Authors: Frances Randon
Mo took the towels and
gratefully wiped her face. “I forgot to eat. I was at the airport. Zack, I felt
so badly about how things were with us. You’ve been so kind. I just couldn’t
leave without talking to you. I’m sorry I just showed up. Interrupted your…”
“I wish you hadn’t taken off.
Cherisse is just a friend.” No sense trying to explain his idiocy at the
moment. “I felt badly too. I was going to call you. I’m sorry how it’s been the
last few days. Look, let’s talk about it later. I’m going to make you a
sandwich, no, don’t argue, you’re going to eat.”
He gave her one of his tee
shirts and a new toothbrush he had just bought but hadn’t opened. He cleared
the dishes from dinner that were still on the table while she showered. He was
not sure what her appearance at his door meant but he had felt close to losing
her and he was still too rattled to question anything.
In the shower Mo pressed her
head against the bland beige tile with her eyes closed. She tried to clear her
mind while the warm water beat down on her. Her entire body shook. Then she
thought of Zack pulling her out of the car, holding her close with little
kisses along her hairline. She reached up and touched there. Everything had
happened so quickly and she had been so frightened. The image of the gun pointing
at her flashed in her mind. She was okay. She was okay. She thought of Zack
talking to the police with the blinding lights flashing. How did he…? He had
followed her.
She came out with a towel on
her head in his big terry cloth robe. She was still thirsty and took another
glass of water. The sandwich seemed to have done wonders for her stomach. Zach
bit back the urge to lecture her on forgetting to eat. He was used to the sight
of her in towel and bathrobe. What he wasn’t used to was her in his apartment
in towel and bathrobe. What he’d never get used to was his reaction to how she
looked in them. How could someone be so beautiful with a towel around her head?
The kneejerk reaction was sexual. Then a layer of tenderness veiled the sexual
impulse she aroused as he observed the vulnerability in her eyes. She had a
young sweet face not everyone would call beautiful. Not in the traditional
sense. Her small full lipped mouth mesmerized him. Her long black lashes framed
her large black, slightly slanted eyes. With no makeup at all she seemed so
young and fresh and innocent. Who would guess her body was hard and strong and
she could do things most people wouldn’t be able to do with a lifetime of
training. Outside of her profession there was no artifice to her. She could
dress up when appropriate but her appearance was not something she seemed to
think much about. For some reason he found that incredibly alluring. He had
never really gone for the Cherisses except for the odd one nighter. He’d never
been much of a one night stand kind of guy but he was human. Mo was different
from any woman he’d ever known.
“Why don’t you try to get
some sleep?” He took the water glass afraid she’d get sick if she kept
drinking.
“I don’t think I can sleep.
Not yet. Mind if I step out on the terrace?” She glanced toward the blowing
curtains. “You forgot to lock your door again, Detective.” She stepped out into
the warm night. She smelled the pot and heard voices. “Two in one night, way to
go, Zacko.” “Shut up, jerk.”
Zack stepped out behind her
onto the tiny terrace. There was not much more room than for the two of them
and his grill. Mo looked out over the parking lot with her hands on the rail.
“I was so scared, Zack. I’ve never been so scared.”
He wrapped his arms around
her from behind. “It’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. Something like that.
You’re okay. You’ll be okay. He brushed small kisses against the side of her
head pressing his lips into her hair and taking in her scent. “I can’t begin to
tell you how scared I was too. I’d thought I’d lose it, Mo, when I saw him aim
his gun at you. I wanted to crash through the door and kill him. The only thing
that stopped me was fear for you.” Now his voice shook. She turned to him.
“Let’s not talk about it
anymore tonight. We’ve both been through it. Why do I forget that? Maybe it’s
because you seem so strong.” She put her hands on his chest looking up at him
in the dim light. “You saved my life, Zack.” She took his hand and stepped
around him pulling him around and into the living room. There was no music save
the sounds of the city. The vibration between them seemed to have altered
the air like heat waves from a hot road. She pulled the towel off her head. Her
long damp hair came streaming down over her shoulders.
His mouth went dry. “Mo,” was
all he could say as she dropped his bathrobe on the floor. She wore his plain
white Tee shirt. It reached the top of her thighs. He’d never seen anything so
sexy. He gasped a little gasp and wet his lower lip. He took her hand and led
her into the bedroom. Just inside the door he pulled her to him and kissed her
with gentle tentative kisses. She ran her hands through his hair and searched
his face in the lamplight. His pulse galloped as she ran a finger over his
lips. “I don’t want you to do this out of gratitude,” he managed.
“I don’t want you to do this
because you feel sorry for me. I’ll show you my gratitude another time. This is
not about that.” She started unbuttoning the black shirt that had gotten
covered with some kind of dust during his rescue of her.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you.
But I want you to need me. I need you to…” He let the shirt fall and
prodded her to the queen size bed that took up most of the room. She sat
sideways on the edge of it and reached up to unbuckle him. She met his obvious
arousal with a little smile. She couldn’t help but feel a little triumphant. He
slipped out of the slacks and her hands grasped the edges of his boxers. He
sprang forth with a little triumph of his own.
Mo pulled Zack down toward
her. “I do need you now, Zack. Hold me. Make love to me.” Her whispered words
aroused him as much as the feel of her in his arms. He leaned her back on the
bedspread with his hand behind her head and felt her body beneath his. He
pressed his lips on hers and felt the small mouth open to take in his tongue.
He teased her with it, darted it lightly and then gently nipped her bottom lip
before pressing full and hard. His hands were on her, touching her through the
tee shirt. His hand felt the swell of her small perfect breasts while he
caressed her hair and kissed with small soft kisses all over her face. Her
eyes, her nose, her sharp cheekbones felt his tender kisses. Again his lips
pressed hard on hers as she pulled him close against her.
Mo’s felt the strength of his
body with her hands and wanted to explore every nuance of it. She pushed her
tongue into his mouth, her head almost spinning with the sensation of his mouth
tasting hers, his hands on her, his arousal insistent against her flesh. She
pushed at him and he backed up with a questioning look, fearful she had changed
her mind. “Your tee shirt’s very comfortable, Zack, but I think it’s time to
give it back.” She reached for the edge of it and as she pulled it up Zack
realized she wore nothing beneath it. He drew in a quick breath then helped
relieve her of the shirt. Like a river breaking through a dam he flooded with
emotion that went beyond desire. He was on her, hands and lips and manhood. Mo
reached for him and felt the pulse of his longing. He moaned as she lightly
stroked. He took her hand away and raised both her hands above her head and
kissed her hard. His tongue seemed to be gently probing for the path to her
very soul. Then keeping his hands locked on her wrists he caressed her with his
lips. Her face. Her neck. He ran his tongue lightly on her collarbone then
kissed the top of her breasts, one and then the other.
When he took in a nipple with
the lightest grasp of his teeth she arched into him. He played teasingly at
hardened tips. Mo struggled to free her hands and wrapped a leg around him
begging with her body for all. “Zack!” she whispered throatily. She could feel
him throb against her thigh. The torture of not touching him took her to the
edge of desperation. Zack let her hands go and used his to caress while he ran
his tongue down her hard stomach then detoured to an exploratory journey of a
hip. He caressed her thighs as Mo, feeling as if she would combust, soothed the
hair of the beast that had claimed her. Her head reared back as Zack parted her
thighs. His tongue was the key that opened her. His fingers prodded her
further. He tasted the moist center of her desire. His nose brushed soft jet
hair. She screamed in little bursts with each touch of his tongue and cried out
a long cry when he pulled her hard into his mouth. She rose and reared and
shrilled. His finger was enclosed in the soft wetness of her. He felt the
pressure of her pulsating each time he encased her with his lips.
Mo grabbed at him with
surprising strength. Her hands clawed his hair and arms and back. She raised
her upper body up and trapped him between her thighs then dropped back with a
scream as he brought her to the height of sensation. She breathed hard and
moaned a fluttering moan. She could not take any more sensation. She could not
take another… He reared over her, his mouth wet. Through that undulating haze
she saw something like insanity in his eyes. A passion had overtaken him and
reduced him to the animal. His looming animal passion surged with new unfettered
urges. He wrapped himself around her and pressed himself against her. Her hand
found him and he sank in slowly. He built his movements to a rhythm that
let her push into his thrusts while his lips found her breasts. As if a
raging fever had taken his senses, he moaned and nipped and sucked. He was so
mad with the lust he felt for her, the weeks of repressed, concealed desire, he
want to consume her.
She longed to be consumed by
him. Each thrust made her shriek and grab and buck against him. His gentle nips
drove her to a fury of need for him to breach every vestige of the self
discipline she’d lived by. Her heart pounded when he pulled her to him, his
hands holding her by the firm soft mounds of her bottom. His lips found her
mouth again and he pounded them both toward blinding ecstasy.
Zack knew he was close. Mo
screamed as torrents of sensation rippled out from the locus of her passion.
With a will that matched his lust for her he pulled away and she shrieked at the
loss of him, clawing out as if trying to grip a crumbling ledge. “Is it okay? I
almost…safe…Is it…” He could hardly whisper the words through his panting.
“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Mo
grabbed at him with desperate greed. Zack pulled her up and turned her so they
knelt spooned together, her back to his stomach. He rubbed against her ass and
thighs with rigid heat. He kissed the side of her face and she twisted to meet
his mouth. Her hair flowed down her back and he released her mouth to press his
face into it. Mo rolled her head back onto his shoulder with a moan when she
felt his hand squeeze her inflamed labia together. She begged for him as he
teased and rolled the center of her desire between them. She breathed harder
and harder as he vibrated her faster. When he realized she was close he found
her and was engulfed in her. A howling keen raked his ears as he plunged into
her. His hand never lost its rhythm as she stiffened. Mo lurched back to meet
his thrusts trilling madly, her head swinging wildly. His hands on her drove
her to mindlessness. Zack pulled her and bent her and wrapped her and filled
her until she felt as if every thread of muscle in her body would explode with
sensation.
“Zack! Zack!” She cried his
name as her body drew taut like a bow and quivered with release.
“Mo, you’re so…” he panted as
his whole body went rigid. He half growled half cried her name again, driving
deep as he held her hard. His face was buried in the silken hair against the
back of her neck. Her body shuddered against his as they fell forward swimming
in waves of ecstasy. He plowed into her grunting as her body pooled like liquid
onto the bed. He collapsed on her. Their quick breaths subsided slowly as the
last thrills of passion rolled through them.
They lay quiet for a while
until they could almost breathe normally. Zack rolled off of Mo and pulled her
close. He thought he should think of something, something to say, but nothing
came to him. He could only feel her still trembling body next to his. Mo slid
her arm limply around him. Her brain was not to be found at all. Only her heart
spoke to her and it said “Zack”.
The light of day began to
nudge against Zack’s consciousness. His eyes battled to remain firmly shut as
the awareness of breathing next to him formed a question in his mind. An answer
flooded his memory with images and sounds, sensations and feelings. He managed
an eye and turned his head toward the breathing. The lamp was still on. Light
shone in around the edges of the blinds. Her long, slender body curved away
from him. Her arm was slung over her eyes. Her hair sprawled on and around her
in thick strands. Zack opened the other eye and focused them both on the mild
rise and fall of her breathing. He studied her back and noticed a small
birthmark right below her right shoulder blade. He could see the ridges of her
spine. He frowned in ire at the purple bruise near the base of it. Her hip
curved down to her long thigh. On the back of her knee there was a small Y
shaped scar. Her legs were crossed at the ankle as if even in sleep she would
keep her sense of propriety. He turned on his side reaching out a hand to
touch, and then pulled it back to let her sleep.
Mo dreamed she was in the
backyard of a ramshackle house her grandmother had rented for a while in Toronto.
She walked a wire in slippers holding her hands straight out from her sides.
She was seven and an already accomplished gymnast and acrobat. Gram held up the
violin and bade her play as she walked the thin line. The strings screeched as
she pulled the bow across them. She felt unbalanced holding the instrument
between her chin and neck.