by Lauren Wood
“Dennis says your truck can be picked up at any time,” she told me, pulling away from the curb. “I arranged for a body guy to repair the hole and a detailer to clean it.”
As she sat on my left, I couldn’t reach over and take her hand. “That’s great. But I won’t be cleared to drive for a while.”
“True. But it’ll be nice for you to have your truck back. Where do you want to go? Home?”
“To the office,” I replied, watching the open fields slide past the window I stared out of. “I need to know what’s been going on in my absence.”
“Not much,” she answered. “Today is only Monday, and I checked in with Benjamin and Leo. Both had showings on Saturday, but nothing else.”
“Seems like so long ago that this all happened,” I commented, looking at her, wondering at her beauty, the thick fall of her golden hair. “It’s like I was shot three weeks ago, and not three days.”
“Jack,” Izzy said slowly, her eyes on the highway and not me. “Maybe we should cool it for a while. Until Andrews is caught.”
“You’re thinking that he got enraged because you accepted a date with me and not with him.”
“Yes.”
“And that he’ll continue to see me as a rival?”
This time she glanced at me, and that was all I needed to know. I searched the Mustang’s sideview mirror for a car that might be obviously following us, and I couldn’t. If he was back there, he was driving a semi truck, not a silver Beemer. Or an old and battered pickup.
“We work together,” I replied reasonably. “No matter what we do, he’ll always see me as a threat. Especially after Friday night.”
Izzy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know. And I agree. I’ve been thinking about it a great deal, and no matter what happens, he’s already crossed the line. There isn’t anything to stop him from trying again.”
“How about a Kevlar vest?”
Izzy glanced sidelong at me, caught my expression, and grinned. “Think Dennis will loan you one?”
“Not if it’s police issue, but maybe he knows someone who knows someone.”
Izzy drove me to the office and parked outside the door, quite illegally. She opened the car door for me, then the office, and escorted me inside as though she was my bodyguard. Debbie came out from behind her desk to give me an embrace.
“It’s so good to see you back, Mr. Stanton.”
“Will you please call me Jack?”
Debbie sniffed and handed me a small pile of messages. “I told them you may not return to the office for a few days, so they’re not expecting immediate return calls.”
“Thanks.”
Taking them to my office, I received the good wishes of Benjamin and Leo, then sat down in my chair. Izzy had left to park the car properly, then returned to stride into her own office. I glanced through the messages – almost all from friends. No doubt, they called to see how I was doing. I glanced through the log and the schedules, seeing both my new employees were handling things well.
I glanced at Izzy. “As my personal assistant, I need you to look after me at home.”
Izzy nodded without speaking, intent on her computer. Without much for me to do until she finished what she was doing, I pretended to work. Then I gave it up as a lost cause, and finally asked her what she was doing.
“I know it’s probably useless,” Izzy replied, “and I’m sure the cops are doing it as well, but I’m looking up any possible relations to Roger Andrews on the internet.”
“Are you finding anything?” I asked, intrigued.
“If this is right,” she said slowly, staring at the monitor, “his mother lives in Springfield, right around the corner.”
“Could he be staying there?”
Izzy shrugged. “This here I’m seeing may be a sister living in the same town. But I bet Dennis and the sheriff have already done their homework, and probably already talked with them.”
“If they haven’t,” I said, standing, “then we’ll send them to Springfield.”
Izzy drove me to my house, and when she pulled into the driveway, I half expected to find my house vandalized or otherwise damaged. But it was as peaceful and quiet as ever, and I let us through the front door, then locked it behind us. She walked around, looking at the tidy furnishings and poked her head into the kitchen.
“Not exactly what I’d think of as a bachelor pad,” she commented.
“I like things clean.”
A little tired and sore, I sat on the couch as she continued to explore the house.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, coming back to the front room.
“For you.”
She sat beside me, gazing into my face. “I don’t think you’re up for that.”
“You have no idea what I’m up for.”
Taking her hand, I pressed it against my hard cock under my pants. Izzy continued to stroke it long after I took my hand from hers, and I set my head back against the sofa to enjoy it, my eyes closed. She caressed me for a long time, leaned her elbow against the back of the couch, and I sensed her eyes on my face.
“You like that?”
“Mmm,” I answered. “Don’t stop.”
She did, but only long enough to unzip my trousers, and pull my thick, hard shaft free. Skin to skin, Izzy stroked up and down, teasing my cockhead, bringing my need to explode closer to the surface. I groaned through my shut teeth, needing to be inside her.
“You are evil,” I muttered, and listened to her laugh.
When she bent down and put her mouth on my cock, I thought I would explode right then and there. As though she was an expert on giving oral sex, she licked and teased me, making me hiss through my teeth as I fought not to come. I wanted to be buried deep inside her when I did.
Twice I came close to blasting my load in her mouth, and twice I fought it back. But Izzy kept licking and sucking, her saliva warm on my shaft. Her tongue swirled over my dick, my hands on her head kept her on me. But when she lifted her face, I feared that was it, I’d have to finish myself off.
Then I heard her stand up. I opened my eyes to see her unzipping her jeans, then slide them off. She stepped out of them and dropped her tiny panties to the floor. I caught a whiff of her arousal but couldn’t bring myself to reach for her wet pussy.
15
Izzy
Giving Jack a blow job made me too hot to continue. My pussy throbbed with need, and I had to have him in me or I’d rub my own clit while playing one of my many fantasies in my head until I orgasmed. I saw him watching me as I kicked off my jeans and underwear, and for a brief second, almost asked him where his condoms were.
I won’t get pregnant, I need him now, I can’t wait another second, or I’ll come right here without him in me.
My arousal dripping down my thighs, I lifted my leg over him, straddling his lap. His huge cock, glistening from my saliva, stood straight up from his pants. I took a brief second to spread his fly away from his shaft and balls, then pointed his cock at my pussy.
I impaled myself on him.
Jack groaned from between his clenched teeth, and for a moment I thought I had hurt his injured arm. But his right hand on my hip encouraged me to continue. I lifted up off him, then slowly sank back down. I nearly orgasmed as he filled me, his head striking my G-spot. I ground my hips down on him, trying to ride him, yet not jostle his left arm.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” I said, grinding my hips in a circular motion.
“You will if you get up before I come,” he groaned, his eyes closed.
Jack worked his right finger between his cock and my clit, teasing me even as I lifted myself up, and then slid back down. Over and over I rode him, shifting him inside me deeper, sliding back and forth. His finger toyed with my clit, and I moaned, the throbbing in my pussy reaching a crescendo. I knew I’d come soon, but I tried to hold it off.
“I can’t – much longer,” Jack hissed, his head thrown back on the couch, the tendons on his neck standing out.
Still sliding my pussy up and down him, I knew I wasn’t going to hold out much longer, either. Heat filled me, spread through my lower stomach, my orgasm building. Higher and higher it climbed, and I only hoped that Jack might climax at the same time.
My orgasm exploded. My pussy spasmed at the same moment Jack cried out as though in pain. Convulsions quaked through my full tunnel, my orgasm robbing me of all thought, all reason. All I did was feel with every nerve ending in my body. Jack’s body jerked upward once, then twice, and he sank back, relaxing, spent.
I sat on him for another minute before guilt had me dismounting him. I sat, bare assed and leaking onto his couch, and put my hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Jack rolled his head toward me and opened an eye. “After that, I am more than okay.”
Sitting on his right, I snuggled against him, his arm around my shoulders. I tucked his flaccid cock back in his trousers and closed his fly over it. “We should take a shower, then I’ll fix us something to eat.”
“Mmm,” he replied, “as soon as I get blood back into my legs.”
I ran my hand over his flat, hard stomach, thinking of my growing feelings for him. How scared I was that he’d die after Andrews shot him, spending every possible moment with him in the hospital. He’s what I’d always hoped he’d be when we were in high school. Not just sexy as hell and great in bed, but also a loving, caring, generous human being.
Thinking that Jack had fallen asleep, but growing uncomfortable with the aftermath of sex on my legs, I wriggled out from under his arm, then picked up my jeans and underwear. Standing, I saw his eyes open, and his lips quirk upward.
“Let’s go, Casanova. To the shower.”
“If you insist.” He groaned his way to his feet. “At last, I get to see you wet and naked.”
Dropping his heavy arm over my shoulder again, he guided me to the large bathroom and turned on the shower. I helped him remove the sling, then his shirt, his winces and grimaces of pain making me hurt for him. “You can’t get your sutures wet.”
“Yeah, so as my personal assistant, you get to wash me.”
I eyed him. “Oh? I don’t recall that being in the job description.”
He stripped off his trousers and kissed me with a naughty grin. “It is what I say it is.”
Once I removed my shirt and bra, Jack stared at me, caressing me with his eyes in a way that should have had me uncomfortable. Instead, I liked it. I liked the admiration, and yes, even the lust, I saw in his expression. It wasn’t a sleazy look. I recognized love in his face as well, and I returned it full fold.
Naked, Jack’s body was a sculped mass of masculine beauty. If the Greek or Nordic gods existed, I imagined they’d have his impossibly broad shoulders, his impressive pecs, and six pack abs. Even limp, his shaft hung long and thick to his thighs. Powerful muscular legs covered in dark hair completed him, and I liked how he had only a small amount of hair on his chest.
I toyed with it as Jack ran his right hand over my waist to cup my butt. “You are more beautiful than I had ever dared imagine,” Jack whispered, then kissed me.
Under his expert lips, I grew hot for him again, but his cock didn’t rise. I didn’t mind, though, as we’d just had fantastic sex. I got into the shower, Jack with me, and, between kisses and heavy petting, I washed his hard body. Keeping his left arm out of the spray, Jack didn’t help matters as he persisted in playing with my boobs and kissing me.
“Quit that,” I scolded. “I’m hungry and don’t want to spend all day in the shower.”
“Aww, come on.” Jack kissed me again. “It could be fun.”
“Nope. You can stay in there and play with yourself.”
He pretended to pout as I stepped from the shower to dry myself, but he turned off the water and stood dripping on the mat. He examined his bandages, but they didn’t seem to have gotten saturated despite his playfulness.
“Do you mind changing this for me?” he asked. “If it won’t gross you out.”
I rolled my eyes. “I had my hand on it while you were bleeding all over the place. Why would stitches gross me out?”
He shrugged as he opened cabinets and pulled out gauze wraps, scissors, and pins. “You were under pressure then, lots of adrenaline going. Things might look differently when you’re not.”
I quickly dressed, leaving my hair down to dry as Jack put his pants on, but left his shirt off. Taking the scissors, I carefully cut the old wrap off, then inspected the row of sutures in his muscular bicep. “Neat and tidy. Aren’t you supposed to start physical therapy?”
“Yeah,” he replied watching as I rolled the gauze around his wound several times. “I’ll call the local outfit and make an appointment for tomorrow.”
I pinned the gauze to itself, careful to not stick him. “All set. What do you have for lunch?”
“Stuff for sandwiches, I think. Maybe we should go out.”
Leaving the bathroom, I said, “No, I prefer to minimize the risk of Andrews taking another pot shot at you. Or do something else to hurt either of us.”
“I just hate the notion that he’s governing our lives, not us.”
“I do, too. But if the cops find him soon, then it’ll all be over with.”
Digging my phone from my purse as Jack ambled on to the kitchen, I found I had a message from Dennis. It was a brief request to call him back and gave the number. Following Jack, I clicked his number and listened to it ring on the other end.
“Hey, Isabelle,” he said. “How’s Jacky boy?”
I looked at Jack’s incredible, half naked body as he pulled the makings for sandwiches from the refrigerator, and was tempted to offer up a comment on his prowess as a lover. Instead, I merely replied, “He’s good. We’re at his house making lunch. I think we’ll be back at work tomorrow.”
“Awesome. But I didn’t just call to ask about him. I wanted to say we’re not having much luck in finding Andrews.”
“Um, I looked online and saw he has a mom and a sister in Springfield. Maybe he’s staying with them.”
“Damn, girl, the sheriff should hire you as a cop. Do you recall their names?”
I told him what I saw during my internet search. “I didn’t see exact addresses.”
“That’s okay.”
I heard him scribbling notes.
“I’ll ask the locals up there to go ask around about him. It’s not in our county, so I can’t do it myself.”
“Will you call me when they do?”
“You got it. I guess you haven’t seen him hanging around?”
“Nope. I’ve been keeping an eye out for him.”
“I really hate chasing smart crooks,” Dennis said cheerfully. “Give me the stupid ones who are easy to catch.”
“Lazy, aren’t you?” For a moment I wished I hadn’t said that. I didn’t know Dennis well enough to tease him, and expect him to take it well.
“Damn straight,” he replied easily. “All us cops prefer to sit around donut shops. Be careful, Isabelle, and make Jack do the same.”
“I will, Dennis.”
He hung up, and I set my phone on the table. Jack eyed me as he pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator as well. “Dennis not having any luck?”
“Not so far. I’m like he is, I wish Andrews was stupid so he could be caught faster.” I sat down at the table, and opened a beer. “I’m really sick of him.”
After spending the night in Jack’s bed, I drove us both to work the following morning. As Jack returned phone calls, I caught myself up on my tasks from yesterday. Benjamin and Leo sat in Jack’s office, catching him up with what they’ve done in his absence. Their voices came through the plexiglass, which was opened a few inches, but I tuned them out.
Halfway through the day, Dennis called me. “Thanks for the tip,” he said. “And it paid off.”
Hope surged within me. “He’s been arrested?”
“No, sorry, but Andrews had been staying in Springfield with his mom,” De
nnis replied. “She had no idea he was wanted on suspicion of stalking and attempted murder, and I’m told she almost fainted when the officers informed her.”
“Poor lady.” I tried to conceal my bitter disappointment, and fervently wished that asshole had been arrested.
“She was also warned of the consequences of harboring him if he goes back there, and the sister was warned as well.”
“So you think they’ll call the cops if he shows up?” I asked, knowing they probably would not. Blood was pretty thick in these parts.
“I hope so, but in my opinion they’ll not turn him in, but nor will they let him stay under their roofs. That way they can protect him and themselves at the same time.”
“Damn it,” I muttered. “Sorry, but I want this to be over with. I want to get on with my life.”
“I can dig that, Isabelle,” he replied. “But if they turn him away, he might be easier to catch. The state police are turning up the heat, and we have lots of eyes looking for him. We’ll get him.”
“I hope so.”
After I hung up, I met Jack’s eyes. He’d heard my part of the conversation and didn’t need me to fill him in. He shook his head glumly, and then I stared moodily down at my desk blotter. My mind filled with frustration. I let my eyes wander over my notes to myself and a few appointments I couldn’t go to unless Andrews was caught.
“Will you drive me to therapy?” Jack asked.
I nodded, catching a glimpse of an inconspicuous black dot on my calendar. A nervous tremor wiggled into my stomach. Oh, no. Knowing that anyone might enter my office and look at my blotter, I put the dot on the date I was due to start my period. I didn’t relish the idea of anyone else seeing a note to myself that read – buy tampons.
My menstrual cycle was late by five days.
No, I can’t be. Maybe I got the date wrong. Except I hadn’t, and my body had always been right on the proverbial dot. Every twenty-one days exactly I started my period.
Sweat sprouted in my armpits and the palms of my hands. The tension of the last weeks have put my body out of whack. That’s all. It happens.
