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I imagined finally finding her and confronting her. I thought about all the things I had to say to her. Maybe it wasn't her fault that she couldn't find me. Now, by some miracle, we'd met again. To have the audacity not to say anything to me, to have actually let me meet my kid without either of us even knowing it...
I wanted to give her a piece of my mind. I wanted to hear what she had to say for herself.
I wanted to...
Something stirred within me, something just as fierce as my anger, just as hot. It turned out that imagining yelling at Deira just became... imagining Deira, here, in front of me. It turned out that six years on, she still had the ability to make me want her, even when she wasn't even here.
The details of that night had faded over the years, but I could still remember her eyes, looking up at me. And I could still remember how itfelt. When she was on her knees, in front of me. When I was on my knees, making her scream with pleasure. When she was beneath me, and I was inside her, and she was gasping for more.
I had a slight sense that I was losing my way a bit; that, if anything, I should be killing any romantic feelings I still had for her. It was, after all, entirely possible that she wouldn't want me in Makayla's life at all. And then we would be enemies. I should absolutely not be thinking of what it would be like to repeat that night.
But in spite of myself, I was already growing hard. More details of that night were coming back to me, as if my arousal was sharpening my memory. I remembered telling her to finish sucking my dick, and the way she said "Yes, sir," as she sank back to the floor. I remembered the feel of her lips around me, of thrusting into her mouth with my hands in her hair.
God, I was really hard now.
I reached down and pulled my dick out of my pants, wrapping my hand around it as I let myself drift deeper into the memory. I'd had wine sent up. It had tasted good; she had tasted better. She'd been so woozy after her first orgasm that I had to walk her to the bedroom. I'd made her ask me repeatedly before I'd entered her. That was fun. That had beenhot. She'd asked every time, getting more and more desperate, the want in her eyes growing sharper and sharper.
My breath grew harsher as I started moving my hips, thrusting into my hand.
I remembered the sound she'd made when I finally slid inside her. I remembered how she clung to me, her voice pleading,harder, deeper.
I remembered flipping her over, grabbing her hips, fucking her with everything I had.
I wondered if it was like that every time with her. I thought about getting a chance to find out.
With one final thrust, I came. The orgasm shivered through my whole body, and I let it overtake me. Afterward, I sagged against the wall, breathing raggedly.
I had a moment's peace in the blissful aftermath, the release finally taking me to a place where I couldn't think, couldn't worry, could only feel the waves of pleasure.
It wasn't long before I came down from that high, though. And all the thoughts I'd briefly left behind started crowding back into my mind.
I gave up on exercising and went to shower off. When I got out of the shower, I picked up the phone and called the private eye.
"Ah, Mr. Reade. I actually had you on my list to call today," he answered.
"Great. What did you find?" A nervous feeling gripped my stomach just at the thought of finally having some action to take.
"That's the thing, Mr. Reade... unfortunately, none of my leads panned out. I'm just simply not able to find any more information about the party in question beyond what I've already provided to you."
I gripped the phone tightly. I had been pinning all my hopes on him being able to point me in the right direction.
"How can you just not find her? It can't be that hard. Especially for a professional that charges as much as you do."
He heaved a sigh. "Believe it or not, Mr. Reade,staying with a friendis even less to go on than an unnamedwoman in a hospital room I'm paying for."
"You have a lot to go on. I described her to you!"
"Even if that was the friend she's staying with, there's only so far a description will take you, and I've exhausted all my avenues. Maybe there's a person in that hospital who knows the name of that woman, but if there is, they're not accessible by my channels."
"So, find some new channels," I snapped into the phone.
"Look, Mr. Reade, as much as I'd love to continue taking your money and having these daily phone calls where you berate me for not doing the impossible, I have to draw the line. You're welcome to find another investigator. Maybe they'll succeed. Unlikely, but I'm afraid that's your only option. I can't help you with this."
"Fine," I practically shouted into the phone before ending the call and tossing it across the gym. I hit the punching bag with my bare fist and then immediately regretted it. The smarting sensation in my knuckles, however, was nothing compared to the utter frustration seething through my brain.
I wanted to meet my daughter. I wanted to do right by her. How was I supposed to do that if I kept running into dead ends?
THIRTEEN
