Staying With Her

Chapter SIX

She laid like a doll over the grass, limbs at awkward angles and her head held in a position that she couldn't be asleep.

The silence caressed her skin like a chilly breeze, freezing her soul, taking away her jagged edges. It had been one hell of a rough day. Kate stood over the body, scarf wrapped around her neck and mouth and her black gloves shoved inside of her red double-breasted trench. Scrunching footsteps approached her, immediately she turned around and met the eyes of Martin.

"One gunshot wound and she's missing a shoe," He said.

Kate shook her head in dismay before setting her eyes on the hazel iris of Martin. He was a handsome man. Light brown hair coated with salted age and a beard groomed around his thin lips. Those eyes trapped a woman's heart. When in tough times, he'd be there to save her. He was the safest person around and she'd never thanked him for all that he gave. Except for what she's about to give him.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, gently placing his hand around her humerus and slid down the length of her arm. His fingers brought tingles to her body even through the woolen fabric of her trench and work shirt.

"Fine," She replied. Weakly smiling at him.

"You don't look fine." His eyes knitted challengingly. Though he knew he'd caused her pain but wanted her to acknowledge it.

Pressing her palms onto his chest, she pulled away and covered herself as if exposed bare to a cunning man. Though he was anything but a manipulator. He was a man of a few words but when happy, he would sing to the world. Every time she'd see him, she'd become sick of guilt and betrayal. He was way older than her and yet she found him to be younger. He was more so a protector than a friend.

"I should go–"

"I did not come here for you to just leave!" Bellowed an authoritative voice.

Behind Martin stood a critical Blackhawk. He wore tight-fitting dark denim with a black t-shirt and his favorite brown heavy boots. His black leather jacket added to the appeal of a dangerous man. A man that made Kate's insides jump with ecstasy at the same time, she wanted to punch his guts out. His face was one of utmost confidence as he walked up to the two. Raising a brow at his partner's hands-on Kate, Martin shuffled away.

"You didn't have to come," She stated.

"Who's our vic?" He asked, glancing at Martin.

"Charlotte Dixon, thirty-eight," Martin said, shoving his thumps inside of his slacks pockets.

Blackhawk nodded, turning his attention to the corpse laying a foot away, "No witness?" He asked. His body heated at the lack of information. The two shook their heads. That pissed the hell out of him. Had he drove fifteen minutes for this?! Well, it was either that or at home with a tempting woman. He needed coffee. Heck, he hadn't even had breakfast yet!

"I'll be at the station," He grumbled. Turning on the heel of his boots, he walked away.

* * *

Clarissa looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes, like the indigo ocean, were pools of iridescent blue stared at the mark on her chest. He was rough. Almost breaking her bones with the intensity of his plunging. Yet, she loved it. She hadn't had a mind-blowing f**k in forever. She hadn't had intimacy ever since Josiah had been born. Ever since he'd left her. She'd never experienced grief that bad before.

Every memory played like a song in her head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. She was lost mostly because a big part of her had been ripped away with a blink of an eye. Her son had been born into a world of domestic violence. A world where breath could be torn in half with the hands of the law. He was fatherless. And she intends to fix it. He needs a man in his life. To guide him. To love him. And to shape him.

The cop had her right where he'd wanted her. In his room, in his bed. The man was powerful. Demanding. Aggressive and body built of iron. She'd never thought that she'd end up in this predicament. Her mother taught her well enough to never climb into a strangers bed and she did just that. She wouldn't approve of her selfish act for lusting after a man who could potentially be her father. Yet, he brought out a side of her that she'd never thought to exist.

Closing her gown, she stepped out of the room and into the kitchen. Cooking him a dish in gratitude should be enough. Clarissa could put anything on a pizza and make it taste fabulous. She'd spend her time rushing around the kitchen, squeezing, cutting and tasting the deliciousness that her father taught her. At a young age, she used to work part-time at her father's pizza parlor after school. Earn a few tips and perks before she knew it, at thirteen years old she sold more pizza than her school teachers would earn on a monthly basis.

Staring at the wall clock, it showed twenty-five minutes to ten. Was he normally this late? Or was he ditching me? She couldn't help but feel guilty for turning the man down. However, he had to be put in his place. When she wasn't feeling it, she wasn't feeling! End of story. He'd just have to put up with her ways. It was his damn suggestion, anyway. She could pack her bags in a span of ten minutes and she'd be out the door. No trace left behind. As if she'd been non-existent.

Just then, the jingling of keys smacked against the wooden door with the lock being picked. He's here. Wanting to impress him, she quickly dismissed the apron and ran to the room. She quickly double-checked her appearance. Her red Victoria secret lace lingerie peaked out from her nightgown. Her hair was neatly thrown over her shoulder and caressed her back. She was ready for him. Applying a smidge of cherry lipgloss She strutted out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where he stood, looking ravishing as he'd left earlier.

"What's this?" He asked. Motioning with his hand towards the white dish toppled with a full eight slices of Neapolitan pizza.

"Dinner," She smiled to which his eyes questioned her motives, "you must be starving." She gasped, reaching for the plates, she made sure to lean over the counter to display her red underwear for him.

He groaned. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned on his heels and strolled in the direction of the adjoining dining room. The moment he slide into his chair he was served an enormous platter of food. He licked his fleshy lips, grabbed a slice and stuffed it into his mouth. He enjoyed his meal. Happily chewed and swallowed all four slices in one go. He was definitely a starved man. And the cause was a woman he'd always be hungry for.

"Clarissa, that's so good, who taught you how to make it?" He asked, sipping from his glass of red wine.

"My father. There's more if you'd like," She grinned, lifting her glass to her mouth she let the circled rim enter the space between her chest and gown. Pulling away, she showcased her red bra to him. His breath hitched in his throat and his c**k pressed hard against his jeans. Dammit! He swore. He should've gone with the trousers.

"You'll cook every night?" He asked.

"Only if you want me to," She shrugged innocently.

"I'd like that," He smirked. Getting up, he collected the plates and walked into the kitchen.

Satisfied with her plan, she was astonished at how quickly it took to rile him up. The massive tent in his pants told her a secret he wasn't willing to share just yet. Getting up, she strutted into the kitchen behind him. He stopped at the basin and piled their plates into the soapy water. His sleeves rolled up and veins on display for her. She felt hot. The man hadn't even touched her and yet she was soaking for him.

She stood beside him, contributing to the chain in assistance whilst he washed the dishes. He hadn't looked at her, not even thanked her for helping him. Instead, he focused on completing the task and quickly escape to his work. However, seeing this, Clarissa would occasionally brush her hand against his wet ones as she grabbed the plates from his hands. She would dry off quickly and pack it away before he could even place another in the rack. Yet, he ignored her. Stepping up her game, she watched him drain the water and dry his hands with the cloth.

That was her moment. She stepped up from behind and encircled his waist with her arms. He stiffened. She then moved her hands slowly down his hard chest towards his c**k. Reaching a centimeter above his zipper, he grabbed her hand and before she could blink, he pinned her to the counter. Hard. Her chest was heaving and his own heart was racing. Knowing the effect he had on her. It was so f*****g arousing. His fingers slid under her nightgown to feel the warm skin of her upper thigh. She whimpered softly as he moved his hands inside of her panties before ripping them off and bringing it to her mouth.

"You'll wake the baby," His raspy voice rung through her ears. Like a vibrator awakening her body. He slid his finger inside of her, she was already wet for him.

Bringing his mouth down to hers, he kissed her. Their kiss grew hotter by the second and her hands found themselves unbuttoning his pants and pulling it down to reveal the outline of his hard-on. Growling, he lost control and moved towards the kitchen island where he lifted her up and sat her on top. Swiftly he ripped off her nightgown, leaving her bare with only a bra that had him near to shooting precum inside his briefs. He tore open her bra and filled his mouth with her large breast. She bit down on her panties to suppress her moans at the feel of his teeth grazing her flesh.

"Oh, s-s**t!" She gasped, her words muffled with the fabric between her teeth.

Surprising her, he pulled down his briefs and pounded deep inside of her. Dropping the panties, she screamed. Her arms draped over his back where her nails dug into the skin, causing him to groan. This only added fuel to his c**k as he pumped faster and faster. Harder and harder. And soon she splashed her climax over his c**k and out of breath rested her head on his shoulder. He pounded into her like an animal. Not once stopping to catch a breath but only to dip down and suck on her neck.

She could feel him deep inside her. She cried out as he'd hit her g-spot. Gripping her hand around the edge of the counter to hold her body steady, she laid her head back whilst he used her body. She felt another climax approaching as he kept hitting the spot with raging power. His hand then made it to her c**t and that's when she squirted a heavy load over him.

"f**k!" He growled, drilling his hips he emptied a massive load of his semen inside of her whilst resting his head between her breast. Taking one into his mouth, he sucked.

"That was–was..." She breathed, running her hand through his peppered hair.

"Riveting," He whispered and captured her mouth with his own.