I did a full body tremble.
“Not waitin’ ‘til you’re home and drunk to fuck you. Doin’ it now and doin’ it then.”
Oh…
Boy.
“Honey –” I whispered then I said no more because his mouth was on mine.
Then he tongue was in my mouth.
Then mine was in his.
Then his hands moved down, yanking my panties down with them. I felt them slither down my legs and land softly at my feet.
I did another full body tremble and held onto Mitch.
“Step outta them,” he ordered on another growl, this one thicker and I did as I was told, my sandaled feet barely free of them before Mitch’s fingers clenched into my thighs right under my ass. He lifted me up, fingers digging into my flesh to spread my legs. I helped and then I found my back to the bed, Mitch on me, his mouth again on mine.
There was a lot of kissing, a lot of groping and his fingers were toying between my legs, my hand was palming his hard crotch, my whimpers drifting into his mouth when his lips disengaged from mine and slid across my cheek to my ear.
He pressed his cock into my hand as he slid two fingers into my wetness and he whispered in my ear, “Gonna fuck you hard, baby.”
Oh God.
I liked that.
Mitch was a gentle lover, intuitive, thoughtful, only taking me hard when he knew I was ready for it.
And he knew I was ready for it.
He wasn’t done talking.
“Want you sittin’ there, drinkin’ with your girls but still throbbing because of me.”
Oh God.
I wanted that too. So much, my hips bucked against his hand.
His thumb put pressure on my sweet spot and they bucked again.
I turned my head and whispered, “Okay,” in his ear.
“Free me,” he ordered and, my hands shaking, I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans then pushed them down his hips.
His head came up, his eyes captured mine and my calves wrapped around his thighs. I got a little thrill at feeling his jeans rub against my skin then his fingers and thumb disappeared and I got a much bigger thrill when his cock drove inside.
My lips parted, my eyes closed and my neck arched.
He kept thrusting, fast, hard, deep and his mouth went to my neck, his voice gruff, he asked in a whisper, “How many ways you gonna take it?”
I righted my head, slid the fingers of both my hands into his hair, his head came up and he kept driving fast and hard as I whispered back, “How many ways you wanna give it?”
He didn’t answer verbally.
No, he pulled out, rolled off, then I found myself on my belly then I found myself up on my knees then I had his hands at my hips yanking me back as he took me on my knees. My back arched, pressing my chest into the bed, his hands slid up to my ribs, the pads of his fingers digging deep as he kept pulling me back and thrusting into me.
“Yes,” I whispered into the comforter.
“You like that?” Mitch growled.
He knew the answer to that. We’d done this before, I’d like it before.
It had never been this hard, this fierce, this hot.
Still.
“Yes,” I repeated.
Then he was gone but not for long. I was flipped over, yanked up with one of his arms wrapped around my waist, both my legs wrapped around his hips. He shifted us and my back slammed against the headboard and wall and his cock slammed up inside me.
“Oh God,” I breathed.
Mitch’s arm slanted, one of his hands curling around the cheek of my ass, tilting my hips to take more of him. His other hand captured mine and held it to the wall by my head, his eyes locked on mine, his searing into me, hotter than I’d ever seen them.
This was beautiful. This was fantastic. This was hot.
“Baby,” I whispered.
“Fingers between your legs, sweetheart, I wanna feel you make yourself come while I fuck you.”
“Okay,” I agreed instantly then moved to do as I was told.
Oh God.
Yes.
That was more beautiful. Beyond fantastic. Sizzling.
Our lips touching, our breath mingling, our eyes locked, Mitch’s hand tightened in mine when I whimpered and he knew what that meant.
“Give that to me,” he growled.
“Yes, honey,” I whispered.
“Now, baby, give it to me.”
My lips parted, my eyes closed, my hand clenched his as my legs clasped his hips, I felt Mitch’s tongue slide between my lips as his cock kept driving inside me and the orgasm scored through me.
Three minutes later, my arms tight around him, one of my hands in his hair, my legs clutching his bucking hips, his face in my neck, he rammed deep, stayed planted, groaned into my neck and gave it back.
I bent my neck and kissed his skin right where his soft, dark hair curled around his ear.
Then I whispered there, “I love your hair.”
I felt his smile against my skin then I felt and heard his strange response of, “Sucks.”
“Pardon?”
His head came up and his hand still at my ass gave me a squeeze just as his arm that was now around my back gave me one too.
“Sucks,” he repeated, looking down at me, his face sated, his eyes still hot but in a languid, satisfied way (that made them hotter, by the way) both making him even more handsome than he was normally.
Which was to say, right then, my man was downright beautiful.
“What sucks?” I whispered, feeling languid and satisfied too, not because I just had fantastic, multi-position sex with my gorgeous boyfriend. Also because he had it with me, he liked having it with me and he didn’t mind me knowing it.
“Want you to have fifteen of those dresses so I can fuck you in all fifteen. But that would mean more overtime which would mean I wouldn’t have the time to fuck you in them. And that sucks.”
I felt my lips tip up and said softly, “One is good enough for me.”
I watched his lips tip up too and he replied softly, “Yeah, one is definitely good enough.”
My man thought I was hot. My man thought I was sexy. My man took one look at me in my LBD and couldn’t keep his hands off me.
My soul sighed again.
His eyes moved over my face and hair before they came back to mine and he murmured, “Your hair looked great before, baby, but now it looks fucking fantastic.”
“Sex hair,” I muttered wondering if the girls would notice I had sex hair and thinking Roberta and LaTanya wouldn’t miss it. It was highly likely Elvira wouldn’t either.
Mitch chuckled, pulled out but dropped to his back, taking me with him. Then he righted his jeans even as I straddled him.
I lifted my head, looked down at him and whispered, “I need to go clean up.”
His hands finished with his jeans, both went to cup the cheeks of my ass as he whispered back, “I know.”
He didn’t move. Or, more to the point, his hands didn’t leave my ass.
“Are you going to let me go so I can do that?” I asked.
“I am but I don’t wanna,” he answered and I stared down at him in my bed, my body relaxed but still tingling from the orgasm he gave me, my sex still throbbing from his cock driving inside me and it hit me again this was my life. This man was mine.
And I remembered when he fixed my washer. I watched him walk through my house to get to the bathroom and how I wanted that to be commonplace.
Now it was.
He slept in my bed. He showered in my shower. We were a team taking care of our kids. And he’d just fucked me hard, I was off to do my thing, he was off to do his thing and he didn’t want to let me go.
“What?” I heard Mitch ask gently and I realized my eyes were on him but I wasn’t seeing him even though my thoughts were also on him. His hands slid from my bottom to become arms wrapped around me and before I could answer, he asked, “Baby, what’re you thinkin’?”
“You know
how you said you were into me since you saw me four years ago?” I asked back.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Well, I was into you too,” I told him and he grinned.
“I know.”
I shook my head. “No, what I mean is, I was so into you, I convinced myself I was in love with you. So, when you first came in here to change my washer and I was such a dork, it was a form of torture because I was such a dork. And at the same time I wanted nothing more than to see you move through my house like you moved through my house every day and now…well…you do. Uh…” I hesitated, “move through my house every day that is.”
“You weren’t a dork,” Mitch said softly.
“I totally was,” I replied just as softly and he grinned again.
“Okay, you were but you were a cute one.”
I rolled my eyes.
Mitch’s arms gave me a squeeze and when I rolled my eyes back to him I saw he wasn’t grinning anymore.
“Best thing that ever happened to me, that shredded washer,” he whispered.
“Too bad I didn’t know what a washer was or I would have shredded it myself,” I whispered back and he burst out laughing.
Then he rolled, shifted, moved and we were both on our feet with Mitch yanking down my skirt.
“Clean up, honey,” he muttered. “And I’ll take you to your girls.” He dipped his head and touched my lips with his before he turned and walked out of the room.
I nabbed my panties and walked into the bathroom to clean up and, while there, I ascertained I did, in fact, have sex hair. I left it like it was. So Roberta, LaTanya and Elvira cottoned on and gave me stick.
Whatever.
I had a hot guy, police detective who couldn’t keep his hands off me. I could go to drinks with the girls with sex hair. I could go anywhere with sex hair. I should be shouting it from the rooftops, Look at me! I have sex hair given to me by Detective Mitch Lawson!
I grinned to myself as I did my business, retraced my steps, grabbed my forgotten bag and walked to Mitch who was back at his file at the bar. I made it to him, my eyes going down to the file and my eyebrows snapping together at what I saw right before his arm slid along my waist and he shut the folder.
“Right,” he muttered, his arm tensing to move us, “let’s hit the road.”
My body locked and I looked up at him.
“Why do you have a sketch of Otis?”
His head tilted slightly to the side and he asked, “What?”
“In that folder,” I tipped my head to the folder. “Why do you have a sketch of Mr. Pierson’s cousin Otis?”
It was then Mitch’s brows knitted and he studied me closely. He looked down the folder, flipped it open and flipped through papers until he reached the sketch of Otis.
“Are you talking about that?” he asked, tapping the sketch with his finger but his words were strange, cautious.
“Yeah,” I answered, looking at the sketch then I looked at Mitch. “That’s Otis Pierson. Mr. Pierson’s cousin. He works at the store.”
Mitch stared at me, his arm suddenly very tight but he didn’t say a word.
Crap!
I knew what that meant seeing as he was a police detective that was a folder probably from work and in it was a sketch of Otis.
It was me who was talking cautiously when I asked, “Is Otis in trouble?”
“Mara –” Mitch started but I kept talking.
“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised. Otis is kind of like Mr. Pierson’s Bill except, I thought, without the felonious aspects.”
“Mara –” Mitch began again but I kept right on talking.
“Still, that would stink, you investigating a member of Mr. Pierson’s family.”
“Mara, baby,” his arm gave me a squeeze, his voice coming at me carefully, gently, “that sketch is the sketch the artist drew from the description Bud gave him of the man that came to their house.”
My body locked.
Then I whispered, “What?”
“Fuck,” Mitch whispered back and his eyes drifted over my head.
“Mitch,” I called, putting my hand on his chest and pushing in lightly. “Are you serious? That’s the bad man Billie was talking about?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Mitch clipped then lifted a hand, tore his fingers through his hair and looked down at the sketch.
“Mitch!” I cried, beginning to get freaked. “Talk to me!”
He looked at me and declared strangely, “The mattresses.”
I shook my head. “Honey, you aren’t making sense.”
His head dipped closer to mine and his other arm curled around me. “You say that man works for Bob Pierson?”
I nodded my head. “Yes. In the warehouse. He does a lot of the ordering, or he did until he kept messing it up.”
“Jesus, shit,” Mitch muttered, looking over my head again.
“Mitch!” I exclaimed, pressing into his chest again and his eyes came back to me.
“Sweetheart, when your place was tossed, it was tossed. But there was special attention paid to the mattresses. They were decimated, all the beds were.”
Oh God.
He was right. They were.
“Has this Otis guy been in your space at work? Giving you extra attention? Giving you any attention at all?” Mitch asked and I shook my head.
“No,” I added my negative answer verbally. “He doesn’t come to the showroom. Mr. Pierson doesn’t let him. He turns off the customers because he’s creepy.”
And he was.
Totally creepy.
Probably even creepier to two little kids.
God, how was this happening?
Mitch told me.
“He’s into something. He hid something in the mattresses. Made a mistake, lost it, whatever it was. Yours got delivered, he thought it was in them and he came looking for it. It either was or it wasn’t. My guess is it wasn’t seeing as he started with the mattresses, thought you found it and moved through the house to try to find where you hid it. If he hasn’t been in your space, he’s probably since found it. Would he have access to your home address either in employee databases or deliver records?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Not employee databases but he’s responsible for getting the product onto the trucks for delivery. He has access to all information pertaining to deliveries.”
“Shit, Jesus, fuck, I shoulda showed you that sketch,” Mitch muttered, looking back at the sketch.
I pressed my hand into his chest again and got his eyes back. “You couldn’t know. I didn’t know anything that was going down with Bill. How could you know this had any connection with where I worked? That’s crazy.”
“I should have shown it to you,” he kind of repeated.
“Mitch, I told you I didn’t know anything about Bill and his life but even if I didn’t tell you, you knew when you walked in his house with Bud, Billie and me. I was freaked and you notice everything. You couldn’t know I’d know who was visiting. It’s a one in a million connection.”
“Mara, honey, you dot all the i’s, you cross all the t’s. It’s basic police work. I should…have… shown you.”
His voice was growly and not in a good way so I decided to reply quietly, “Okay.”
“His last name is Pierson?” Mitch asked instantly and I nodded. “How long’s he been workin’ there?”
“Not as long as me. Three years. He moved to Denver from Kansas City, I think. Mr. Pierson helped him out, gave him a job. I don’t know why he moved. I just know that he didn’t have any marketable skills so Mr. Pierson took the hit of taking him on for the family.”
“Outside of him being creepy, you feel any bad vibes from this guy, see any bad guys hangin’ around him, see him actin’ strange, cagey, wrong?”
“No about the bad guys but he’s creepy because he’s always acting strange and cagey. I didn’t get bad vibes other than the sense that he’s clearly the fuck up of the family but I thought he was just kind of an idiot. Saying t
hat, though, a while ago, he over-ordered a bunch of Spring Deluxes. Like, a bunch. Mr. Pierson was not pleased. They’re our highest end model. We don’t move a lot of them so it was more stupid than normal, him over-ordering Spring Deluxe. I could see him over-ordering the Dream Weaver, even the Slumber Excelsior, we move loads of those. The Spring Deluxe…?” I trailed off and shook my head.
Mitch gave me a half-smile and then noted, “You know, that doesn’t mean shit to me.”
“What I’m saying is, we never sell a lot of Spring Deluxe so that’s a huge fuck up. Even on sale, they’re hard to move. The others, on sale, they’re awesome bargains and affordable for a lot of people. So if you’re going to over-order something, it would never be the Spring Deluxe.” Mitch stared at me and I finished on a mutter, “Just trust me. You know mattresses, you know what I’m talking about.”
“Right, baby, how ‘bout I just trust you. I’ll also look into this Otis Pierson. I’ll also be sendin’ someone in to have a closer look at him and keep an eye on him. And I’ll also be makin’ certain my woman does not get within ten feet of him. You have reason to go to the warehouse?”
I shook my head.
Mitch nodded his once. “Good. Don’t change that. He gets near you, you get away from him. You are never around him in a place that’s not public and that includes the break room. You see him in the parking lot, you get in the car, lock the doors, get your car in motion and call me as soon as you can. I’ll talk to Bill.”
Oh great.
That wasn’t going to work and Mitch knew it. We knew this because Mitch already tried it after Billie had her bad night. Bill didn’t give up anything.
Still, I reminded him of this fact.
“I’m not sure that’s going to work, honey.”
“It doesn’t then Slim will talk to him. He doesn’t talk to Slim, Eddie’ll talk to him. Eddie doesn’t work, Hank will. Hank doesn’t work, I’ll call Tack.”
I blinked at a name I didn’t know.
Then I asked, “Tack?”
He nodded. “Tack, that’s his club name. He was born Kane Allen. He’s the president of the Chaos Motorcycle Club and I know he’s got a boy in lockdown right now. Tack gets a word to his boy, his boy corners Bill in lockdown, I get the info I need.”
I stared at him.
Then I whispered, “You know the president of a biker gang?”