Love me to death

THIRTY-THREE

Lucy didn’t know if it was the strange bed or the events of the day, but after three hours of an uneasy, dreamless sleep, she woke up and was unable to go back to sleep.

She sat up and considered reading, but she needed to sleep.

She didn’t want to be alone.

She was wearing one of Sean’s shirts, a worn, oversized MIT T-shirt that hit her mid-thigh.

Maybe it was sleeping in Sean’s shirt, wrapped in his scent, that had awakened her. With the idea she had, she was glad Patrick was still in California.

She walked silently down the hall to Sean’s room. It was two in the morning, but his light was still on. Her heart flipped. He was working this late because of her. Trying to put all the puzzle pieces together, even though Mallory and Fran and Dave Biggler were all in jail.

Even superheroes needed rest, she thought, planning to say such when she pushed open his bedroom door.

Sean was asleep, wearing sweatpants and no top. He had two laptops open, one next to him and one on his lap, and a folder leaking papers lying on his chest.

Lucy quietly closed the door and walked over. She didn’t want to startle Sean-living with a family of cops she knew that wouldn’t be wise-so she said, “Sean.”

His eyes popped open. They were cloudy from sleep, but two blinks later he was fully awake.

“Luce-you okay?”

“I’m fine. You should go to bed.”

“I will.” He cleared his throat and closed his computers. “I was just monitoring the security system.”

“There’s no one out there.”

“We don’t know that everyone involved has been arrested.”

“No, but why would they come after me?” She shook her head.

“Can I get you something?”

“No.” She lifted the laptops off his bed, putting them on the dresser. He put the file folder on his nightstand. Without asking, she slipped under the blankets.

“Lucy-”

“I want to sleep here tonight. Is that okay with you?”

For a moment, she thought he was going to send her back to the guest room; that he’d give her an awkward excuse, but deep down not want to sleep with her because of her past. Because he didn’t want to rush her or hurt her, and while she appreciated the sensitivities, they were excuses. Because if she were any other woman, he’d have climbed into her bed earlier.

Her old fears rose up, and she opened her mouth to give him an out, an excuse to save face, but then he kissed her.

And all her doubts, all her fears that she was less than perfect for Sean, washed away in his affection.

This was exactly where she was supposed to be.

From the moment Sean started working on his security system, he’d thought about Lucy and debated whether he should go to her room. Lord knew he wanted to, but she’d been so exhausted. He’d considered just holding her, telling her he wanted to simply lay next to her, but he suspected that wouldn’t last. He wanted her, wanted to hold her, kiss her, make love to her.

He was thrilled she’d come to him. And now he wanted to make this moment perfect. Memorable. His mind wanted to go slow, but his body was in a rush. His body wanted all of her now, but he willed himself to take it slow. To be calm. In control.

He so much wanted to lose control with Lucy.

He savored her mouth, the faint mint from her toothpaste, the warmth from her tongue. He kissed her as they sank into his pillows, under the down comforter. Her hands were on his chest, her long fingers moving, but tentative. He maneuvered her hands away so that his bare chest pressed firmly against hers. He wanted her shirt off.

He remembered what she’d said earlier. That she wanted him to treat her like all his other girlfriends. But she wasn’t like any of them. He’d meant it then, and he meant it even more now. He wasn’t going to simply pull off her shirt-his shirt, he thought with a smile-to get to her full breasts.

Instead, he moved his left hand slowly up her shirt, feeling her body tense, then relax. He kissed her neck as his hand moved farther up, until he cupped her breast and gently massaged her soft skin. His thumb ran over a rough line, and for a second he thought it was a thick thread from his comforter; then he realized it was a scar that cut a wicked slash from one breast to the other.

When he touched it, she tensed again, and he wanted to tell her he didn’t care, but talking about it was the last thing either of them needed right now. So he continued his sensual massage, over her breasts, across her back, returning to her breasts, skimming his fingers and rubbing his palms across every inch of flesh until he felt the sigh of pleasure in her chest, heard the small exhale of breath that told him she was enjoying his attentions.

“I want to take off your shirt,” he whispered.

“Please,” she said, putting her arms up.

He slowly pulled it off, glancing at her breasts as he did. He saw the scar, faint but long, and it took all his strength not to react. Not because the scar diminished Lucy in any way, but because he wished he had killed Roger Morton and Adam Scott himself.

Lucy reached up and turned off the light. “Luce-” he began.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“No.” He wanted to look at her, but this time he would make love to her by her rules. Hell, he’d make love to her by her rules all the time. He kissed her, feeling her now-bare chest against his, and sighing with a contentment he usually didn’t feel in any of his relationships.

He focused above her waist, but left no place untouched or unkissed. Her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. He kissed her stomach, then back up to the sensitive underside of her breasts, then skimmed his tongue across her nipples, up to the hollow of her neck. She gasped when he blew a breath where he’d moistened her skin, and he smiled. Then he kissed her again and felt her respond from deep inside.

Lucy had been nervous from the moment she slipped into Sean’s bed, but her nerves disappeared as Sean methodically explored her body. Her skin pulsed with his touch, wanting more, a feeling unfamiliar to her. She’d enjoyed sex, but always in the back of her mind were doubts. She always held back, always feared something bad would happen-that she would do something wrong. But tonight she craved Sean. She wanted him with her, his body against hers, his lips everywhere, his hands touching her most sensitive places.

His hard penis pressed against her leg, and she shivered in anticipation, wrapping her arms around Sean’s neck.

“Do you trust me, Lucy?” Sean asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

His lips moved from her mouth to her neck again. She loved the way he kissed her just under her jawline, using his tongue lightly, like a flirt, making her squirm. Down her neck to the soft spot right above her collarbone. She grasped his shoulders, his muscles hard beneath her hands. She ran all her fingers over his back and upper arms, felt the definition of each muscle, and almost asked Sean to turn on the light so she could see them.

He kissed her breasts so tenderly, repeatedly, light feather kisses that made her warm and she was certain she was seeing stars. She’d never felt such bliss. She sighed out loud, surprising herself at the sound that came from deep in her throat.

Sean kissed her stomach and she squirmed. His hands went under the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he slowly pushed them down until they were off, somewhere at the foot of the bed. Or on the floor. She didn’t care. She parted her legs, anticipating his maneuvering, and said, “Condom?”

She’d meant to ask a full question, but only one word came out.

He laughed softly. “Yes. But I’m not ready yet.”

She frowned and reached down, surprising herself when she brazenly grasped his penis. “You feel ready.”

“Ah, Lucy, hold that thought.”

He scooted down the bed and her hand fell away. The first flicker of Sean’s tongue between her legs had her gasp. His hands were on her inner thighs, gently pushing her open, and his kisses, so wonderful on her lips, became electric. She didn’t know what to expect; she’d never made love like this before. She’d read about it, but they were just words.

Her stomach felt as if it were sinking; her entire body went hot and cold simultaneously. Sean sucked and teased her with his tongue and suddenly her hips moved on their own, and a wave of indefinable tension contracted until she gasped louder than she intended; then everything inside twisted and churned, like a riptide pulling her under, then tossing her up, over the waves. She could hardly catch her breath. Every taut muscle relaxed simultaneously, making her feel pleasantly languorous.

Sean kissed each thigh, then her stomach, then her breasts again as her chest rose and fell, her breathing rapid. “That-” she began, then forgot what she was going to say.

“I agree,” he whispered, and she felt a smile on the side of her neck.

“Are you smug?” she asked.

“Very.” He kissed her, then rolled over and opened his drawer. He took care of business quickly, and rolled back.

Sean lay on top of her, not using his full weight, but her body began to tense up again, and not in hopeful anticipation of making love. The all-too-familiar panic rose in her chest. She willed it back, hating this awful feeling that she had no control over. She could scarcely breathe, but she’d push through. This was too important-Sean was too important-to let her past interfere tonight.

Suddenly, he reached under her waist and pulled her smoothly over on top of him, her legs straddling his. “You drive, princess,” he said.

She didn’t question; she didn’t want to analyze how he understood what she wanted without her saying a word. How he made it natural and sexy all at once. Her trepidation disappeared and she kissed him. She went slow, guiding him inside her a fraction of an inch at a time. She reached up and found one of his hands, and he clutched her fingers tightly. His other hand held her hip.

She moved to adjust her position and he groaned, his hand tightening on her waist, holding her there. She sank deeper, feeling the perspiration on her skin and his. Her mouth was open, parched, and when his penis jerked inside her, as if it had a mind of its own, a startled sound of excitement escaped; then she softly moaned as she eased herself completely over him, her sensitive spot rubbing lightly against Sean’s pelvis, the wave slowly building again deep inside her.

“Sean,” she whispered, and wondered if she had said anything out loud. Then she didn’t think, only felt as he held her hips, not letting her move.

“Lucy, you’re making me crazy.”

“How?”

“Open your eyes.”

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to break this magic, where she didn’t have to see, didn’t have to think, only feel. All she wanted was to feel Sean, on her and inside her and with her.

His hand touched her cheek.

“Lucy.”

She reluctantly looked at him in the dark. But it wasn’t completely dark. She saw him perfectly well with the streetlight through his partially closed blinds. His square jaw was firm, but his eyes were staring back with such intensity she couldn’t turn away.

Sean took his other hand from her hip and clasped both her hands, pulling them up toward his head, so she had to lie across his chest. He arched up to kiss her, his skin slick with sweat, his muscles hard with restrained passion.

Her insides quivered and he groaned, his hands tight in hers. While looking at him, Lucy moved her hips slowly, back and forth, the most incredible sensation returning. Was this even possible? She didn’t know, she didn’t care, and she was simply thankful because her body was combustible and she needed to explode.

Sean let go of her hands and reached down to squeeze her ass, hold her still for a moment. She didn’t want to sit still-the friction was incredible, sending small shocks through her body.

She squirmed forward, Sean’s body hot beneath hers.

He whispered, “You do that and this will be a short trip.”

She stopped moving, but then her muscles involuntarily contracted, and he hissed. “I think-” she whispered.

“What?”

“The wave. Again.”

She raised her hips until he almost slipped out, then sank back down. Lucy gasped, stunned and happy all at once, and her body pulled Sean deep inside. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist, holding her close, and joined his orgasm with hers.

Lucy relaxed all at once, her body falling across Sean, limp.

Sean didn’t want to move. Lucy was as pliable as putty lying on top of him, a small smile on her face. He touched the corner of her mouth and she kissed his thumb.

“Hmmm?” she said.

He kissed her, then gently eased her onto her side. “Stay.”

“I can’t move.”

“Good.”

A moment later, he crawled naked back into bed, pulling the comforter tight around them. Lucy spooned against him, her breathing already even. His arm around her waist, he kissed her cheek, her jaw, her ear, and vowed never to let her go.

THIRTY-FOUR

The sun has not yet risen. I see snow falling lightly to the ground outside my windows as I rise from my warm bed.

I am calm, as I always am when I end one cycle and begin the next. Though this morning I am not as pleased as I should be, and I wonder about that while I shower.

One reason is that the female I currently have has potential; she learns to obey well. If I had more time, I know I could put her back together the way God intended.

But Lucy Kincaid stole my time. I cannot shake her from my thoughts and my nightmares. I am driven to teach her. She is the most ill-prepared for my instruction. She’s the most defiant. I see it in her eyes, in the way she walks. I’ve been watching her for weeks, and never would I have chosen her as one of my students.

But it is not always up to me. Greater powers are at play. Who am I to question? She placed herself in my life when she sought to send me back to prison. She overstepped her bounds, if she even accepts that she has any.

She will be a challenge for me, a test. God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, and as she is merely a woman, I can break her.

I cook my breakfast and eat as the sun rises, though with the dark gray clouds I can see but a faint shift from dark to less dark. I put the leftovers in a bowl.

I cross the worn kitchen linoleum and go down to the basement, as I do every morning. The female is lying in the corner of the cage, under the single wool blanket I am generous to provide.

She looks at me but shows nothing. No fear. No anger. No soul.

I have broken her.

I put the bowl in her cage and see if I am right. She doesn’t move, doesn’t crawl toward the food, though her nose twitches like a cat’s. She smells it. She wants it.

And she waits.

“You may eat,” I say.

Slowly she crawls across the hard-packed dirt basement. There is blood in the corner from her punishment last night. I had given her ointment and a clean towel-I do not want her to get an infection. I’m not inhumane.

I refill her water bowl and leave it with her food.

Her response should please me, but I am not happy. She broke far faster than the others. A trick?

I could give her to another who will appreciate my time training her to be a proper, obedient woman.

But I do not trust her. In the end, they all turn away from the Truth.

She whimpers as she eats.

I sigh. No matter. She’s going to die soon anyway. I don’t have the time to finish her training. Break them, then put them back together the way they should be.

I turn and walk back up the stairs to prepare for the next female.