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“You read my mind.” Jenny grinned, rolled onto her side, and inched closer.
“Good. In return, you can blow mine.”
“That doesn’t look like your mind, lover. Though it does seem to have one of its own. Oh look, it’s waving at me.”
“Smartass.”
“Admit it, you love it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Parker blew hot air on her pussy, and she swore her pussy lips tried to reach out and grasp him. Then he put his arm around her hips and drew her closer. She ran one finger along the length of his cock. A tiny pearly drop emerged, and she licked her lips.
Grinning, she leaned in and licked him, stealing that drop, then placed some heated breath of her own where her tongue had been. He shivered.
“It almost looks too good to eat,” she said.
“It’s not.”
“Are you sure? Because it’s looking pretty perfect just as it is.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“My mouth’s not full.”
“It should be.”
He had a point. Figuring she’d teased him enough, she closed her lips over his cock and drew him into the cavern of her mouth. He groaned, gently thrust his hips, and then opened his mouth on her cunt.
Humor fled, replaced by a hunger so huge, so urgent, there was no room for anything else. She tongued and suckled and cupped. He lapped and kissed and nipped. Gently squeezing his balls, she devoted herself to pleasuring even as she received pleasure.
No finesse, no languid forays or gentle teasing now. This was a need, a raging need to give, to take, to grab ecstasy with both hands and never let go. So she gave and she took and she soared.
And she came. Wave after wave of bliss bathed her within and without. They flew together in this sanctuary moment, Jenny and one of her lovers, free and safe and whole.
Chapter Seventeen
“Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll pass the word.”
Kate Benedict ended the call on her cell phone and then focused on the young woman sitting in one of the guest chairs in her home office. “I’m afraid things are about to get entirely out of hand,” she said.
“Uh-oh. I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
Kate looked down at the note she’d just made as she’d spoken to her granddaughter, Kat Lawson Jessop. It was an old habit, carried on from when she’d been a practicing nurse. “One of my granddaughters, Veronica, is a published author. I also have a close friend who’s one, as well—Caressa MacFarland. I’ve spent time with both women, and I’ve learned a great deal about their craft and how to construct a story. I’ve learned a thing or two about all the little twists and turns that authors put into their work.” Kate shook her head. “If this was a manuscript, I would have to say it was in serious need of an edit.”
Kate sat back and met April Bixby’s gaze. “As you may have surmised, that was Kat.” Kate had learned fairly recently the two women had known each other for a couple of years. They’d each separately confessed to her they weren’t at all surprised to be sharing a case.
April’s eyes widened. “She’s been shadowing Douglas Vance. Is there a problem?”
“She has indeed. And there have been a couple of problems with him. But most urgently, would you care to guess where they’re headed, right now?”
April’s face showed alarm. “Good grief! I think I should get to the roadhouse. My shift starts in twenty minutes, which is a handy thing, under the circumstances.”
“Yes, dear girl, I think it’s a very handy thing.”
The young woman got to her feet and took two steps toward the door. Then she stopped and turned around.
“Grandma Kate…did you put in a word with Angela? So that she’d hire me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Kat gave me a glowing recommendation on you, after all. You’re a part of the team, though I didn’t tell my dear friend in what capacity.” Kate saw the way the young woman processed that. Intelligence fairly shone from her eyes.
Kate didn’t know all there was to know about April Bixby—yet. But she would. By the time this little dustup had settled down, she’d have the young woman’s measure.
