Postcard killers

Chapter 116

Jacob was almost AS crumpled-looking and unshaven as he had been 155 the first time he stood outside Dessie's door.

She took a great leap into his arms, holding him t ight, tight, tight, as though she never meant to let go, kissing him hard and letting her hands roam inside his checkered flannel shirt.

"Dessie," Jacob whispered into her hair. "We're standing in the stairwel and you're not wearing any clothes."

Her towel had fal en to the floor. She kicked it into the apartment and pul ed him into the front hal way. The dirty duffel bag ended up under the telephone table, his jeans by the door, his shirt and T-shirt by the radiator.

They made it as far as the door to the living room before they col apsed to the floor. She fel into his bright blue eyes and felt him pushing inside her. The world spun and she closed her eyes, straining her head back against the wooden floor when she came.

"Jeezuz," Jacob said. "I guess that means you're happy to see me!"

"Just you wait," she said, nipping his earlobe with her teeth.

They stumbled into the bedroom. Dessie pushed him onto the bed and began to explore every inch of his body. She used her fingers, hair, and tongue, tasting and licking and caressing.

"Oh, god!" he panted. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm just happy to see you," Dessie said. "What are you doing to me?"

Then she sat astride him.

She moved gently above him, deep and intense, forcing him to calm down, slow down. It gave her a chance to catch up, and when she felt the rush coming, she let go completely. He seemed to lose several seconds when he came, but she forced him to continue for another minute or so until she came as wel.

Then she fel into his arms and passed out.