieutenants in the room. The door was closed.

  Alex moved around them, until he was behind the captain’s desk and could see Sydney’s face. Something shifted inside him as he looked at her. She was so beautiful! Even with her face drawn into an angry scowl she was a delight.

  No one appeared to be able to see him. He had come upon other places in this gray world and seen other people, but the only person who had ever been able to see him and speak to him had been Marit. He held no fear now, as he stood beside the captain and listened.

  “He made us all look like fools!” Sydney raged. “Miranda rights are drilled into the youngest rookie. Everyone knows how to issue them. And to fuck up with such a high profile public figure!”

  “Now, Lieutenant, we’ve all made mistakes from time to time, even you,” the captain said.

  “This wasn’t a failure to sign a warrant, Captain! He made the whole case implode inside five minutes just because he couldn’t keep his goddam dick out of it.”

  The other two lieutenants snickered, but the captain grew red in the face. “Lieutenant Brixton works a hard line, we all know that. But he’s a good, honest cop. It was just our bad luck the perp had an appeals judge in his pocket. Those fellows know constitutional law backward, sideways and through to Sunday.”

  “Our bad luck?” Sydney repeated. “Captain, we would still be swearing in a jury right now if Brixton hadn’t been so in love with his own ego and forgotten basic police work.”

  “I’ve heard your complaint, Lieutenant Stevens. Thank you, that will be all.” The captain’s face was closed off. Alex knew Sydney would get nothing out of him now. Apparently, so did Sydney. She straightened, almost as if she was at attention. “Sir, I intend to file a report with Internal Affairs.”

  The captain stared at her for a long moment. “Knock yourself out, Lieutenant,” he said finally.

  Sydney nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Alex wanted to follow her out, but the three in the room exchanged glances, with expressions that made him stay right where he was.

  “You’re going to let her talk to I.A., Captain?” the Irish-looking one with the pug nose asked.

  The captain sighed and brushed his hand back and forth through his crew cut. “I can’t stop her. Everyone has a right to talk to those pricks whenever they want. She didn’t even have to tell me.”

  “Her mistake,” Pug Nose said softly.

  The captain looked at him.

  “Something needs to be done about her,” Pug Nose added.

  The captain threw his pen down and tugged at his jacket. “Now, I don’t know…”

  “Quietly,” Pug said. “Very quietly.”

  The other lieutenant, a bald black man, spoke for the first time. “I can take care of that.”

  The captain looked at him. “You have something on her?”

  The black man opened his mouth and the captain’s hand shot up. “No. I don’t want to know what it is.”

  “Does that mean you want me to take care of it?” the black man asked.

  The captain blew out his cheeks with a gusty sigh. “Yes,” he said finally. “Goddamn it, yes. Get her out of my precinct, one way or another. Just don’t let it come back in any way. If Internal Affairs knocks on my door, I’ll know exactly who to point to.”

  The black man grinned. “There’s no way anyone will see this coming,” he said.

  Alex leapt across the room, leaning in the way that would make him move faster. Doors were no barriers in this world. He had to find Sydney. He had to warn her.

  But she wouldn’t see him here. She wouldn’t hear him.

  He threw himself upward, spiraling up like a swimmer straining for the surface. In a way, he was reaching for the surface. It was faster than trying to go back, because retracing his route never brought him to where he had started.

  He burst through the surface, with almost a popping sound and gasped aloud, sitting up. He looked around.

  Veris was crouched in front of him, a syringe in his big hand. Brody was sitting on the edge of a dining chair, just behind him. When Alex looked at him, Brody sat back with a heavy sigh. “Thank the fucking Lord.”

  Taylor came hurrying into the room. “I couldn’t find saline. Will common table salt do, Veris?”

  Veris stood up and tossed the syringe onto the table
. “I don’t think we’ll need it now.”

  Alex looked around at the three of them. “What are you doing here?”

  Veris settled himself on the edge of the table and crossed his arms, making the muscles ripple. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “We’ve been so worried, Alex,” Taylor added. “Veris didn’t think you’d come out of it.”

  Alex pushed on the carpet to try to get up and fell back, surprised, as his muscles didn’t cooperate. He had been sitting on the dining room floor, his back against the wall. For a moment he was thankful he wasn’t naked. He had outgrown the irritation that his clothing delivered. But when he tried to get up again, he couldn’t.

  “You’ve been out for a while. ‘Out’,” Brody repeated slowly, “I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “Idiocy is a good name.” Veris picked up the pile of papers on the table. “What on earth did you think you were doing, Alex?

  “You’ve read them all?” he asked.

  “And the real files on your laptop,” Veris said.

  “How long have you been here?” Alex asked. His time sense was completely distorted. He couldn’t sense what time it was now.

  “Four days,” Taylor said softly. She pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat in it, her hands held tightly together. “Well, mostly Veris has been, trying to figure out what you did to yourself.”

  “Four days…” Alex shook his head. “It’s never been this long before.”

  “I found your logs, too,” Veris said. “You’ve been experimenting on yourself for over a year. Ever since you threw in the towel on God. It’s like we don’t know you anymore.”

  “This wasn’t a fancy form of suicide, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Alex said. He tried to get up again and swore. “If someone could help me into the kitchen, there’s a pint of blood in the fridge.”

  Taylor stood up. “I’ll get it.”

  Veris reached out his hand and Brody moved a chair around next to him as Alex took the offered hand. Then Veris hoisted him up and lowered him onto the chair. Taylor came hurrying back with the blood bag and held it out to him. “I’ll wait in the living room.”