Jennifer Estep - Spider's Bite

“I’m — I’m sorry.” Caine lowered me to the floor and stepped back. “That was too rough.”

“It wasn’t too rough,” I said. “But we’re not finished yet.”

I put my hands on Caine’s shoulders and maneuvered him over to the love seat. His knees hit the back of it, and he plopped down on the spring-filled cushions. I straddled him, getting rid of the used condom and then taking his thick length in my hands. His breath quickened against my neck.

“Come on, detective. Rise back to the occasion.” I teased his wet tip with the sharp point of my fingernail.

“Is that a challenge?” His voice was thick and husky with sex. His hands moved to my waist, drawing me closer.

I got up on my knees and rubbed his cock against my core. “More like an incentive.”

It didn’t take long for the detective to spring back to life and produce another condom from his wallet. This time, it was my turn to be on top. I set the pace, riding him long and slow, going up, then grinding down on him, a little deeper, a little quicker every time until he was muttering my name over and over. Gin, Gin, Gin . Like it was some sort of prayer — or a curse. Sexiest damn thing I’d ever heard.

Caine groaned. His hands went to my breasts, massaging them through the fabric of my dress and bra, making me ache that much more. His lips were against my neck, and he teased me with quick nips of his teeth. I braced my hands on his shoulders, urging him on. The lean, ropy muscles there bunched and coiled just like he did inside me. My own muscles clenched and quickened in response. The pressure inside me built and built.

I threw back my head and let the orgasm rip me away from myself.

*

After we finished, we sat there on the love seat. Shoulders touching, one of my bare legs just on top of his. Not entwined exactly, but not distant from each other either. I would have liked to put my head on his shoulder, close my eyes, and relax. Let myself fully enjoy this brief moment of peaceful pleasure. But I couldn’t do that. The sex had been personal enough already. We hadn’t made love, but we hadn’t just fucked either. The beginning of a warm softness for the detective had blossomed in my chest. But I didn’t want to think too much about that right now.

I’d been right about one thing, though. Donovan Caine was an excellent lover. I felt more sated than I had in a long time. There was something to be said about the experience of an older man, rather than the college boys I usually slept with. The young ones were just grateful they were getting laid — they weren’t too interested in doing anything to scare me off. Like fucking me hard and fast the way Donovan had. Or letting me do the same to them.

The detective started laughing. Sharp chortles of laughter tumbled from his lips until the force of it bent him over double, his chest touching his knees.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“This. Us. You. Me. Together.”

I arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t think it was so much funny as satisfying. Was I wrong?”

Caine wiped tears of hysterical mirth from his flushed face. “Oh, no. It was definitely satisfying. But you’re an assassin, you kill people, you killed my partner. I’m a detective, a cop, supposedly one of the good guys, and I just fucked you. Twice.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Donovan Caine eyed me. “You really are cold, aren’t you? With nothing but ice in your veins and a slab of stone for a heart.”

Cliché alert. But the detective’s well-worn words described me — more than he’d ever realize.

“Don’t you understand what I’ve done?” Caine asked. “I’ve gone against everything I believe in. And for what? You?”

He was pulling away from me. I’d known it was coming, but it still pricked me like a needle. I willed the softness in my chest to harden, and my cold mask settled over my face once more.

“You don’t believe in fucking women?” I kept my tone light, trying to salvage something from this. A little bit of happiness I could remember later.

He ran his hand through his short, black hair, rumpling it even further. “That’s not the point. I should be arresting you, turning you in for your crimes, not wondering if I have enough juice left in me for round three.”

I shrugged. “We both had a good time. Why are you bringing morals into it? Because there was nothing very saintly and upstanding about the way you were moaning my name five minutes ago.”

Caine stiffened, but he couldn’t argue with the truth. Still, the aching need, the hot pleasure, the sweet release, was wearing off, and the old doubts were filling his eyes, along with one emotion he just couldn’t quite shake — guilt about fucking his partner’s killer. The detective wasn’t going to get over it. Not today, maybe not ever.

I suppose I could have told him about Cliff Ingles and how dirty the other cop had been. But I didn’t know that it would change things between us. Donovan’s partner would still be dead, and I would still be the one who’d killed him.

All of which meant that the honeymoon was over already. A shame, really.

I swung my leg off his and got to my feet.

“What are you doing?” Donovan asked, his eyes fixed on my bare legs.

“Getting dressed,” I said in a cold voice. “It’s almost time for the sisters to call. I suggest you do the same.”

I shoved my ripped panties into my purse and pulled my dress back down into the appropriate position. Beside me, Donovan Caine zipped up his pants. We didn’t speak to each other. I grabbed my cell phone and slid it back into my purse. Then I cautiously opened the door to the supply closet. Nobody lingered in the hall. Mab must have called her giant back to her side. Good.

We left the cramped closet, walked around the second-floor balcony, and took a different set of stairs down to the ballroom floor. The crowd had grown during the better part of the hour we’d been gone, and now the people and conversation buzzed like horseflies. It took me a moment, but I spotted Finn still sitting at the bar. His companion had changed, though. Instead of the old dwarf, a young, attractive Asian woman smiled and let him ply her with drinks. I jerked my head at Finn. Donovan nodded, and we headed that way.

“Do you see the sisters?” Donovan Caine murmured.

I glanced at him. A hard mask had settled over the detective’s face, pushing the guilt from his eyes. The detective was putting aside his conflicting feelings long enough to get the job done. What a professional.

I started to say no, when a flash of gold caught my eye. Haley James. The petite woman’s eyes were fixed on the ballroom exit. Her mouth hung open as though she was gasping for breath as she power-walked in that direction. She was moving so fast I didn’t see how she was keeping her feet in her strappy sandals. Her actions made it seem almost like someone was chasing her. One moment she was there, the next, she had disappeared. I scanned the crowd looking for Alexis.

There the bitch was, about a hundred feet behind her sister and closing fast. Tight mouth. Narrowed eyes. Hard features. Alexis was storming after her sister. I wouldn’t want to be Haley when she caught up. Captain Wayne Stephenson was right behind Alexis. So were the two goons. The four of them approached the ballroom exit—

“Finn! Finnegan Lane!” a sultry voice called out.

Damn and double damn.

I was a couple hundred feet and several dozen people away from the bar, but I still heard her yell his name. So did Alexis James. The Air elemental stopped right where she was, as if she’d been struck by lightning. Stephenson had to pull up to keep from slamming into her. The goons hit his broad back and bounced off like Ping-Pong balls. They managed to stay upright.