“One of the girls has already picked you out of a lineup… already described you from head to toe! What are we going to do, huh?!” Nick rocked back and forth in his seat, smacking his gum. “You like little girls, Chris? You like to touch them, dress them up… abuse them…”
“Stop it!” The man pulled at his hair, shaking his head back and forth.
“Your fingerprints were on the fireplace planks that were used as a makeshift gate to keep them inside. You went through so… much… work, each and every day! It is amazing that you’ve never been late for work, not even one single day! How admirable… but,” Nick said blandly, “things get a little messy. The girls get a bit untidy… like jam on banisters. Oh!” Nick held up one finger. “Your fingerprints were on the golden key to your little secret palace, too! I get it, Chris! I understand you! Can’t you see? You placed the key under the mattress, your little secret! No one was getting close to them without that key! What in the fuck are we gonna do?!”
“THEY NEEDED SOMEONE TO TAKE CARE OF THEM! THEY NEEDED ME!” the man screamed, tears coming down his face as thick streams of spit sprayed out of his mouth.
Nick threw a glance at the two-way mirror and even though he could not see the officers, he knew those bastards were high-fiving each other almost to death!
He turned back and stared him down, long and hard.
“…You saved them?”
“YES! I took care of them… made them pretty! I cleaned them up… they were filthy!” His eyes grew darker as his tone morphed into something sinister. “I fed them… loved them! No one wanted them! They’d been thrown away!” The man jabbed his finger into his chest. “I made everything alright! They love me! And I love them, too!”
“…You loved them, Chris?” Nick smiled sadly. “You loved one right into the grave…”
“I needed more time, just a little more time! Everything would have been perfect… just a bit more time!”
“No, Chris…” He stood and reached for the handcuffs on the table. They clanked together, swinging apart and back against each other like chimes. Their warped reflections in the metal shined on the steel under the harsh lights. “I’m sorry, Chris. But time waits for no one…and yours is officially up…”
…Three weeks later
The sounds of Vancouver Sleep Clinic’s ‘Collapse’ played loudly as the summery scent of freshly washed laundry filled the townhouse.
“Ahhhhaha!” Nick laughed, running his hand over the prickly stubble along his jawbone. “I love you, baby… You’re so silly… so beautiful.” The woman swayed in the sunlight that burst through the windows, a sensual shadow as the rays in back of her engulfed her slender, womanly image, blinding him so. Swaying back and forth as she held the cake on a tray, she hypnotized him with her moves.
“Don’t drop it… I want that.” His eyes moistened with mirth.
“You like my little dance?” she spoke in such a sexy, beautiful voice, her naked body mesmerizing him as it moved back and forth in slow motion.
“Come here… let me show you what I think of it.” He hooked his finger and beckoned her over, as if he had curled an invisible lasso around her waist and was tugging, jerking, bringing the little vixen closer and closer to him until she couldn’t escape. When she stood before him, he took the platter from her grasp and swiped his finger across the white frosting on top.
He plopped his sugar-covered finger into his mouth, sucked it off, then went in for seconds. She stared down at him, her brow arched just so. This time, he wrapped his free hand around her waist, making her almost lose her footing. Then, he trailed his hand down, between her thighs, creating a gap. His gaze never left hers. Taking his frosting-covered finger, he rubbed it along her pussy, up and down, then, he palmed her ass and pulled her closer to bury his mouth between her legs and suck, lick, and swallow the sweetness away.
“Ahhh…” She moaned, bending slightly forward and gripping his hair with both hands. “Yessss…please… yess…”
With the tip of his tongue, he drew circles, slow and rugged, along her pussy, flicking it from side to side across her clit, varying the pressure as he tasted her juices pouring into his mouth. Securing a better hold of her ass, he coaxed her forward to sit on his face as he rested in the chair, feasting on the delectable warmth between her thighs…
“Mmmmm, baaaaby…” he murmured, then slipped his tongue within her. “Sooo good…” And she began to grind to his movements as he orally fucked her… up and down… back and forth… “Mmmmmm…”
He gripped her right ass cheek nice and hard, rose a bit from the chair, undid his belt with one hand, then forced his pants and boxers down until they puddled around his ankles. His eager cock throbbed, ready to be mounted as he continued to make love to her sweet, little, wet pussy.
“Come on, now!” he rasped. “Give it to me… let me taste you!” He stroked his cock hard and fast with one hand and kept her elevated with the other, on an invisible pedestal like the fucking queen that she was…
“Ahhhh… Nick…Ahhhh!” She fell upon him then, losing total muscle control.
“Mmmmm! Make me drown…make me drown in it!” He dug his fingertips into her ass cheek, sure to leave an impression as he took her there…
“Ahhhh! Shit!” She vibrated against him, breathing hard and heavy.
Grabbing her with both hands around her waist, not wasting a second, he forced her down on his rock, hard shaft.
“Ahhhhh!” She slinked forward, wrapped her trembling hands around his neck as Bryan Ferry’s ‘Slave to Love’ began to play.
“Uhh!” He thrust hard upward within her, running his hands all over her chest, feeling the smoothness and slightly raised flesh. Pausing briefly, he tenderly kissed her, drawing a sigh from her, then began to thrust again. They looked intensely into each other’s eyes, rocking and riding hard against one another. “Go all the way down… all the way until you can’t take anymore. I wanna go deep, baby…”
She quickly complied, braced herself, her face etched with painful pleasure while mounting him just as he desired.
“Uhhhh…” they moaned in unison.
He twisted his hips from left to right, going side to side, rocking within her, not taking his eyes off hers. “Jesus, I love you so damn much, baby!” he cried as he reached upward, gripped her neck and pumped harder and harder within her. That did it—she trembled against him once again and he damn near came as her honey cascade glided down his dick.
“Nick… you fuck so good!” A big smile creased her face; she looked happy and high, full of life, alive and fulfilled.
…I did that… She’s happy because of me… That smile? That’s mine.
He smiled back, matching her tempo as she bucked up and down, riding him good and hard.
“I’m about to lose it!” He clamped his eyes closed and gritted his teeth as he wrapped his arms tightly around her back, making her take all of him. Her screams ushered him on… loud, helpless, guttural… “Uhhhhh, baby baby baby!” He shot his eyes open and tried to speak, but couldn’t.
“Uhhh…. Oh…God!” she yelled.
Hand on the back of her head, he brought her closer to claim her mouth in a kiss. “Uhhh!”
And then, he stopped when the rush overwhelmed him, his cum shooting deep inside of her, slick, warm and wet… He thrust again, feeling it running down his cock with each final, urgent stroke. “Uhhhh!”
Her hands cradling his cheeks, she put her all into their kiss—a sensual violence that was sure to break the skin as they clawed at one another, falling apart in each other’s love. His muscles tightened then relaxed as his climax slowly subsided. She rested her forehead on the curve between his neck and shoulder, her naked, lovely, perfumed body slick with sweat as she grinded ever so slowly against him, keeping him inside her for as long as she could.
They stayed there for quite a while… Not speaking, not saying a word.
They simply basked in each other’s glow.
Saving one anot
her, repairing each other, one moment at a time…
She’d said some time ago that the guy liked Italian food…
Yeah, he was kissing up, showing out, brown-nosing like no one’s business, and he didn’t care. Nick sat at the table in Pepe Viola on Smith Street, the table elegantly covered in white linen. He’d only been a few times in the past, but he figured it fit the bill for a guy like Mr. Jones. After a few minutes and two glasses of iced water, he took notice of the filled-out fella coming through the door. Getting to his feet, he cleared his throat and extended his hand. The guy looked pleasant enough, gave a lackluster smile but a firm handshake before sitting across the table from him.
Nick sat back down and shoved his marine blue, hardbound menu aside, losing his appetite before their dinners had even been ordered. His stomach knotted up something fierce, and his chest burned, as though a fire had been lit from within.
A man points a gun at me and I barely break a sweat. I’m meeting my girlfriend’s father for dinner, and I’m about to piss myself… figures.
“Thanks for coming.” he stated, no doubt looking rather shifty-eyed.
“Yes, no problem, Nick,” the man stated dryly as he plucked his menu from the table, opened it, and scanned it over with a discriminatory eye. “So you come here often?”
“Nah, not really.” He shook his head. “But the food is good, and we can hear each other talk.”
The man nodded in understanding. Just then, a waitress approached, explaining their chef specials for the day.
“But my favorite is the Penne Vodka.” She rolled her eyes back as if suddenly finding herself in Heaven.
“Uh, I’ll be passing on that.” Nick chuckled, causing Mr. Jones to crack a sheepish grin. “Can we have a bit longer?”
“Of course!” the woman said cheerfully. “I’ll be back. Take your time.”
“Your hair has grown out,” Mr. Jones stated as she walked off, keeping his eye on the menu.
“Yeah.” Nick smirked, pushing it away from his face. “Taryn liked it, so I grew it back out.”
“Hmmm,” he grunted. “I see. I don’t see you much.” He gruffly cleared his throat. “Taryn said you got promoted to detective… have been quite busy,” he added, still perusing the menu.
“Yes, I’ve been extremely busy, but it’s good. I really like it.” He leaned on the table and folded his hands, a smile pasted on his face.
I bet a look fucking silly… ridiculous…
He pushed his self doubt out of the way.
“Look, Mr. Jones, I just want to come on out and tell you why I asked you to meet me this evening.”
The man slowly looked up from his menu, stared at him just so. “Alright,” he said with a stern face. Locking his fingers and placing them on his lap, he looked him dead in the eye. “Why did you ask me to come?”
“Look.” Nick took a deep breath. “I’m just some guy from Brownsville. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life… too many to count. I know I’m not your favorite person, but we’ve come a long way.”
The man’s lips kinked in a tight smirk as he listened to him, his head tilted to the side.
“Taryn is…” Nick lowered his gaze to his lap as he ran his thumb back and forth over his thigh. “She’s really important to me. I’m in love with your daughter, Mr. Jones. I can’t… I can’t even describe to you how she makes me feel… how good she and I are together. She accepts me. I have a demanding job and she gets it. Her job is demanding, too, in a different way, but it keeps her moving around a lot. She has my full support, and that is what we each need. So…she’s not just my girlfriend, Mr. Jones; she’s my best friend, too.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is…I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed and the right corner of his mouth twitched. Nick ignored him and continued—he was going to finish what he’d begun.
“I’m going to ask Taryn to marry me, Mr. Jones—Robert—but, it would be nice… if”—he closed his eyes for a brief spell and took a deep breath—“you gave your blessing.”
The man plucked his perfectly rolled napkin from the table and carefully unwrapped it, exposing the polished knife, fork and spoon. He offered a low-key smile at first, but soon, he was beaming.
Am I fucking seeing right?
“Nick, my daughter loves you.” He picked up the knife, turned it around and around, then blew hot air upon it until it fogged up. “She says you were instrumental in helping to convince her to go forth and put her best foot forward, to not give up on her dream to have her own line of fashion. I couldn’t be prouder of her.”
Nick nodded in agreement as he clasped his hands together.
“And, though I still find you a bit perplexing, even at times unnerving, I do like you.” He grinned, forcing Nick to smile in return. “When I called you last month and congratulated you on that case with all those missing girls, I meant that. I turned on the news and saw that…” He shook his head, a sullen expression on his face. “And I was floored. I’m not perfect, no one is, and I judged you too harshly initially. I simply want my daughter to be cared for and treated fairly, and with respect. I want her to have a man who adores her the way she deserves and treats her as an equal. I wanted a man for her who wouldn’t try to suckle off her success, but earned his own keep and way. I wanted a guy for my child that was intelligent, knew how to have a conversation, and had a moral compass. You are all of that… so who am I to complain?” He threw up his hands, blessing him with a toothy grin.
Nervousness, excitement, and relief mixed together in Nick’s belly.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!” He reached across the table, extending his hand for a shake. Instead, the man took him completely by surprise by abruptly getting to his feet and giving him a big, warm hug. Nick hesitated for a moment or two, sure he was dreaming, before he wrapped his arms around the man, returning the loving embrace.
Mr. Jones released him and returned to his seat. “So… when do you plan to pop the question to her?” He scooted his chair in a little more.
“Well,” Nick tossed him a sly look as he unwrapped his own silverware and laid the napkin across his lap. “I figured it would go a little something like this…”
…Two weeks later
Paris was a place that one saw in a snow globe. Taryn looked at the photos of herself standing by the Eiffel tower, posing in silly ways. She loved it there, and her visits proved to be not only fruitful in the business sense, but also a balm to her spirit.
But damn, did she miss her baby. Nick happened to be one of the hardest working men she’d ever known; matter of fact, she was certain he lived on only four hours of sleep a night, and sometimes that proved a generous guesstimate. If only he could clone himself…
He’d recently undergone training in interrogation psychology, fine-tuning his skills, which made him even more sought after. Police departments around the State of New York were calling him, asking for advice if they were anticipating a particularly complicated suspect. He was just that good, and it made her moist thinking about it. She hated that she loved his air of mystery, even after all this time of them living together. Now, the man’s customary police patrol uniform had been replaced with pressed button down shirts and pleated pants… But the retired uniform got a good bit of use in heavy rotation in their bedroom…
Nick… Her lover, her personal homicide detective. Though he worked to give a voice to the dead, he left her feeling more alive than ever.
How unfortunate that he was scheduled to go out of town as soon as she arrived. He had to take a ride to Hoboken, for a possible suspect risked hopping away, and Nick simply couldn’t have that.
The red eye flight in first class made her body ache as she tried to adjust to the ever changing time changes. People filled the seats around her, drinking their champagne in the wee hours of the morning. She waved goodbye to Paris, blowing it a kiss, vowing to be back as soon as possible—but she had business to attend to
in Manhattan. She’d be there in less than four hours, and two hours after that, she’d be thrust into another board room meeting, this one full of big time game changers such as the CEO of Saks Fifth Avenue and the marketing manager of Amazon.com for women’s apparel. Sweet Warrior ‘Living Doll’ lingerie clothing line sales in the first month had tripled the projection, causing the most cautious of investors to poke their curious noses out from hiding. She’d cracked into one of the hardest businesses in apparel to get a foot in; to acquire deep pocket investors should have proved even more challenging, but she was doing it all, and doing it well. She curved her lips in a satisfied grin and raised a chilled wine glass full of sparkling apple juice.
Cheers, Taryn!
She toasted to herself as she looked out of the airplane window, excited at the prospect of holding Nick in her arms and press her lips against his. Yes… Nick was her home, for home is where the heart is…
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dark Bill Blass and Michael Kors suits and rare silk ties—the kind that thousands of dollars are made of. He sniffed the air, surprised he’d hadn’t become rich just by standing amongst the fuckers, or overdosed on the mere scent of their money. Nick couldn’t wipe the goddamn smirk off his face. He hated that he enjoyed slithering around, hiding under the radar just like in his hay day. The element of surprise still titillated him as he stood there in the vast lobby with his hands on his hips. He glanced up at the large clock on the wall, the thing decked out in crystals, the time barely discernible due to the overkill of adornment. Every now and again, a hostess would come and offer drinks on a platter. He’d never seen such a thing. After all, this building sat half a block away from Grand Central Station; 44th street was nothing to scoff at.
He’d never been inside the place, only driven by. Being inside the belly of the beast proved an entirely surreal experience. He ran his hand over his charcoal gray blazer pocket, tapped it just so, needing a reminder as to why his ass was there in the first place. Meanwhile, he continued to turn down the alcohol; hell, it wasn’t even noon yet, despite his adversity to the beverage for obvious reasons. Yet, he did ask for a hot cup of coffee to tide him over while he waited outside the vast red cedar doors with stainless steel handles. Silver bracelets and platinum and diamond watches floated about, wrapped on arms worth their weight in gold. Never mind all of that, he was there for one reason and one reason only.
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