E AND ME, we were just a regular couple, crossing a diner’s parking lot in the sunshine. Going for breakfast in a fifties-style diner on a bright morning. A guy and his gal. Or maybe ‘Moll’ in my case. He held the door for me and I leaned close.
“Am I a Moll?”
“You’re a doll,” he said. I thought it was funny. His hand on my back as we walked in made me feel the way movie stars feel. Tall. Glamorous. Desirable.
My heels and his brogues made smart clicks across the black and white tiles. He picked a white table in the center, back from the big picture windows, and he waited for me to sit on the red leatherette seat.
The waitress, Sassie, poured coffee into mugs and ice water in plastic glasses. A smile snuck between her rosy cheeks as she looked from one of us to the other. She wrote our order on a paper pad with a ball-point that she pulled from behind her ear.
“If you need anything, just shout,” she spoke to us both. But it wasn’t me that her ass flicked for. It wasn’t much and she probably couldn’t help it. I guessed that was the kind of thing that made women jealous.
I wanted to know so much about him. Right now though, sitting across the table from him with both of us keeping straight faces was enough to make electric currents hum from my core to my limbs. Breakfast in the sunlight would be a perfect start.
The experience that was etched into his face made me worry. My life had been quiet. Sheltered even. I hadn’t traveled, I had no experience of the world outside of this state. This county held practically all of my memories. All except those I had read. For me they were the most real and the most important.
Books and stories were where I went as a child to get away. I escaped from the things in what the adults called the ‘real world.’ I knew then that if that was reality, they could keep it. If I had to live in it, I would at least need a way to vacation away and books were my way from then on.
But the difference in our life experience seemed like a gulf. I said, “There’s a lot of things I’ve never done.”
His eyebrow lifted and I knew we were thinking about the same thing. Looking like a nice, respectable couple, sitting across a diner table for breakfast, he was thinking about gripping me by my hair. He was imagining putting his hands inside my panties.
Kissing my neck and sucking on my breasts. I knew that was what he was thinking about. Because it was what I was thinking about. My stomach fell through the floor. My eyes popped open.
I imagined what was inside his pants. How was it now? I wanted to look under the table and see. I felt it. In the library. Even before then, in the hot darkness outside Beary’s office I felt the heat of it. And the length. I couldn’t get that out of my head that night. Then, in the library, I felt its hardness. The pulsing girth. And I shouldn’t be thinking about that now. Quickly I put my hands on top of the chrome-rimmed table.
The glint in his eye would have cut glass. I know he was thinking about getting my clothes off. Peeling my hot, quivering flesh free. Slipping the straps of my bra down over my shoulders. Like I was thinking about his belt buckle. I wanted to be the kind of gal who would unbutton his shirt slowly. One pop at a time. Look up in his eye and pout my wet lips. Run my hand over his bulge.
As I began to wonder about the taste of his cock I had to hold down a giggle.
His eyes moved to the window and narrowed. I followed his gaze. Pulling slowly into the lot outside, a blue sedan slipped in to park near the road. It looked like one of the cars from outside the library. He waited. He let his breath out slow with a muttered Motherfucker. It was only then that I realized I’d been holding my own breath.
We watched without turning our heads too much. We were thinking as one. His attention was like a hunter’s. Like a top predator, still. Waiting. Ready.
A man rose out of the open car door. Tall, in a long black coat. The brim of a dark hat hid his face. He crossed the lot and went up the steps to the door behind me. I didn’t want to look around.
My man had it under control. I had no doubt. The long figure moved straight to our table. The room went quiet. Under the broad hat, his face was covered in a white knitted mask with holes for his eyes. He looked at both of us. He had a gun.
From sitting, my hero snapped his fist into the intruder’s throat, leaped up to seize his shoulders from behind with both hands and kicked him in the backs of his knees. When he shoved the man’s shoulders down, hard, a sickening crack sounded when the chrome edge of the table met the man’s jaw.
My assassin took the man’s gun and hit him hard across the back of the skull. Lying sprawled under the table he looked like a scarecrow blown down in a high wind in his long black coat and white mask. Reaching down for the unconscious scarecrow’s wallet and keys, my hero calmly pocketed them.
“I’m sorry we won’t be able to stay to finish our lunch, Sassie,” he called over, “Sorry about the mess.” He left some bills on the table.
The congregation of customers in the little diner circled around our table to gawp at the gaunt figure slumped underneath it. Sassie looked up at us. “He only brought a gun.” She shook her head. “Fool didn’t stand a chance.”
~~
We crossed the lot to my car in a hurry. Without thinking I’d already opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. The other blue sedan pulled in and slid leisurely next to the first. My hero got smartly into the passenger seat.
“Drive off,” he told me, “don’t rush. Head back on the road, straight ahead the way we were going.”
“Shouldn’t you drive?”
He nearly missed a beat. I almost thought that I heard him not saying, Not now. It’s too late. He told me, “You’re going to do fine,” but he sounded like he really meant it.
My tires crunched from the lot onto the highway as the blue sedan’s door swung open and a man lifted himself out. Leaning on the top of the open door, he turned to watch us. He was dressed the same as the man we left on the floor inside.
“Be firm with the gas, no need to jerk or stab it. Same with braking. Hard but smooth. Hold the wheel and guide it. Don’t jab.”
I would be his puppet. His avatar. He would guide me and I would guide the car. Inside I jangled. My heart thumped. I just drove. He watched the mirror and turned to lean over the seat and watch behind us.
He told me, “He’s going to the diner. Running now. I expect he’ll be back and after us pretty fast.”
I said, “The road’s pretty straight. He’ll see us for a long way.”
“Not over that ridge ahead he won’t. There’s at least a few hundred yards of road you can’t see from behind. We’re going to do something there, okay?” I nodded. He trusted me. I wasn’t sure that I trusted myself, but I felt safe in his hands. “Speed up now,” he turned to look back over the seat.
“Is he following us?”
“He’s pulling out onto the road.” I looked in the mirror but all I could see was judder. He said, “He’s a good long way behind, but he’ll be a whole lot faster.” His voice was calm. He was firm and precise as he instructed me. “Give it the gas. Take the car as fast as it will go and keep straight along the middle of the lane.”
He turned to look ahead through the windshield, then at me. “When you get over that ridge, not a moment before, you’re going to put on the brakes hard, okay? Not until you’re clear of the top and the brake lights are out of his sight.” My heart pounded. The blood sang through my veins so my arms and my legs trembled. I moistened my lips. I’d never even driven this speed before and he was going to have me do stunt driving. Still, only our lives were at stake.
We were almost at the ridge. “You’re not going to stop. You’ll pull to the right and then swing all the way left, across the divide and onto the other side of the road. Gun the engine from when you’re about half way through the turn. We’ll be heading back this way.” I nodded. “Flat out.”
“If we’re lucky, he won’t even see us. He’ll be looking ahead too hard. Worst case, we’ll have put a good chunk of road between him and us.”
He took out the gun and pulled back on the slide.
I saw the ridge in the mirror and I braked. The tires squealed and my heart was in my mouth but I did what he said.
As the car slowed I steered right to give us room to turn, then I pulled the wheel around. The vehicle leaned and in the middle of the turn I pushed down firmly on the gas. When the tires kicked over the verge, all four wheels left the ground. Hitting the asphalt they smoked and skidded sideways. The bottom of the car banged on the road. My foot drove the gas pedal down the rest of the way.
With a lurch we shot forward. We crested the ridge going back. The wheels left the ground again. The blue sedan shot over the ridge the other way at the same time. The driver turned his head as we passed. He wore a white mask, just like his unconscious partner.
Way ahead, a black and white was turning into the diner’s parking lot. “Turn off.” A small turning was coming up and I nodded. I already had the same idea.
He was looking behind us. I veered off and swung onto the little rural road. He twisted in his seat, watching the highway we’d left. The narrow road twisted. I thought that would help. It meant he wasn’t able to see whether the blue car followed us, though.
He looked out the rear window, straining over the seatback. “I think I saw him go by on the highway, but I can’t be sure.”
I said, “So we act as though he’s still behind us?”
“Until we can be sure that he’s not.”
I saw a small turn coming up. Practically a dirt track. “Should we take that?” I asked him.
“Good thinking. But not this one. If you see another one, take it.”
I didn’t ask him why not this one. He knew what he was doing. He told me, anyway. “He might see the first turning and think about taking it. You did, and so did I. With luck, the second would be too random and he’d be too anxious about losing us to risk it.”
“Until he was on the way back.”
He turned to look at me. “You really are good at this. I fucking knew it.”
Another turn came up on the right. It was winding, narrow and closely lined on both sides by thick woods. He was looking back so I told him about it. He glanced round and said, “It’s perfect. Take it slow, though.”
I nodded. “Dust, right?”
“You’re ahead of me again.”
“I’m with you,” I told him. “Buster.” I made the turn and slowed down. His faith and trust was more than I had in myself. And that was what gave me the confidence. I never would have made that huge turn, or even thought of it. He gave me strength, courage, and inspiration.
I said, “One thing about driving slow along here.”
He said, “I get to look at you a lot more.”
I slid a glance and a smile at him. “If he’s behind us, we’re going to know it pretty soon.”
“He’s not behind us.”
“You’re sure?”
“No. But I’m sure. You know?”
I nodded. “We still act like he is?”
“Just in case.” Then, “Take that little turn to the left.”
I said, “It’s practically a dirt road.”
“Yeah. I’ve a hunch about it.”
“You follow hunches?”
“Only when it really matters.”
~~
The tiny track wound upward through a wood. Sunlight flickered and sparkled through the leaves of the trees and the damp smell of tree roots and undergrowth seeped in. The track was bumpy. My little Saturn wasn’t built for driving off road and I wondered if it would get stranded. The car coped, though.
The path rose and took a turn. The light changed as the woods thinned around us. I had a sense of something coming. We reached a ridge. In front of us, through a clearing, a deep valley opened up. On the far side, across a mist green, gray, and blue mountains sloped up. The track turned past a bluff that made an overlook.
I asked him, “Was this your hunch?”
A spark in his eye electrified me. “Something like this. Yup.”
Around a curve, a short way past the bluff, he pointed to a space in the foliage
“Park the car in there.” It was dark, covered, and mostly out of sight behind bushes.
He led me and we walked, hand in hand, back to the bluff. The arch of the clearing framed the deep, wide valley beyond. Underfoot, a bed of green was ringed with cornflowers.
He kept the gun in his hand.
“The way that track twisted,” he said, “If he comes up this way, we’ll see him from all the way down there.”
I said, “It depends what we’re doing, doesn’t it?”
I stood close to him. Near enough to feel his heartbeat. I looked up at him.
I asked him, “Do you know who these men are that are following us?”
His head shook and his lips tightened. “No. Their plates were DC, though, and that’s where I’m headed next.”
“The man on the phone,” I wondered if I should ask him. Whether I should stay away from the subject of his work altogether. “Is he your,” and then I wasn’t even sure what word to use, “client?”
He nodded. He took my hand. Looked in my eyes as he kissed my fingers.
“Do you think we will be safe here?” As soon as I asked it I thought it was a dumb question.
He touched my waist to pull me nearer. My heart skipped and I felt light-headed. His voice was soft, gentle, but serious. “If you stay with me, you won’t ever be safe. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“Being with you,” I said, “That’s what I want. If you still mean what you said, I know that you’ll protect me from whatever comes at us.”
His lips brushed my fingers. “It’s time.”
I looked around. There was no one near. We couldn’t be seen from the valley. Especially not if we were a few feet in from the edge. Still, I wondered, could he really mean what I thought he meant?
“Here?” I stared into the dark pools of his eyes, “Now?” He nodded. Solemn. Serious. Holding my hand, his fingers lifting my palm, he said, “Killian Doyle,” and with his head he made a little bow. “Completely at your service.”
My breath caught. This hard man was so graceful with me. He looked at me with an intensity that stirred a heat low down in my core. His manners made me want to return the formality with a curtsey but my knees shuddered. I feared they would weaken and buckle.
Instead I took a breath in and told him, “I’m glad to know you, Mr. Killian Doyle. I am Clara Pearmaine.”
His eyes glowed. “Clara is a beautiful name.”
There was a moment. I was sure we were both thinking about the same thing. We were alone up here. And out of sight. It was a beautiful place. Birds sang and the air was soft and clear.
It had to be a bad decision. We could be interrupted at any moment. That would be terrible. We should wait.
I stepped closer as I said, “I thought that you were talking about something else then,” his eyes lowered, “not just us giving each other our names.”
He sighed. The breath was deep and long. “This would be the most beautiful place. He held my hand tenderly. “The setting is pretty damned perfect.” His eyebrow tensed as he looked across the valley and back down to my face. “It’s just beautiful here. Almost lovely enough to do justice to you.”
“It’s bad timing though, isn’t it.” The isn’t it part was a silly idea. It was childish of me and prickles of embarrassment heated my cheeks and my chest. As if there would be some way, some magical way he might say, Why, no. No, it will be fine.
Like he could lay me gently in the grass and among the wild flowers. Unfold my clothes from me, peel me open and spread me bare. Stroke and soothe and hold my heaving, trembling chest. Take and guide my mound and my yearning folds. Then lay his body on mine and rise. Up. Hard and irresistibly strong, all the way into me.
Like we could wrap ourselves so completely, so tight that we would be a cocoon so strong the world couldn’t reach us. Like we could split this moment off for ourselves and take it out of time. Carve it off and make it our own. A precious thing we had together.
The hot pulse along the length of his rigid swelling was almost as close as I had been to a live cock. And the few that I had seen were not a fraction of the size of his. They seemed terrifying enough. This thing felt like it would tear me apart. Split me open and spill me out.
I wanted it. I was desperate for the intimacy. For his complete embrace. For us to be wrapped in each other. For the pierce of his penetration, for his rock hard rod to enter me. Spear and skewer me. If I died, if it killed me, it would be worth it. It would be perfect.
I asked him how long he thought we should wait. The way I said it, he looked at me like he wasn’t sure what I meant, what it was that we should be waiting for.
Unsure of my voice, I said, “In case he comes chasing us up this way?”
He nodded. Now I was thinking about the other thing, too. Like I hadn’t been already. My breath caught in my chest.
His voice thickened. “About an hour should do it.”
That would be time, it would be long enough. But I knew that my virginity excited him. That he wanted to make the occasion something special. I didn’t want to take that away from him. But I wanted him. I felt as though I had never wanted a man before, like I hadn’t ever known a man before, or even seen one. I couldn’t bear to wait.
Looking out across the misty valley, I couldn’t think of anywhere that would give us a lovelier or a more romantic setting. But the risk of our being interrupted by a killer in a long coat should be enough of a reason to wait. It wasn’t. Not for me. It made me want him even more. I knew that wasn’t sensible. That kind of an interruption would make the moment memorable in all the wrong ways. I saw that.
And still it didn’t stop me wanting it. That very thought made me itch and ache and I wanted to howl. To jump and wrap my body around his. To melt myself onto him and stick there.
The look in his eyes softened. He picked up my frustration. Either that or he was trying to talk himself out of the very same idea. “It will be okay,” he brushed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. My head leaned in and tilted to rub my face against his hand. He said “We’ll get to somewhere soon.”
I took hold of his hand. “Somewhere that can be ours,” he said, “Somewhere more safe.”
“I’d be safe with you in a barrel, bobbing toward Niagara Falls.”
What difference it made and why men made all the fuss they did about it was something I never really understood. I never got what the point was. The only thing I really knew was that he would have to do that huge thing with a total klutz.
There was a lot that I didn’t know about love and sex. Things that I just closed myself off from and avoided. I never wanted to even think about it. I read about it, but then it was about other people. People who weren’t real, mostly. For myself, I didn’t want anything to do with it. Not until now.
Now I wanted it all. Everything. And all in the worst way. And I wanted it all from him. From Killian. My assassin.
Here I was, on the run. Hiding out with the hot, live, and ruthless body of a very real and solid man. A man who said that he wanted me. A man ready to make promises to me. I should test him first. See if I could tell how likely he was to keep a promise. But it was such a big thing I knew that there was no test that would ever be strong enough. There was no way to test that much trust. None other than doing it.
Anyway, I believed him.
He held my waist tighter. I drew nearer. The strength of his solid trunk and the heat of his pulse set my head spinning. He took me in his arms so tenderly. As he pulled me nearer, I pressed my body against him. I felt I should keep reminding myself that we shouldn’t do anything. Not here. Maybe not yet, either. But definitely not here.
“We should wait,” I managed to plead. He stopped immediately, as though I had pleaded with him. Surely he must have realized that it was myself I was trying to persuade.
Trying and not succeeding very well. A hot gush of feeling spun around inside of me. I looked up at him. Through my eyes I implored him, Now. NOW! Take me now! While on the outside my head shook.
He was so close. We could almost be one. His breath tasted dark and sweet. My lips parted. His came nearer. His heart banged. My own heart hammered a signal back. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. So take me, take me, take me, take me. Have me, have me, have me, have me. Do it, do it, do it, do it.
Trying with all the strength I had to keep up the appearance that I wanted us to do the smart thing, the sane and safe thing, I failed. My arms stretched up around his neck. I pulled him closer and stretched my hands onto his back. I leaned backward. Every part of me wanted to open. To bring him in and enfold him.
Waiting will make it better for him, I tried to tell myself. You’re going to be useless at it anyway. At least let the man have you somewhere in comfort. Somewhere no pursuer is going to bust in on you.
I melted into the strength of his embrace. Painted myself onto his chest. I wanted him. All of him. Every inch. His lips, strong, supple, and urgent, pressed against mine and in the opening of that kiss, we moved, flowed, pulsed as a single being.
I managed to say it again, “We should wait,” but my head shook. Slow and firm.
He, the man, the gentlemen, said, “Of course we should.” And then his eyes gleamed as he rolled out that evil chuckle. “While we do, though, I could maybe do something to help relieve some of that tension for you.”
We kissed again. My hands raked through his hair as I tried to drag him into me through my mouth. If I could I would have taken every bit of him, swallowed him whole. Right there. The press of his body, the hardness of his muscles. And the beat of his cock. I needed him. All of him.
His hand held my throat. The edge of his thumb pressed my chin up, then slipped down the side of my neck. The touch of his palm and his fingers against my skin inflamed me.
Slowly he opened my top.