Soul Rest, Page 35

  Withdrawing her fingers, she lifted herself off the bed, tucking her legs under her so she could come to the end of the bed, slide off of it. He watched her, still and waiting, as she came to him. He was wearing street clothes, and his scent said he'd showered, trying to get rid of what still lay behind his eyes.

  She'd hung up on him, been testy. The problem with being a dysfunctional bitch was the chronic selfishness that went along with it. She hadn't asked about the homicides, hadn't watched the day's news, because it would have just irritated her further, not being able to be right there, digging up all she could on it, preparing notes for her blog.

  If she let those negative feelings rise, they would take this over, make her hate herself anew. But for once, she set that aside, because suddenly what was more important to her was being there for him.

  She put her hand on his face. "I'm sorry."

  She loved him. It was there on the tip of her tongue, absurd, too soon. It couldn't be true. But she wanted to love him, and it had been so long since she'd wanted to love anyone, it was almost the same.

  "I'm all yours," she whispered, meeting his eyes. "Whatever you need, Master."

  Moving her fingers to his mouth, she painted her taste on his lips. She drew in a breath as he closed his hand on her wrist and licked her skin, taking all of it off. When he released her, she began to slip the buttons of his shirt. She leaned in, pressing kisses to his flesh, between the defined pectorals, along his sternum, her lips whispering across his chest to his nipple, then higher, brushing her nose against his shoulder inside the open shirt. As she went to her toes to reach it, she curved her fingers into his shirt and dropped her other hand to his belt. He cupped the back of her head as she nuzzled him, kissed his collarbone. Then she went back to undressing him.

  Pushing the shirt off his massive shoulders, she followed its track with her fingertips, then she began to loosen his belt. His hands went to her hips, his intent gaze on her. Just watching her. It made her fumble a little bit, but as he bent and kissed her bare shoulder, she tilted her head against his. Held it there, cheekbone to his temple.

  His hands slid down, cupped her bottom, stroking and kneading. Then he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, arms winding around his shoulders as he carried her to the bed. Laying her down, he stretched out over her, but he didn't thrust into her right away as he'd said. Instead he slid down so her pussy was against the hard ridges of his abdomen. He cupped her breasts, fondling them with pure pleasure in his gaze. Lowering his head, he began to suck.

  "Oh..." She gasped, lifted her hips. His weight kept her pressed to the bed, but as she struggled, it increased the friction of her clit against his sectioned stomach muscles. "Leland... Master." She let it out on a breath. Every worry and fear was beyond her grasp, at least in this moment. "Master." She gripped his shoulders, held on to him.

  The climax rose fast, and she warned him as much as she was able, with a desperate gasp, a strangled cry. Rising up, he sealed his mouth over hers, cupping her skull again to hold her in place as she screamed her pleasure into his mouth. Her hips worked against him as her clit spasmed, as the climax gushed, making his abdomen slick with her juices. He lifted his head, stared at her as she came down with tiny moans, her mouth still slack and eyes dazed.

  "Open my jeans, Celeste," he demanded. "Grip my cock with those pretty fingers."

  She slipped the button of the jeans, pushed the zipper down over the erection. Reaching into the boxers, she closed her hands around him, exulting at the shudder that ran through his powerful frame. He pulled away from her, leaving her with an almost unbearable sense of loss, but it was only for a blink. He stripped off shoes and clothes, came back to her as naked as she was, and she let out a groan of sheer gratitude as he put a knee onto the bed between her legs, gripped his cock and angled it into her. She was already lifting her hips to take him, but he slid an arm around her waist, raising her further and thrusting into her at the same time, a forceful possession that had her crying out again, aftershocks from her climax rocking through her at his size and demand.

  "Take your Master deep." Catching her jaw with a firm hand, he wouldn't let her look away. "This is why you won't make me go away. I see it in your face. I see everything you really are right now. The rest is bullshit. None of it matters."

  She was helpless to deny it, could only strain to give him more and more as he delved deep, took more than she'd ever known she had to give. When he released her jaw, she wrapped her arms hard around his shoulders, buried her face in his neck, and cried out a second climax when he released, thrusting hard into her, fucking her with the singular, animal purpose he'd promised. She relished the jet of his seed, the excess spilling out around the joining point between them.

  It had taken only minutes, yet the intensity of it had stretched out like the boundless universe.

  He bent, nudged her cheek toward the pillow so he could put his mouth against her neck, bite. She let out a little quivering sigh, dug her nails into his flesh, lifted her hips to take him deeper, squeeze down on him.

  "God." He let out a gusty sigh against her flesh, gave her his full weight for a single, blissful moment before he propped himself up, looked down at her. "You're the most beautiful thing I've seen all day," he said, his sculpted features and golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. "I couldn't wait to be with you."

  She'd never been the type of girl who received compliments like that. She wasn't even sure it was a compliment as much as a fervent statement of fact, which was more unexpected. She spread her hands out over his chest, fanning her fingers over that expanse of firm, tempting muscle.

  "I'd like to lie on top of you," she said. "If that's okay."

  His lips twitched. "Probably a good idea. In another second I'm going to collapse and you'll be squashed."

  With a satisfied grunt, he shifted. Though he had to slide from inside her, he curled an arm around her so they were still close together as he moved to his back. He adjusted his thighs so she could lie between them, her cheek pillowed on his chest. His cock was against her stomach, her knee bent and against the inside of his thigh, her buttock braced against the opposite one. She felt cradled in his strength, his hand stroking her back, but she wanted to touch as well. She caressed his side, fingers stroking along his rib cage, his hip. She moved her mouth against his chest, small kisses here and there, random, drifting. She wanted to put him back inside her and thought he'd let her do that when he recovered enough. She thought he would need her more than once that way tonight, and she was more than willing to accommodate him, no matter how deep the circles under her eyes tomorrow.

  "What happened?" she asked at last. She didn't want him to rehash it if he didn't desire to do so, but her intuition told her he at least needed to say it out loud, think it through.

  He drew a circle on her back, slow, thoughtful. "Things are ramping up between the MoneyBoyz and the Reigning Kings. Retaliation for killing one of their members. Good news is it means that Dogboy isn't going to have much luck getting the guys to help with you. They have too much else going on. I don't think the drive-by was part of their deal. He probably called in a favor from a couple buddies."

  She thought of Dogboy's friend, Bobby. "That makes sense. So did he leave town?"

  "It's looking like it. The detectives have intel that he took off to Houston, to lay low with some contacts he has there. They're coordinating with the Houston PD to see what they can turn up."

  "Mmm." She didn't say anything else. Just kept laying kisses on his chest, stroking his firm skin. The tree lights outside made the golden-brown color of his flesh smooth and burnished. He was beautiful to her in every way. As he stroked her hair, she followed her own desires and what she thought she could do for him at the same time. She began to move downward, teasing the washboard abs with her tongue, dropping her hands to his hips, stroking the curve of his taut buttocks, his upper thighs. Satisfying pleasure shot through her when his cock twitched, stirring against her bo
dy. When she adjusted so she was fully between his legs, her mouth over his cock, she put her lips on the broad head, tasting and smelling herself on him. She teased the corona with her tongue, the slit. His cock twitched further, coming to a semi-erect state. She was in no hurry.

  As she glanced upward and caught her Master's gaze, watching her please him, things in her lower belly jumped at his intent regard. Keeping her eyes on his, she opened her mouth wider, took him in, sliding down his length, savoring, tasting, sucking. She traced his contours with her tongue, released him to slide down and lick his testicles, play her mouth along his base, then swirled, sucked and nipped all the way to the top. Pushing up to her knees, she gripped him and found the angle she wanted to slide straight down, take him all the way to her throat and work her way back up again. She didn't care how long it took to bring him to orgasm again. It was all about giving him pleasure. When she saw his thighs tighten, felt him push into her mouth, heard the muttered oath, she reveled in all of his responses.

  It wasn't penance for her behavior, which would have made her feel more uncertain of herself. This was service, and for once she embraced the full meaning of it, a giving of herself with no worries about conditions or shortcomings.

  "Look at me."

  Lifting her lashes, she trembled at the fire in his gaze, his reaction to her obedience, to the way she looked, meeting his eyes while her mouth was stretched over his cock and down his length as far as she could go without choking. He was a lot to take, and she was more than happy to put in the effort. She slid up his length, leaving him glistening with the moistness of her mouth, then went down again, clasping the base in one sure hand, her thumb stroking the pulsing veins. She sucked on the ridges of his head, went back down again. Now he put his hand on her head, dug his fingers into her scalp and started to push her down on him, directing her, letting her feel the strength of his desire.

  She was surprised when he stopped her, sliding his hands under her arms and bringing her up his body, but her Master told her what he wanted.

  "Ride me, Celeste. I want to watch you."

  She straddled him. His ardent gaze coursed all over her; face, breasts, abdomen, the pale lengths of her thighs spread over his hips. She curled her fingers around him and rose up on her knees, positioning the head of his cock between her legs. Putting his hands on her hips, he controlled the descent, lowering her on him inch by inch, his gleaming gaze fastened on her face as her lips parted and eyes clung to him. Once he had her seated, he let her go, gave her that look again. She didn't need him to speak to command her. Every look, the brief press of his fingers, told her what he wanted, how she could please him.

  She started to move, rotating her hips on him, rising and falling, her head tipping back at the pleasure of it, at the way his hips started rocking up to meet hers again, at the way his expression became more concentrated. He cupped her breasts, constricting his grip and using it to bring her down on him harder, telling her what he wanted. He wanted to be ridden.

  She braced herself on his upper abdomen, squeezing him inside, sliding up and back down faster, so her breasts bounced and drew his gaze and hands again. Then she slowed down, rotating her hips in sensual seduction, arching back and bracing her hands on his knees so he could lower his gaze and see his cock sliding in and out of her cunt. She was catching fire, her flesh glowing, her pussy tight on him and starting to vibrate with another climax rising between them.

  He caught her arms then, bringing her down to him, his grip unbreakable on her biceps, holding her fast as he pushed into her, withdrew, pushed in again. The friction on her clit resulted in an immediate reaction, and she saw by the light in his eyes he fully intended to push her over the brink of helpless pleasure once again.

  "Master..."

  "Come for me, Celeste. Like this. I want you coming when I climax." His voice was hoarse, his body like iron beneath her, from straining thighs to tense shoulders, the muscles bunched in his arms.

  He held her still as he pushed in and out, in and out. Her lips parted, drew back, her wild, frantic eyes finding his. The climax grabbed her the same way he could close his hand over her throat and make everything in her center toward one point, one goal, only one thing in the whole world important. It was incredibly powerful with him thrusting into her, his face so close. She was pleading as she came, wailing as her pussy convulsed on him. She brought him along with her to that same peak. His grip moved from firm to bruising, and she knew she'd relish the imprint of his fingers on her flesh.

  He groaned out his own release, kept thrusting, harder, deeper, until she knew her arms weren't the only thing that would be sore today. She was glad. She helped, moving her hips as much as she was able, working his cock until she had every drop, until he let her go. It was only to shift his grip, though, for he brought her down on his chest, wrapping both arms around her and rocking them both. He kissed her forehead, her nose, then her lips, holding that one a heartbeat or two before he drew back enough to meet her eyes.

  "You'd make a hell of a cop's wife, darlin'."

  Her heart stuttered, a flare of panic and delight. "I hope that wasn't a proposal. One marriage is enough this weekend."

  "Yeah, but you should have seen the terror in your face. It was worth it."

  She narrowed her gaze, and he caught her hand before she could give him a halfhearted slap. "No assaulting an officer. I'm too tired to cuff you. Given how much I'd enjoy that, that's saying something."

  He slid her off him, but didn't let her go far, keeping her cuddled up to his side. She wanted to leave his warmth like she wanted to take an ice bath, but nature was calling. With amusement, she saw he was already falling into a half doze.

  "What are you grinning about?" he mumbled. "It makes me nervous."

  "Even superheroes need a nap after sex."

  "It's because you women are vampires."

  She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'll be right back. Bathroom."

  "Yeah. Go for me while you're in there, because I'm not getting up until daylight."

  She shook her head at him, picked up his shirt and slipped it on without buttoning it. As she passed the writing desk, she snagged the tablet Lucas had loaned her to check things online and held it against her body, hiding it as took it into the bathroom with her and closed the door.

  It didn't take her long to pull up the story. If she'd turned on the news, she would have heard about it immediately. The death of a child was always a ratings kick, and two were a bonus. The media outlets were milking it for all it was worth. Her mouth thinned in sympathy as she read through the few facts available so far. A seven-year-old and a ten-year-old, brothers Tony and Ron Roberts. They'd been killed in the crossfire at an apartment complex. From the location, she deduced it was another drug dispute.

  Loretta Stiles had been fifteen, and that was bad enough. Handling a pre-adolescent child was so much different from a fully grown adult or even a teenager. She'd been on-site for a child killing before. When they wheeled the body out to the coroner's van, the adult-sized bag they'd had to use looked like it barely held anything, just air and shadows.

  Jai's death and now that of two children were going to turn the heat up against anyone involved. Leland was right. The MoneyBoyz wouldn't be wasting time on one member's vendetta against a reporter, especially with Dogboy hiding out in Houston. By the time he returned, they'd keep him busy with other priorities, but she was betting they'd apprehend him before then.

  She wanted to get back to Baton Rouge right away, start putting together a story that covered multiple angles on this. But she reined back that urge. She was here for Marcie's wedding. While Marcie was work-driven enough to understand, she was Celeste's friend. And what about Leland? He was here for his friends too. As a police sergeant and combat veteran, maybe he'd realized a smart person made time for friends and family, no matter the demands of the job. A day like today reinforced how vital it was to celebrate the good things, to help deal with the far-beyond-bad ones.


  She used that thought to douse her own impatience. While she usually put a quick update on her blog for the preventive safety aspects of a crime--something like 'a robbery has happened in the so-and-so area, and here's how the suspect did it'--the in-depth details of a crime didn't come through right away. And everyone in the apartment complex knew the boys' deaths were tragically incidental, that the motive of the crime was drug-related. From her knowledge of how the coroner and detectives worked, there'd be more vital and accurate information to harvest on Monday. She'd get back on it then.

  So she'd focus on the wedding today...and the after-party tonight. A shiver went through her. She'd told Leland she'd go with him. As his sub. She should definitely go get some sleep.

  Yeah, good luck with that. Now that she'd thought of what might happen at the after-party, the possibilities had her mind churning a hundred miles a minute.

  When she emerged, Leland's even breath told her he'd succumbed to sleep. She stopped by the bed, gazed down at him. The sheet was draped low on his hips as he turned on his side, arm stretched out and palm on her side of the bed, as if he wanted to know when she returned to him. That hard twist of guilt came again as she thought about how short she'd been on the phone with him when he'd been dealing with the murder of two children. But he'd pushed that aside, had found solace in her arms. You'd make a hell of a cop's wife, darlin'.

  Since she was obviously having a crazy person moment, she let the idea fill her mind. A cop's wife. What would it be like to be married? To be his, not just in words, but in fact? She didn't want to wake him, but the desire to touch was too overwhelming. She bent, pressed a kiss to his shoulder, brushed her cheek against the back of it.

  He mumbled something incoherent, acknowledging her, though his eyes remained closed, his breathing undisturbed. He really was exhausted, and he trusted her enough to sleep while she stood over him, as if even in slumber he knew it was her. She chided herself for the overly romantic thought. For as little as she really knew of the man, he might sleep through hurricanes.