L.L. Foster - The Kindred

“Do . . . ” Starting to catch on, Luther looked at her bright blue eyes, her parted lips, with shock. “Something . . . as in . . . what?” But he had a feeling he already knew what she was going to say.

“I need you to make it go away. Right now.”

“Gaby . . . ” Damn, she could give him a boner so easily. “I’m at work , honey.”

“Tough.” She jerked him down to her. “If you don’t fix this, right now , then I swear to you, I’ll fucking well go back and I’ll find that son of a bitch and I’ll—”

As an expedient way to quiet her raised voice, Luther kissed her.

She took that as concession and attacked. Before he realized where her busy hands had gone, she had his belt unbuckled.

“Gaby . . . ” He tried to think, but God Almighty, she took his dick in her hands and put her tongue in his mouth.

He was such a weak ass.

He gave in with hardly any struggle at all.

Looking around the room, Luther saw a somewhat-sturdy, mostly empty table and figured it would have to do. While Gaby stroked him to madness, he reached behind himself and locked the door.

If he got busted, God only knew what the repercussions would be. But they couldn’t be any worse than if Gaby murdered whoever had brought on her wrath, especially now that she’d shown herself to the station full of cops.

He didn’t work with dummies. The hood of her sweatshirt would not be an adequate disguise against their scrutiny. She’d come in still fuming from an encounter, making herself more than noticeable.

Thinking that gave Luther a moment of sanity. “You’re not hurt?”

“Shut the fuck up.” She attacked his mouth again.

Okay, not hurt.

“This will have to be a quickie.”

“Fine.”

“Do you understand me, Gaby? I can’t . . . do everything I’d like to do, maybe not everything you need.”

Holding his face, she looked at him. Her eyes smoldered and her lips trembled. “I only need you inside me, Luther. Nothing more.”

Luther’s heart tried to escape his chest. Her heartfelt claim provided the impetus necessary for him to regain his control, and his gentleness. This would have to be brief, so he’d make every second count.

He made quick note of the time on the wall clock, then lifted Gaby. She wrapped her legs around him and went back to kissing him.

After carrying her across the floor, he propped her bottom against the edge of the table. With his hands freed, he touched her everywhere, testing her readiness, teasing her, before opening her jeans and working them down her hips. “Turn around.”

She never questioned the order. Breathing hard, she turned and braced her hands on the table.

What a mouthwatering sight. Gaby might be slim, but her body did it for him in a big way. He loved seeing her like this, submissive to him, needing him. There was something very sexy about a woman with her jeans to her knees, her bare backside offered up to him.

Luther put a foot between hers and nudged her feet farther apart. “Open up for me, Gaby. As wide as you can.”

When she did that, he smoothed a hand down her spine to her hip. “Arch your back.” As he watched her do that, he fished a condom from his wallet and prepared himself.

Holding her hips, he said, “Brace yourself,” and as soon as he saw her shoulders flex, her hands curl into fists, he thrust into her.

Her moan was long and deep, her movements sinuous as she accepted him, squeezed him.

Luther bent over her, cupped her breasts in his palms, and thanked God that Gaby never wore a bra to hinder him. The table scooted with each hard thrust, and though he worried about bruising her hip bones, Gaby made it clear that she loved it.

Would she ever love him ?

He quickly abolished that black thought in favor of seeing to her pleasure.

“Luther.”

“Come for me, Gaby.” He abandoned one breast to press a hand between her legs, seeking, enflaming her lust. He’d barely stroked her when he felt the tightening of her inner muscles in signal of her release. She bit her own forearm to muffle her cries, and Luther opened a mouth on her shoulder for the same reason.

Every time with her seemed more intense, more mind-blowing. Another year or two of this and they’d be combusting from the heat and friction.

As Gaby’s pleasure faded, Luther slipped his arm under her to support her, lifted her back against him, and sank to the floor with her in his arms.

She still breathed hard, but now all her rigidity had melted until she felt fluid against him.

Taking advantage, despite his own relaxed state, Luther kissed her forehead and said, “You know what this means?”

“Mmm.”

He smiled, and took a big chance. “Rather than me being a hindrance to you, to what you do, I’m an asset.”

She opened heavy eyes and studied him. “I’ll have to think about that.” She touched his mouth. “Sex with you is the antidote to my rage when it starts to boil. Is that a good thing? I don’t know yet.”

“Making love with me,” he corrected. “It’s more than sex.”

“Since I’ve never done it with anyone else, I’ll have to take your word for it.” She looked around him to the clock. “Under ten minutes. Great job, cop.”

Luther had to laugh. “Only you would think a ten-minute bang a good thing, Gaby.”

“Bang?” She tasted the word, considered it. “It was something of a bang, huh?” With a groan, she added, “I need to get out of here before other, less friendly cops intrude. Now that I’m not stewing, I’m not at all happy being in a police station.”

She was right; the longer they lingered, the greater the risk of exposure. But Luther held her in place anyway. He had a point to make, and he wouldn’t let her deflect him.

“Your life is changing, Gaby. You’re changing.”

She stretched. “Yeah, in leaps and bounds.”

Very little scorn sounded in her tone. Not that long ago, the idea of changing had alternately infuriated her and unnerved her. She’d wanted none of it.

Now, she seemed at least accepting, if not eager.

“With me, it isn’t such an odious prospect.” Luther tipped up her chin. “Is it?”

“Odious? No.” She lifted her hips and pulled her jeans and panties up. “And the side benefits are awesome.”

He laughed. “Hussy.”

“Getting there.” She stood, and held a hand down to him as if he needed the boost up.

Luther shook his head, took her hand, and allowed her to haul him off the floor.

The dress slacks were now dusty and wrinkled, his shirt creased, his tie crooked.

Gaby eyed him head to toe. “You’d better straighten up before you go back, or everyone will know just what you’ve been doing up here with me.”

“No joke.” He turned his back to remove the condom and drop it into a trash can. He moved some crumpled papers over it. “Will that bother you?”

She snorted. “No. I don’t care what cops think of me. If I did, I’d never have survived this long.”

Luther looked around, but he had nothing to tidy up with. Cringing, he tucked himself away and restored order the best he could.

When he faced Gaby again, she wore a droll look with her brows raised.

He tightened his tie and asked, “What?”

“Modesty, Luther?” She patted his chest. “I just didn’t expect it, I guess. But it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She started for the door.

Flustered, because she was right—he had suffered a streak of modesty—Luther followed after her. “Where are you off to now?”

He almost plowed into her when she stopped dead in her tracks, her shoulders frozen . . . in dread?

Afternoon sunlight cut through the grime on the windows, sending dust motes to dance around her bowed head. “Gaby?”