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Time and space no longer mattered. There was nothing but the two of them. Fiona threw her head back, moaning as he fucked her hard, his pelvis grinding into hers in a primal dance of dominance and submission. There was no doubt in her mind that Slade was in charge, and she didn’t care.
Over and over, he thrust into her body as she tightened around him, every nerve ending sparking as she thought she might explode. And then it happened. Fiona cried out as the orgasm washed over her like the waterfall at Angel Falls, her pussy pulsing around his cock as she came harder than she ever had.
Slade felt it and thrust deeper and harder as he worked to push her even further over that edge.
“That’s my girl, give it to me. Let me feel how hard you can come.”
She was beyond the ability to speak. All she could do was make incoherent cries as the pleasure he provided drowned out everything else in the world. Her body continued to tremble from the intensity of her climax as Slade’s thrusting became shorter and harder, his cock swelling and twitching as his breathing became harder and more ragged.
He surged into her a final time. “Aw… fuck… yeah…” he groaned, his hips snapping back and forth in a frenzy as he came, filling her with his heat and cum. It was a powerful and intense sensation that Fiona was sure she would remember forever.
As Slade’s body shuddered and convulsed, he gave her his full weight, and Fiona knew this was more than just a dream; it was a premonition of things to come.
“I meant it, Fiona. This changes everything,” he said as he groaned and pulled out of her, rolling to his back and pulling her close.
The rest of the night, Fiona slept the sleep of the dead. When she rose the following morning, she could hear Slade moving around the room. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was almost nine. She never slept that late. Rolling out of bed she headed for the bedroom door but hesitated to open it. The dream last night had been intense, but she feared the reality of what lay beyond the door. Even though she feared what might lie on the other side of the barrier, she summoned her courage, placed her hand on the handle, and pulled it open.
CHAPTER10
FIONA
Sitting in the car, she realized how anticlimactic it had all been. She’d had the most amazing dream and once awake, had been afraid to open the door. But afraid of what? That the dream might not come true? That Slade was lying to her and still believed she was the killer?
The reader event in Kennebunkport had been a turning point in her life. It was as she had been driving home that she’d vowed never to live her life based in fear again. That didn’t mean that she acted recklessly or without thought. It simply meant that she did not let her fear of the unknown keep her from trying things—stretching her wings, as it were.
Fiona had grabbed a quick shower, applied minimal makeup, and put her hair up before pulling on clean leggings, a different chunky knit sweater, and her boots. She’d looked in the mirror and decided Slade was right—she dressed to be comfortable, but also to hide her body. There was nothing inherently wrong with it; she just wasn’t made like a supermodel. She’d nodded to her reflection. That stopped today.
She’d felt confident and as if she could take on the world, solve the murder, and oh yes, finish the novel she was working on. Everything had been fine until she reached for the door handle. It was all fine and good to tell herself she was strong and beautiful and capable inside the confined space of a beautiful hotel room. It was quite another to walk out into the next room where God's gift to women everywhere was moving around.
In her dream Slade had been dominant, possessive, and nuts about her. That he was dominant wasn’t a question, and he’d said he found her attractive, but the dream had only been a dream— or had it been? She pulled herself up, straightened her shoulders, shook her head to clear it of her musings, and opened the door.
Slade was right there. He took her by the upper arms as he had the night before and leaned down—only this time he didn’t pull away from the kiss. He pressed his lips firmly to hers and she hoped he didn’t hear her moan as she sort of just melted into him. He didn’t use his tongue, but the kiss was more than just a friendly peck—there was depth and passion behind it.
“Good morning, beautiful. I took the liberty of ordering breakfast. I ordered an omelet and French toast. I figured if you weren’t sure which you wanted, we’d just share. How do you like your coffee?”
“Dark roast with lots of cream and just a smidgeon of sugar—the pink kind.”
“Blech!” said Slade, moving to the in-room coffee machine. “That stuff is nothing but chemicals. You’re far better off with the real stuff. Personally, I like treacle, but it’s rarely available in hotels or restaurants.”
“That’s funny. When I was in England, I encountered treacle and loved it, but I couldn’t find it here.”
“It’s only in the last couple of years that it’s been easier to get here in the States.” He made her a cup of coffee and handed it to her.
“Want to explain what happened when I walked out here?”
He looked confused. “You looked like you could use a kiss and given what happened last night…”
“What happened?”
“You were a little tipsy, and I put you in bed. You sort of indicated you wouldn’t have minded my staying.”
She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Brave and sassy might be fine for her friends, but she owned a bookstore—she was almost a librarian, for god’s sake.
“Did I misinterpret that?” he asked.
“No; I wouldn’t have minded, but there’s part of me that respects that you were unwilling to take advantage of my inebriated state of mind. And I didn’t mind the kiss at all. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t saying or doing something you didn’t mean.”
He walked back to her and handed her the coffee. He slid his hand under her hair to cup the back of her head while his other hand slipped around her waist. As he pulled her forward, his mouth came down on hers, and pure lust flooded her entire being. There wasn’t so much as a skin cell that didn’t want him. Slade fisted her hair—something she’d only read and dreamed about—tugging her head back so he had easier access to her mouth. His lips moved over hers in an experienced, possessive, and dominant fashion. His tongue came out, and he dragged it across the seam of her mouth, and then it was gone.
