Treacherous (The Wolf Pack Series) (9 page)

“You’re so beautiful,” he uttered before bending to pull her nipples into his mouth.

She cried out, her spine arching off the door as jolts of sensation shot through her. He sucked her areolas, the sensual stroke of his tongue deepening the burn between her thighs until she thought she’d explode.

He licked his way from her breasts to her quivering stomach, scorching her flesh. Panting with anticipation, Celeste watched as he squatted and unzipped her jeans, peeling them over her hips and down her legs, then off her feet as she stepped out of her clogs.

As he stared at her bare toes, she was glad that she’d taken the time to repolish her nails yesterday.

“Even your feet are gorgeous,” Grant murmured appreciatively.

She gave a husky laugh that melted into a moan as he reached between her thighs and palmed her sex, rubbing her erect clitoris through the fabric of her black panties. She writhed against him, wanting him inside her with a desperation that staggered her.

Pulse thudding violently, she watched as he grasped the waistband of her panties and slid them off her legs, dropping them on the floor. Then, holding her gaze, he eased two fingers inside her, groaning with arousal as her feminine walls gripped him.

“You’re so wet
,
” he whispered thickly.

A helpless whimper was all Celeste could manage.

He removed his probing fingers and draped her right leg over his shoulder, then lowered his mouth to her drenched sex. She cried out and threw back her head, spasms of pleasure tearing through her pelvis. Her stomach muscles clenched as his tongue flicked over her clitoris and lapped at the swollen folds of her labia.

“
Grant
…” she mewled as her hands tangled in his curly hair, first pulling him closer, then pushing him away.

He raised his heavy-lidded eyes to hers, his lips glistening with her nectar.

“I want you inside me,” she said hoarsely. “
Now
.” She didn’t have to ask twice.

He quickly yanked off his sweatshirt, toned muscles flexing, golden skin gleaming.

Celeste trembled with lust as he dug inside his pocket and retrieved a condom, then tugged down his pants and dark briefs. She was riveted by the sight of his thick, engorged penis. He tore the foil packet apart and quickly rolled the condom over his erection, then surged to his feet.

Unable to resist, Celeste curled her fingers around the base of his shaft and stroked him, coaxing a silky drop of fluid from the swollen tip.

Groaning with pleasure, Grant lifted her off the floor. She curved her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, shivering as their genitals connected. They stared into each other’s eyes as he grabbed her hips and thrust into her, impaling her against the door. She let out a wild cry.

Grant shuddered deeply, gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, looking as if he were trying not to climax too soon. Celeste knew the feeling. He felt so good inside her that she seriously doubted she’d last very long.

Slowly opening his eyes, Grant began pumping into her with long, deep strokes that sent waves of ecstasy crashing through her. She moaned and gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into the whipcord muscles.

His hands slid around her back and moved downward, cupping her butt cheeks in each large palm. She gasped as he drove into her harder and faster, their bodies rocking against the door. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room.

With each rhythmic thrust of Grant’s hips, Celeste’s orgasm built and swelled.

She could feel every ridge of his shaft as he pounded into her. The delicious friction intensified her pleasure until her body exploded, clenching around his penis.

“Grant…
Grant
!” she sobbed out, her hips bucking furiously against his.

He shoved into her one last time, then came with a guttural shout. Shaking all over, he dropped his head forward and buried his face in her hair.

They clung together, panting, their chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath.

It was only then that Celeste’s gaze landed on a book that had fallen out of her tote bag when she dropped it earlier. It was an autobiography of Marcus Garvey that one of her coworkers had loaned to her for Marcus, who’d been wanting to learn more about his namesake.

Oh, God
, Celeste thought as an image of her young son flashed through her mind. That was when she realized the enormity of the treacherous act she’d just committed.

As a hot wave of shame and horror swept through her, she squirmed frantically against Grant. “Let me go.”

He raised his head, his green eyes probing hers. “Celeste—”

“
Let me go
,” she said in a sharper tone.

He hesitated, then reluctantly withdrew from her body. She quickly unwrapped her legs from his waist as he set her down and stepped back.

He tried again, “Celeste—”

“Please don’t say anything,” she begged, bending down to retrieve her discarded clothes. “Anything you say will only make it worse.” Grant frowned. “Don’t do this, sweetheart. Please don’t.” She hurriedly tugged on her panties and jeans, then refastened her bra and shrugged into the ruined blouse. She assiduously avoided looking at Grant’s naked body, afraid she’d be tempted to stay if she did.

“I don’t regret what we just did,” he said quietly, “and neither should you.”

“
Are you serious?
I’m a married woman who just had sex with—” She broke off as a hysterical sob caught in her throat. Clapping a hand to her mouth, she stumbled over to her fallen tote bag and stuffed Marcus’s book back inside, then stood and raced to the door.

“You’re forgetting your shoes,” Grant called after her.

Swearing under her breath, she turned and rushed back over to him, snatching her clogs out of his hand. Catching a glimpse of his semi-erect penis, she blushed furiously, then spun away and ran from the office like Cinderella fleeing the ball at the stroke of midnight.

But Celeste was no storybook heroine, and after what she’d just done, she didn’t deserve a fairytale ending.

The tension was thick around the dinner table that night.

Michael and Marcus were uncharacteristically withdrawn, pushing their food around their plates disinterestedly. Celeste alternated between picking at her own meal and stealing worried glances at them, visibly unnerved by their brooding silence.

Seated at the head of the table, Sterling quietly observed his family, not unlike the way he’d watch a suspect from the other side of a one-way mirror before he entered the interrogation room. Halfway through dinner that evening, he’d realized two things. The first was that Michael and Marcus were still upset about the argument they’d overheard between their parents two nights ago. The second—and perhaps more troubling realization—was that Celeste was nervous about something.
Very
nervous.

Sterling didn’t want to speculate why.

“Just three more days until school starts,” Celeste announced, her voice breaking an uncomfortable stretch of silence. She smiled cheerfully at Michael and Marcus. “Aren’t you two excited about going back to school and seeing all your friends again?”

“Sure,” Michael mumbled around a mouthful of meat loaf.

Marcus didn’t even bother to respond.

Sterling shot him a stern glance. “Son, your mother asked you a question.” Marcus stared down at his plate, raking his fork through the buttery mashed potatoes that had turned into a lumpy puddle. “Yes,” he answered, barely audible.

“Yes what?” Sterling prompted.

“Yes, I’m looking forward to school.”

“That’s good.” Celeste smiled approvingly. “I’m expecting another year of straight As from you
and
your brother.” This was where Michael ordinarily pled his case, citing the challenges of being a student athlete and claiming that his classes were getting harder, so he shouldn’t be penalized if he didn’t make the honor roll every quarter.

But this time, Michael said nothing.

Celeste’s smile faltered. She briefly met Sterling’s gaze, then glanced away and reached for her glass of sweet tea. “Marcus, have you started reading the book I gave you this morning?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you could take a break from playing your Atari and read one or two chapters this evening,” she suggested. “With school starting in a few days, you need to get back in the habit of reading every night anyway.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he parroted.

Another heavy silence descended over the table.

Sterling watched as Celeste nudged her food around her plate before forking up a bite of meat loaf. She chewed slowly, delicately, her eyes roaming around the small dining room as if she were seeing details for the first time. The peeling wallpaper, the faded drapes, the rusted chandelier that hung from the ceiling, all contrasting with the beautiful mahogany curio cabinet they’d received as a wedding gift from Mama Wolf.

When Celeste’s roving gaze came to rest on Sterling’s face, he had the uncanny feeling that she’d been buying herself time. As if she had to work up the nerve to look at him.

“You’ve been rather quiet since you got home,” she observed. “Is everything okay at work?”

Sterling gave her a wry look. “I’m a homicide detective. Nothing’s
ever
okay.”

“Right.” She smiled weakly. “Of course.”

“But I know what you meant.” He took a sip of his drink, watching her over the rim of his glass. “I guess I’m just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I tried not to wake you up when I came home.”

“You didn’t. I was already awake.” At her surprised look, he explained, “I couldn’t get into a good sleep for some reason.”

“Oh.” She held his gaze for a long moment, then looked down at her plate and carefully resumed eating.

Michael and Marcus exchanged glances across the table, then turned to their father.

“Can I be excused?” both asked at the same time.

Sterling frowned, glancing at their plates. “You haven’t finished your dinner, Marcus.”

“I know,” he mumbled.

“You didn’t like the meat loaf?” Celeste asked anxiously. “Was it too dry?”

“No, Ma. It was good. I’m just not very hungry.” He glanced at Sterling. “So can we be excused?”

Sterling nodded.

The boys shoved their chairs back from the table and stood.

“Oh, wait,” Celeste blurted suddenly.

When everyone looked at her, she plastered on a bright smile that had an edge of desperation to it. “I have some great news to share,” she announced.

An expectant silence greeted her.

“I got a bonus at work.” She paused. “Two thousand dollars.” Michael and Marcus’s eyes bulged incredulously. “
Two thousand
dollars
?” Celeste beamed. “That’s right. I found out this afternoon when I went to pick up my paycheck. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Heck, yeah,” Marcus enthused.

Michael grinned. “Congratulations, Ma.”

Stunned, Sterling could only stare at Celeste.

She continued, “So you know what this means, right? You boys are getting new back to school clothes and shoes—”

They cheered.

“—and something else you’re really going to enjoy.” Celeste paused for dramatic effect, smiling mysteriously. “Can you guess what it is?” Michael and Marcus quickly shook their heads.

“Here’s a hint,” Celeste drawled, making an exaggerated show of studying her manicured fingernails. “What are you boys always rushing home to watch after church every Sunday?”

They stared at each other. “Football,” they chorused.

“Exactly.” She grinned at them. “That’s why I bought you tickets to attend an Atlanta Falcons game in October.”

Whooping with excitement, the boys high-fived each other across the table, then rushed over to their mother and hugged her, one on each side.

“Thanks, Ma,” they told her. “You’re the best!” Celeste clung to them, her eyes closing in an expression of poignant gratitude.

As if she were savoring something she’d nearly lost.

Watching her, Sterling felt his chest tighten with some unnamed emotion.

As Michael and Marcus pulled away, Celeste grasped their hands in hers, looking at each of them in turn. “I love you boys so much. No matter how tall or strong you become, or how deep your voices get, you will
always
be my babies.

Do you hear me?”

They nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She smiled, glancing at Sterling. “I bought four tickets to the game. I figured you and the fellas could take Quentin.”

“You don’t wanna go, Ma?” Michael asked.

“Heavens, no,” she said with a mock shudder. “You know I don’t like football.

Quentin’s mama and I will treat ourselves to a massage or something.” Michael grinned. “Sounds good. I’m gonna run down the street to tell Q.”

“I’ll go with you,” Marcus said.

The two brothers raced out of the kitchen. Moments later the front door opened and slammed shut behind them.

Alone, Sterling and Celeste stared at each other across the dining table.

He was the first to speak. “A bonus, huh?”

Her chin lifted a notch. “That’s right.”

“Just out of the clear blue?”

Celeste shrugged. “The hospital’s been receiving more financial contributions from donors. I guess they finally decided to share the wealth with their employees. Anyway,” she added almost defensively, “does it matter
why
they gave us bonuses? Our family needs the money, so I, for one, am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Neither am I.” Sterling smiled at her. “So now that I’ve gotten over my shock, allow me to congratulate you. You work damn hard at that hospital, babe, so you deserve every red cent of that bonus, and then some.”