Black Widow
Page 50
Given everything that had happened, we were both too impatient to do our usual slow dance of teasing seduction. Owen stopped kissing me long enough to cover himself with a condom, then picked me up, put my back against the nearest wall, and entered me with one long, hard, smooth thrust. I moaned into his mouth, locked my legs around his waist, and rocked against him, desperate to feel every part of him and to mold my body even tighter to his.
He buried his head between my breasts, his breath hot against my skin, and I tangled my fingers in his silky, black hair, urging him on.
“More,” I whispered in his ear. “More, more, more . . .”
He growled and kissed me again, our tongues thrusting against each other just as our bodies were. We kept moving together the whole time, so hard that the pictures rattled on the wall next to my head. Everything about it was fast, fierce, furious. The pressure, the pleasure, built and built, and our movements became quicker, harder, longer, until we were both groaning at how good it felt. But we both kept going, trying to drive each other to new heights, trying to give each other more and more pleasure, trying to show just how much we truly cared.
Finally, with one more deep thrust, we both exploded, going over the edge as one, our lips, bodies, and hearts tangled up and bound together more tightly than ever before.
We both shuddered out our release, and Owen slid me down the wall. But instead of grabbing my hand and walking over to the bed, he kept sliding down, down, down, so that we ended up lying on the hardwood floor together.
Owen turned his head to look at me. “I can’t feel my legs right now.”
I laughed. “That makes two of us.”
I leaned in and rested my head on his muscled shoulder. His arms closed around me, and he started stroking his fingers through my still-wet hair, down my neck, across my shoulder, and all the way to my wrist before moving back in the opposite direction, then starting the whole cycle over again. I flexed my hand over his heart, feeling its strong, rapid thump-thump-thump-thump deep in his chest.
Finally, Owen spoke. “The others kept telling me that you were gone, but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t let myself believe it.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry that I put you through that.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and we both tightened our grips. For a long time we lay there on the floor and just held each other—because it was more than we’d both thought we’d ever have again.
“You know,” Owen said, a teasing note creeping into his voice as he propped himself up on his elbow, “I think that I’ve recovered enough to actually stand up and get in bed, if you want to get under the covers to get warm.”
I gently pushed on his shoulders until his back was on the floor. Owen quirked an eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing, so I hooked my leg over his body so that I was straddling him.
“Really?” I asked, sliding my body against his. “You want to waste all that precious time going over to the bed?”
He laughed and pulled me down on top of him.
We didn’t make it to the bed until much, much later.
20
I left the salon early the next morning to put the first part of my plan into action. After Jo-Jo helped me get ready, I kissed a sleepy Owen good-bye, promising that I’d be careful, then met Bria outside in the driveway.
I slid into the back of her sedan, lying down across the seat, so no one would realize that someone else was in the vehicle. Sophia had already scouted the perimeter, and she hadn’t seen anyone watching the house from the woods or noticed any strange cars parked on the streets farther out in the subdivision. But given Madeline’s lingering doubts about my demise, I wouldn’t have put it past her to send some spies over here this morning or to have them follow my friends around for the next few days, just to make doubly sure that I was as dead as she hoped I was.
“Are you sure that this is the right move?” Bria asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s a big risk, going down there, especially right now. If someone sees you, then our advantage is gone.”
“It doesn’t matter so much if they see me. It’s if they recognize me that we’ll be in trouble.”
In addition to keeping out of sight, I had also taken the extra but necessary precaution of wearing a disguise—a short blond wig, bright blue contacts, and clear glasses with silver frames. Roslyn had been nice enough to bring me the items from her stash at Northern Aggression, since her workers used the wigs and more to satisfy the fantasies of their clients. She’d also brought over the tight black suit jacket, short, fitted skirt, and towering heels that I was wearing, along with a black patent-leather briefcase. Apparently, some folks were really into the whole corporate-raider look, which I found a bit disturbing, but the suit would get me into practically every building in Ashland, including the one where we were going.
Jo-Jo had done my makeup, adding a bit of bronzing powder to my pale skin and slick plum gloss to my lips. The dwarf had even let me borrow a chunky string of her pearls to wear over the black suit. All put together, I looked like a completely different person—and about as far away from Gin Blanco as I could get.
Oh, if someone who knew me well studied my face for any length of time, she would eventually see through my disguise, but I was betting that wouldn’t happen. Everyone would be too focused on Bria to pay much attention to me, the office drone drifting along in their wake.
That was my hope, anyway.
Bria steered her sedan out of the subdivision, through Northtown, and into the downtown loop. Thirty minutes later, she pulled up to a familiar location—the Ashland Police Station.
She parked in one of the lots close to the impound yard, and I rose up just enough that I could peer out the backseat window. In the distance, wide sheets of cardboard covered the gaping hole that I’d left in the side of the station. I grinned. Madeline might have her faux dedications to Mab, but I’d left my mark on things around here too.
“You ready for this?” Bria asked.
“I’ll be behind you all the way, just like we planned,” I said.
“All right, then. Here we go.”
She opened her door, got out, and headed toward the station. I waited a minute, then slipped out of the sedan and followed her. It was early, just after seven in the morning, but people were already moving into the station, coffee, cell phones, and briefcases in hand, getting ready for another long day of all the headaches, paperwork, bribes, and bureaucracy that went along with the Ashland legal system.
He buried his head between my breasts, his breath hot against my skin, and I tangled my fingers in his silky, black hair, urging him on.
“More,” I whispered in his ear. “More, more, more . . .”
He growled and kissed me again, our tongues thrusting against each other just as our bodies were. We kept moving together the whole time, so hard that the pictures rattled on the wall next to my head. Everything about it was fast, fierce, furious. The pressure, the pleasure, built and built, and our movements became quicker, harder, longer, until we were both groaning at how good it felt. But we both kept going, trying to drive each other to new heights, trying to give each other more and more pleasure, trying to show just how much we truly cared.
Finally, with one more deep thrust, we both exploded, going over the edge as one, our lips, bodies, and hearts tangled up and bound together more tightly than ever before.
We both shuddered out our release, and Owen slid me down the wall. But instead of grabbing my hand and walking over to the bed, he kept sliding down, down, down, so that we ended up lying on the hardwood floor together.
Owen turned his head to look at me. “I can’t feel my legs right now.”
I laughed. “That makes two of us.”
I leaned in and rested my head on his muscled shoulder. His arms closed around me, and he started stroking his fingers through my still-wet hair, down my neck, across my shoulder, and all the way to my wrist before moving back in the opposite direction, then starting the whole cycle over again. I flexed my hand over his heart, feeling its strong, rapid thump-thump-thump-thump deep in his chest.
Finally, Owen spoke. “The others kept telling me that you were gone, but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t let myself believe it.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry that I put you through that.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and we both tightened our grips. For a long time we lay there on the floor and just held each other—because it was more than we’d both thought we’d ever have again.
“You know,” Owen said, a teasing note creeping into his voice as he propped himself up on his elbow, “I think that I’ve recovered enough to actually stand up and get in bed, if you want to get under the covers to get warm.”
I gently pushed on his shoulders until his back was on the floor. Owen quirked an eyebrow at me, wondering what I was doing, so I hooked my leg over his body so that I was straddling him.
“Really?” I asked, sliding my body against his. “You want to waste all that precious time going over to the bed?”
He laughed and pulled me down on top of him.
We didn’t make it to the bed until much, much later.
20
I left the salon early the next morning to put the first part of my plan into action. After Jo-Jo helped me get ready, I kissed a sleepy Owen good-bye, promising that I’d be careful, then met Bria outside in the driveway.
I slid into the back of her sedan, lying down across the seat, so no one would realize that someone else was in the vehicle. Sophia had already scouted the perimeter, and she hadn’t seen anyone watching the house from the woods or noticed any strange cars parked on the streets farther out in the subdivision. But given Madeline’s lingering doubts about my demise, I wouldn’t have put it past her to send some spies over here this morning or to have them follow my friends around for the next few days, just to make doubly sure that I was as dead as she hoped I was.
“Are you sure that this is the right move?” Bria asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s a big risk, going down there, especially right now. If someone sees you, then our advantage is gone.”
“It doesn’t matter so much if they see me. It’s if they recognize me that we’ll be in trouble.”
In addition to keeping out of sight, I had also taken the extra but necessary precaution of wearing a disguise—a short blond wig, bright blue contacts, and clear glasses with silver frames. Roslyn had been nice enough to bring me the items from her stash at Northern Aggression, since her workers used the wigs and more to satisfy the fantasies of their clients. She’d also brought over the tight black suit jacket, short, fitted skirt, and towering heels that I was wearing, along with a black patent-leather briefcase. Apparently, some folks were really into the whole corporate-raider look, which I found a bit disturbing, but the suit would get me into practically every building in Ashland, including the one where we were going.
Jo-Jo had done my makeup, adding a bit of bronzing powder to my pale skin and slick plum gloss to my lips. The dwarf had even let me borrow a chunky string of her pearls to wear over the black suit. All put together, I looked like a completely different person—and about as far away from Gin Blanco as I could get.
Oh, if someone who knew me well studied my face for any length of time, she would eventually see through my disguise, but I was betting that wouldn’t happen. Everyone would be too focused on Bria to pay much attention to me, the office drone drifting along in their wake.
That was my hope, anyway.
Bria steered her sedan out of the subdivision, through Northtown, and into the downtown loop. Thirty minutes later, she pulled up to a familiar location—the Ashland Police Station.
She parked in one of the lots close to the impound yard, and I rose up just enough that I could peer out the backseat window. In the distance, wide sheets of cardboard covered the gaping hole that I’d left in the side of the station. I grinned. Madeline might have her faux dedications to Mab, but I’d left my mark on things around here too.
“You ready for this?” Bria asked.
“I’ll be behind you all the way, just like we planned,” I said.
“All right, then. Here we go.”
She opened her door, got out, and headed toward the station. I waited a minute, then slipped out of the sedan and followed her. It was early, just after seven in the morning, but people were already moving into the station, coffee, cell phones, and briefcases in hand, getting ready for another long day of all the headaches, paperwork, bribes, and bureaucracy that went along with the Ashland legal system.
