I was trying not to shake. “Did you see a red truck, or hear a diesel engine?”
“The street was empty when I opened the door. Why?”
“Last week, after you left, I caught some perv looking in my window.” I didn’t mention I’d thought the perv was Derek. I told him what I’d heard and seen.
“You should have called me. I’d have come back,” he said.
“I need to call the cops.” Now I was shaking.
He wrapped his arms around me, tightly. “I’m here, Van.”
I leaned into his warm, strong chest. He may not be a deathless romantic, but “here” was what I needed for the time being.
Chapter Three
The police came and went, taking the box with them. Most of the answers I had for their questions were negative. No, I didn’t have any angry ex-boyfriends. Luke had been very close to being my first boyfriend, and the two before him were Christmas-card-and-Facebook friends. No, I didn’t know of any enemies. My job processing and mailing transcripts to recent graduates didn’t put me at odds with anyone. No, I’d never had any strange phone calls or emails.
I did tell them about the man in the window and how he’d looked familiar. That, along with the defaced fifteen-year-old photo, worried the two detectives who’d answered the call. Unfortunately, the one taking my statement didn’t think the information would be helpful without a description besides “short, foam trucker cap, leather jacket.” To be fair to her, with the last two details I had just described pretty much every local boy between eighteen and eighty in the entire region.
She also said that I needed to be extra cautious. “This was not a casual threat. Someone is very angry with you, and that person is probably nearby.”
Derek spoke up and said I would be staying in his guest room that evening. I protested, but I gave up when the policewoman looked relieved.
“We’ll be keeping a closer eye on this street for a while, but that’s not the same as around-the-clock protection. Stay with your boyfriend tonight, honey,” she’d said on her way out the door. “When you come back, keep an eye out for anything unusual.”
That’s how I came to be sitting in Derek’s station wagon on the way to his little farm.
“Penny for your thoughts, Van?”
“Just thinking about what the lady cop said.”
“I agree with her. Whoever sent you that package is dangerously angry.”
I tried not to blush. “Actually, I meant the way she described you as my boyfriend.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Would you rather not think of me that way?”
“I don’t know. You’re my closest friend. We go out all the time. We spend most of our Saturdays together. I’m trying to get you into my bed.”
“Sounds pretty serious when you put it that way.”
He was trying not to smile, and I laughed. I knew why I’d never thought of him as my boyfriend, but I didn’t want to hurt him by saying it aloud.
I turned to stare at the country road passing by. He was handsome, sexy and kind. So what if he was never going to sweep me off my feet? So what if he was shy and gentle instead of aggressive and exciting? What kind of idiot would reject such a great man for not being, well, Luke?
Before I could continue the self-flagellation, we pulled into Derek’s driveway. He carried my overnight bag and opened the door for me.
I loved his home. Everything was freshly painted or at least freshly cleaned. His books were alphabetized and the shelves were dusted.
For his birthday I’d given him a framed print of a castle with a mounted knight riding up to the drawbridge, and it hung over his fireplace. The red silk throw pillows I’d bought for the utilitarian gray couch were not thrown. He had lined them up precisely with the back cushions. But their color was bright and happy in the afternoon sun.
It crossed my mind that all of the feminine touches in the house had originated with me.
Derek echoed my unspoken thought. “Everything here that makes it homelike came from you at some point, I think.” He touched my hand in thanks. Before I could respond, he disappeared up the stairs with my bag.
“Would you like to stay in and cook dinner, instead of going out for Mexican? It’s been a long day,” he called out.
“Fantastic,” I shouted in relief.
We ate dinner—steaks he grilled and a salad I made—out on his deck overlooking a meadow. Watching the bats come out and swoop silently through the lengthening shadows was just what I needed to recover from the day. I was exhausted.
Derek carried in the platter when it got too dark to see. I followed him with our plates and found him pouring two glasses of wine. “What can I do to help?”
“Drink yours in the living room, I’ll be right in.”
Feeling mellow, I settled onto the couch with my feet up on one of the arms. The implied threat of the photograph seemed a million miles away from this room. Instead, my thoughts wandered back to the morning. Derek declaring me beautiful and desirable. How about that? And then seeing his glorious torso. His hands and mouth on my breasts were thrilling and completed my pleasure. Well, not complete, thanks to Mister Had-To-Answer-The-Door. Oh, he was going to pay for that one. I stretched out and closed my eyes, hoping that the sight of my bare legs and tight shirt would entice him to finish what he started.
It took him forever to finish puttering around in the kitchen. The front door creaked open, and I heard him move toward the couch. Something cold touched my chin. I smiled. “What’s that, Derek?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. I opened my eyes and realized I was looking at the barrel of a gun pressed against my face. The man from the alley started laughing, and he pulled the trigger.
I screamed. I threw my arms up to try and block the bullet. Nothing hit me, but I couldn’t stop screaming. I couldn’t see anything besides unfamiliar shapes with their curves fading into darkness.
A light came on. The shapes resolved into Derek’s living room furniture. Then Derek himself was in front of me with his hands on my arms, staring at me with concern, and I burst into tears.
“Honey girl, what was it? What scared you?”
I tried to tell him, gasping and hiccupping. He gathered me into his arms and rocked me back and forth, mumbling endearments and assurances that it was only a bad dream.
At our feet was an afghan I must have kicked off in my terror, and I deduced that my attempt to passively seduce him had failed. Instead I’d fallen asleep, and Derek must have covered me up and gone virtuously to bed. Alone.
I had always imagined him to be a pajamas kind of guy. As with so much else I’d thought about Derek, I was wrong. I was nestled against his bare chest. His light brown hair, normally combed with a perfect side part, was tousled. He’d rushed to my side in such a hurry that he hadn’t stopped to put on pants. His trim waist and muscular thighs were accentuated by snug boxer briefs.
The only thing keeping him from looking like an underwear model was the pair of white crew socks on his feet. I blinked and looked again. Strike the “pair” part of the description. The socks didn’t match. One had a red stripe along the top, and the other had a sportswear logo.
Terror can make a girl feel warmly toward the person who saves her. I kissed him with such ferocity that our teeth clicked together. His response equaled my own. I couldn’t stop touching his chest and arms. Each muscle shifted and tensed in turn under my questing hands.
He broke away from my mouth and ran a line of kisses down my jaw and into the hollow of my throat. His hot breath made me shiver and squirm on his lap. My movements made his cock stiffen, and I felt it rise against my ass.
One of his hands supported my body against his. The other was finally exploring the way I expected. He never stopped kissing me, but first his right hand was under my shirt caressing my breasts. Then it was running down my side. He paused for a moment, until I took his hand and put it firmly on my aching pussy, over my shorts.
“That’s for you,” I whis
pered. “That heat is all for you.”
His cock jerked, but he didn’t flip me over as I half-expected. Instead, he took my shirt off. Then he turned me around so that my back was to him. He put one hand on my breast, and the other hand back on my mound over my shorts. Then he moved both hands in little circles. I moaned and moved my hips in answering circles.
“I don’t know what next,” he said.
“Whatever you want to do.”
“Really? Anything?”
“Anything.”
“I want to touch you, Vanessa.”
“You are touching me.”
He replied by slipping his fingers into my waistband.
“Please. Yes, please.”
Now he had to know how badly I wanted him. His fingers were touching and exploring as far as my shorts would let him. I undid the button and pulled down the zipper, but he stopped me from trying to take anything off.
His breath was coming hard and fast in my ear. He tugged the damp cloth of my panties to the side, and slid one long, strong finger into my hot, wet opening. I cried out, begging for more. Another finger joined the first.
I couldn’t control myself anymore. His hard cock against my ass, his fingers filling me, and his other hand rolling my nipple the way I’d shown him earlier. It was incredible. I was bucking, crying, begging for release. He matched my rhythm, plunged his fingers in and out, until I came.
I flipped over and slid down Derek’s body, until I was kneeling between his legs. His skin shone with sweat, some of it mine. I was still shuddering with the aftershocks of a tremendous orgasm. I looked at him, eager, but not daring to move forward without his permission. He barely nodded.
His cock was almost forcing its way through the cloth of his briefs. I smiled at him, and snapped the elastic playfully. He got the hint, and lifted his hips just enough to help me slide off the unwanted underpants. My reward was seeing something that belonged in an adult movie.
Not in my wildest dreams had I expected Derek to have something like this. Long and thick, it rose up from a thin layer of tight brown curls, and ended in a shiny smooth head with one of the most pronounced ridges that I’d ever seen. My pussy spasmed at the thought of his cock popping in and out of me, or sinking in all the way to the end.
I wrapped my fingers around him, enjoying the feel of his smooth hard skin against my hand. Derek’s head tipped back, and his eyes closed. I stroked him up and down as slowly as I could manage. When I felt his leg muscles shifting, I knew I couldn’t drag it out. I leaned forward, and swallowed as much of him as I could.
Derek’s moan made my nipples tighten. I moaned in return, knowing that the sound vibrations felt good against the skin of the head. I moved up and down, flicking my tongue as I went. At the top of each stroke I increased the suction and let my fingers play with his balls.
“Van… oh, Van, Van, don’t do that, or I’ll…”
I took my mouth away for a moment. “Or you’ll come? That’s the idea.”
“I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
“Would you rather…” I started to stand up, hoping I’d understood him correctly.
But I hadn’t. His eyes opened wide. “No, no, I don’t mean that.”
“Relax, Der.”
I went back to licking him and sucking on his beautiful cock. This time I let my hands do more of the work, squeezing firmly and releasing in quick, smooth motions.
He was watching me through half-lidded eyes filled with love and wonder. When his eyes closed and his back arched, I knew he was close. He was mumbling about not coming in my mouth. I sat up a little straighter and squeezed my breasts around his slick cock, pressing on the sides with my hands. I moved as fast as I could.
Derek reached out to me. His hands were tense on my shoulders.
“Come for me, Derek. I want to feel you come.”
With a cry, he lost control. I tucked my chin over the head to keep him contained. His cock shuddered and jerked. Warm come spread over my chest, making him slippery and hard to hold. I rocked back and forth in time with his movement until I felt him sink back into the couch. His hands were still on my shoulders.
“Wow,” he said.
I laughed and slid under his arm to get at my abandoned T-shirt. I had a hunch that I should clean myself up a bit before he got self-conscious. With that chore done, I tended to him. At least, I meant to. Sure enough, he took the shirt with undue haste in order to do the job himself.
“We’ve given each other orgasms, Der, and we’ve been friends for fifteen years. You don’t have to be so shy.” I was only partly teasing.
He chuckled, but it sounded forced. He bundled up the shirt, set it on the floor, and put his underwear back on. He looked at me, at a loss for what to do next. I held out my arms. “After that, are you going to make me spend the rest of the night alone?”
We went upstairs together. Derek’s bedroom was like the rest of the house—neat as a pin with lots of his books and houseplants grown from my cuttings. I flopped down and waited for him to come out of the bathroom. Some of his nervousness was rubbing off on me. Would he want to hold me? Would he avoid me? What was he so nervous about, anyway?
I turned my face to the window. The moon was hanging heavy over the tree line, so big and bright that I could see the dark spots of the lunar seas. I heard the faucet running, and then the click of the bathroom door. His side of the bed creaked under his weight. Then silence.
“Van?”
“Yeah, Der?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Thanks. That was incredible.”
I rolled to face him. His eyes were dark with emotion in the moonlight. “No. Thank you,” I said. “The nightmare was horrible, and then you rescued me. Then I took advantage of you.”
“You say that like it was a bad thing.” There was a little smile on his face.
“I get kind of turned on after big emotional shocks.”
He patted my arm. “Vanessa, I’m beginning to think everything turns you on.”
“Well, it’s been a while since… Besides, I like sex. Don’t you? You haven’t been seeing anyone for as long as I can remember. Why be alone if we can be together, right?” I tried to sound as logical as possible.
“I am enjoying myself with you.” His voice sounded strange again.
“Derek, tell me what’s bothering you. We can deal with it together. I promise I’ll…” My voice trailed off. I wasn’t sure what I was about to promise.
It didn’t matter. He sighed. “I wasn’t kidding, earlier. There are things I’ve never told anyone. I’ll tell you when I can.” When I started to argue, he put a finger on my lips. “Go to sleep, s-sweetheart.”
It was as if he’d said the endearment a hundred times in his head but never aloud. It sounded good to me, anyway. I kissed him gently and felt his tender response. Then I turned over. His body curved around mine in a perfect fit.
Chapter Four
“Derek?”
“Down here,” he called from downstairs. I heard the washer lid open and close, and the dryer come on. I snickered. The thought of my wet, sticky T-shirt sitting in the living room must have been driving him crazy all night.
On the foot of the bed was my overnight bag. I grinned and I bounced into the shower, feeling optimistic about the day.
We ate breakfast, and I helped him with the farm chores. When we finished, it was barely midmorning.
“I could get used to having help. I’m never finished this early,” he said. “How about we go to the hardware store? I’d like to check out better deadbolts for your doors. Maybe chain locks.”
I groaned. “Let’s not and say we did. I never saw the point in going crazy with the doors. No one is going to break down the door. Why bother? Break a window and hop on in.”
“Well, it’s a question of delaying someone, a little deterrence.”
“I say we defer the deter and go for a walk.”
“Okay.”
“What?” I
threw my arms up in mock surprise. “No arguments? No analysis of the best use of time?”
“Nope.” He disappeared into the mudroom.
“You’re not going to argue with me about putting more locks on my doors?”
His voice was muffled. It sounded like he was digging through the closet. “You’re probably right about the window thing.”
I kept teasing. “Just like that, we’re going for a walk? No preparations, no lectures about ticks, no bug spray?”
He appeared in the doorway, wearing a backpack and holding the bug spray. He winked at me. “Let’s not get too crazy.”
Her Kind of Hero Page 3
