by Kim Karr
The sex is about her and me.
Not just me.
I never understood what people meant by you’ll know when you know. But after spending the day with her today, I do. We click. We just click.
She pumps her hips forward against my palm and then thrusts her ass back onto my cock.
It’s so fucking hot.
Both of us yell out. I’m pounding into her over and over. Thrust for thrust, she meets each and every one. My cock pulses and I pump my hips into her. It’s then I realize what I’m doing—I’m claiming her, marking her, making her mine. It’s something I’ve never done before.
Riveted by this realization, I remove my hand from her clit and grip both her hips, holding on, trying to go deeper, wanting to be as far into her as I can. The feeling of being buried deep inside her is one I never want to lose. A groan stutters out of me as I try to hold on for her.
“Charlotte, I need you to come.”
“I am, Jasper, I am.”
The sound of my name from her lips destroys me and as her pussy bears down on my cock, I know we are both spiraling into ecstasy.
She moans, “Oh God,” and I can tell an orgasm is rocketing through her, just as powerful as the one owning me right now. All I want to do is hold on to her for dear life and bask in the unbelievable pleasure.
We both come in unison.
Fuck, it feels so good—I can’t hear, my vision’s a little hazy, and there’s a gentle ache radiating from all parts of my cock—all reminders of the intensity we just shared.
After a few minutes, when I’m able to move, I collapse on the bed and pull her to my chest. She smiles against my neck and rests her head on my shoulder. I murmur in her hair, “That felt so incredibly good.”
She lifts her head and her beautiful eyes dance in the light. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Can we do that again?”
That grin I wear whenever she’s with me spreads across my face and when I open my eyes to look at her, there’s a light inside me that I’ve never felt before—it’s as if she’s the brightness that’s been sent to help me ease out of the darkness I’ve been in for far too long.
FAST AND FURIOUS
Charlotte
ROARING AND BUZZING like locust, a swarm of cars ahead of us emerges from the side streets of midtown Detroit onto the traffic-congested highway just ahead. I look over at Jasper. “You have to get around all of this.”
That grin is devilish and it’s apparent the challenge is on. “You sure you want me to?”
Hating that I’m late, I take another glance out the window and then back at him. “I’m sure.”
He puts both hands on the wheel and I know he means business. “Buckle up and hold on.”
Normally, I might chastise anyone for planning to speed, but today is day five of my first week on the job and I’m late, so for this one time I’ll overlook the fact that now that he has his own car back, he might be planning on breaking a few moving violation laws.
The week has flown by, and I’m happy to say that ever since Jasper met with Detective Hill on Monday morning to go over the events of that night again, it has been very uneventful.
Eve’s murder case seems to have deadpanned, from what we can see anyway. There has been no word from Detective Hill since Monday other than the correspondence Todd received that the mud samples taken from the site were not a match to the mud found on Jasper’s shoes.
That was cause for a celebration.
Tory, however, is nowhere to be found. Then again, the council doesn’t meet until Monday to decide if they will hear her case or not as it relates to reclaiming the land both her father and mine walked away from twenty years ago, so she’s probably hiding out to avoid being attacked by the press. Todd tells us the police have also been looking for her to question her about the night Eve was murdered, and like Alex’s investigator, they haven’t been able to locate her.
Alex’s investigator traced her last residence to Windsor, Canada—less than two miles from Detroit. Two miles! It was a small apartment that he reported she lived in alone. I didn’t ask and I don’t want to know if my mother and Uncle Tom are nearby.
The news reported Cole being brought in for questioning. Evidently, the police found the emails Eve sent Cole. Todd doesn’t think the police have enough to charge him or they would have done so already. He’s still working on my statement about what Vince saw and what I know, but in light of the emails already found, he doesn’t feel it is compelling enough evidence to sway the investigation.
The car jerks forward and I do as Jasper said, hold on.
As the car zigzags back and forth like a jet-fueled go-cart, I don’t dare glance at the speedometer. Jasper’s face is lit up as he weaves in and out of the traffic on the highway so fast I barely have a chance to think about how dangerous this might be or even catch my breath before he’s exiting the ramp near his apartment.
Somehow he slows for the upcoming light without slamming on the brakes and once we’re no longer moving, he looks over at me, all white gleaming teeth and pride. “You liked that.”
All I can do is shrug. My pulse is pounding and adrenaline is racing through my veins.
Man, can he can drive fast.
“Come on, admit it, you did.”
“Maybe just a little.”
He raises a brow and indicates his building up ahead. “One more time just for fun.”
With a smile, I nod. “Go for it.”
As the sun dances on the nearby river, the sound of honking horns and screaming drivers is drowned out by the sonic blast of his engine revving for takeoff. Acting more like this is a starting line than a stoplight, his foot lifts and slams down as soon as the light turns green.
In first gear, I watch as his head snaps back to make sure no cars are beside him, and then he jams the stick into second and we fly down the road. Jerking the wheel to the right, the tires let out a brief squeal, and he takes the turn into his garage with such finesse that I know he’s done this before.
Screeching to a stop at the guard shack, he waits for an oncoming car to pass before proceeding down the ramp. Jasper is a ball of energy. Obviously, being behind the wheel and driving fast is a passion of his that he likes to share.
“Come with me to the track later today,” he says as he enters the garage.
Surprised he won’t be at the office all day like he has been, making calls and putting out fires, my stomach ties in knots and I find myself asking, “Why are you going there?”
“Max has developed this new front radar sensor that senses an object’s closeness and adjusts the braking power. He wants to try it out and I volunteered.”
Unnerved by the fact that he’s going to be driving so much faster than he has with me in the car and by the fact that he had a near-fatal accident three years ago, I talk without thinking. “Jasper, do you think that’s something you should be doing?”
Moving slowly now, he approaches his assigned parking place. “Yes, Charlotte, I do. I haven’t been able to bring myself to get on the track in three years, and I feel like it’s time. Besides, the Storm is my car and I want to know everything that impacts it. And this breakthrough technology, if successful, is a welcome addition. It will put the Storm ahead of other vehicles in the same class and will help us gain an edge.”
“I get that. It’s just with the fact you’re going to be at the helm of a brand-new company, shouldn’t you be a little more . . . cautious?”
Pulling into his spot, he clicks the ignition off and turns to look at me through the dark lenses of his aviators.
Looking at him unshaven and hair rumpled, the thump-thump of my already fast beating heart does not still. Last night was the first night that we spent together since Monday night. Both busy and both determined to take things slow, I left the loft after work on Tuesday and Wednesday—alone. Jasper and I are approaching our relationship with caution. Taking things slow and seeing where we end up.
“Charlotte,” he
says looking, over the top of his sunglasses, “cautious has never been a word anyone could use to describe me. But if it helps ease your mind, Max has so many security features in place for test drives now, I’m pretty certain he’s taken all the fun out of it.”
I tilt my head to the side and give him a slight smile. “Well, you were a bad boy by misbehaving.”
The moment I say it, I regret it.
Jasper’s grin fades as he reaches over the console and cups my chin before leaning over and kissing me. “You’re not wrong about that, and we may never know if someone tampered with that car, but I guarantee you the way Max has this one locked up, no one can get to it.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Slouching back in his seat, he removes his sunglasses. “Don’t be. Sometimes I need a reminder to behave.”
Thankful he survived that accident, I shake my head and then just stare at him. At his wide eyes that look so bright today. They have that glow that appears every time he talks about the Storm. It’s one of pride. I find it extremely sexy and it makes me want to jump his bones.
“Charlotte,” he says, as if knowing I’m thinking about him in a very inappropriate way considering we have an entire day of work to get through.
“Yes, Jasper,” I answer a little too breathily.
“Yes or no?”
This perplexes me.
Then, I get that smile. The look. Heat. “Will you come with me today or not?”
Dissolving into laughter because other than melting it’s my only option, I shake my head no.
“No?” he says, a little shocked.
“Jasper, I can’t. I have to work.”
“But your boss is telling you to come with him.”
“Will wants my articles for this afternoon’s and Monday’s posts done before noon.”
Jasper gives me a little disappointed shrug. “Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Oh, I think I do.
I have to avert my gaze from the heat in his, and that’s when my eyes land on the clock. Eight thirty. Opening my door, I quickly look back. “Come on, we have to hurry, remember?”
Jasper’s long strides have him beside me, and his arm around my waist, in no time flat. We stay that way the entire ride up to his apartment and he’s also whispering in my ear, trying to drive me crazy, to convince me to come and have fun with him.
I have to ignore him before I cave and say yes.
Finally, we are inside his apartment. Taking all the time in the world, he slowly heads toward the shower—time not an issue for him—and I am forced to patter up the stairs to the temporary Lightning Motors office space to face my doom alone.
“See you later,” I call down to him, as I rush up to the office in my pencil skirt and kitten heels a flustered mess. Once at the landing, I come to a dead stop when I see Will sitting behind my desk.
His eyes lift in judgment but he says nothing.
I cringe anyway. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
I hate being late.
It wasn’t my fault, but it’s not like I can whine to Will about why I’m late. I can’t tell him, “Hey, my boss slept at my place last night because you guys are always here and after turning off my alarm without waking me, he leisurely made coffee while I hurried to get ready.” And I also can’t tell him, “But, in Jasper’s defense, he drove really fast to try to get me to work on time.”
No, I can’t tell him any of that. Instead I stand here quietly and face the wrath of Will’s looming stare.
He can be a bit scary sometimes.
Will is a stickler for just about everything.
Time.
Dress.
Even punctuation. We argued for almost thirty minutes yesterday about the proper way to punctuate a certain word before turning to Google.
I was right.
Fist pump.
The thing about Will is that he is not only the glue that holds this group of misfits together; he also provides the balance among them. If Jake says something should be white and Jasper says it should be black, Will declares it gray and they all listen. If Drew wants to sign a parts deal and Jake thinks it can be done cheaper, Will evaluates both sides without bias.
Jasper might hold the title as president of Lightning Motors, but I think Will is actually the boss. Of course, I’d never tell Jasper that’s what I think. Everything works perfectly just as it is.
I set my things next to my desk and look at my screen.
Will stands and moves out of the way so I can sit in my chair. “I hope you don’t mind, but I read the post you drafted for today.”
Hmmm . . . maybe I should have changed the password on the computer. Not that it isn’t his right to look over what he asked me to prepare. It’s just that he read it before I had a chance to proof it, and that scares me a little.
He scares me.
Will perches on my desk and crosses his arms. “I have to say, I’m impressed with the voice you’re creating for the company in only four short days. The average daily views on our blog have increased almost tenfold. You’re obviously saying something people want to hear. And the post that you’ve prepared for today on the benefits of choosing to outsource minimal parts abroad due to economies of scale is done tactfully but with strength. The goodwill you’re building in the community will go a long way until this murder case wraps up.”
The site analysis is up on my screen and I look at it with pride. Of course, no one knows it’s my voice. That is being kept confidential. I’m okay with that. I have a job, I’m doing good work, and I like what I’m doing. I look at Will, who always makes me nervous. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you think so.”
“We’re lucky to have you,” he says.
Warmth fills me and I smile at him.
Will doesn’t smile much and doesn’t smile now either.
With a nod, he heads over to the cluster of desks in the other corner. The space isn’t ideal, but it works. There’s a large table in the center with a model of the Storm on it. The guys’ desks are in the corner, in a quad near the floor-to-ceiling windows. Max’s research space is set behind a stand-up curtain wall, and my makeshift desk is at the top of the stairs. At the current time Lightning Motors employs no one else. Not until they secure land and officially announce the erection of the new plant.
Just as Will sits down he says, “Oh, Charlotte, Whitney called me this morning to pass on a message. She told me Todd turned your statement in to the police and that he doubts they will want you to come in but if that happens, you’re to call him first.”
“Okay,” I tell him, and I can’t help but worry my lip.
Busy at work, I don’t hear my cell phone ringing until it’s too late. I don’t recognize the number, but as soon as the sound of his familiar voice plays on my voicemail, my stomach drops. It’s Detective Hill and I stop the message. Hands shaking, I stare at my phone, and after taking a deep breath I hit the Play button again and listen. “Miss Lane. This is Sergeant Detective Hill. I received your statement this morning and wanted to let you know that I had no further questions. In addition, I also thought you should know that in a review of the hotel security footage, cameras spotted an unidentified man entering your hotel room with a key and carrying an empty briefcase the morning following Ms. Hepburn’s murder. When he left, the briefcase was noticeably fuller. It would appear any papers you might be missing were taken then, more than likely along with Ms. Hepburn’s laptop. Please return my call as soon as possible. I’d like to show you the images of the man and see if you can identify him.”
Someone had been in my room?
He must have used Eve’s key.
I call the number back immediately.
“Detroit Police Department. How may I direct your call?”
I swivel in my chair and try to keep my voice down so as not to disturb Will, who is on the phone. “Hi, this is Charlotte Lane for Detective Hill.”
“One moment please.”
One. Two. Three. Four. Five seconds pass.
“I’m sorry, but Sergeant Detective Hill just left the building. May I take a message?”
I give her my information and then hang up, pondering why those bank statements would have been taken.
“Morning, Charlotte,” Drew says with a smile, stopping beside me to sip his coffee. He, like Will, is dressed in complete business attire—suit, white shirt, tie, and dress shoes. Drew is funny, nice, and at times charming. He’s also the most withdrawn from the group. Other than who he’s taking out for the night or where he took someone the night before, I never hear him talk about anything personal. His father abused him and his mother when he was younger, and after his mother ended up in the hospital, she feared for both of their lives and fled Kentucky. Somehow they ended up in Cass Corridor.
“Good morning, Drew, how are you today?”
“Fantastic,” he says, striding toward Will, who is now off the phone.
Keeping it brief, I fill both him and Drew in on my call and then busy myself with my work so as not to ponder on the information from Detective Hill.
I decide to start to proofread my article before officially sending it to Jasper, Will, Drew, and Jake for approval.
The open space can get noisy. I’m just about to put my earphones on when I hear Drew say something that catches my attention. He’s talking to Will about recalled parts and how he doubts Hank Harper will be the middleman for any parts even if he can easily reengineer them.
“But for Jasper, he might,” Will tells him.
“He pretty much already told me hands down, no, he just doesn’t do that. Never has. Never will. He doesn’t have the time nor the space or the technology, he says. But I’m going to give it one more try.”
