Widow on the Loose

by Stevie MacFarlane

  Even from the distance he could see the glee in her eyes.

  “Chinese right? I hope that steam is from the food and not you?” she said, laughing.

  Travis shoved the bags to the side and vaulted quite neatly onto the piano and off the other side.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s from me,” he growled, trying to figure out a way through the boxes.

  “Oh you can’t get through that way,” she informed him sweetly. “You have to go behind the couch and jump over the coffee table.”

  It was while following her instructions, his teeth gritted so tightly he was afraid he’d need a cap before the night was over that he noticed his TV was missing.

  “What the hell have you done with my flat screen?” he snapped, freezing in place as he looked at the stack of wooden crates.

  “The movers took it down. I needed a place to put my artwork,” she explained. “Now take a left at the armoire and scooch behind the fountain. You know,” she continued thoughtfully, “I’m not sure I’m keeping that fountain. I think it’s a bit tacky, don’t you?”

  “You don’t even want to know what I think,” he replied, smacking his knee against the porcelain ridge and yelling out in pain.

  “Hey, Travis, go back, you forgot the food,” Claire called pointing back toward the piano.

  “Pretty sure you won’t have much of an appetite when I get through with you,” he informed her looking for a way past his next obstacle.

  “Well, if you feel that way about it I’m not going to give you the rest of the directions. I was only following your suggestion. You said I was paying too much for storage,” she informed him, hopping off the stool when the timer in the kitchen began to buzz.

  “Tell me you did not cook tonight,” he pleaded. “I picked up dinner so I would not get stuck cleaning up another one of your horrendous messes.”

  “A chocolate cake,” she shouted back. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “The big deal is my house looks like it was sucked into a tornado,” he hollered. “The big deal is that it’s Friday night and I want to watch a game but my TV is missing. The biggest deal is that I can’t find my way to the kitchen to choke you out!”

  “Go back and get the food, Travis, and maybe I’ll tell you how to get in here. Otherwise, I’m very happy to eat chocolate cake for dinner,” she shot back. “Besides, I have something very important I want to discuss with you.”

  “And I have something I want to show you,” he sighed turning around to make his way back to the piano.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a surprise,” he shouted back, “sort of like the one you just gave me,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Good, I love surprises,” she cried, getting back on the stool in case he needed her directions.

  “Not this one,” he promised softly.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later they were eating reheated Chinese, Travis sitting on a stool at the granite counter, Claire standing.

  As soon as he’d finally made it to the kitchen, he sat the takeout cartons down and walked straight to a drawer in the cabinet where he removed a long handled blue silicone spatula and placed it on the counter. Slipping off his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves while watching Claire’s ass in her New York Yankees sweat shorts as she bent over the oven and stuck a toothpick in her cake.

  “It’s done,” she said happily.

  “So am I, stick a fork in me,” Travis replied once she’d placed the cake on a trivet and turned off the oven. Before she knew what was coming he wrapped an arm around her waist and carried her wiggling body to the counter where he dumped her over onto her tummy and yanked down her shorts and panties in one fell swoop.

  His hand fell ten times in quick, sharp smacks that covered both of her cheeks at once. She hollered her head off before he pulled her pants up and plopped her down on the floor.

  “See this?” he asked, holding up the spatula.

  Wide eyed, Claire nodded, sniffling and rubbing her bottom.

  “This is dessert,” he informed her. “Get the plates.”

  Travis watched Claire push the food around on her plate, sniffling.

  “Stop crying,” he ordered. “You’re giving me heartburn.”

  “You hurt me,” she accused, tipping up her quivering chin.

  “No,” he replied around a mouthful of fried rice. “I warmed you up. This is going to hurt,” he said picking up the spatula and slapping it down on the counter with a whack.

  Claire turned her face away as she shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Why would you do such a thing?” he asked picking up his beer and taking a long drink as he watched her cheeks turn even pinker. “You had to know I was going to blow a gasket, so why?”

  Claire shrugged her shoulders but kept quiet.

  “Come on, we’ve known each other far too long and to well for that to work with me and you know it. There was a method to your madness, there always is, so spit it out. You want something from me. What is it? Is this some sort of cry for attention because if it is, baby, you’ve got my attention?” he growled.

  Walking behind the counter, she scraped her plate into the sink and flipped on the garbage disposal. Turning she looked at him with wary eyes.

  “I found a building I want to buy,” she stated defensively.

  Travis’s eyebrows rose in surprise. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth and he waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, he felt a chill go up his neck.

  “That’s a good thing, Claire. I’ve been hoping you’d find something.”

  “You’re not going to like this something.”

  He watched her. She took a cloth and began wiping the sink. He could see her pink cheeks peeking out from beneath her shorts as she stretched to wipe the backsplash.

  “It’s not a great location,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

  Picking up his beer, he chugged the rest and clamped his lips together.

  “And it’s going to need a substantial amount of remodeling. In fact, it may need to be gutted,” she added, forcing an airy tone to her voice as she began making a glaze for the cake.

  Travis picked up the spatula and tuned it over and over in his hands. He had long arms, it had a long handle and he wondered if he could reach her butt from where he sat. A small smile tilted the corner of his mouth. When Claire noticed, she moved her things farther down the counter.

  “I’d like you to go look at it with me tomorrow,” she said, turning toward him as she whisked the contents of the bowl in her arm.

  Using his finger, he flicked the silicone tip of the spatula back and forth. With a huff, Claire tuned and carefully poured the glaze around the top of the Bundt cake letting it drizzle down the sides. Stomping back to the sink, she ran hot water in the bowl.

  “Why aren’t you saying anything?” she demanded, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

  “I’m thinking,” he replied, still flicking the silicone.

  “There’s a novel idea,” she snapped. “About what?”

  “I’m wondering if you went to all this trouble and expense to force my hand and get your own way. Obviously, you knew I would be furious. My home looks like a warehouse, and a poorly managed one at that. So you must want this place pretty badly,” he drawled thoughtfully.

  “I do.”

  “And you’re going to need my help to accomplish whatever it is you’re planning?”

  “Yes,” she said, pushing her hair back over her shoulder nervously.

  “Yet you chose not to come and talk to me about it. Why?”

  “Because I knew you’d give me a hard time about it, that’s why,” she shot back, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

  “Oh, honey,” Travis sighed, rising. “You have no idea what a hard time is,” he promised as he began advancing on her.

  ***

  Claire had planned for this. In a flash, she was around the counter and through the kitchen
door. Dropping to her knees, she crawled into a tunnel of boxes he had no hope of fitting through. As a child she’d been fascinated with mazes, often drawing her own to stump her friends. Even though the movers seemed to think she was slightly wacked out, they followed her directions hoping for a nice tip, which they received. Now she had plenty of avenues of escape as well as several hidey-holes. She could hear him moving things around as he quietly looked for her, but she was already across the room near the terrace.

  “You might as well come out, Claire,” he called out. His frustration level was rising rapidly. “Sooner or later you’re going to have to use the bathroom.”

  “I’ll pee in your ficus,” she snorted, popping up like a whack-a-mole and disappearing just as quickly.

  “You do and I’ll put you in diapers like the naughty girl you are for the entire weekend,” he promised darkly.

  “God, you’re such a freak,” she laughed. “I’ll bet George never knew.” Rapidly, she relocated like a small mouse running along hidden trails.

  “George knew I thought he should spank you hard and often for your spoiled, entitled attitude,” Travis informed her.

  Claire waited. She could hear him moving around the room, rearranging boxes and crates. Patiently she huddled in a small cubbyhole until she heard him back by the kitchen door.

  “Have you always had this fetish for spanking or is it because you secretly want to fuck me and that’s the closest you’re likely to get?” she asked crassly, standing and staring at him across the room. She felt safe as she waited for his answer. Nearly forty feet of obstacles separated them.

  He faced her squarely, a big man in a crisp white shirt. His rolled up sleeves exposed his muscled forearms lightly dusted with dark hair. Charcoal gray pin-striped pants accentuated his long legs and tall frame. He took his nerdy black glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose before he answered.

  “My wanting to fuck you has never been a secret, has it, Claire?” he asked with a slightly repentant smile. “George knew it, although he trusted me not to do anything about it. You knew it, and obviously I’ve fought off the urge for twenty years. Maybe I’m tired of fighting it, Claire. Maybe I need to get you out of my system once and for all. Maybe I want to fuck you so hard and so long everyone in a three block radius will know my name.

  “The desire to spank you was something that grew exponentially over time along with your rotten behavior. I fought that too, but as you know I lost that battle a few weeks ago. I must tell you it’s a memory I cherish and one I plan on reliving in greater detail at some point tonight.”

  “Travis…”

  “Shut up, Claire. You orchestrated this… cluster-fuck,” he stated sternly, his arm sweeping the area, “for one reason. It was to pressure me. I believe you’ve made your point, but it’s going to cost you, honey. When are the movers coming back to get this stuff?” he demanded.

  “I don’t…”

  “When, Claire, and don’t you dare lie to me,” he snapped.

  She felt his strength clear across the room. He was right about so many things. She had always known he wanted her, had felt it each time he touched her hand or kissed her cheek. After George died, she stayed away from him as much as she could. It didn’t seem right for her to want… no to need the man she’d tossed over to marry his friend, a man who thought of her as an obligation, a pain in the ass.

  Fredrick came along just as she was weakening. There were no strings attached with him, no guilt. He was a lousy, selfish lover but she tried to convince herself he was better than being alone. He wasn’t.

  At times she hated Travis with a passion that equaled her desire. It had been a long time since she’d been with a real man. George’s illness, his lingering death, her grief all left her empty in body and soul, but Travis was not the answer. He would be too demanding. There was anger in him that matched her own. She sensed he would want everything, every tiny part of her soul that remained.

  Claire ignored her pounding heart, her wet panties, her trembling knees and faced him down.

  “When are they coming, Claire?” he barked, so harshly she shivered.

  “Monday,” she shouted. “They’re coming back on Monday!”

  Travis laughed.

  “A whole weekend of this,” he noted, shaking his head in disbelief. “Come to me now and make this easier on both of us,” he suggested, his voice deep with insistence.

  She thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. If he got his hands on her, he would take not only what he wanted, but what she longed to give. Before that, however, he would spank her with that dreadful instrument. That she could not surrender too. He would have to fight for it.

  His face twisted into a smile that told her he looked forward to the challenge, relished it.

  “Game on,” he laughed. “This might be worth missing the Knicks.”

  As soon as he moved in her direction she went down again, trying to control her breathing which could give her away. Under the piano was the bench and in the bench was her purse. If she could make it to the small area between the door and the piano she might be able to escape.

  Claire worked her way around the perimeter. It was quiet, too quiet for him to be actively searching for her. That could only mean he was waiting her out. He’d found a location that he felt was central or crucial and had made a stand. This was not a good thing and she breathed as softly as she could.

  Twice she’d made mistakes and boxes teetered, but she quickly changed locations and sat, waiting, listening. She was only one row of boxes away from the piano when she heard something near the terrace doors. Decisively she made her move.

  Chapter Seven

  Travis sat cross legged on the piano, the glossy black surface reflecting the glow of the foyer light back at him. Several times he caught a faint whiff of her perfume and knew she was close, but he waited patiently, surprised at his stamina. Then again he’d waited twenty years for her so what was another hour? He was sure she had a regular labyrinth of tunnels under this mess and while physically he could have torn the place apart, box by box, he preferred to save his energy for sweeter pursuits, at least on his end. Her perspective might be slightly different. After all, she had a pressing engagement with a man who’d had his fill of her rebelliousness and planned to relieve her of that character flaw. By the time the weekend was over, Claire Wellington was going to be giving considerable thought to acting her age.

  Or not, he considered with a grin. Should she desire to continue acting like a child, he found he could derive a great deal of enjoyment in treating her as one. He would have no trouble at all planting her sorry, well-paddled ass in the corner among other things if she didn’t want to toe the line.

  Taking a coin out of his pocket, he threw it at a stack of boxes by the terrace as hard as he could. Almost immediately Claire scurried around a crate on her hands and knees until she was under the piano. Watching behind her, she never noticed him at all.

  He heard the slight squeak of the piano bench opening and then closing. Quietly, she stood up facing the door and opened it a scant half inch before his big palm shoved it shut again and flipped the security lock.

  Claire screamed in shock, Travis simply slipped an arm around the front of her waist and lifted her onto the piano. There was no room for her to maneuver and he had her easily. Sliding across the slippery surface, he pulled her with him and dropped off the other side.

  Once on the floor, he eased her down and turned her so her back was against the opposite curve of the instrument. He towered over her, enjoying the panicked look on her face as he slid his hand into her hair and cupped her head.

  “Interesting game, baby, but guess what? You lose. I believe the stakes were winner take all,” he murmured, bending to whisper in her ear.

  “I’ll never give you everything,” she hissed pressing against his chest.

  Travis didn’t even sway under her hands. His lips moved across her cheek until he felt her warm breath against him.<
br />
  “Wanna bet?” he asked, before claiming her mouth. It was shocking what his woman did to him. With one hand buried in her hair and the other around her waist, she was immobile except for her kicking feet which were bare and doing no damage for once. He felt he was remarkably gentle for a man who’d waited so very long to put his hands on her in the way he wanted, but Claire struggled. In the end, he didn’t care.

  Lowering his arm, he grasped her ass and lifted her, pressing her against his twenty-year erection. It was world changing, like being sucked into a vortex that erased every thought he’d ever had save possessing this woman. He never let her feet touch the floor, never took his mouth from hers as he carried her to his room and shoved the door closed, backing her up against it.

  Letting her head go, he grasped both of her legs, raised them and drove his body between them, pinning her in place with the force of his cock at her core. She no longer struggled and he raised his head, slowly peeling his mouth from hers.

  “Are you all right?” he breathed against her forehead.

  “Yes,” she panted, gripping his shoulders.

  “Take your top off,” he ordered roughly. He watched her grasp the hem of her tank and freeze, her eyes wide and glazed with confusion. “Do it,” he growled. She obeyed.

  “Now the bra.”

  Her fingers shook as she unclasped the front and removed it, dropping it on the floor.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. “I knew they would be.” His hands squeezed her ass tighter as his head lowered. He licked her nipple but there was no patience in him and he sucked it into his mouth, drawing hard on the tender nub until it lengthened and scraped against his tongue.

  On some level, he heard Claire crying out even as her other nipple tempted him to nurse it to the same length. The cries faded amid the roaring in his ears as he rocked against her and clamped his lips around her peak. Her back was bowed offering him more when he suddenly set her down.

  “Drop ’em,” he demanded, unbuckling his belt and shoving his pants and boxers off. She collapsed against the door, but did nothing as she watched him through cloudy eyes. As soon as he was naked, he took care of it for her, yanking her pants down in one harsh motion. Then she was back in his arms, held up by the strength of his hands under her bottom.