Controversy (10 page)

“Funny. I was just thinking the same about you,” he responded, moving toward her again. “Spread your legs and lean back.”

Michael looked over her shoulder. There was hardly any room for her to lie all the way back on the washing machine. “Maybe we should take this upstairs,” she said. When she turned back to face him, she found him, standing just a few inches from her face.

“We'll get there…in due time. Now, be a good girl and do what you're told.” He removed a condom from his wallet and then placed the wallet down on the dryer.

Oh, yeah. She loved how he took control.

She leaned back. The lower half of her body found room on the sparse space of the machine while part of her shoulders, neck and head rested against the back wall. Any thoughts of complaining were erased when Kyson leaned forward, brushed another kiss against her lips and then slowly worked his way down.

The man's tongue was poetry in motion, bathing her nipples while his fingers glided back inside of her. By the time he'd made it to her naval, she was breathless. When his chin brushed against soft, springy curls, Michael draped her shapely legs over his shoulders and prepared for liftoff.

Kyson was practically salivating when his fingers parted her honeyed lips and uncovered her pink jewel. The first taste of her was shockingly sweet and heavily addictive. After a few licks, Michael's knees clamped against his head while her body trembled around his stroking tongue.

No matter how much she squirmed, begged or tried to push him away, Kyson kept lapping her juices until another orgasm crested and then slammed into her and left her tingling all over.

“Please. Please,” Michael panted.

At long last granting her mercy, Kyson straightened up with a smile and grabbed the Magnum condom from the top of the dryer and slid it on while Michael still languished in the aftermath of her last orgasm.

Loving her serene look, Kyson leaned forward and stole what started to be a quick kiss. It instead turned into a deep soul-stirring mating of their mouths. While he shared the taste of her honey, he pushed into her remarkably tight vaginal walls.

He was unprepared for how tight her muscles clamped around him—unprepared for how they would grip and release seemingly with very little effort on her part.

“Oh, Jesus,” he groaned, fearful he would come before he could get halfway in. “Oh, Jesus.”

She shifted her body and this time he was the one begging. “Don't move. Please don't move.”

Michael stilled, giving him all the time he needed. Despite the condom, she was certain she could feel every vein and muscle along his long, thick shaft and was sure another orgasm would erupt before his first stroke.

Actually, it took three strokes.

Lord. How did he make each orgasm more powerful than the last?

Kyson finally caught his breath, but was slowly losing his mind. The heat of her body, the sight of her bouncing breasts and the taste of her skin consumed him and transformed his smooth even strokes into fierce hammering. Between him and the unbalanced washload, the washing machine was rocking and rolling against the floor and the back wall.

Unable to hold back any longer, Kyson swept Michael up and bounced his voluptuous goddess against his hips. The laundry room was a sauna and their bodies had become slick with sweat. Forced to prop his new lover back onto the machines before they crashed to the floor, Kyson buried his face between Michael's lush breasts while his roar of release sounded inhuman.

For a full minute afterward, Kyson and Michael dragged in huge gulps of air while they waited for their heartbeats to slow down. Despite having climaxed, Kyson's erection hadn't softened.

“Um, I think the clothes are ready for the dryer,” Michael laughed.

Kyson's body vibrated with laughter. “Is that your way of saying you're not through with me?”

Michael's beautiful lips parted. “Fine, athletic and smart,” she said, pinching his butt cheeks. “I'm starting to think it's
my
birthday.”

He kissed her. “Then why don't we move this birthday party up to your bedroom?”

“What—not the closet?”

“Don't tempt me.”

Michael dutifully hopped off the machine, removed Kyson's clothes from the washer and put them into the dryer before leading her Adonis up to her bedroom where she proceeded to wear his butt out.

M
ichael smiled as she stretched along the cotton sheets of her queen-size bed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so glorious, so satisfied and so drained. What happened last night cast a different light on her past relationships. Until now, she had no idea of what she was missing.

She had been so caught up wanting the title of Mrs. Somebody that she never thought she was selling herself short. Sure, sex with her ex had been good, but what she'd experienced with Kyson went further than that.

Sex with Detective Dekker was fantastic.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?” she responded with her eyes still closed while drifting on the lofty clouds in her head.

“Don't you think it's about time you uncuffed me?”

Michael's lashes fluttered open and she stared into eyes that were as dark and rich as black coffee. The fact that he wore a smile that matched hers told her that he, too, had had a wonderful night, despite her having fallen asleep with him still handcuffed to her headboard.

“Do you remember what we did with the key?” she asked, curling into him and pressing her hand against his flat stomach.

The moment she touched him, it shot off another spark, and judging by the way the sheet over his hips raised, she knew he'd felt it, as well.

“It's on the bed around here somewhere.”

“Oh?” Her hand drifted down and slid beneath the sheet. “Maybe I should look for it down here.” Michael's hand wrapped around his swollen member and gave it a little squeeze.

Kyson sucked in air while his eyes slid closed.

Loving his response to her touch, Michael leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth. The hundredth kiss was just as potent as the first and had the effect of wiping her mind clean of any trouble.

When she came up for air, she finally had to ask him the one thing that had been heavy on her mind. “How is it that a man like you is still single?”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it when she gave his erection another playful squeeze.

“Be warned. It's in your best interest to tell the truth,” she said.

He laughed. “I was married once,” he admitted. “Years ago. Right after high school, in fact.”

Michael released him, not because of what he said, but because of the tone in his voice. Sadness? Longing? Regret?

“What happened?”

Now he had a hard time looking at her.

In a snap, Michael felt as if another woman had entered the bed with them and no amount of reasoning could tame her sudden surge of jealousy.

“She was killed in a drive-by shooting,” he said.

Michael's body slumped in sorrow and she was ashamed of her jealousy. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

His lips curled a bit, but he still didn't meet her stare. “It's been nearly ten years and it scares me sometimes that I can barely remember…” He shook his head. “The day she was killed changed my life. I dropped out of college and joined the police force, thinking that I would be the one to solve her murder. I was going to be the one that brought justice to such a senseless death.”

“Did you?” she asked.

“The police caught him, if that's what you mean.” He shook his head. “But justice is another thing entirely.”

“Who was it?”

“Some punk's initiation into some gang,” he answered. “One of his boys rolled on him to cut a better deal in a convenience-store robbery. Turns out the kid's parents had long pockets, good friends and pretty damn good lawyers.”

“He got off?”

Kyson sighed. “Turns out Lady Justice can be a high-stakes hooker sometimes. She pedals her wares to the highest bidder.”

Silence lapsed between them. One of the few times Michael was speechless.

“I guess the reason I haven't gotten married again is because it took me a long time to get over what I lost. And when I finally did, I realized…that there are a lot of crazy women out here.”

Michael laughed. “Well, you know, some say that I'm a little…eccentric.”

“Oh?” he asked. “I would have never guessed.”

Michael's eyes narrowed. “Are you being sarcastic?” She squeezed him again and in response his erection returned.

“A little,” he admitted. “But I guess a little crazy is all right.”

Giggling, Michael captured another kiss and even nibbled a bit on his bottom lip. “Good answer, copper.”

He joined in on her laughter.

“I do have one more question for you,” she said.

“Shoot.”

“Are you sure you're over your wife?” Actually, she didn't even know why she was asking. This was supposed to be a fling—a little something to get her back into the swing of being single. Why was she sitting there interviewing him for a more serious position?

His hesitation lasted so long Michael feared she'd broken a rule of one-night stands. “Look,” she said, searching for a way to save face. “Don't answer that. I don't even know why I asked.”

“I hope you asked because you're thinking about seeing me again,” he said.

She certainly was.

“And my answer is, I don't think anyone truly gets over their first love, doubly so when you lose them under such tragic circumstances. But I have to honestly say that time, that life is over. I loved her, I lost her and I mourned her. Perhaps longer than necessary, but I am looking to start living again.”

Kyson didn't realize how true his words were until they started tumbling out of his mouth. Then again, he hadn't expected to feel the things he felt while lying next to her, either. Talking to Michael felt easy. Natural.

Even after a night of unbelievable sex, electricity crackled between them.

It didn't make sense. He was like the Energizer Bunny around her. He couldn't get enough.

“Now,” he said, trying to bring back their previous jovial mood, “what do you say we get back to looking for that key?”

Michael's full lips split into another wide smile as her hand gave up squeezing for long sensual strokes. “Do you mean this key?”

“Oh, Lord,” Kyson sighed, sinking deep into the bed's plush padding.

“You like that, do you?” she purred. With her other free hand she peeled the sheet from his hips. One look at his beautiful black shaft and her body tingled again. “You know, I still owe you a favor,” she said.

Kyson quirked a brow, but when Michael inched her way down his body, he knew exactly what she had in mind.

“You know you don't have to do that,” he said, giving her an out.

“I know,” she whispered. Her warm breath drifted across his straining flesh. “I only do things I want to do.” She kissed the tip and then flicked her tongue against the same spot.

Kyson quivered while his breathing thinned in his chest. He wanted to run his hands through her hair while she took him into her mouth, but all he could do was pull at his handcuffs and chafe his wrists.

“I'm in control of this groove,” she said.

And control it she did. She took her time working her mouth over his sex. Slipping and sliding and working him into a frenzy. A few times, he tried to take over by pumping his hips, but Michael would punish him by pulling away.

It was maddening.

It was wonderful.

It was heaven.

A minute later, Kyson stopped breathing, squeezed his eyes tight and watched fireworks explode behind his eyelids.

And Michael was just getting started.

When she finally uncuffed him both were bruised in places they never thought possible. When they finally pried themselves out of bed both walked on legs that trembled and threatened to collapse.

“I'm going to go downstairs and start a pot of coffee,” she told him.

“You're coming back up to join me in the shower?”

She lifted a questioning brow.

“What?” he asked. “You wash my back and I'll wash yours.”

“Sounds like an offer I can't refuse.” She shrugged one shoulder and winked before finally escaping her bedroom. However, as she made her journey down to the kitchen, Kyson and the wonderful hours they'd had together kept repeating in her mind.

Every moment they'd shared seemed like a dream—one she wished would never end. When she entered the kitchen, she was singing Carl Carlton's “She's a Bad Mama Jama” and rocking her hips to the groove.

As was her habit, she turned on the small television on the counter, catching the looping news on CNN.

“The body was discovered by two local teenagers hiking up Pacheco Pass…”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Who in the hell?” Michael hit the brew button on the coffee machine, tightened the belt on her robe and went to see who was trying to break down her door. One thing for sure, it wouldn't be the police. Detective Fine was waiting for her in her shower.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“I'm coming. I'm coming,” she snapped and then frowned at the déjà vu moment. “Who is it?”

“Just open the damn door,” Sheldon snapped.

What on earth got her panties in a wad?

Michael jerked open the door, but before she could bark out a question her sisters burst inside like a runaway locomotive.

“Girl, have you seen the news?” Frankie asked, taking the lead.

“Please, please, tell us that you had nothing to do with this,” P.J. begged, bringing up the rear, both hands pressed into her back as she waddled into the living room.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Michael closed the door and then followed.

“We mean it this time,” Joey said, picking up the television remote. “If you're behind this, tell us now. We'll get you the best lawyer money can buy.”

“Lawyer?” Michael repeated, struggling to keep up with the conversation. “Why would I need a lawyer?”

Joey turned up the television.

“The police have confirmed the body to be that of forty-year-old African-American businessman Philip Matthews of San Jose.”

“What?” Michael's head whipped toward the television. “What?”

“We've been able to confirm that Mr. Matthews was reported missing three days ago,” the reporter said. “According to the missing person's report, a Ms. Delaney insisted that Matthews's ex-wife was behind his unexplained disappearance. We're currently trying to confirm whether the San Jose Police Department had followed up on the report and we're also trying to reach Ms. Delaney for further questioning.”

“What?” Michael thundered.

“Will you please say something else,” Frankie snapped.

“I can't,” Michael admitted honestly. “There has to be some kind of mistake. Phil isn't dead,” she said, blood rushing from her head. “He can't be.”

Joey punched the mute button on the television. “Are you saying that you had
nothing
to do with this?”

Michael's head jerked up. “Of course that's what I'm saying! How in the hell could you all think I could be a murderer?”

“Until three days ago we didn't think you were a kidnapper, either. But you have a knack for surprising us,” Sheldon said.

“I don't believe this,” Michael said. “I need to sit.” She moved to the sofa and plopped down.

“Hell, I need a Valium,” Frankie said.

“All right. All right,” Sheldon said, pacing. “Let's not panic.”

“Not panic?” Peyton echoed, dropping next to Michael on the sofa. “You guys lied to the police. That's bound to get out—especially when you have two idiots like Ray and Scott Damon out there. If they left any traceable evidence in that house, the cops are going to pick them up. They pick them up, they are going to roll on Mike. They'll roll on their own momma and you know it. They'll say Mikey hired them. A kidnapping you lied about. If they nail her for kidnapping it's not too far a leap to charge her with murder.”

Michael groaned.

“Thanks,” Sheldon said. “We all feel much better now, P.J.”

“I'm just saying this situation can't possibly get any worse.”

The sound of someone walking down the stairs caught everyone's attention. “Hey, baby. I thought you were going to join me in the shower…” Kyson stepped into the living room and froze before he flashed them a smile of embarrassment. “Oh. Hello, ladies.”

Peyton said, “I stand corrected.”