Thief of Hearts

Thief of Hearts Page 23

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 sheened 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…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 and 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 anally 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 lubricant."

"Lubricant?"

"Don't yell, I'm right next to you. Well, I'm certainly not going to bend you over anything without lots of K-Y."

She couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "Could you use something else?" Not that I've decided whether or not I'll let you.

"Like what? Vaseline? Crisco? Nope; we need something water soluble."

"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. Then she felt his fingers, slick from their juices, ease past her sphincter, stretching her, teasing her.

"God, that's nice," she moaned.

"Wait," he panted, and then she felt his engorged tip against her bottom.

"Push hard. Really hard."

"I'll hurt you. And frankly, it'll probably sting my poor dick like crazy."

She bit back a laugh. "I want it to hurt. I want to have a sore bottom 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. The pain was searing, abrupt...and oddly pleasurable. She gasped harshly as he shoved again, his balls slapping against her.

"You're—" She gulped and tried again. "You're hurting me."

He thrust, thrust, thrust at her poor throbbing bottom. "I know...sorry...ah, Jesus !"

"Don't stop."

"Thank God." His hands found her breasts, squeezed hard, marked her flesh. His thighs slammed against her. Her ass burned. 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. He knew he was hurting her, and couldn't—wouldn't—stop.

And that was most exciting of all.

"Kara..." A strangled groan.

"I've never let anyone do this," 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 FIFTEEN

“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?”