Page 40 of The Count
I dragged my teeth down her neck, bunched her shirt up over her chest, and continued my exploration to her breasts. She moaned, no longer complaining while she dug her fingers into my wet hair.
I needed to wash this night away, mentally and physically. She opened her legs and I dragged her further up the bed so I could settle between her thighs. “I’m going to fuck you. Is that ok? I just need…to…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
She cupped my cheeks and nodded quickly. In that look, I knew she understood this wasn’t about the sex. I entered her carefully and let her sheath me, hold me, comfort me.
I told myself I didn’t care about Fernand. And it was true. But I cared about the death. Another life taken because of me.
She wiggled under my weight, and I eased off enough to look down at her. With her gaze locked to mine I pumped in and out of her. Using her eyes as an anchor point I ignored the scream of my body to pound into her, take her and reach my end, until I felt her shudder around me. Only once she settled from her own orgasm did I let myself go. I came immediately, still holding her gaze. My chest heaved, my legs shook, and she held me tight to her chest. I dropped my head to her shoulder and took a deep breath. She smelled clean, beautiful, like home.
“Better?” she asked.
I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie to her while my cock remained inside her. “Not yet, but I will be once all these bastards are taken care of.”
Sixteen
Mercy
The next day I waited at the breakfast table for him but he didn’t come out. I’d spent the night wrapped around him and when the scent of coffee beckoned me from the cliffs I dragged myself out of the warm bed. I assumed he’d follow me, but I ate alone and wondered what had spooked him so much the night before.
Will’s life had been terrible and violent. I hadn’t doubted that for a second. And yet, one awful man killing himself, shook him to the core. Would he need my body for emotional support after each man he dismantled fell? Not that I minded. He wasn’t a selfish lover, unless he didn’t get his way.
I finished eating, grabbed his plate, and wavered on leaving his coffee mug or mine. With a sigh I took his, and the food to his bedroom. He sat on the far side facing away when I entered.
“Hungry? You didn’t come out, so I brought it to you. But don’t get used to this.” I handed him the plate and hesitantly the mug. It earned me a smile; it was worth it.
“Don’t worry. I couldn’t possibly grow accustomed to you being kind to me.”
I plopped onto the bed and curled back up into the still warm pillows. “What’s the plan for today? Watch and disguise, or take someone down?”
He cleared his throat, his back bowed over his plate so I couldn’t look at his face. “Today we take down our old friend Villefort. A friend told me they are about to make the arrest. It took more time since they needed to be extra certain of the charges. And I needed to make sure everyone he usually pays off got more from me to stay silent and not help.”
I traced the ridges of his spine with my index finger. He shifted and jerked forward. “Stop it.”
Instead of my fingers, I replaced the path with my lips. He didn’t pull away this time. “You’re a fearsome man. So he’ll go to jail this time and then we have one left to go.”
He froze and I pulled away thinking I’d touched a sensitive part of him.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” He put his plate on the bedside table and twisted toward me. “Fernand told me someone else was involved. Not just him, Villefort, and Danglars.”
I thought about it. I’d had very few operations with any of them outside Danglars, who’d been the family fencer for years. “I don’t know who else could have been involved. But it’s not like we were all drinking buddies or anything.”
He scanned my face and the idea he searched for lies there punched a hole in my chest. I sat up and faced him properly. “Why would I lie about this? I don’t know anyone else who could have been involved in helping them.”
When he turned away again I climbed out of the bed. Obviously, the last couple days had gone to my head. I thought we’d moved on to a different dynamic, but he remained waiting for me to do something despicable to hurt him.
I left the room and went to my own. Served me right for thinking he could be something—we could be something. I’d been acting like an idiot this whole time. Was he sitting in there thinking wow, this woman is an idiot, so starved for love she is handing herself over?
I dressed quickly, did my hair, snagged one of the “decoration” books off the shelf in the corner and lay on the bed.
He knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. “Do you want to go with me to see Villefort go down? Maybe you might notice something which will help us catch the fourth man.”
His use of the word us hit me first. He’d dress in his usual button down, jacket, tailored slacks. Something like a uniform for him. Why did I want to see him in jeans or workout clothes?
It didn’t matter. I peeled out of bed and went with him to his revenge show.
The court house was quiet. As if it too waited for lady justice to storm through the doors in a riot. We didn’t have to wait long. A troupe of police officers started congregating by the door.
Then he entered and stopped immediately. Everyone stared him down. And those looks could flay the skin off a lesser man. He nodded and walked quickly through the pack until a detective stepped out from a small room. She presented her identification and read him his rights.
