Little Belle Gone (21 page)

Feeling his body go rigid, she smiled at him. “I’m not hurt, or afraid, Matt, I’m happy. Oh, so very happy, right now. Please don’t stop.” To prove her point, she pulled his mouth back to hers as she rocked against him, causing his length to recede and enter her again. While this was her first real sexual encounter, she was no stranger to the sensation of being entered, though he was a fair amount bigger than her favorite toy. His tension waned as he began to move within her. His slow retreat and return grew more feverish and soon he was pumping into her with little hesitation and all raw need. She was on fire and desperately wanting, aching for more. She found his rhythm and rocked with him, increasing his forceful taking of her body. Her hands roved over his gloriously strong frame, studying every muscled ripple, every taunt tendon. With each thrust of his narrow hips she grew closer to another climax. Her fingernails dug into his broad shoulders as she began to whisper in his ear, little sinful things that she had always wanted to say but had never had someone worthy of hearing them. As if unable to deny her what she craved, he slammed into her, shattering her against him. The force of her climax clinching around him brought on his release and he bucked hard against her as he filled her.

Utterly spent, he fell beside her, weak and quivering. They lay, side by side, a tangled mass of limbs, bathed in moonlight, and panting raggedly. She was filled with joy as her body still pulsed with the pleasure he had given her. As his arm slid under her shoulders and pulled her against his glistening chest, he whispered something against her hair. She shuttered at what she was sure she had heard. Pressing her lips against the rapid heart beat along his neck, she demanded in a sultry, raspy voice, “Say that again.” His arms squeezed her as his breath caught, but his fingers clasped her chin and brought her face up to look at him, eye to eye. He was smiling lazily at her, flushed with satisfaction.

“I said, I love you, Elizabeth Cord. Beyond reason, I love you.” She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she plunged into his mouth, her tongue delving deeply into him as he returned her need. She pulled back and gave him the most magical, wining smile.

“I love you too, Matt. More than I ever thought possible. I think I’ve loved you since that day in the gym, when I couldn’t help but hug you.” She kissed him again, slowly and passionately. As they moved over each others mouths, she felt his manhood twitch against her, still firm and throbbing. Some primal, wickedly instinctive, part of her took over as she rolled over on top of him. His breath quickened as his hands squeezed her hips in anticipation. She clasped his length between her folds and rocked over him, watching greedily as he head pushed back into his pillow. Sliding farther forward, she felt the tip slide into her and he gasped, his body going rock hard in an instant.

She whispered heavily, “Call me Mara,” as she impaled herself. She sat back on him, straightening her finely arched spine, pressing her hands down on his firm chest for support, before she began to move her body. She had taken horse riding lessons in high school and, just now, she was finding the technique exceedingly effective. His body writhed and shuddered as he moaned the nickname she hadn’t heard in nine years. Only her parents had called her Mara, and she longed to hear it again from the mouth of someone who loved her. He didn’t disappoint and she arched over him, milking him with an expertise she should not possess. She felt his hand spread possessively over her stomach and then, as his thumb slid between them, rubbing firmly against the most tender spot on her entire body, she shattered. The orgasm was so fierce that she almost fainted, arching and twisting dramatically above him. His shot rang out in response to hers, as he filled her again. When the shock of it had settled, he pulled her down to him and wrapped her up, her dark red hair surrounding them like a blanket. In the growing night, enveloped by their shared warmth, they kissed and cuddled each other until sleep found them, twisted together and blissfully happy.

Matt woke slowly. His lids were heavy and his mind still cloudy with sleep until he felt her shift slightly beside him. Liz, his beautiful, and surprisingly aggressive, partner was sleeping in his arms, her head on his chest, her body stretched against him, and her leg draped seductively over his. The feel of her, and the memory of their night together, their confession of love, made him warm. Shifting his head slightly he caught sight of his alarm clock. 5:28 am. Still early. He could make love to her again, maybe twice, he thought wickedly, and still have time to get ready and go to work before eight. Then he had another thought. It was Friday and he usually took Saturday off, even though he hadn’t planned to with the serial killer still at large. He could call in sick, play hookie and hold her all day long. After what she had been through he was positive no one would think twice about her taking a few days to rest.

He laid there, debating the idea with himself, when he felt movement on the bed next to them. Smiling, he reach his arm over and petted the small dog. As they were drifting off to sleep, he slid from her to pull the blankets back and heard the whimper of the small beast. Bucky was too tiny, and the bed too big, for him to get up by himself. In the dark of the night, listening to the sound of Bucky’s helpless pleading, he decided that he would have to fish the small set of steps that had come with the bed out of the closet, but for now he leaned over the edge and hoisted the small beast up himself. After the dog assaulted Elizabeth to make sure she was alright, considering all the noise she had been making, the dog settled down on the empty side of the bed and passed out. Matt hadn’t let Elizabeth move even an inch from him. He had held her close, and she had been more than happy to use his chest as a pillow all night long.

Bringing his hand back, he began slowly brushing her hair over her shoulder. It was so soft and sweet smelling. The feeling of it slipping and sliding between his fingers was causing his length to harden and as the last strands slid free of her shoulder she sighed, her leg stroking over him. His breath rumbled lustfully in his chest as her hand began to move, brushing over the rippling muscles in his abdomen. He had thought her to be asleep until her descending hand brushed along his manhood, caressing him gently. “Ah, so you
are
awake, and apparently ready to play.” His raspy voice breezed through her hair as her touch strengthened.

“It’s such a nice toy.” She said, as her finger wrapped around him.

Through his gasp, he whispered, “And it’s yours, Liz.”

“Mara,” she corrected him. He could feel her uncertainty and inexperience as she hesitated around him. He reached under the covers and held her hand, guiding her motions. She seemed to revel in the intimacy of the lesson, sighing and kissing his chest as she stroked him. Once she had seemed to get the hang of it, he left her and moved his hand back to stoke along the length of her silky body.

Utterly content, and putty in her hands, he sighed, “Mara. Short for Marabella, I take it?” A shiver moved through him. She was a quick learner and the confidence his brief lesson had given her had led to experimentation.

“Mm-hmm, I went by Elizabeth at school and at church, but my parents called me Mara. I want you to call me Mara, too, but only when we are like this, if that’s okay.” She ran her fingers firmly around the head and his body tensed with pleasure. She giggled a little and did it again.

“All right, in that case, Mara, darling, would you do me a favor?” She smiled against him, stroking his full length.

“Yes, Detective Barrow?” He moaned slightly as she teased him.

“Ride me again.” As soon as he said the words she flung herself up, shuffling their bodies free of the covers, straddling his hips and sliding down over him. As she began to move he ran his hands freely over every exquisite inch of her ivory body, feeding off her sighs of pleasure at his touch. Appreciating the way her hips undulated gracefully, he mused, “Where did you learn to move like that?” He grunted gruffly as she popped her hips back, just to tease him.

“I was a member of an equestrian club in the Hamptons. Who would have guessed that learning western riding style would come in so handy.” Talking casually to her like this as they made love drove him crazy. The way her breath was heavy and labored, the seductive rasp in her voice, the sultry tone of her accent curling around her words, all culminated in him wanting it to last forever, but that was impossible. The rhythmic swirling, rocking, of her hips signaled his inevitable release.

Elizabeth must love seeing me flop with pleasure,
he thought wistfully, as she moved. Each twist and flick of her hips caused an involuntary jerk to drive him deeper into his mattress. She place her hand on his over her breast and squeezed it tight. Easing his hand lower, she pressed it against her abdomen. Remembering the sinful way he had brought her to climax last night, he realized what she wanted as he slid his thumb into her. She moaned with the pleasure of it. “Just like that, Matt, just like that...” His touch grew firmer, thrilled at how open and honest she was being with her desire. As she rode him, he massaged her and they flowed together down a river of passion, climaxing simultaneously when it was more than they could take.

She fell against him, finding his mouth and purring contentedly. For the first time in his life he felt whole, complete, and perfectly at peace. For years he had thrown himself into his work, desperately trying to find the feeling of fulfillment that had always eluded him. Graduating top in his class from high school, receiving honors in the military, and impressing his instructors in the academy had not given him what he longed for. Neither had a short string of disappointing relationships. Solving murders had been the closest thing he had found to happiness, until now. Feeling her trust and love had done what all his other endeavors had failed to do. His mind cleared, the fog of his unrequited need for her thoroughly dissolved in the face of last night’s victory.

He sighed as the growing sunrise washed the room in pale orange light. From where he was propped up against the headboard he could see the light creeping over her body as she lay on her back next to him. She was humming softly and playing with Bucky. As he watcher her elbows brush over her breasts each time she wrestled with him, he remembered his ‘twice’ idea from earlier. The thought made him snicker. The sound interested her enough to cause her to roll over and look up at him, inquisitively. As her hair slipped across her back and fell over her shoulder, six thin white scars glistened along her spine. He had known they were there, she had, after all, told him about the attack, but seeing them was still a bit of a shock. Before he thought the motion all the way through, he ran his hand over her back, tracing one of the scars with his finger. He hadn’t intended to upset her but he knew instantly that he had.

The feeling of his fingers on her scar shook her calm loose and a self-conscious panic washed through her. She had forgotten about them, gotten too comfortable in his arms and had let her guard slip. She knew he knew they were there. She knew that they were small and faint, her pale ivory skin proving a masterful camouflage, but they were proof that she was a victim, evidence of the violation she had endured. She sat up quickly, pulling herself out from under his touch. The loss of his warmth was acute, but she couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing them. She slid to the end of the bed, wanting to find something to cover herself with, wanting to hide those tiny, little white lines, but he caught her. His fingers wrapped firmly around her wrist and held her in place. “Elizabeth, what’s wrong?” His tone was determined. He knew that she was fleeing his bed because he had touched her shame, what he wanted was her reasoning. She couldn’t look at him, instead she intentionally brushed her hair back over her shoulder so that it would completely cover her back and hung her head.

“I just don’t want...I can’t handle...you shouldn’t see them. I hate them. They’re so ugly.” She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, not in front of him, not again.

“Elizabeth, look at me.” His voice was soft and strong, but she couldn’t do it. “Elizabeth Cord, you have never run from anything, please don’t run from me...” The idea that she was hurting him made her sigh and turn back toward his voice. She still couldn’t look him in the eyes, but she couldn’t stand the thought of running from him either. “I think they are beautiful.” Her face pinched in horror and she snapped to face him, intent on arguing against that statement with everything she had, but the second she saw the love and sincerity in his eyes, she gave up the fight before it started.

Her voice turned weak, “How can you possibly see them as anything but hideous?” The sad smile he gave her washed over her and swept her into his arms like a tidal wave. He pulled her in tight and she whispered against his chest, “I can’t stand them, Matt. They remind me of that day, of all I lost, of all I endured...
I hate them
.” The tears came now. She never used to cry. She had always prided herself on her stone resolve and her fierce nature, but in the past few days it seemed all she could do was sob like a ninny. Her face pressed against his strong, warm chest, against his powerful heart beat, she wept.

“They are beautiful because they are part of you. Part of who you are. Yes, they remind you of what happened, but they should also remind you that you survived, you overcame. Those marks are your battle scars, and every warrior worth their salt has battle scars. And you are a warrior, my sweet Mara, my warrior goddess. Those scars, to me, represent your strength, your power. Because of those scars you turned your mind and body into weapons. Put yourself in the victim’s place so that there would be no more victims. You are the most selfless, and honorable person I have ever met, and those scars prove it. Wear them with pride, because you have every right to be proud of them, what they mean, and what they have made you to be.” Listening to him, his warm tone, his calm heartbeat, she found her self over come with gratitude. He saw more in her than she even saw in herself and her love for him magnified a thousand times. In that moment nothing existed past him. Sitting up straight, she smiled slightly at him. Leaning in, she placed a simple kiss on his lips before turning her back to him. Her hands were still shaking as she raked her hair away from her spine. He loved her, and she knew it. She had nothing left to hide, to be afraid or ashamed of.