DISCLAIMER: This is the last chapter and it is rated NC17.
CHAPTER 18
WPOV
It had been twenty days.
Twenty fucking excruciatingly long days.
I wasn’t counting, I didn’t need to. That bastard reporter on the radio, Daniel Osbourne, made a point of keeping track of it for me, just like he was doing right now as he described where she had gone for lunch today and what time she’d left her office downtown. I could have turned off the Victrola, but that was like convincing a raging alcoholic to dump his 100 year old scotch down the drain. To make matters worse, the New York Times had her picture plastered all over the front page for the last fifteen days, using her beauty to sell papers, and break my fucking heart some more.
Twenty days had forced me to face facts, and the fact was; I had it bad. Worse than I’d ever thought was possible, and way fucking worse than I ever wanted to admit.
There were other reminders of her lying around my apartment too. Donald’s freshly dry cleaned tux hung from the silk screen, a black and white memento of the Gala, and the dancing … and how she’d had her complete fucking way with me. Two checks for my detective services sat propped up against the base of the lamp on my desk, her handwriting staring at me. I just couldn’t bring myself to cash them. I almost wished she hadn’t hired me at all. Maybe not knowing the truth would have been better for her, and not meeting her at all might have been better for me.
Maybe you should cash ‘em, Rosenberg. Move to Chicago like you wanted. Get the hell out of New York City.
I sat at my desk in my black slacks and button down, my white shirt open and un-tucked with the sleeves rolled up, and put out the cigarette I’d forgotten I was smoking. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the half open blinds, slicing the smoke from my cigarette into slowly swirling patterns. Today’s edition of the Times was lying before me and her eyes, so dull and lifeless in grey newsprint, bore into mine. Daniel finally gave it a rest and played some music but I groaned when I recognized the song, “Honeysuckle Rose.” That damn song may as well have been written for Tare; and it certainly wouldn’t help me stop thinking about her. Just as I was about to stand and turn off the radio, I heard a firm knock at the door.
“Door’s open,” I called out gruffly, and the door slowly swung into the room, led by a little hand with fuck-me-red fingernails.
And there she was.
My proverbial rose. Tara-Rose herself.
“Hello, Willow,” she murmured as she let herself in, took off her coat and locked the door behind her. She was wearing another one of her flirty fucking dresses, seductively black and tight with little gathers and buttons along the hip. A low cut v-neck revealed her creamy neck and chest, perfectly offset by a strand of shimmering white pearls encircling her throat. My eyes narrowed. Too powerful for her own good.
“We never really got a chance to talk after the night of the Gala,” she said.
“No, we didn’t. You seemed a bit preoccupied the following morning, and then there was…” I trailed off, waving my hand between us awkwardly, “everything else. I thought you wanted to be left alone.”
“I appreciate the sentiment but I’ve been alone for too long. I’m done pussyfooting aro-“ I smirked uncontrollably at hearing the word pussy cross her perfect lips. She slapped me playfully, chiding me softly, before continuing. “… I’m done tiptoeing around this. I know the case is over, but I’m not ready to give you up. I was hoping that maybe…”
My anxiety over the last twenty days evaporated as she smiled timidly at me. You can bet your ass I was scared, but I’d already risked it all and it was too late to go back. I reached up and caught the hand that had just slapped my shoulder, ignoring the slight sting emanating from my healing wound, and leaned back in my chair, pulling her down onto my lap.
“I already told you Tare, I’m not letting you go,” I murmured near her ear and her face lit up with a relieved smile. “How’s everything at the estate? Have they been taking care of you? Given you everything that you need?” I asked.
“Not everything….” She replied, and it was my turn to smile like a moron. She looked over my desk and saw her un-cashed checks and snatched one up, the other falling from the desk to the floor.
“You didn’t cash them?” she asked and rested her head on my shoulder. Her rose perfume enveloped me; I’d missed that so fucking much.
“No and I probably won’t,” I said honestly and played with her hair.
“You should cash them. Deposit the payments. Something. I brought the rest with me, cash this time.”
“Keep it.”
“No, I don’t think I can do that, Willow. You figured it out, solved the case. Even though it wasn’t something I wanted to hear, it was something that I needed to hear,” she insisted, which I ignored while I pulled her closer.
“I missed you, Willow,” she confessed in a whisper a moment later. Her words, simply as they were, sent my heart a flutter.
“It was getting harder to stay away,” I confessed in return and brought my nose against her throat to breathe in her perfume then moved my mouth to hers, kissing her softly. I felt her soften against me and I smiled, thrilled that I had that effect on her. She ran her hand through my hair and plucked out the cigarette I’d forgotten I had placed behind my ear, tossing it on the desk. The radio changed songs, and my favorite Jimmie Davis ballad, “You Are My Sunshine,” filled the apartment. The song’s blue, longing melancholy amplified our own want, if that was fucking possible. I stopped kissing her and whispered against her lips, “Dance with me, Tara?”
She didn’t speak, she just nodded her forehead against mine; her eyes still shut from the kiss. She took a deep breath and stood, trailing her hand from my right shoulder, down my arm and to my hand. I caught her hand and stood, then brought her hand to my lips, kissing the top of it softly. She smiled over her shoulder, her eyes downcast as she turned to face me. Her gaze floated slowly up my frame, lingering for a moment on my jaw before her hooded eyes met mine.
The feeling’s mutual, Tare.I stepped into her, drawing her to me and resting my cheek against hers as I started to slowly sway us in rhythm with the music. Her rose perfume permeated the air, and I drank her in like the fucking raging alcoholic with his coveted scotch.
So much better than bourbon.We held on to each other tightly as we slowly danced around my tiny one room apartment, and she seemed to melt into me as much as I lost myself in her. “Mmmm, Willow,” I heard her whisper into my ear. I pulled my face away to look at her. I brought her to a stop and plucked my handkerchief from my pocket. Carefully, gently, I wiped all her red lipstick away. When I could see the pure pink of her soft lips, I tossed the handkerchief on the desk.
There’s MY Tara.I took her face in both my hands, my fingertips dancing across her delicate cheekbones as if they were made of the finest porcelain, and brought my mouth to hers. Her lips molded themselves to mine in absolute breathless fucking perfection, and I kissed them both, tracing the outline of each with the tip of my tongue. Her head tilted back more, her body softening in my hands. I kept one hand on her cheek, the other I slid down her neck, across her chest down to her waist and then around, pulling her as close to me as possible. I brought my cheek back to hers and resumed the dance steps.
“Willow, how is this going to work? I don’t know how much of myself I can give you right now,” she said with quiet regret.
“I don’t know how much I can give you either, Tare. What do you say we just see how it all plays out?” I said and squeezed her to me, not willing to think about the fucking future just then.
“Willow…I-“ she began but I cut her short.
“Why don’t we stop talking, Tara-Rose?” I asked, throwing her words from the night of the Gala back at her. She smirked and began to argue but I silenced her with a finger on her lips. “Still so fucking demanding.” I said teasingly. Her eyes flashed but I didn’t give her a chance to say anymore. I hardly gave her a chance to take a breath as I attempted to kiss all coherent thoughts straight out of her pretty little head.
She didn’t argue with me anymore as her hands moved to my hair and pulled. Goddamn I loved that. We kept swaying, but no longer in time with the music; no longer able to pay attention to anything beyond each other. I kissed her slowly, reverently, as I spun her around a few times and led her back to the desk. I leaned back against it, then brought my right hand up and ran it up the back of her neck and through her hair. My left hand reached for her right knee and the hem of her dress. I fondled the fabric teasingly before hitching the hem up, and brought her right knee up to rest on top of the desk. I felt her heat radiating off of her, lapping teasingly at me as she ground her hips against me.
My knees went instantly weak. I trailed my hand from her hip, slowly down her thigh, stopping briefly to playfully snap the elastic strap of her garter, down over her stocking covered knee and ankle. My hand came to rest on the heel of her shoe, encircling it with my thumb and finger. I smiled against her lips and gave her heel a swift jerk, forcing her pelvis closer to my overheating, wanton core. She hissed in shocked pleasure, evidenced by the sinful smirk that danced across her lips as her head fell slowly back. I released her shoe and she slowly slid her foot back to the floor, shifting her position so that her legs were between my spread ones; her hips brushing against the inside of my thighs. Her hands slid with assured purpose to my waist and the bright silver buckle of my belt. She kissed me deeply, her tongue tickling the roof of my mouth before catching my lower lip in her teeth and grazing it carefully as she pulled away.
That’s my little vixen.Her fingers worked furiously to unfasten my belt buckle. With a tug, she cinched it together, giving her enough slack to unlatch the buckle. She pulled the belt from its confining loops slowly, and once freed, swung it around my back, catching it in her other hand and pulling me to her with a fierce jerk. Her eyes went to my jaw that clenched as I grunted, and she bit her lip in delicious anticipation.
She dropped the belt onto the desk with a thud.
She unbuttoned my pants.
She slid down my zipper.
She pulled up my rolling chair and made herself perfectly comfortable before pulling my pants off my hips. Her eager hand found the opening of my boxers and I growled when I felt her hot little fingers palm my mound, before pulling them down and freeing me from the confining cotton.
Then she did something I didn’t really expect her to do, but had been secretly wanting her to. She tentatively sneaked her tongue out between her lips, touching the tip to my throbbing clitoris before plunging lower.
“Fuck Tara-Rose…” I watched her greedily, while my brow furrowed in tortured expectation.
My fingers dug into the wooden edge of my desk, and on the next pass up, she dragged her teeth gently across my clit.
“Tara….” I murmured again, my desire to have her growing uncontrollably by the second, egged on by each torturous, quickening pass of her mouth. Back and forth, with the tongue maneuvers and the suction and the fucking teeth. After a few passes she started moaning softly, making me vibrate in her mouth, and that was it. All it took. My eyes rolled back as tremors racked my body; my mind consumed by the singular thought of having her. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.
I pulled her up off of me and on to her feet as I kissed her so hard I felt her knees give out on her. I crushed her to me, wrapping both my arms around her waist while her arms snaked around my neck. I lifted her off the floor and walked us to the wall next to where the Murphy bed was hidden. I gently pushed her into the wall, using her to release the latch that held the bed in place, and then spun us around once to make way for the bed which fell gently to the floor. As I pressed her into the wall I began on the buttons that held her dress to her perfect, trembling body. I stared into her sapphire eyes and with one hand, unfastened each of the buttons on her hips, then began unfastening the ones at her shoulder. The other hand moved to her cheek then through her silky golden curls. She brought one finger to my throbbing jugular and traced it slowly from the bottom of my ear to my
clavicle. I kissed her again as I slid her dress off her shoulders and to the floor. She stepped out of it and kicked it behind her with a sexy flick of her high heeled foot.
Once again, she took my fucking breath away. She stood before me, her white pearls shimmering in the light of the setting sun, her perfect tits crammed gloriously into a black lace bustier. Her panties matched the bustier, and of course she had a black lace garter belt, holding up my favorite, black Cuban heeled stockings with the seam all the way up the back, which were very hard to come by right now. I began to wonder if she’d ever not take my breath away and immediately realized the idiocy of such a stupid fucking question.
Of course she’d always have that effect on me, she’s Tara.
“So beautiful,” I whispered against her lips, cupping her face in my hands before releasing her to turn her back to me. I let my fingers dance along her back before unfastening all the little hooks of her bustier. I pulled it away from her, freeing her perfect breasts, and dropped it to the floor. She brought her hands over her head and up the back of my neck, tangling her fingers in my hair. My hands moved down, over the high curve of her ass, and unsnapped the two garter straps in the back, before reaching around and unsnapping the two in the front. I buried my mouth in her neck, nibbling softly as I trailed my hands from her inner thighs slowly up and lightly over her clit through the silk of her panties. She shivered in response and hissed as I unfastened the hooks that held the garter belt around her waist. The garter belt fell away from her, and my eager hands slipped up the front of her torso to cup her full, perfectly round tits and roll her nipples between my fingers. She whimpered and ground her backside into me, back and forth, in impatient little arcs.
Moving my hands up to her shoulders, I turned her around so that she was facing me. For a minute, I got lost in the trust and want I saw in her gaze and it went straight to my fucking gut. She slid her hands under my shirt and slipped it off my arms. At the sight of my gunshot wound, she gently fingered the nearly healed hole, a crestfallen expression taking over her features. I smile at her reassuringly, telling her softly that I was okay. She shifted her gaze away from my arm to my eyes, her own beseeching for me to reassure her that I wasn’t lying. Leaning forward, I gently capture her lips, projecting through the kiss that I wasn’t hurt. Pulling out of the kiss, she plucked the hem of my undershirt and I raised my arms for her as she pulled it up and over my head.
I coaxed her onto the bed, and she reclined back willingly, expectantly, as I climbed in beside her and propped myself up on my left elbow. I leaned over her and devoured her mouth some more, worshiping her with my tongue, exploring her exquisite body with my hand. My right hand moved down her side in random little patterns and then grazed her hip, which made her shiver adorably, before reaching down and pulling her stocking down to her ankle. On the way back up, my hand caught her other ankle, still encased in silk. I lazily dragged my fingertips up the inside of her calf and knee, teasing her as they memorized the curve of her inner thigh. My slender fingers traced the silky hem of the stocking before pulling it down to match its counterpart. All that remained were her black lace panties and stilettos.
My hand went to her face, my fingertips caressing her cheek adoringly. Her little hands pulled my face closer to her, demanding my fucking everything, and I was all too willing to give it to her. My right hand wandered down her body; over her luscious tits and sculpted stomach to play with the lacy elastic of her panties. She lifted her hips off the bed just enough for me to slowly pull them down and off of her magnificent body.
Finally, there were no more barriers, no more masks, no more pretenses, and no more fucking questions between us.
I sat up to kneel before her. She spread her legs, resting her heel clad foot on each side of my hips as her tongue darted out and licked her lips in anticipation. I lowered myself to her and plunged my nose into her neck again, drowning myself in her roses in the same instant that I plunged two fingers into her. She gasped as her arms wrapped around me and I could feel her fuck-me-red fingernails digging into my back. I buried myself deeper in her, spent a moment relishing her seemingly endless depth. She felt so incredibly perfect, molded to me, tailored to me, destined for me.
I withdrew my fingers slowly, holding myself above her on a bent elbow, my mouth insistent upon hers, before taking her again. She turned her head away to gasp “Willooooow,” and her hands fell to the bed where they clutched desperately at the pale blue cotton sheet. I ran my nose along her neck, over the creamy white pearls of the necklace she still wore, and set a pace with my hips that had my Tare wiggling in tortured ecstasy beneath me in mere moments.
So fucking beautiful.
I couldn’t stop watching her, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her flushed face, dewy with sweat and smiling in rapture. My pace against her thigh quickened as I thrusted my hand into her faster, my own need fed by her enjoyment of what I was doing to her. She surprised me then, her left hand reaching down to play with my vagina before entering me swiftly with two slender fingers.
“Mmmmm, baby doll,” I whispered huskily into her ear, relishing the feel of her inside of me. She wrapped her left leg around my waist, the heel of her shoe digging into my lower back, and both of us hissed in pleasurable pain at the sensation her shift inspired. I brought my forehead to hers, and my trusts grew more impatient against her hand, more demanding as I tried to pull her in deeper. I could tell she was close.
Not going too slow now am I, doll?I plunged into her faster, my pelvis bone hitting hers, she arched her back and I snaked my arm under her. I pulled her hips to me on my next thrust. I felt her clench around me as she cried out a low, sexy, “fuuuuck” while her nails raked painfully across my back before moving up to my head and grabbing a fistful of my damp hair; pulling tightly and pushing me over the edge a second after her. I tried to bury myself as deeply in her as possible while I pressed my trembling lips to her mouth, and poured my everything into her.
I collapsed on top of her, spent and disgustingly sweaty. She sighed contentedly, a pleased, satisfied little smile on her face that I couldn’t wait to inspire more often, and I counted myself the luckiest son of a bitch in New York City.
I started to push off the bed to reluctantly pull myself off of her. Her leg was still wrapped around me and she used it to squeeze me tighter to her body. “No, stay a moment … please?” she said and lifted her head to plant a kiss on my heart. I put my elbow next to her head and lowered myself back down. We kissed languidly for a few minutes and the scent of roses and cigarettes and sex was thick in the air. The light had started to fade, it was almost twilight now, and instead of the sunlight filtering through the blinds in soft orange slits, now the pale, rising moon bathed the room in a dreamy blue. My Tara looked gorgeous in the moonlight, the shimmering opalescence of her pearl necklace, the only thing she still wore along with the heels, perfectly complimenting the luminosity of her flawless face. I kissed the tip of her nose, and then reluctantly pulled off of her to stand; she let me go this time.
Standing at the base of the bed, I leaned over, lightly grabbing her ankle and gliding a single finger over the smooth texture of her high heels. With a smirk, I recalled what those heels had just done and was fairly certain I had a crescent moon shaped bruise forming on my lower back. Flicking the delicate buckle, I loosened the strap fastening the heel to her foot and gently tugged it off followed by her stocking, carelessly dropping them to the floor as I grabbed her other foot, mimicking the action over again.
Once deprived of her shoes, I walked over to my desk, picking up my pack of Lucky’s, my lighter and the ashtray before walking back toward my lover. I got back in bed next to Tara and lit up a smoke. She took it from my lips and puffed away a couple of times before handling it back to me. She rested her head on my shoulder, watching my glistening chest move as I inhaled.
“I’m hungry,” she said as she drew lazy circles on the flesh between my breasts.
“Sex does that to you,” I acknowledged sarcastically and winked at her.
She slapped my shoulder again, “Willow, seriously,” she scolded.
“Well what do you want?” I asked.
“What do you like to eat?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.
I cast a leisurely glance down her body, taking in the soft tuff of blonde curls at the apex of her pelvis, one single thought running through my mind of what I’d like to eat. She must have sensed my wayward thoughts as she nudged my ribs playfully.
One track mind is right. “Chinese is my favorite,” I admitted and watched with amusement when her face wrinkled in a worried frown.
“I don’t have much experience with Chinese food … can I share whatever you get?” she asked.
I pulled her face to mine and kissed her like the angel she was. I took a deep breath, breathing in my Tara, and whispered against her lips, “Sure baby doll, what’s mine is yours.”
THE END
That's it for this story, I hope everyone enjoyed it.