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Candie Keane Ellora's Cave
February 2006 |
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“Wait here.” Detective Ricco dropped his arm from her shoulder and limped toward the edge of the roof, seemingly unaffected as the wind whipped his hair around his head and water sealed his clothes to his skin. |
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Who was this man of contradiction? Furious at her for her testimony and joking with her when battling for their lives, hurt one moment and able to take on the world the next. The psychologist in her was fascinated, the woman in her was scared to death of that fascination. |
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Rain dripped from her eyelashes, spilled down her back beneath her blouse and pooled between her toes as Eden ran after the detective past a small battered shed to the edge of the building. She had never been afraid of heights but vertigo swept over her here. Below the two of them a throng of fire engines and police cars were parked haphazardly in the narrow street. Emergency lights splashed a surreal kaleidoscope of color on the wet pavement and a nearby glass and cement structure. Hypnotic sirens, distorted by the water, heightened the sense of illusion. Firemen moved about swiftly, but unhurried. The flames must be under control. Of course it was impossible to know the extent of the damage from their vantage, but she and the detective just might survive this ordeal. |
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He motioned to the crowd below with a long swing of his arm, cupping a hand to his mouth. A few faces tilted up at his call. |
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“They see us!” Relief swept over Eden. Her shoulders sagged, her eyes slipped closed. She could feel her heart in her throat. Safe. They were going to live. |
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He grabbed her around the shoulder, squeezing her against his chest. “We did it, Doc.” His eyes, soft with pleasure, crinkled at the edges. “Now it’s just a matter of time. Let’s find some shelter.” The deafening sound of the wind whipped away his last words as he turned. |
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He loped back toward the shed. Not bothering with the doorknob, he slammed his shoulder against the peeling green door. It gave way with little protest. |
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Eden peeked around his shoulder. The meager gray light filtered in, exposing brooms, tools and cans of cleaner spilling from old wooden shelves. A damp moldy smell permeated the space. A relatively clean tarp covered the four-foot-square floor. The shed gave only a measure of shelter against the elements but right now it felt like the Taj Mahal. |
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“Home sweet home.” He made a sweeping gesture for her to enter but he couldn’t disguise his flinch of pain. |
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Grasping his thick biceps, she said, “Lie down so I can look at you.” |
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“Thought you’d never ask.” He dropped to the ground, finally leaning against the stone wall and wincing as he grinned at her. |
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She managed a shocked “oh” when he reached up and tugged her down on top of him. |
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She sank to the ground on her knees, forced to straddle him or fall on her face. A bubble of laughter lodged in her throat. “What kind of a man thinks about sex at a time like this?” she whispered, unable to censor the rush of words. |
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Her smile died when she looked at the lust-filled determination in his eyes. |
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Her gaze followed his as it traveled her body. Water molded her clothing to her like that on a lewd Greek statue, her damp skin luminous in the light. Her shell gaped open, revealing her breasts, spilling out of the plain black bra. Her torn skirt, smudged with oil, plastered itself to her upper thighs, exposing her lace-covered hip. |
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She no longer looked like the reserved psychologist she took such pains to portray in her professional life. She no longer felt like one either. |
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He grabbed a handful of lace and flesh, his fingers slipping under the material and urging her hips closer to the thick steel of his erection tenting his slacks. He forced her thighs wider but the sodden material of her skirt protested, preventing full contact. He spared a look into her eyes. A new fire reflected in the depths of his. “Any man,” he replied. |
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Her breath lodged in her throat as he rocked against her upper thigh. She should be offended. She should be screaming at the top of her lungs. She should do anything but melt into him. |
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Her body tingled with the internal battle—until the part of her that wanted to deny the feelings that stole into her veins surrendered to the part that reveled in them. He was arrogant, stubborn…and irresistible. A deliciously forbidden feeling slid down her spine. She nestled herself against him before jerking up, remembering. |
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“Your leg!” |
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He dragged her back down. “To hell with my leg.” |
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A small part of her rationality remained. “I’m not here to feed your ego,” she protested, but she couldn’t prevent her gasp at the length of him nestled intimately between her thighs. |
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“It’s not my ego that’s starving.” He punctuated his statement with a roll of his hips, the long thick line of him nearly touching her there. |
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Her sex contracted violently. Her vulva felt swollen, achy. |
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He looked haggard, his unshaven face hard. His T-shirt, smudged with oil, clung to his upper body. His slacks were smeared with blood. And she had never wanted a man inside of her more desperately in her life. |
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Her mind intruded, “There is a perfectly logical explanation for this behavior,” she said. “We have taken our…our…physical reactions from the fear of the situation and transferred them into some sort of sexual interest in each other. There’s even a term for it.” |
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“Yeah?” His gaze riveted to the point where their bodies were glued together as he moved against her. |
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Her eyes drifted closed. Oh please don’t do that. “It’s nothing personal.” |
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“I have an undeniable urge, Doc,” his gloved hand stole down the outside of her thigh to the edge of her skirt, fingers teasing, stroking the sensitive skin behind her knee, “that feels damn personal. Is that insane?” |
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“Not clinically,” she whispered. |
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His fingers speared into her hair, filling his fist with it and tugging her head to the side until her neck was exposed. He grazed her cheek with his, his stubble scratchy against her skin. |
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She rubbed her face against his roughness, reveling in the contrast, plunging her hand into the thick silken strands at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer, her decision made. |
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He lowered his mouth to the hollow of her throat, striking an especially sensitive spot right below her jawline. |
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Her voice lodged beneath the pressure of his kiss. She drew in a desperate breath as his mouth descended to hers. He tasted her lower lip, tugging, licking, testing her response. |
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“I want your mouth,” he commanded. |
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The stroke of his other hand painted a trail of fire along her throat to cup her breast, his thumb teased the pebbled tip, once, twice. His lips barely left hers to whisper, “First.” |
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She swallowed a moan but couldn’t stop the tremble of her mouth against his. And then he took her mouth in a kiss so full of carnal possession and power she could do nothing but whimper beneath the force of it. The kiss quickly grew fervent, open mouthed. |
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He filled her senses with his smell, his taste, the texture of his tongue as it rasped against hers. Sensations bombarded her, rushing through her veins, infusing her with desire in its purest form—lust for a man she barely knew. |
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He bit her lip, sucked on her tongue, entered her mouth before she was ready. There was no tenderness in his kiss, only passion. He kissed her like she belonged to him, as if he had already been inside her, as if he knew the depth and rhythm of penetration to send her over the edge again and again. He varied the stroke of his tongue in her mouth, mimicking what he would do once he was buried deep within her body. |
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He shoved her skirt up another three inches with his gloved hand, until she was almost completely exposed. |
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She squirmed against him, pressing herself even closer. Oh. Yes. There. She cried silently, moaning from the shocking hardness of him there, the hugeness of him there. She tried to speak, but only managed a soft sound. A helpless, yearning sound of wonder and surprise and lust. She hated herself for it but there it was. |
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Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hoisted herself closer, kissing him with a frenzy she hadn’t known she possessed. Her head spun. Her heart beat out the desperate pounding rhythm of the hard line in a rock song, the frantic beat rising to a crescendo and then skipping, leaving her breathless. |
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He surged against her again, a dark sound of desire rumbling in his chest. And then she felt him, thick and hard, pressing urgently against the thin scrap of her panties. She would have cried out again if she could have found the breath to do so. |
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He felt so good it hurt. |
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Covering her hand with his, he dragged her fingers down over his belt before forcing the buckle down to reveal the head of his cock. It looked sleek, powerful and mouth-watering. It jerked against her palm as she thumbed the velvet flesh. |
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He pulled back, his hot gaze locking with hers. “Hell, woman, this doesn’t feel like fear.” He shifted beneath her. “I want to be inside of you right now.” |
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Then he nuzzled her breast and her thoughts tumbled away. His mouth latched onto her nipple over its silk and lace covering. His teeth played over the hypersensitive bud, lightly biting through the material. The rough silk and the warm, wet texture of his mouth combined sent shards of sensation through her breast directly to the core of her desire. God the things he could do with his mouth, with his hands. |
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Between her legs, he hooked a finger around the thin veil of lace and tugged downward before, palm flat, he slid his hand over her mons. |
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She gasped into his mouth, parting her thighs, rolling her hips, inviting him deeper. The long length of his finger slid along her labia. A second finger joined it, slipping easily through her cream, along her slick folds. His rough thumb circled her clit in a tight figure eight. The sensitive nub swelled, flowering beneath his touch. She arched her back, tilting her hips forward. |
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More. She needed to feel his mouth on her. |
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She clawed her hands into the folds of cloth at her shoulder, peeling the wet material down and revealing her entire breast to him. Her nipples tingled, tightening even more. |
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He made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat. |
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His eyes burned into hers for an endless moment before he dropped his gaze to her exposed nipple, lowering his head. His grip fisted painfully in her hair, jerking her head back. |
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She resisted. She couldn’t see. She wanted to see. And then his mouth was on her, licking her, nipping her, memorizing the shape of her. She could only stare at a rusty nail embedded in splintered wood as he mouthed the other breast. Her eyes closed. Oh yes. |
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A shaky sigh of exquisite pleasure reverberated through her body and caught in her throat before finally escaping her open mouth. |
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She felt the sensations gather, knotting around and within each other, coiling tighter and tighter until she felt her consciousness slip, her control slip. The other side of pleasure he was taking her to was deep and wide and she would surely lose herself in it, to it, more than she’d lost herself already. Wait. Heaven help her, she was going to have the most staggering orgasm in her life right here, on the rooftop, getting felt up by local law enforcement. She tried to yank his head back. Any gentleman would let go. |
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He sucked harder. |
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Oh please…. |
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And then, through her passion-soaked senses, she felt his mouth release her breast noisily. |
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His hand pushed her weak ones aside, pulling the material up to cover her nudity. He forced his erection into his slacks before he tugged her to him, pressing their chests together as if he couldn’t get close enough, as if… |
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He whispered urgently into her ear. |
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“Wait,” she panted, too overwhelmed to hear clearly over the rush of blood, trying to pull back from the precipice of her orgasm. She closed her eyes, digging her nails into his wet T-shirt, wanting to rip the stubborn material up and off, aching to roll herself shamelessly against his fingers. |
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His voice rose. “Company. Doc, we’ve got company.” |
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The deafening sound of a hovering helicopter grew louder, breaking through her haze of sensation. Her body still pulsed as he slipped his fingers free. Eden blinked against the harsh light. She squinted and shielded her eyes before finally making out the unmistakable logo of “KTTB News” emblazoned on the side. A blur of blonde hair waved in the jump seat. |
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A gruff whisper below her broke through the noise. “Does your theory apply to kissing as well as killing?” |
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“Excuse me?” she whispered through swollen lips as she desperately tried to pull the shredded remnants of her skirt together. Loud banging on the stairway door came from behind her. Firemen yelled her name and his before crashing through the thick wood. |
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A large dark coat was draped over her shoulders. It smelled of smoke and the fireman who wore it. She wanted to throw it off. The owner wrapped sturdy hands around her shoulders, tugging her back. She jerked free, her eyes still trained on the hardened gaze of the stranger beneath her. |
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The detective leaned forward, his voice tired. “You got your wish, Doc, ‘cause in this case I want to believe in your theory. Call it Temporary Insanity, Emotional Dissociative Sex, whatever. I damn sure want to forget this ever happened.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, still revealed through the opening of the fireman’s jacket. “But I don’t think I will.” |
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Warmth rushed to her cheeks. “Was this some kind of sick demonstration?” |
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The gruff fireman shot questions at her but the sound of helicopters drowned out any words but the detective’s. |
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He looked at her, eyes unfathomable, face smeared with dirt. Her eyes stung from wanting to follow the line of his chest down to where his pants hung low across his hips. Her head burst with the need to slug him. |
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“You bastard.” She couldn’t get away fast enough as she pushed back, but her legs still shook from her near orgasm. “This man needs help,” she directed to the bulky fireman at her elbow. |
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After being deposited at the building’s entrance, Eden limped alone from the chaos. Smoke permeated the air, although the structure itself looked largely untouched. According to the fireman, the blaze had begun in records in the two lower basement floors. The smoke and heat had quickly filled the building through to the ventilation system. |
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A number of reporters crowded the entrance to the courthouse, interviewing other victims as they were attended to by emergency crew personnel. A beacon of light momentarily blinded her. |
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“Dr. Chapman! Were you injured?” |
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“No,” Eden whispered, turning her
face away from the camera, her voice breaking. “Not physically.”
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They fled onto the courthouse
roof, a vast black sticky expanse surrounded by a two-foot red brick wall and
capped with rough cement. Beyond that, muted multi-colored rooftops of other
buildings were just visible through the downpour.
