Hush Little Baby Page 8

  She grips the sheets tight in her hands when I roll my thumb over her clit as I pump into her waiting heat. I circle in time and watch her gorgeous face as she fights it. She doesn’t want to come yet, but she can’t stop it. Together, Emma and I are like a runaway train.

  “Not yet,” she pants, but she’s so close she can’t stop, and I don’t want her to.

  “Yes,” I growl. I flick her clit and drive a little deeper, a little harder. The mewl she lets out drives me even rougher.

  “Lee,” she cries. “I can’t stop. Don’t stop.”

  “I won’t, baby,” I tell her, and I couldn’t if I tried. “Fuck, fuck. I need it.”

  “Lee.”

  I push down on her clit, and she detonates around me. Her back bows and her breath catches, and she clamps down on my cock so hard I think I might have seen stars. I place my hand back on her thigh and hold her open to me as I drive into her hard, over and over again. I ride through her orgasm and feel that tingle shiver up my spine. I plunge deep one more time before she pulls me over the edge.

  I drop my forehead to her chest. Our breaths saw in and out of our lungs while we both come down, and when I look up at her, her face is so beautiful and open; she’s hiding nothing from me. There’s a lot of lust and the look of a well-fucked woman, but there’s also a fair amount of hope... and love.

  “Be with me,” I whisper. I said I was done fucking around, but I also don’t want to send her screaming from my house. This right here and all the nights to come. And the mornings and the daytime and all the in-betweens until the day they put me in the ground. I want those with her and only her.

  “I’m with you,” she whispers.

  “Yeah?” I ask, unsure if she really means what I want it to.

  “Yeah,” Emma agrees. “I’m in love with you, Lee.”

  “Now I want to fuck you,” I tell her, making her giggle.

  “Umm… I think you just did that.”

  “But now I want to do it and hear you say it again, and I can say it too, because, honey, you have to know I do. But instead, I have to get up and get rid of this condom,” I explain, and she’s still giggling, but it’s the brilliant smile on her face that has starbursts in my chest, because after all the pain I gave her, I’ve finally given the woman something of beauty, when she has deserved nothing less the entire time.

  “Okay,” she says with another smile.

  “But then when I come back to bed, we can make out like teenagers,” I tell her. “Because I’m forty, not twenty.”

  “Okay.”

  “And then you can ride my hand until you come,” I say, making the smile slide right off her face and her pupils flare. Oh yeah, my girl likes that idea.

  “Okay,” she whispers harshly.

  “And then you can tell me that you love me again when I fuck you. Does that sound good?”

  “Yeah,” she says softly, and her eyes have that hazy look.

  “Now kiss me,” I order.

  “Okay.”

  I touch my mouth to hers. And then I slide out and make my way to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. I walk back into my room, and she’s sitting up on the bed. She has the sheets pooled over her lap, hiding her center from me, but her lush breasts, which are fuller with pregnancy, hang in front of her, and my cock twitches.

  “What?” she asks when she catches me staring.

  “I wish I was a painter,” I tell her. “So I could picture you like this forever. You deserve to be painted.”

  “Lee,” she says, pushing up onto her knees when I sit on the bed. She does not hesitate to come to me. Wrapping her arms around my shoulders, she pulls me to her.

  I kiss her. We’re all mouths and lips, kissing and tasting while we touch. I lose myself in her like never before. Together, we’re both comforting and familiar and also brand-new and exciting.

  I roll her to her side and wrap myself around her back. She tips her head back so she can kiss me again, and I let my hands skim over her breasts and pinch her nipples. She moans when I do, and the sexy sound goes straight to my cock.

  She wiggles her ass against my crotch, and I know the minute she recognizes her effect on me as I skate my hand down her belly to between her legs.

  “I thought you said you weren’t twenty anymore,” she gasps when I stroke down one side of her hood and then up the other.

  “Apparently, with you, I am.”

  She grabs my hand between her legs and plunges my fingers into her pussy while she rocks against the heel of my hand. And fuck me if the sight of her fucking herself on my hand, taking charge of her pleasure and what she wants, what she needs, doesn’t have my cock harder than ever.

  “My girl wants to come,” I mumble against her bare shoulder where I touch my lips to her in a gentle kiss.

  “Yes,” she pants. “I want you to make me come.”

  “Anything for you,” I say as I smile against her skin. She tastes salty and sweet.

  I add a second finger and plunge them deep, curling them against the spot inside her that I know for a fact drives her crazy. I pull them out and circle her clit, spreading her moisture all over her. I dip my fingers inside her again and again, making her squirm, and then up against the side of her clit again.

  “Please,” she gasps so sweetly that I push her outside leg up in front of her and slide in deep from behind.

  I wrap my arms around her, and she holds onto my forearms as we rock against each other. She feels so tight this way. And this way we can lay skin-to-skin, when we can’t while we’re face-to-face right now. I kiss the side of her neck and nip at her ear while out bodies slip and slide against each other.

  Her breast is full and heavy in my palm, and I roll it under my fingertips as her pussy works my cock. She tips her head back on my shoulder so that her mouth can touch mine. She opens under me, and I do not hesitate to lick inside, letting her tongue tangle with mine, and she meets me thrust for thrust. Where earlier was frantic and wild and explosive, this is a gentle coming together where we know the other won’t run away at any moment. Emma and I have finally given in to the pull between us for good.

  “I love you, Lee,” she says, and then she just lets go, and it is so beautiful I couldn’t hold back if I tried. Not my words, not my orgasm, so I give both to her. Only to her.

  “I love you too, Emma,” I reply, and then holding her tight in my arms, I follow her over the edge. We stay like that for a long time, and then finally, she rolls in my arms and settles where she was always meant to be. We shut off the lights and fall asleep, together.

  TWELVE

  * * *

  GONE TO SHIT

  “Oh fuck no,” Emma groans and pulls a pillow over her head when my alarm goes off. The fact that she is the world’s worst morning person makes me smile.

  “Go back to sleep, honey,” I tell her. “You have time before you have to get up. I’m going down to the basement to get a workout in.”

  “Yeah, no,” she mumbles already half asleep. “Don’t put me down for cardio.”

  “No, honey. I won’t.”

  I tuck the covers tightly around her body and throw on a pair of shorts and my running shoes, and I jog down to my basement gym to get a good workout in. I run on the treadmill but find myself eager to get back to my girl upstairs in my bed. I push myself to finish my workout with pull-ups and sit-ups, and then I run back up the stairs all the way to my bedroom to find Emma exactly where I left her—curled up under my pillow. Her gorgeous ass is peeking out at me from under the covers.

  “Emma,” I whisper. “It’s time to wake up.”

  “Argh,” is all that I get from under the blankets, so I make my way into the bathroom and flip the shower on so the water warms up. I strip down and toss my workout shorts in the hamper before heading back to the bedroom.

  I slide the blankets back so she’s uncovered except for her head, which is still under the pillow. I glide my hand down her spine before slipping over her hip and down her thigh.


  “Emma, it’s time to wake up.”

  “No,” she growls, and it’s both adorable and terrifying.

  I decide should she turn a little violent to not have my favorite body parts so close to her, so I stand up and move away from the bed, backing toward the bathroom before calling over my shoulder, “If you get up right now, I just might have time to fuck you quick in the shower.”

  Emma pops up out of the bed, looking adorable with her wild eyes and disaster of hair that’s sticking up in every direction. I think I even see a little bit of drool at the corner of her mouth, and I love it. I love everything about Emma waking up to me in my house.

  “It’s the hormones,” she says as she parades her naked ass past me and heads into the shower. “It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Of course not,” I reply with a ridiculous smile stretching my face.

  “I wouldn’t want you to get an overinflated ego,” she tells me.

  “Me neither,” I agree, not even pretending to be serious about it at all.

  “It’s because of the pregnancy hormones that I’m going to let you fuck me in the shower and then not utter a peep while I eat cold Wendy’s fries for breakfast.”

  “Of course.”

  “Not a peep!” she shouts, and I just nod as she steps into the large shower stall. “Now get in here and fuck me so we can get on with our day.”

  And I do exactly that. Which is why when I walk into my office two hours later, I do it with a smile on my face and an extra pep in my step.

  Today is going to be a great fucking day.

  • • •

  Beth Andersen was a corporate ad executive for a huge marketing company headquartered in Manhattan, which is how I found myself spending the day driving into the city with Jones so we could go interview her colleagues.

  I had just poured myself a cup of coffee when Jones popped his head into the little kitchenette to let me know he called the offices and that there was someone available to speak to us today. The owner and CEO had been dodging my calls for a few days now, so I wasn’t going to be unavailable when he finally was. I was bothered by the fact that he was avoiding a police interview, but not enough to have my Spidey senses tingling. There were enough bodies piling up that I had a feeling this guy wasn’t the killer, but he was still guilty of something. Probably tax evasion. I should have Wes look into him.

  Jones and I pulled up at ten to ten and marched into the offices with smiles on our faces and our badges clipped to our hips. We were sent up to the twentieth floor to meet Beth’s personal assistant, Emmory.

  Emmory is young and beautiful. She has long red hair and flawless skin. I would put her in her early to mid-twenties, probably a recent college graduate. She’s wearing office-style clothes that are just a little shy of the mark. Her skirt is short and tight, and her button-up blouse appears to be missing more than a few of the buttons at the top.

  But it was the way her entire demeanor changed when the CEO walked by her to his office that got my attention. She preened and presented like a happy peacock to get his attention.

  “So what can you tell us about your employer?” I ask when I can’t take another minute of her fidgeting in her seat.

  “Probably not much. I hadn’t worked for her for long.”

  “Did she get along with other employees?” Jones asks.

  “No.” She laughs. “Beth was a total bitch.”

  “So you didn’t get along with her?” I ask.

  “She was a hard woman to work for,” she answers, looking nervous as she glances between Jones and me. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

  “No,” I say with my most charming smile.

  “Was she involved with anyone here at work?” Jones questions.

  A strange look passes across her face that tells me there is definitely something going on here. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “And do you know who the father of her baby was?” I ask.

  “No, no one knows.”

  “How long have you been fucking the boss?” Jones probes, making her jump.

  “I… uhh… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammers.

  “And how long had Beth been sleeping with him before that?” I test.

  “Beth was a cold bitch who couldn’t make anyone love her,” she snaps. “But I have no knowledge about her personal relationships.”

  “Thank you, Emmory,” I say gently. “We’ll see our way into Mr. Preston’s office now.”

  Jones and I both stand and walk across the room to where the big glass-fronted office has its entrance. I knock on the door out of courtesy before pushing it open and walking in.

  “My next appointment is here, honey,” Preston says into his phone. Which is fascinating, because he’s not talking to Emmory. “I have to go.”

  “What can I do for you, officers?” he prompts after he hangs up the phone, placing it in the cradle on his desk.

  “We wanted to talk to you about Beth Andersen,” I reply. “We’re with the George Washington Township Police Department.”

  “It’s just awful what happened to her,” he says, but his tone suggests that he couldn’t care less. It sounds to me like Mr. Preston wove a pretty tangled web.

  “It is,” Jones agrees. “How long had Beth been working here?”

  “About a decade,” he answers. “She came to us right after she graduated from NYU.”

  “Was she a good worker?” I ask. “Did she get along well with the other employees?”

  “Oh yes,” he says with a smile on his face, obviously relaxing in his confidence. I smile back. “She worked very hard, climbed the corporate ladder, if you will, rather quickly. And everyone around her loved her.”

  Interesting, because that’s not what Emmory said. Now, she could just not have liked Beth, because she was a rival for Preston’s affections.

  “And when did Beth tell you that you were the father of her baby?” I ask.

  “Who told you?” he roars, sitting up in his chair, his relaxed expression morphing into one of outrage.

  “You just did,” Jones replies.

  “You don’t understand,” he hurries to explain. “Beth and I had an understanding.”

  “And what did your understanding entail?” Jones asks, looking like he wants to throw up.

  “On nights that we worked late, we were together,” he says with a shrug. “It was simple.”

  “When did it become not simple?” Jones presses.

  “When she found out she was pregnant,” he spits out. “I told her she needed to get rid of it. I even offered to pay for it, and she said no. Can you believe it?”

  “And what happened then?” Jones ignores him.

  “She moved to New Jersey,” he says, like living anywhere past Soho is disgusting. “She started talking about being a family, and I had to put a stop to it. I’m married. We weren’t ever going to be a family.”

  “And what did she do when you spelled it out for her?” I ask.

  “She was upset, obviously, but we talked about it, and I think she finally saw reason,” he replies.

  “And what was that?”

  “I hooked her up with La Famille Agency,” he explains.

  “What’s that?” Jones asks.

  “It’s a premiere adoption agency,” Preston says, looking proud. “Madame Driskill only gives babies to the most exclusive families. The children are cared for in every possible way, and she compensates the biological families significantly. It was perfect.”

  “So she was going to sell you baby?” Jones clarifies. “And you were fine with that.”

  “It’s not like that,” he says with a sneer. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to us,” I say quietly.

  “My wife is barren,” Preston explains. “She wants to adopt.”

  “So you were going to take your mistress’s baby and give it to her,” I say, and now I’m the one who feels sick.

  “Yes, but now that baby is go
ne and my wife is going to have to wait for another,” he grumbles, sounding more like a spoiled child. But what he does not sound like is a murderer.

  “Well,” I say, standing up with Jones following my lead. “Thank you for your time.”

  We climb into the car and start heading back to GWP.

  “I feel dirty now,” Jones says.

  “Yeah.” And that’s all we say the whole ride back to the station.

  I park around the back, and we walk in through the glass door, both waving our badges over the pad as we go. I need to see Emma. Something about the exchange with Preston has left me feeling unsettled, and I take the steps down to the basement two at a time after I part ways with Jones.

  But voices inside her office stop me with a hand to the door before I push it open.

  “Do you need to be here?” a man snaps.

  “Oh, I really do,” my sister replies with her usual amount of sass. “But the question is, do you?”

  “Call off your guard dog, Em,” he snaps.

  “No,” she says firmly, but I can hear her voice shake with nerves. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say in front of my friend.”

  “Do you really think he’s the guy?” he snarls.

  “Yes.”

  “That he’s ready to play daddy now?”

  “I don’t think that it’s any of your concern,” Emma says quietly.

  “Madame Driskill said you turned down her offer,” he snaps. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe,” she says. “But I’m keeping my baby.”

  “Then you lose me.”

  “I already did,” she replies.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And then he moves to leave. I quickly back up around the corner, so it looks like I’m coming around the hall from the elevator when he shoves through the door.

  There’s something about this guy that just rubs me the wrong way. Why would he be pressuring Emma to give up their child? What kind of man does that? I just don’t get it. I’m sure I’m missing some piece of the puzzle, but truthfully, I don’t care, and I don’t want to know. His loss is my gain. I lost Emma once, and I won’t do it again.