Staying With Her

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Chapter SIX

She laid like a doll over the grass, limbs at awkward angles and her head held in a position that she couldn't be asleep.

The silence caressed her skin like a chilly breeze, numbing her soul, taking away her jagged edges. Kate stood over the body. A scarf wrapped around her neck and mouth, and her black gloves shoved inside of her red double-breasted trench. Scrunching footsteps reached her, she spun around and met the eyes of Martin.

"One gunshot wound and she's missing a shoe," he said.

Kate shook her head and found the hazel iris of Martin. He was a graceful man. Light brown hair painted with salted age and a beard groomed around his narrow lips. Those eyes trapped a woman's heart. When in tough times, he'd be there to save her? He was the safest person around and she'd never thanked him for all that he gave. Except for what she's about to give him.

His fingers brought tingles to her body even through the woolen fabric of her trench and work shirt. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"That's not what I see." Though he knew he'd caused her pain but wanted her to address it.

Kate pulled away and covered herself as if exposed bare to a cunning man. Though he was anything but a manipulator. He was a man of a few words but when content, he would sing to the world. Every time she'd see him, she'd become sick of guilt and betrayal. He was much older than her and yet she found him to be younger. He was more so a protector than a friend.

"I should go–"

"Where the hell are you going?"

Behind Martin stood a critical Blackhawk–a man who made Kate's insides jump at the same time; she wanted to punch his guts out. His face was one of the utmost nonchalance as he joined the scene. His eyes shot to his partner's hands-on Kate and Martin shuffled away.

"You didn't have to come," she said.

"Who's our Vic?"

Martin looked between the pair.

"Charlotte Dixon, thirty-eight."

"No witness?"

They shook their heads.

"I'll be at the station."

• • •

Clarissa looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes, like the indigo ocean, were pools of iridescent blue stared at the mark on her chest. He was rough, nearly breaking her bones with the intensity of his plunging. But she loved it. She hadn't had a mind-blowing fuck in forever. She hadn't had intimacy ever since Josiah had been born. Ever since he'd left her. She'd never experienced grief that bad before.

Every memory played like a song in her head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. She was lost mostly because a big part of her ripped away with a blink of an eye. Her son was born into a world of domestic violence. A world where breath could tear in half in the hands of the law. He was fatherless. And she intends to fix it. He needs a man in his life. To guide him. To love him. And to shape him.

The cop had her right where he'd wanted her. In his room, in his bed. The man was powerful. Demanding. Aggressive and body built of iron. She'd never thought she'd end up in this predicament. Her mother taught her well enough to never climb into a stranger's bed. She wouldn't approve of her selfish act for lusting after a man who might be her father. He brought out a side of her she'd never thought to exist.

Closing her gown, she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. Clarissa cooked him a pizza and could put anything on it and make it taste fabulous. She'd spend her time rushing around the kitchen, squeezing, cutting and tasting the deliciousness that her father taught her. At a young age, she used to work part-time at her father's pizza parlor after school. Earn a few tips and perks before she knew it, at thirteen, she sold more pizza than her school teachers would make monthly.

Staring at the wall clock, it showed twenty-five minutes to ten. Was he normally this late? Or was he ditching me? She couldn't help but feel guilty for turning the man down. However, she must put him in his place. When she wasn't feeling it, she wasn't feeling it! End of story. He'd just have to put up with her ways. It was his suggestion, anyway. She could pack her bags in ten seconds and she'd be out of the door. No trace left behind. As if she's non-existent.

Just then, the jingling of keys smacked against the wooden door with the lock being picked. She hurriedly dismissed the apron and ran to the room and gave her appearance a double-take. Her red Victoria secret lace lingerie peaked out from her nightie. Her hair–neatly thrown over her shoulder and caressed her back. Clarissa applies a smidge of cherry lip gloss and strutted out of the bedroom and to where he stood, looking ravishing as he'd left earlier.

He motioned with his hand toward the white dish toppled with a full eight slices of Neapolitan pizza. "What's this?"

She smiled to which his eyes questioned her motives As she reeaches for the plates, a display of her red underwear had him choking. "You must be starving."

He groaned and walked to the adjoining dining room. The moment he slid into his chair, she served him an enormous platter of food. He licked his lips, grabbed a slice and stuffed it into his mouth. He was definitely a starved man and the cause was a woman he'd always be hungry for.

He sipped from his glass of red wine. "This is amazing."

"There's more if you'd like."

She lifted her glass and let the circled rim enter the space between her chest and gown. Pulling away, she showcased her red bra to him. His breath hitched in his throat and his cock pressed hard against his jeans.

"You'll cook every night?" he asked.

"Only if you want me to."

He collected the plates into the sink.

"I'd like that."

It had astonished her at the intensity to rile him up. The massive tent in his pants told her a secret, he wasn't willing to share just yet. Struts into the kitchen behind him. He stopped at the basin and piled their plates into the soapy water. His sleeves rolled up and veins on display for her. She felt hot. The man hadn't even touched her, and yet she was soaking for him.

She stood beside him, contributing to the chain in help as he washed the dishes and hadn't looked at her, not even thanked her for helping him. Instead, he focused on completing the task and quickly escaped to his work.Seeing this, Clarissa would occasionally brush her hand against his as she grabbed the plates from his hands. She would dry off quickly and pack it away before he could even place another in the rack. She watched him drain the water and dry his hands with the cloth.

That was her moment. She stepped up from behind and encircled his waist with her arms and he stiffened. She then moved her hands slowly down his hard chest towards his cock a centimeter above his zipper where he grabbed her hand and before she could blink; pinned her to the counter. Her chest was heaving, and his own heart was racing. Knowing the effect he had on her. It was so fucking arousing. His fingers slid under her nightgown to feel the warm skin of her upper thigh. She whimpered as he moved his hands inside of her panties before ripping them off and bringing it to her mouth.

"You'll wake the baby." His raspiness rang through her ears. Like a vibrator awakening her body. He slid his finger inside of her; she was already wet for him.

Bringing his mouth down to hers, he kissed her. Their kiss grew hotter by the second and her hands unbuttoned his pants and pulled it down to reveal the outline of his hard-on. Growling, he lost control and moved into the island where he lifted her up and sat her on top. Swiftly, he ripped off her nightgown, leaving her bare with only a bra that had him near to shooting pre-cum inside his briefs. He tore open her bra and filled his mouth with her large breast. She bit down on her panties to suppress her moans at the feel of his teeth grazing at her flesh.

"Oh, shit!" She gasped, her words muffled with the fabric between her teeth.

Surprising her, he pulled down his briefs and pounded deep inside of her with her dropping the panties and she screamed. Her arms draped over his back where her nails dug into the skin, causing him to groan. This only added fuel to his cock as he pumped quicker and faster. Harder and harder. And soon she splashed her climax over his cock and out of breath rested her head on his shoulder. He pounded into her like an animal. Not once stopping to catch a breath but only to dip down and suck on her neck.

She could feel him deep inside her. She cried out as he'd hit her g-spot. Gripping her hand around the edge of the counter to hold her body steady, she laid her head back as he used her body. She felt another climax approaching as he kept hitting the spot with raging power and hand then made it to her clit, and that's when she squirted a heavy load over him.

"Fuck!" he growled, drilling his hips. He emptied a massive load of his semen inside of her and rested his head between her breast with the occasional sucking. She caressed his peppered head.

"That was–was..."

"Round one."

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