"Uh huh." Aware that she could speed this process up if she faked an orgasm, she let out all the moans and groans that had come so naturally for her over the last few weeks. Her practice paid off; even she admired her own performance.
Shortly after her theatrics, Jim reached his peak, lying on top of her with all of his weight when he was done. He squished her breasts, causing them to throb with pain. After breathing heavily for a while, he got up with a, "Whoo! Good stuff," and walked into the bathroom.
She remained in place, twirling her short hair in her fingers. At the moment, no thoughts entered her head; she simply admired the dust. If she allowed herself to think too much, she would have been in serious trouble. Her brain always landed her back in the same place.
"Are you okay?" Jim asked when he returned into the room.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Just basking."
His face appeared in front of hers again. "Well, I'm going to head downstairs and grab something to eat. I'm starving."
"Okay," she replied, curling her lips upward. "I'll be down in a bit."
He kissed the tip of her nose and left the room.
She wasn't sure how long she lay there, contemplating those few wonderful weeks when she'd actually felt alive. They were so short. She wasn't ready to give them up. Placing her hand on her belly, she hoped that this baby would provide her with a different type of satisfaction. If motherhood was everything she hoped it would be, she would have felt fulfilled, even if the passion was gone from her life. After all, it was only passion. Who needed passion?
A tear leaked out of her eye as she whispered, "I do."
Chapter 28
"I see you found the chicken," Melissa told Jim after she came downstairs.
"It's good," he replied, tucking it into his cheek. He slid out a chair with his foot. "Come have a seat."
She sat down and placed her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. "I'm glad you like it."
He reached over and held her other hand. "I've always loved your cooking." He kept his eyes on hers for a moment, giving her a smile.
She looked down at her lap.
"Not that I need a reason," Jim went on, "but why are you so determined to go with plan B? What happened to make you so upset?"
With a sigh, she contemplated the importance of this moment. If she said the words out loud, Dylan's fate would have been sealed. This was her last opportunity to change her mind.
She pictured Dylan's face and thought about all of the conversations they'd had. She remembered the feel of his body against hers and the way he brought her to orgasm so easily. Then she considered Shelby, Olivia and all of the other girls who got to have him—when Melissa couldn't—and she found the words falling out of her mouth. "He was mean to me."
Jim looked instantly concerned. "He was mean to you? After all we did for him?"
She was not all that amused by his use of the word we. Nonetheless, she said, "Unbelievable, isn't it?"
"Yeah," he said with anger.
Melissa wondered if he was upset because Dylan had hurt her or because he had, apparently, hurt him somehow.
"What did he say?" Jim asked.
"Well, once I got pregnant, I told him I had to end the affair. I acted like I'd just had a change of heart...I told him that I was in love with you and my indiscretions with him had been a mistake." She allowed the tears she'd been harboring to fall, and they came freely. Jim didn't need to know the tears were for an entirely different reason.
He pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and handed it to her.
After dabbing at her eyes, she added, "He got angry. He called me a bitch. He said I was fat and ugly."
"I'm going to kill him," Jim muttered angrily.
She sniffed a few times, looking down at her lap. "I started to leave, but he wouldn't stop yelling at me. He called me every name you can think of. It was horrible."
"Did he threaten you at all? Were you in any kind of danger?"
She shook her head. "No, he never got violent. Just hateful. But it was then..." Putting her fist in front of her mouth, she succumbed to a more convincing round of tears. "It was then that he started blackmailing me."
"He's blackmailing you?"
Nodding, she said, "He's forcing me to keep letting him live there. I have to drive him around and bring him meals. He threatened to tell you and George about the affair if I stopped doing what he asked."
"Are you sure he's only asked for dinners and rides? He hasn't asked you to keep sleeping with him, has he?"
"He tried, but I wouldn't do it." She wiped her eyes. "I told him that was where I drew the line."
"That fucking bastard. I want to go over there right now and wring his neck." Jim put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this, honey. I-I-I can't believe what he did to you." Shaking his head, he added, "I knew this could have been a mistake..."
"It wasn't a mistake," she said quickly. "We're going to have a baby, remember? That's the important thing."
He looked at her lovingly and sighed. "I know. I just hope the price you had to pay for this wasn't too high."
She drew in a pathetic, shaky breath. "It's okay. I mean, I felt horrible and icky every minute I was with him. I kept closing my eyes and picturing you..."
"Don't..." He held up his hand. "I'm sorry, honey, but I don't want to hear the details. I don't think I'll be able to handle it."
She nodded. "I'll spare you, then. But I'm so glad it's over. It was horrible. I just wish I didn't have to keep doing what he asks." Adding extra sadness to her voice, she said, "It's degrading."
"Well, that's all about to come to an end." He looked her square in the eye. "Because you and I are about to ruin that bastard."
"I feel bad that you have to do this pregnant," Jim said as he put on his latex gloves.
"It's not a problem," she replied, squiggling her fingers into her own pair.
"If I could trust anyone else with this, I would have them help me..."
"Don't," she interrupted. "You and I are the only ones who are to know about this. If anyone else even suspects we're doing this, we might be screwed."
"I have no intention of going to jail," Jim said.
"Neither do I."
"Okay, it's important that we do this carefully. We don't want to smudge any of the fingerprints." Jim inspected the drafty window that had been stored in the basement since they'd removed it from Dylan's house. "If we grab it only from the top and the bottom, we shouldn't mess them up at all."
"I saw where he touched it," Melissa told him. "He grabbed the bottom of the glass. His prints should be on the window itself. If we can avoid touching that, we should be okay."
"I don't want to take any chances."
Jim lifted the pane and carried it up the stairs, setting it down in the living room next to the window he was going to switch out.
"Are you positive it will fit?" Melissa asked nervously. "If it doesn't, this whole plan may fall apart."
"It's a standard size. It will be fine."
She tapped her foot as she watched him pry the existing window out of the track. "Do you need help?" she asked.
"Just hold it," he said. "Don't lift. Just keep it in place."
He managed to get the window free. She actually had to do very little work; he picked it up himself and set it off to the side. "Now," he said, "let me just make sure I don't fuck this up." He stuck out his tongue and carefully handled the drafty window, only touching the edges as he lowered it into the track. With a few taps of a hammer, he declared it to be in place.
Since the delicate work was over, she had the chance to focus on the window that was now secure in her living room. That was the window that had started it all...the window she had stood next to with her perky—and apparently irresistible—nipples. She remembered the look on Dylan's face as he approached her, unable to take his eyes off of her breasts. He looked so hot and hungry.
She felt her blood starting to flow just fro
m the memory. She desperately wished she could go back in time and be at that moment again. While it was happening, she had no idea how powerful the following weeks would be or how alive she would feel.
Or how often she would climax.
Hanging her head, she knew she'd have to just rely on the memories in the future. That portion of her life was over. For the rest of her days, she'd be having predictable and mechanical sex with a predictable and mechanical man.
"Okay," Jim said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Do you have the jewelry box?"
"It's still in the bag," she told him. "I haven't touched it since I brought it home."
He nodded. "Pick it up by the corners. Again, don't smudge any of his prints."
Apparently, Jim thought Melissa was an idiot. "I've got a bunch of his hair, too. I took it from his hairbrush."
"Don't leave too much," he told her. "It's not like he's going to lose his hair in clumps while he's in here."
She felt herself get irritated, but she tamed it. "I only plan to leave a strategically-placed strand or two."
"I want to be there when you plant them."
She remained silent, gritting her teeth.
"What jewelry did you leave at his house?" he asked.
She scratched her head as she tried to figure out how to describe them. "The diamond necklace." Tracing her finger along her neckline, she added, "the one with all the stones in a row."
Jim smirked. "Good choice. I think that's the one he would have gone for."
"I also planted the diamond earrings and the emerald ring."
"Where did you put them?"
"In one of the kitchen cabinets, on the top shelf. I put them back far enough so you can't see them from standing height, and there's nothing else on that shelf, so he'd have no reason to look up there."
"Well done."
She smiled and batted her eyelashes. "Thank you."
"Did you do anything else?"
"I slipped one of my credit cards up there, just for added fun."
"Nice."
"So, when should I call the police?"
"Definitely let me get rid of this window first. I can bring it to the dump tomorrow."
She twisted her face. "I may have to give Dylan a ride to work tomorrow morning, then. If I don't show up, he may open his mouth to George, and this will be all over before it starts."
"You do realize he's going to spill his guts the second the police show up to arrest him."
"I know," she assured him, "but if he says anything at that point, it's going to seem like he's just making it up to protect himself. After all, why would we frame him?" She approached Jim with a smile. "We're a law-abiding couple with no criminal record. We tried to do something nice for a troubled young man. And he..." She seductively wrapped her arms around Jim's neck. "He is a piece-of-shit, lifetime criminal who does nothing but lie. Even his aunt will attest to that."
"Is that who you needed to talk to before you decided to go with plan B?"
"Indeed," she replied, lowering her arms. "I wanted to make sure his character was shady enough to pull this off."
"Oh, it's clear that his character is shady," Jim replied emphatically. "He stared blackmailing you because you wouldn't sleep with him anymore. That's an asshole move if I've ever heard one."
"Yeah," she replied, looking distant. "Only a complete jerk would do something like that."
Chapter 29
Melissa deliberately showed up two hours early. There was a car in Dylan's driveway.
Ringing the bell, she waited on his front step, feeling mixed emotions about what she was doing. She hoped it was the right decision.
After a while, Dylan showed up at the door, clearly half asleep. He had no shirt on again, only flannel pants. He wiped his eyes, saying, "I don't have to work until nine."
"Oh," she replied, "I thought it was seven."
"No," he said grumpily, "it's nine this morning."
She folded her arms across her chest. "Did I wake Olivia? Or is it somebody new this time?"
He tilted his head to the side, looking cocky. "It's Shelby again. If you must know, she called me. She apparently wanted more." He smiled, adding, "But I guess you know a thing or two about that, now, don't you?"
"I do, in fact. I can't get enough of my husband."
"Hey," he said as if he'd just gotten an idea. He reached out and patted her shoulder. "Do you want to come in? I've got time to fuck Shelby a couple of times before work. Maybe you could film it."
"No, thank you," she said coolly. "I'll just come back at eight-forty."
"You sure?" he asked. "It's going to be a good...the stuff of legends."
"I'll pass."
"Your loss," he said as he shut the door in her face.
Melissa was definitely making the right decision.
And perhaps Jim had the right idea about wearing a condom.
"Hi," Melissa said into the phone after she'd delivered Dylan to work. "I'd like to report a burglary."
She could hear the woman typing in the background. "Are you currently in the house?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Is there any chance the perpetrator is still there?"
"No," Melissa replied. "I'm pretty sure it happened sometime before yesterday."
"What's missing?"
"Some of my jewelry and one of my credit cards."
"And you're sure they're not just misplaced?"
"Positive," Melissa said. "I don't ever really go into the jewelry box that they're missing from; they're my expensive pieces, not my everyday jewelry."
"And what makes you think the break-in happened before yesterday?"
"Well, I discovered our living room window was opened a crack when I got home last night. I thought it was weird, but I didn't notice anything was missing at first. It didn't look like anything had been ransacked, either, so I thought that maybe I just hadn't closed the window all the way the last time I cleaned it or something. It occurred to me just a few minutes ago that I should check the jewelry box, and the first thing I noticed was the credit card was missing. I keep a spare credit card in my jewelry box, just in case I lose my primary one. I poked around a little bit, and I saw that a few pieces were missing as well."
"Can you describe those pieces?" The sound of typing still filled the background.
"I actually have pictures of them somewhere for insurance purposes. I just have to figure out where I put them."
"Can you give me a rough description for the record?"
"Um, I'm aware of a diamond necklace and earrings. There may be others. I didn't want to poke around the box too much, just in case there were fingerprints or something. I didn't want to smudge them."
"Where do you keep the jewelry box?"
"In my bedroom. On my dresser."
"So it's out in the open?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Okay, I'll send someone out. Can you give me your address?"
Melissa obliged and then hung up the phone.
And then, she waited.
The forensics team took forever to arrive at the house. If this had been a real burglary, Melissa would have been irritated. However, she greeted them with an open door and a smile, saying, "Hi, thanks for coming out."
A man and a woman in uniform came into the house as the woman replied, "No problem." They walked into the living room, where the woman added, "I understand there's been a theft."
"Yes, ma'am." Melissa nodded and pointed toward Dylan's old window. "I told the dispatcher that this window was cracked open when I got home last night. I didn't immediately see anything missing, so I didn't think anything of it. But, this morning, I noticed some of my jewelry was gone."
"Okay," the man said, "we'll be sure to dust that for prints. And where was the jewelry stored?"
"Upstairs. I'll show you."
She led the detectives up to her room, pointing at the jewelry box that sat on her dresser.
"We'll dust that as well." The woman put her kit down on t
he bed, opening it to take out the tools to collect fingerprints.
Melissa folded her arms across her chest as they did their work. She watched as the man inspected the jewelry box and then looked over at her. With a look of confusion, he went over to the kit and pulled out some tweezers.
Melissa stifled a smile as he delicately pulled the strand of long hair from the box. She was hoping the detectives were going to be good at their jobs, and it seemed she got her wish.
"Did you ever have long hair?" the detective asked.
"Not since I was a child," Melissa told him.
Keeping the strand of hair in the tweezers, he got a baggie and placed it gently inside.
"Are you telling me the thief is a woman?" Melissa asked.
"I am only saying there is a long hair in your jewelry box," he replied. "We collect evidence; we make no conclusions until it gets processed."
"That's fair."
"Now, let's get to that window you talked about."
Melissa led them down the stairs and into the living room again. "It's right here," she told them as she pointed. She could feel the cold air seeping in, and she immediately felt a mixture of emotions she couldn't describe.
The detective walked over to the window, giving it a quick inspection. "This is probably the point of entry. See that?" She pointed to the gap between the window and the sill. "That's a security issue right there. It would be easy for someone to pry this right open."
"Well, apparently somebody did," Melissa remarked dryly.
"You're going to want to get that fixed."
"Yes, ma'am. I certainly will."
They dusted the window and, before they left, told Melissa that they were able to get some good, complete prints.
Dylan's prints.
She wondered how long it was going to take before they could match them to him.
Although Melissa smiled, part of her was sad. Things could have unfolded so differently if only Dylan had been willing to keep sleeping with her. Plan A was to simply leave him alone and continue to help him, ultimately hoping he'd truly rehabilitate. He seemed determined to stay out of jail...perhaps there was a chance he would have kept his act together.
What She Needed Page 17
