by Cecilia Tan
He folded her hand inside both of his. “Slow down, slow down. Jumping to conclusions isn’t always best, unless your intuition is telling you something special.”
She took a deep breath, trying to feel whether it was. “Hm, no, I don’t think so. It just seemed... well... so what do you think the connection is?”
He thought for a moment. “Well, the one connection is that I went to the club looking for the other missing woman, and I thought I saw Abby there. Tenuous at best, and nothing at all if it turns out I was wrong. As for you and the other woman, there are the flowers, but we don’t know if she was having dreams. Maybe you are somehow connecting with the dreams of the person who is sending the flowers in a way that’s unique to your power?”
“Could be.” She relaxed a little. Not only did Derek make a lot of sense, just being with him made her feel safe. And now she was sitting here close enough to smell his soap, with her hand going damp inside his. “I wish... I wish I knew more about it.”
“About what?”
“My ability.” She turned the pieces over in her mind, Abby, herself, the missing woman... “Doesn’t it seem like... kind of a big coincidence, that you thought you saw my sister in the place you were already looking for your other missing person?”
“I admit, it does.”
“But it makes sense if... well...” She hoped he wouldn’t take this the wrong way. “What if my intuition led me to you in the first place? To the person who was already looking where the person I wanted found could be found. Then it’s not a coincidence at all.”
He was grinning. “That is... if that really was your sister I saw. But you’ve pretty much convinced me now that it had to be.”
She smiled back. “So we were fated to meet, then.”
“Must be.” He looked so happy. He always seemed so open, so ready for anything.
She decided to make a suggestion. “We might need to, um, you know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not the mind-reader.”
“Experiment,” she blurted. “Especially, I mean, so I don’t, you know, pass out every time.”
Now he smiled in spite of himself. “You know, it’s okay to just ask. We don’t... I don’t need an excuse to be with you, Wren.”
“Okay. But don’t you agree? I... I really like you, Derek, and I really... want you.” Just saying it sent a deep throb of desire through her. “But, we need to know. Especially if we’re going to go back to that place.”
“All right, you’re right,” he said, running the tips of his fingers around the curve of her ear. “Would now be a good time?”
She swallowed. “Now would be an excellent time.”
He tilted her chin up to kiss her, just brushing his lips past hers at first, warming them. He spoke in a half-whisper, lips touching hers as he did. “First, we'll find out if it works without the rum.”
He kissed her breathless, her desire mounting with each passing moment, but so far, his thoughts seemed inaccessible to her. “The bedroom,” she whispered. “Can we go in there?”
“Of course.” He held her hand as they climbed the stairs and went into the room. She took a deep breath, his scent everywhere in the air here.
He sat her on the bed, slipping the cardigan sweater from her shoulders and then undoing the buttons of her shirt one by one, pausing to caress each newly exposed bit of flesh, until he urged her to lie back and let his hands slip over her already taut nipples. She was still wearing the shirt, and it somehow made her feel even more exposed to his touch than just being naked. She rubbed her knees together and made a hungry sound. “Want you.”
He clucked his tongue. “I’m trying to be scientific here. One thing at a time.”
“Ohhhh.” Her answer was both plaintive and rapturous, as he caught one of her nipples between his lips and rasped his tongue over it. He repeated the treatment on the other side and she gasped. It almost felt as if she could come from just that, if he kept going.
But still no thoughts. “Maybe...” She had to catch her breath. “Maybe you have to be aroused, too.”
He chuckled, lifting his head so she could see the amused look on his face. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty aroused.” He licked his lips. “Was that a fantasy of yours I saw last night, or was it just wishful thinking on my part, that you’d like it if I licked you?”
Her eyes were round. “I imagined it. And then you did it...”
“Was it your first time being licked like that?” He undid her fly and slid her trousers down her legs, then returned to slip her panties off.
“Not my first time being licked,” she answered, breathily. “But first time being licked like that.”
As she parted her thighs, he settled carefully between them. “For science,” he said seriously, and then dipped his mouth toward her crotch, his eyes still looking up at her.
They closed as Wren felt the first velvet-soft sweep, and her eyes closed, too. The next touch exposed her clit more, and she moaned as a gentle, moist touch made her legs tremble.
She forgot to listen for his thoughts as he lapped at her, his slow, teasing licks giving way to quicker movements. His fingers spread her more, and the tip of his tongue was wicked as it flickered over that nub, making her cry out.
Wren could feel how wet she was, too, and before she had quite realized it, she was thinking she wanted him to put a finger inside her, just to see, but she couldn’t quite ask for that.
She didn’t have to. He slipped an index finger in slowly, and it moved easily and without pain. She was sore, but the penetration was soothing as he moved it in and out of her. Oh, God, that feels good.
Do you want a second one? I’m thinking of just keeping it to one for now. No need to rush.
Her answer was to cry out again as she leaped up to another level of arousal. Maybe he was right, and they should take it slow. If nothing else, she should trust him. Trust him to take it slow, when she wanted to rush.
And she cried out again, orgasm suddenly upon her as he sucked her clit between his teeth and flicked it hard with his tongue. Oh, but wouldn’t it feel good to... She cried out again as he read that thought almost before it formed into words, biting her there, but gently, just a nip of teeth sending her into a second orgasm even stronger than the first, while his tongue did not let up.
A third orgasm hit as he crooked the finger inside her, tongue still lapping, but more softly now, and then he pulled his hand free and just lapped more and more slowly until every trace of tension or spasm was gone from her body.
He climbed up to the pillow and cradled her close. Doesn’t look like you passed out this time.
Hm, no, and so far, no dream or vision either. Although I am a bit sleepy now.
Sleep, then. I'll hold you. We can... experiment more when you wake up.
All right. And she slipped into a lovely, dreamless sleep.
DEREK’S KITCHEN WAS larger than hers, but then the whole house was. She drifted out of the kitchen and through the dining room and into the living room. The place was large enough for a family of four, but as far as Wren could tell he lived there alone. On the mantel she found a photo of him and a woman on a mountainside, dressed for hiking. He looked younger in the picture, maybe college-age? There was one that had to be his parents, standing together on the front steps of a house. She couldn’t quite tell if it was this house, but it looked like it certainly could be.
She smiled. He was humming to himself while he cooked, accompanied by the sound of steak sizzling in a hot pan. She went back in to see if she could help with anything.
Soon she had the table set in the dining room, the two places set at one corner of the table, and rummaging through the sideboard had even found a lone candlestick, with a taper and some matches. She lit the candle and then went back to the kitchen to find him covering the steak under a pot lid and throwing washed spinach into the pan the steak had just come out of. The water on the spinach popped like firecrackers as it met the hot fat in the pan and she stepped b
ack. The microwave beeped.
“Do you like your potato with butter or sour cream?” he asked, turning the spinach with two wooden spoons. “I have both, I think. Well, check and make sure the sour cream is still good...”
She checked, looking into his fridge with curiosity. A lot of jars of condiments, but it looked like he had some actual food, cheese and cold cuts, a few eggs, half a head of lettuce. Normal stuff. Not that she expected anything else, but she felt that learning what was in someone’s cupboards was part of getting to really know them. Pretty soon she’d find out how (or if) he folded his socks.
“Looks like butter,” she said, when the sour cream container proved to be more colorful on the inside than it ought to have been. “I like butter better, anyway. The sour cream is always too cold on the hot potato.”
He had pulled the potatoes out of the microwave and set them on plates. He apportioned the spinach, now wilted down to what seemed like just two spoonfuls, and then cut the steak in half, putting one chunk on each. “There we go.”
She carried the plates in, and he brought in a bottle of wine she hadn’t noticed him opening. Too busy snooping around, she thought with a smile at herself. He poured a little into each glass. It was a rich, ruby red in the candlelight, and she lifted her glass and tinked it against his. “To... dinner,” she said.
“I'll drink to that.” He took a sip.
Wren did, too. “I don’t know anything about wine.”
“Me either.” He laughed. “A client gave me this bottle and said it would go good with steak, though. But I really haven’t wanted to open it alone. The whole drinking alone being pathetic thing.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that, only that it seemed impossible that this sweet, good-looking man wasn’t already taken. “You live here all by yourself?”
“Yeah.” He cut off a piece of steak and chewed it while glancing around as if looking at the place for the first time. “I had a roommate for a while, but he moved in with a girlfriend about two months ago. I should really move to a smaller place, but...” He shrugged. “The place is all paid off, and the taxes aren’t that bad.”
“And moving is a pain in the butt,” Wren said, cutting open her potato and slathering butter in. “It’s nice, though. A pretty big house, quiet street, but you’re still so close to downtown.”
“I know. Not that I really use the office all that much. It’s mostly just a place to meet clients since I don’t want most of them to know where I live. My real office is downstairs, my files and everything. But it’s nice to be close, easy to get to.” He looked up suddenly. “Which reminds me.”
“What?” She paused, a forkful of spinach stuck in mid-air.
“I don’t know if you’ve been wondering, how does it work professionally versus personally. I mean, now that we’re...” A flush crept up his cheeks that had nothing to do with the wine. She could see him struggling to describe their relationship without rushing things ahead merely by invoking words like "girlfriend" or even "relationship.”
“Now that we've kind of shifted from professional to personal,” he finally said.
“Yeah, I did kind of wonder.” She set her fork back down. “Though it’s far from at the front of my mind. Or it was, until you brought it up.”
He smiled, laughing softly at himself. “Well, anyway, it doesn’t have to be a complicated ethical issue. Just don’t pay me.”
“Oh.” She thought about that. Was it really that simple? "Are you sure?”
“If things had happened the other way around, if we’d met some other way, there’s nothing I’ve done to search for Abby that I wouldn’t have gladly done for a... anyone I cared about, right? And I’d certainly never charge family or friends for helping them.” He took a deep breath as if he might need to steel himself for her reaction.
“Okay.” She found herself smiling. She didn’t want to pin words on it either, this new fragile thing that was blossoming between them. But he cared about her. That was nice to hear. Even if she already knew it, knew it beyond any doubt since, after all, she’d been in his mind. “So you don’t have to stop trying to find Abby, and we don’t have to stop... doing what we’re doing.”
“No.”
“Good.” She started to eat again, a thrill twisting through her gut as she wondered when they'd finally do it. She nearly opened her mouth to say something, then decided to let the fire simmer in her belly a bit longer. They still had practice to do, after all, didn’t they? And there were still several days before the next night they could visit the club, plenty of time to work on it. She had some ideas, some definite ideas, but she could tell Derek about them in bed.
She ran one foot up his leg, though, as they were coming close to finishing eating, something she’d never done to anyone before. He groaned as if hungry, and she knew it wasn’t for steak. What would it be like for him to just grab her now and take her, there on the table, both of their desires stoked so high it would be like two thunderclouds meeting and exploding in a strike of undeniable power?
Her foot, clad only in a cotton sock, worked its way to his crotch and she massaged the hardening length of him. The ridge of his erection filled the whole arch of her foot, her toes curling around the head.
She felt suddenly ashamed. “You didn’t come yet.” She had drifted off to sleep in his arms after he’d brought her to orgasm after orgasm this afternoon, and only realized now that he must be aching to come himself.
“It’s... all right...” he said, with some difficulty, as her foot had not stopped moving. He gripped the arms of his chair, though. “I figure... my patience will be rewarded.”
She slipped out of her own chair and urged him to move his back from the table as she knelt between his knees. She tugged at the button on his jeans for a while before he finally reached up, his hands covering hers for a moment as he undid it for her.
The zipper she handled herself, revealing the shape of his cock molded in cotton by his briefs, one shiny spot there where fluid from the tip had soaked through the fabric. She leaned down to suck on that spot and found it enticingly salty. Soon, a much larger area of cloth was soaked as she licked and sucked the whole head of his cock through his underwear, until his groans took on an edge of desperation. She eased the elastic waistband up and over to reveal the dark red flesh.
She lapped at him with long, slow licks, drawing longer groans out of him. Long, slow licks like the ones he’d used on her. She wondered, would he respond the way she did if she got faster, and flicked her tongue back and forth more quickly, and maybe used just a little bit of teeth to...?
The sudden bitter spurt made her cry out in surprise. The second squirt streaked her forehead and went into her hair. As she rocked back on her heels, she let go the edge of his waistband and the rest of his load ended up in his shorts. “Oh, God, I’m sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean...”
“To give me the most amazing blowjob I’ve ever had? Sure you did.” He pulled her up into a kiss, and she could taste the mingled flavors on her tongue, smell that crackled ozone scent of his breath. “God, Wren, the things you do to me.”
“How long... how long...” But her throat tightened up and she couldn’t finish the question. She felt his arms tighten around her.
“When you’re ready,” he whispered. “I'll be inside you when you’re ready.”
She nodded, breathless, wanting the time to be now but knowing it wasn’t.
“Let’s get in the shower,” he whispered back. “I think we both need one now.”
SIX
THEY WERE IN HIS BED, the feather comforter pulled up around them and Wren nestled against his chest, when she remembered the dream. “I wonder... I wonder if I'll have another one,” she said, too warm and secure at the moment to feel any real apprehension over it. “Or if being with you will keep the dreams at bay.”
He stroked her hair. “Nothing seemed to stop that one at the club,” he said softly, sounding almost reluctant to bring
it up.
“True...” She rubbed her cheek against his chest. “But that was before you... before we...” She couldn’t come up with the right words for it.
Derek did. “Before I was inside you?”
“Yes.”
“You think it really will make a difference?”
“It feels like it, anyway.” She hugged him hard around the ribs. “I want... I want to do it before we go back to the club. We should, right? Go back on Sunday to look around more?”
He pressed a kiss against her hair. “Seems like it. And you’d be helping me with my other case by coming with me, too.”
“And I should practice.” She watched a patch of light move across the ceiling as a car went by outside. Such a quiet neighborhood. “I want to figure out if I can really read other people when we’re... while we’re... you know. Or if it’s only you.”
“It seems like...”
“I know what it seems like. But we ought to test it.” Wren nuzzled against him, trying to work up the nerve to tell him her idea.
“How?”
“I think you should come to my house tomorrow night. And we should test it on Lawrence.” There, she’d said it, but she was blushing.
Derek was silent, and her desire was sated and quiet; she could not hear what he was thinking at all.
“He knows; I already told him,” Wren went on. “About the mind-reading. I figure, just a little test, like... he could be reading a book, and I'll see if I can tell what book. We'll tell him when it’s going to happen so he can, um, not think about anything he might not want me to know. Right?”
Derek chuckled. “That might guarantee he thinks about it. But, you’re right. If he'll go along with it, it’s the best way to test it. It does mean... telling him we’re having sex, though.”
“I know.” Wren raised her head to look at him. “Normally that'd flip me out. But compared to the thought that this is working up to you... us... at the club... well...”
He pulled her back down, fingers kneading the back of her neck. “Point taken. Tomorrow night, then, your house, if Lawrence agrees, you'll test your abilities, and we'll...”
