Doing It Right

by MaryJanice Davidson

  He grunted.

  “Are you going to spend our last night together sulking?”

  “Yes,” he growled. Then groaned and shut the water off. “Screw the dishes. Screw all of this. I can’t believe you won’t let me talk you out of going tomorrow. You spend twenty years on the run from authority and pick tonight—tonight—to do the right thing? Cripes.”

  “It’s worth the cost,” she said quietly.

  “Not to me.”

  There was a long silence while she finished drying the last glass, then she lay the towel on the counter, turned him toward her, and rested her head against his chest. He stood stiffly, not returning her embrace. “I love you for saying that,” she said. “I’m sorry about all of this. I should never have gotten you involved.”

  “Don’t say that,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Wouldn’t have missed knowing you for anything.”

  She laughed and stepped away from him. “God, don’t talk like that! You’re acting like I’m in my grave. I’m just going to prison for a while.”

  “A long while.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what?” He threw up his hands, turned his back on her. “What do we do?”

  Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and she said softly, more breath than sound, “We make the most of tonight.”

  He swallowed hard. “Oh, Kara.” He turned and pulled her against him, found her mouth, lost himself in her kiss. His lips parted hers, her small tongue curled up to meet his. His body was responding with enthusiasm, but his mind held back. Lovemaking tonight would be agonizing, all the more potent and heartbreaking because it would be their last evening together. He wasn’t sure he could do that. Put his heart on a sacrificial altar like that.

  Her thoughts seemed to run in the same direction, because she pulled back and looked at him, her eyes mesmerizing pools of deep blue. Her lips were rosy and swollen from his kiss. “Coward,” she whispered, and he shuddered and tightened his grip on her.

  He swallowed the lump in this throat and abruptly scooped her up. “Saw this in a movie once,” he said hoarsely, trying to banter with a voice that wanted to crack. “Always wanted to try it.”

  “Was it An Officer and a Gentleman?”

  “Porky’s IV, actually.”

  She snorted, then giggled, then laughed outright, which got him started, and by the time they reached his bed, he was staggering and roaring, trying not to drop her, and the tears that rolled down his cheeks were surely from laughter.

  He dropped her on the bed and she sat up, reached around, and started tugging at the clip that held her hair up. He stopped her, said, “Let me,” and gently freed the large barrette from her hair. The lush blond waves tumbled past her shoulders, almost to her waist. He held the length in his hands, gently combing his fingers through the strands, then brought her hair forward. He slowly pushed her back until she was lying flat on the bed and rubbed her hair, like a coarse silk blanket, over her breasts until her nipples were poking stiffly through the strands.

  “No one’s …” She gulped and tried again. “No one’s ever done that before.”

  “No one’s ever loved you before like I do.”

  “True enough.”

  “What?” he teased, tickling the underside of her breasts with some of her hair. “No protestations that I don’t really love you? That I couldn’t possibly love you once I found out who you are and what you’ve done and—”

  She moved like lightning. He felt his wrists seized and he was jerked forward until he sprawled on top of her. “You really have to shut up now,” she mock growled, and bit his earlobe.

  “Unhand me, you cad!” he shrilled, then kissed her deeply.

  Jokes were forgotten as their hands rekindled the desire that was always just below the surface. In a few moments they were both nude, their bodies pressed tightly together.

  He pressed wet, hot kisses along the slope of her neck, loving the way his touch made her shiver. “Kara,” he breathed, “I’m going to kiss every inch of you.”

  “Me first,” she whispered back and wriggled free of him, then started planting delicate butterfly kisses along his collarbone.

  It took forever; it was over in an instant. She didn’t just kiss, she licked and nibbled and sucked, her lips caressing every inch of his skin. When he felt her fingers close around him, felt her draw his hot, throbbing length into her mouth, he was certain he was mere moments away from a heart attack. Let’s see, he thought disjointedly, marveling at how hot her mouth was, how wet, I’ll show up in the ER and they’ll get some leads on me, then they’ll get the defib paddles and shock me, and when that doesn’t work they’ll crank the volts and shock me …

  … shock me …

  … again …

  … until …

  “Oh my,” Kara said huskily, and kissed the tip of him with no small amount of satisfaction.

  “God,” he said shakily, throwing his arm across his eyes. “I haven’t gotten off that quickly since—”

  “Last night?”

  “I was going to say since I was a kid,” he said frostily, but couldn’t help smiling at her as she came up and cuddled against him. He kissed her, tasted himself on her mouth, and at once felt an interested stirring between his legs. “My turn.”

  He rolled her on her back, cupped her breasts and licked her cleavage, then drew a stiff nipple into his mouth. He could have spent an hour on her breasts alone; their creamy perfection, each topped by a rosy, sweet nipple, seemed to demand his touch. In truth, he ached to touch them, touch her, show her with his body how deeply he cared for her, loved her.

  She was sighing in his arms, her fingers were in his hair, she was murmuring nonsense words to him, and when he remembered this was their last night together, that this time tomorrow she would be sleeping in a windowless cage …

  He shoved the thought away. “Turn over,” he said, and when he’d eased her to her hands and knees, started kissing her spine. He trailed kisses all the way down her back, nibbled on a pert, firm buttock, then stretched out on the bed behind her, grasped her thighs, and kissed the entrance to her sex. She moaned and arched, and then he was licking softly, steadily, his tongue cleaving her hot, swollen woman’s flesh. He could hear her throaty groans and in response to that primitive sound his engorged cock dug urgently into the bed, and still he licked, licked, licked. He put his hands on her, tilted her hips back and spread her flesh with his thumbs while he forced his tongue inside her. She screamed his name and rocked back against his mouth. He could hear her begging, groaning, and felt like doing a little begging himself, like doing a little taking himself and instead let his hungry mouth have free rein. His tongue stabbed at her, his lips tasted her and wanted more of her tangy sweetness, his hands kneaded her firm, white flesh.

  “Jared …”

  He slipped his thumbs inside her, wriggled them. Her flesh was red, swollen, hot, and tasted pretty damned fine. He could have touched her forever. Wanted to. He wished he could see her face, but respected her earlier request, respected her fear at appearing vulnerable, even before him. Maybe especially before him. He loved her, she was coming to love him, and he wouldn’t spoil it by forcing an intimacy she wasn’t ready for. Not even on their last night together.

  “Jared, please …”

  He rose up behind her and gently took her down to the bed, riding her until they were both on their stomachs. “Please what?” he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face while fighting the urge to rear back and slam himself into her. Repeatedly.

  “Please now,” she rasped, “I’ll die if you don’t come inside me now.” She wriggled beneath him and he clutched her shoulders and shuddered all over, knowing if he did what he wanted, what his cock so urgently demanded, they would be done before he was all the way inside. Twice in one night! Humiliating, he thought, and could have smiled. “Please, Jared.”

  “I don’t suppose we can renegotiate,” he whispered, and tongued her ear. “Are
you suuuuure you insist on keeping your appointment tomorrow?”

  She groaned. “Don’t do that.”

  “I was only kidding,” he said, not sure if he was telling the truth. “I—Whoa!” She’d bucked, reared up on her hip, and tumbled him onto his side. They faced each other and she reached for him, her fingers closing around him with care, with love.

  “No, you weren’t. But I don’t blame you.” She wriggled closer to him; her eyes were enormous. Her face was flushed, her forehead shining with sweat. She raised her leg and scooted still closer. Unbelieving, he moved to meet her.

  He watched her face while he slowly penetrated her. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, her gaze bored into his. If he hadn’t come earlier, he surely would have at that exact moment; the intimacy was incredible, like nothing he’d felt before. Jesus, he thought, thrusting slowly, mesmerized by her face, the eyes really are the windows of the soul and hers is … so beautiful …

  He kissed her softly and she cried out into his mouth, then he felt her tighten around him, felt her press herself as closely as she could. He reached out, found her breasts, stroked her nipples while he thrust against her, and she had barely stopped shuddering from one orgasm when another was on her.

  “Oh, Kara,” he groaned while she shivered and bucked against him, while her eyes closed and she dug her nails into his back, “I think I’m just about done. I think this is … is …” Abruptly, shockingly, she jerked away. He was now thrusting into air. “What the hell?”

  “Serves you right,” she gasped, “for trying to use sex to get me to blow off the D.A.” Then, incredibly, she shoved her hair off her damp forehead and stuck her tongue out at him. “So phhhhhbbbtttt!”

  He yowled and grabbed for her. She tussled with him briefly, then let him roll her onto her back and enter her again. Her legs came up, wrapped around his waist, and she thrust back at him, grinning at him the whole time. He didn’t know whether to laugh, too, or throttle her.

  He came instead, so hard and long he felt his eyes roll back. Then collapsed over her.

  “You screamed like a girlie girl when you thought we were done,” she whispered into his ear.

  “As soon as I get my strength back, I’m going to kick your ass,” he growled.

  “Sweetie, you couldn’t kick a hole through a paper sack.” She giggled. “But because you’re so good in bed, I think I’ll keep you.” She stopped laughing, probably remembering she was in no position to keep anybody.

  He finally broke the silence. “Let me rest. But only for a little bit. I’m not wasting one minute of tonight sleeping.”

  “Agreed,” she said, and put her head down on his shoulder.

  “I had the oddest dream about you,” he said, much later. Early morning sunlight was slanting across his bed. Contrary to their best intentions, they had indeed dozed off for a few hours. He had been thrilled to wake up beside her. And nearly cried when he remembered he likely never would again. “The first night you stayed over. Remember? You slept on the couch.”

  “I remember.” How could she forget? “I had a strange dream that night, too.”

  “In yours, did I dress in an armadillo suit, throw pickles at you, and then hump you like a monkey?”

  She shook so hard with laughter she nearly fell off the bed. “No! Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re sort of a freak sometimes.”

  “Says the compulsive thief. What happened in your dream?”

  “You raped me, then disappeared.”

  He looked appalled. “I don’t know which idea is worse.”

  “Well,” she teased, “I did have an orgasm. So it wasn’t all bad.”

  “Did you now?” His hand closed over her breast. “Let’s see if you can have another one. Where were we, er, getting busy? In your dream?”

  His palm was rubbing lazily across her nipple, and she was a bit breathless when she replied. “Your couch. You bent me over the arm rest and did as you liked.”

  “Mmm. Too bad I don’t have any condoms. How often can we keep playing baby roulette?”

  “Baby?”

  “Don’t yell, I’m right next to you. Don’t you want my baby?”

  She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. “Jared, I’m leaving for prison.”

  He sighed. “Call me a dreamer. I can’t help wishing you were ovulating.”

  “You sure seem to know a lot about it,” she said tartly.

  He smiled lazily. “Well, I am a doctor.” His hands were busy between her legs. “Oooh, God, that’s nice … you’re still slippery from last night.”

  “I was too tired to get up and wash,” she said, almost groaned; his fingers—two, then three—dipped inside her with no resistance at all. “And then we … we fell asleep.”

  “Turn over for me.” His fingers were busy, busy.

  “No fair disappearing when we’re done,” she said, and was instantly sorry. Why remind him that their time was so desperately short?

  “No chance,” he said firmly, easing her over on her hands and knees. She felt his fingers, slick from their juices, stretching her, teasing her.

  “God, that’s nice,” she moaned.

  “Wait,” he panted, and then she felt his engorged tip against her.

  “Push hard. Really hard.”

  “I’ll hurt you.”

  She bit back a laugh. “I want it to hurt. I want to have a sore pussy for a while.” Something to remember you by when I’m by myself in a cell tonight.

  “Kara … “

  “Shove.”

  He was reluctant, she knew, but also excited. The word was barely out of her mouth when he obliged with a grunt. And she had been wrong; it didn’t hurt. She gasped harshly as he shoved again, his balls slapping against her.

  “You’re—” She gulped and tried again. “Don’t stop.”

  He thrust, thrust, thrust into her. “Not a chance … ah, Jesus!”

  “Don’t stop.”

  “Thank God.” His hands found her breasts, squeezed hard, marked her flesh. His thighs slammed against her. Unlike her dream, she had not the slightest sensation an orgasm was anywhere near. Still, the feel of his cock digging into her, opening her, was strangely exciting. So were his thrusts; they were wild, almost out of control; his arousal was total, it had dominated him completely.

  And that was most exciting of all.

  “Kara …” A strangled groan.

  “I love you,” she said in reply, and that was it, that finished it for him. He collapsed behind her, breathing harshly. She felt him slip out of her and had time for a quick, amused thought: Nothing is keeping me from the shower this time. Then he flipped her over, spread her legs, opened her wide with his thumbs.

  His head dipped and she felt his tongue flick across her clit. She squirmed and his mouth followed her. His tongue and lips were delicate, a direct contrast to the pounding he had just given her.

  His tongue eased inside her with sweet slowness, then retreated, then eased back in. She could hear someone whimpering softly and realized she was the one making the sound.

  He pulled back a bit and lapped at her, then started licking her the way a child licks a popsicle in July, slowly and enthusiastically. Savoring it. And like a popsicle, she melted.

  She brought her legs up and locked her ankles behind his neck. Now he was sucking on her clit, teasing the aching bud with swirls and sweeps of his tongue, and she began to scream. Sort of. In truth she was too tired to scream; what left her throat were shrill, desperate whimpers.

  Her hips bucked against his mouth once. Twice. Then she was coming, coming and melting, straining toward him.

  They held each other until their breathing slowed.

  After a long moment, she said, “We really need a shower.”

  “And a transfusion. Kara, I’m pretty sure you’ve killed me. I just haven’t caught on yet.”

  She giggled tiredly. “Shall I roll you toward the bathroom?”

  “Bathroom later. Snuggle now
.” So saying, he tucked her head into his shoulder and tossed the sheet over them. “I love you.”

  She smiled against his flesh. “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 15

  “You look almost as bad as I feel,” he lied. Kara looked beautiful, as usual, but she did have dark circles under her eyes. “And I feel like shit.”

  “You should have stayed home.”

  “Don’t start up with that crap again.”

  “But you should have,” she said, blatantly ignoring his command. “They’ll take me away after the meeting and I don’t—I don’t want you to see that.”

  “Hello!” he shouted, startling several courthouse staff. Kara was leading them straight to the D.A., like the demented homing pigeon she had turned into. “I saw you clapped in irons and hauled away not even twenty-four hours ago.” He looked at his watch. “Not even fifteen hours ago.”

  “Still,” she said stubbornly. “This is no place for you.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  In another circumstance, he could have appreciated the grandeur and majesty of the old courthouse. The architecture spoke of a love of design, the mellow wood spoke of a love of caretaking. The building had to be a hundred years old and was magnificent. Unfortunately, right now it was a symbol of everything that was about to go wrong with his life, so he could have gouged holes in the banisters and taken pleasure in it.

  “Shouldn’t you be bringing a lawyer to this meeting?”

  “I waived my right to counsel,” she said, not looking at him.

  “Cripes! Aren’t you taking this throw-the-book-at-me bullshit a little too far?”

  She didn’t answer him and, disgusted, he quit bugging her.

  When they reached the correct floor, there was no one sitting at the secretary’s desk, but a man popped out of the small adjoining office and approached them, hand out. “Hi,” said the guy who was going to clap his Kara in chains for the next thirty years. “I’m Tom Wechter.”