“Sunsets are proof that endings can be beautiful…”

Mark

My cock is painfully hard, but I hold back. I won’t let it end that fast.

Being with Lara is more than I dreamed. She takes my breath. She steals my resolve. She blows my mind.

Earlier when I took her, I wanted to imprint myself on her memory. I wanted to be with her wherever she goes, haunting her the way she has always haunted me.

I should have known with motives like that I would lose control.

In the past, I’d imagined our reunion would be gentle, loving, but instead possessive need drove me to bed her like an animal. The way she responded only fueled my fire. She bucked her ass against me, driving my cock deeper into her tight pussy. Instead of fighting my urges, I closed my eyes and gave in to them.

Rather than branding her with my memory, she has turned the tables.

She owns me.

She always has.

But it’s happening too fast.

This time is passing too quickly.

It’s slipping through my fingers like water, and the harder I try to hold onto it, to hold onto her, the faster it disappears. I want to talk to her more. I want to know where she’s going. I want to know what is driving her, what’s in her mind. I still want to love her easy, all night, slow and gentle.

I thought we would do it now, but when she dropped to her knees, I couldn’t hold back. Living in this wilderness has made me coarse and primitive. I fuck hard and fast, and when she looked up at me just now, blue eyes round and submissive, I had to fight every instinct in my body to shoot down her elegant throat.

Now she’s standing in front of me waiting, looking like every man’s wet dream in only a black lace bra, thong, and heels. I’ve seen her wearing much less, but somehow she’s still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

I step back and pull my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. My slacks are down, and I kick them aside.

“Come here.” My voice is rough sandpaper. My body is trembling need, but I wrap her in my arms. I hold her to my chest.

She reaches down, feathering her fingertips along my turgid shaft, and I feel my orgasm slipping from the tip.

“Stop,” I grip her wrist hard in my hand. I’m a fucking teenage virgin, right on the blistering edge, tormenting both of us. “I want to hold you, make love to you. I want it to last.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

With a gentle hand, she pushes me so that I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. My cock stands tall and thick, dark and veiny. She looks at me, eyes heavy with desire. She slides her lacy thong down her legs, and when she licks her lips, I almost blow.

“Hell, Lara,” I gasp. “I need more time with you.”

She climbs onto my lap in a straddle, dark hair falling around us in a curtain. “We have to make the best of what we’ve got.” Reaching between her legs, she grips me, guiding me to her slick pussy.

Then she drops, taking me all the way to the hilt.

“Fuck…” my voice breaks, and my hands are fists grazing the sides of her ass as she rides me.

Her hips move quickly. She’s getting off on my cock, holding my shoulders and bucking. She rises all the way up and drops just as fast, pulling me in and out, milking me up and down until sparks of light shoot behind my closed eyes.

Every muscle in my body flexes. I try to hold out longer, but fuck if I don’t want this. Flipping her onto her back, I hold her thighs and jackhammer home. She might own me, but I’ll be damned if I won’t dominate her right back.

“Yes… yes!” Her ass rises to meet my every thrust, and her thighs start to jump and tremble under my palms.

Pleasure snakes up my legs, and when her body breaks, I break right along with her, moaning and shouting, bracing myself on the mattress as the orgasm radiates through my entire body.

I’m still deep inside her, and her hands are on my cheeks, her fingers threaded in the sides of my beard. My elbows bend, and I hold her down with my partial weight. Her legs wrap around my waist, and her arms tighten over my shoulders. I’m holding myself up, but she’s pulling me down. We hold each other through the aftershocks, breathing fast, and I feel her lightly kissing my neck.

“I’m crushing you,” I say, trying to lift up, but she holds me tighter.

“Crush me,” she sighs, pressing her body against mine. “I love to feel you on me.”

“Fuck, Lara.” I can’t seem to stop saying it. “You’re killing me.”

“Good.” A smile is in her voice, and she lifts her body to plant a quick kiss on my lips.

A little growl rises in my throat, and I lean down to take that mouth, pushing it open and sweeping my tongue inside. Our tongues curl together, stroking and tasting. Our lips capture each other’s, pulling and teasing. As hard as that last fuck was, heat moves through my pelvis.

Dropping beside her on the mattress, I rest my head on my hand. She rolls into me, pulling her body close against my chest.

“Hmm,” she sighs, tracing her fingers along the lines in my torso, and shit if I’m not overcome with wanting her again. “So muscular.”

Her navy eyes meet mine, and she smiles. My lips tighten when I remember why. When I think of my driving need to lift heavier weights, to build muscle mass.

“In New Orleans I learned the importance of being strong.” If only I could summon my strength when it comes to her.

Her smile dims, but only for a moment. “Do you remember the first time you saw me in my costume?”

“When I almost jizzed in my pants?”

Her laughter splits the silence, cutting any heaviness in the air. It makes me smile, and I slide my hand down her smooth back, holding her against me. I love seeing her happy.

“Oh…” She sniffs and pulls back. “Your eyes were huge. I felt so powerful.”

“You took my breath away.”

“I’d never had anyone look at me that way before.”

Tracing my finger lightly along the line of her jaw, I decide to hold nothing back. “I was pretty green. I’d seen naked women before, but nothing like you in rhinestones and body paint.”

“I wasn’t completely naked,” she teases. “I was wearing a corset.”

“You looked like…” My thoughts trip over the last twenty-four hours. “You’ve only looked better one other time.”

“When?” She props her head on her hand, and I twist a dark lock of her hair around my finger. “Tonight on your knees in front of me.”

A laugh explodes through her nose, and she leans forward. It makes me smile, and I catch her chin, lifting her face. Her cheeks are pink, and I kiss her lightly.

“I could never forget you as long as I live.”

Her smile slowly turns sentimental. “I’ll never forget any of this.”

“Are you saying I’ve made an impression?” My arm goes around her waist, and I pull her naked body flush against mine.

“What do you think?” She reaches up and scratches her fingernails over my cheeks.

For a moment, we only look into each other’s eyes. I think about tonight, the séance. I think about how it seemed like when our eyes met, she was calling to me. I wanted to hear what her thoughts were saying. I want to tell her to stay. Only, I don’t know the rest of her story after I left. I don’t know what she’s doing here or why, although if she knows Esterhaus, I have an idea.

Her hands tighten on my face. “I think if I move, I’m going to fall out of this bed.”

Holding her back, I push up and arrange the pillows so I can lean against them. Then I pull her so she’s leaning against me.

“Better?” I ask, and she nods. For a moment, I think about it. “Are you hungry?” She shakes her head no. “Want a drink?”

That makes her think a bit more. “Not right now.”

Finally, I just ask it. “What happened after I left? What did you do?”

Her head is on my shoulder, and she takes a deep breath. Her finger traces a line through my chest hair at the top of my pecs.

“I told you part of it. Part I’m sure you already know… Tanya died.”

I tighten my arm over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It was like a long, slow suicide,” she sighs.

My brow furrows. I remember part of that story. “How long did you stay there after I left?”

“Not long.” Her voice is quiet. “Something happened, and things got worse… Then they got better. For me anyway.”

I lift up to look at her. “In what way?”

“Freddie took us to Paris. We left that place behind like I always said we would. We left everything behind…”

The sadness in her voice is so familiar. It’s how I felt when my eyes opened in that box, and I knew my shot at being her hero was gone. I want to move us away from the dark times. I’m sorry I took us back there.

“So you left New Orleans together?”

She nods against my shoulder, still tracing the lines on my torso with her finger. It’s a soothing motion.

“It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Roland.”

A little growl escapes my throat. “I always hated that guy.”

That earns me a surprised laugh. “Why?”

“The way he always acted like you belonged to him. He cock-blocked me at every turn.”

She’s quiet a moment, and I can tell she’s thinking. “I don’t think he intended to do that. He had a hard life.”

The change in her tone has me back-tracking. “You said he helped you escape?”

“He found Freddie…” Her head pops up, and her tone becomes lighter. “After things happened… If he hadn’t gotten me on my feet again, we might never have gone to Paris.”

Again, the quiet contemplation. I want to know where her mind has gone, what she saw and did in those parts of the story. “Why did you leave France?”

“Unfinished business.” The way she says it invites no follow-up questions, but she forgets. I’m a detective.

“Is it finished now?”

As I study her face, I see her lips press together. She looks to the side as if she might lie to me. Don’t lie to me, Lara…

Instead, she slips out of the bed. Cold air coats my skin where her body was pressed to mine, and I sit up. She stretches to look out the window, and I place my hands on her bare waist, circling my thumb over her small navel. Her naked body is still the best thing I’ve ever seen.

“The blizzard is swirling out there,” she says wistfully.

“I know how to stay warm.”

Leaning forward, I press a kiss against her hip. She jumps in response, and quickly relaxes as I follow a trail of kisses across her lower pelvis to her landing strip. Her hand fumbles into my hair when I make a slow pass of my tongue over her clit. She moans, and her knees bend.

I kiss her hip and reach up to guide her back to the mattress. Now is the time for making love, slowly and gently. I’ll make her come then I’ll slip inside and make her come again. My cock is already growing longer and thicker just thinking about being lost in her warm depths.

Looking up from where I’m teasing her clit, I watch her back arch, her breath swirl in and shudder out the closer she gets to breaking. I continue lapping and sucking and watching, doing my best to memorize this sight. The most beautiful sight I know.

Reaching up, I cover her small breast with my palm. I squeeze the soft peak and roll her tight nipple in my fingertips. She arches and moans, and my cock responds. Two more licks, two more sucks, and she’s threading her fingers in my hair and gently pulling.

I’m happy to comply with her nonverbal request. Crawling up her body, I kiss her stomach, her navel. I pause at her breast and slide my tongue around that soft nipple. It tightens, and I pull it between my lips.

“Mark,” she gasps, holding my cheeks, and I exhale a groan.

The distance between us completely dissolves. Now she’s here, in the throes of passion, and she says my name. Perfect.

Rising onto my elbows, I brace myself on the mattress above her, smiling as I push her thighs apart with my knee. I’m still smiling when I cover her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply as I fill her with my dick.

Her lips break free. “Oh, Mark,” she says again, and I swear my cock gets harder.

Warmth floods my pelvis, and my hips move faster. Old fantasies of marriage, of her body growing round with my baby, unfurl in my mind. I don’t just want to be her hero. I want everything.

My head lowers to her shoulder, and I press my lips to her skin, covering her neck and shoulders with kisses. She moans and clutches me as my beard reddens her smooth skin. It’s like a fever dream. She’s flush against my chest, I’m pumping deep between her legs, and she’s moaning and rocking her hips up to meet me.

Our bodies move in time like a dance, covered in sweat and lost in each other. I feel her insides shimmer and spasm, and the bloom of orgasm floods my pelvis. Our dance continues. We’re wrapped in each other’s arms as we make our ascent. I’m pulsing, filling her, and I don’t want to let her go. I want to hold her this way forever.

Her arms tighten around me as we still, drifting down as one, clinging to each other. So much is conveyed in that moment.

Turning us to the side, I smooth my thumb over her cheek. Our eyes meet and we smile. I look deep into her eyes and say with confidence, “You’ll always be my girl.”

* * *

The sun streams blindingly white through my small window, and the first thing I notice is the train isn’t moving. My room is completely still. Rubbing my eyes, I sit up slowly, and I notice the second thing…

Lara is gone.

Banging starts on my door, and I’m on my feet at once, throwing the blankets aside.

“Mr. Fitzhugh?” I recognize the other porter Jack’s voice calling through the door. “Are you awake, sir?”

“Just a second, Jack,” I call, snatching up the wool slacks from the floor where I left them last night.

Slamming my hand against the wood panels causes them to shudder and open, and I feel the shelves for a sweater. A black wool sweater is over my head as I step into my boots. I grab my brown wool blazer, and I’m out the door in less than two minutes.

Jack waits outside, worry lining his face. “I’m sorry to wake you, sir. Something very bad has happened, I’m afraid.”

Panic seizes my chest. “Where’s Lara?”

“I’m sorry?” Jack steps back, and I turn on my heel, taking off running to the back of the train.

I’m through the double doors of the dining car in a slam, and I dash past the waiters standing around seeming confused. Into the next car where her room is located, I pull up fast when I see Ustinov standing there talking to the conductor. The porter’s hand is over his mouth, and he’s looking into her room, frowning. The conductor holds the door to Molly’s room in his hand, and fear hits me in the stomach like a medicine ball. For a moment, I lean against the opposite wall and catch my breath.

Gathering my strength, I step forward. “What happened?” I ask, bracing for what I might see inside.

“I don’t know, sir.” Ustinov’s voice is grave, confused.

I swallow the dread tightening my throat and look inside.

Everything relaxes when I don’t find her injured or sick. Her room is simply empty, swept clean.

“Miss Lia seems to have gotten off the train at some point,” Ustinov continues. “Her and the young lady Molly.”

“I don’t understand. How?” My mind trips back through last night.

We left Fragonard’s stateroom well after midnight. I was holding her, making love to her in the early morning hours… Even more recently, through the haze of sleep, as the light was just breaking, I’d roused with a hard on and reached for her. She’d backed her sweet ass up to my dick, and I’d quickly eased the tension in her luscious depths. I’d drifted to sleep again with her in my arms, her back to my chest, her breast in my hand.

I speak my final thought out loud. “It couldn’t have been two hours ago…”

“You saw her two hours ago?” Ustinov is studying my expression.

Fragonard breaks through the confusion. “Fitz! Come quick—something has happened.”

Again, panic is my first emotion. I take off at a steady clip after him into the final car where he and the baron and our mysterious guest were located. It’s the first time I’ve remembered the mysterious guest since we saw him at dinner.

I’ll deal with him later.

Now I’m close on Aleister’s heels. He shoves the double doors apart, and we follow down the corridor to where the baron’s door stands open. Aleister stops and backs against the wall. I pause and glance at him. He nods toward the room.

My police training kicks in, and I step to the side, pressing my back against the wall as I inch closer to the open door. I don’t know what I expect to find inside. Looking back at Aleister, I notice his face is tight, and I prepare for the worst.

The room is trashed. A leather armchair is overturned, books are scattered across the floor. The bed is unmade and the top mattress is pushed to the side, but the most jarring element is the sight of the baron’s feet covered in black socks extending from the space between the wall and the bed.

“Hello?” I say sharply, as if giving an order. “Is anyone in here?”

Still on guard, I look quickly around the room for any signs of another passenger. Seeing none, I continue to where I can see the baron’s feet.

“Esterhaus?” I shout. “Robert? Are you okay?”

Silence.

The tap of a shoe on the landing behind me causes me to shout, “Don’t come in here!”

Aleister jumps away, into the hall. He hesitates, straining to look into the room without entering.

“Is he alive?” His voice wavers.

I’m not sure how to ascertain the answer to that question. The disheveled mattress covers the top half of the baron’s body, and I step carefully, doing my best not to touch anything and potentially damage evidence.

“Shit,” I hiss in frustration.

I pulled on my clothes so quickly, I don’t have a handkerchief in my pocket. I don’t have gloves… I don’t want to waste time running back to my room for these items. If the baron is alive, he might need urgent care.

“Aleister, go to your stateroom and bring me a towel. Hurry!”

The man scampers away, and I look around the room for anything unusual. At first glance it appears to be a robbery. His things have been thoroughly ransacked, and the door to his safe is hanging open.

A musty, sewage smell is in the room. My throat closes, and I wish I had something to cover my nose.

Aleister appears in the doorway. He doesn’t dare inter the premises.

“Fitz?” His voice is high and shaky, and I look over my shoulder.

He stands just outside the door holding the towel. It trembles in his outstretched hand, and I notice he’s shaking from head to foot. His face is pale, and one thing is not in his eyes…

Confidence.

“Toss it to me.”

He poises himself on the landing, working to maintain his balance, and throws the small hand towel to me. I wrap it around my hand and grip the end of the mattress, sliding it away from where it covers the baron’s body.

“Oh!” I step back, recoiling from what I see. Aleister makes a frightened squeak behind me.

“Fuck,” I growl, clearing my throat.

On the floor lies the baron, very clearly dead. He’s been strangled to death.

His face is purplish-black, and his eyes bug out of their sockets. The whites are completely red from the exploded blood vessels. He emptied both his bladder and bowels in the struggle, and there’s foam at the corners of his mouth.

A swell of vomit rises at the base of my throat as I creep closer to try and see if I can detect any clues.

Ice fills my stomach when I see it.

Blood red bruises in the shape of chain links cover the skin around his neck and jowls. I recognize the marks at once as being made by the long gold Romanov chain looped what appears to have been at least three times around his neck. The gold links cut deeply into his skin, and in some places, it’s broken and blood has seeped out.

“Christ,” I hiss.

My mind fills with the memory of the girl with the blonde curls and huge blue eyes. I can still hear her breathy voice calling him Daddy. I can still see her clutching his arm and gazing with rapture into his watery blue eyes.

She killed him.

She strangled him with that gold chain, and from the state of the room a violent struggle ensued.

I imagine her small hands grasping it tighter around his neck, riding his back like some sadistic child as he tried to fight her off.

From the looks of it he didn’t go down easy.

I see everything differently now.

A man struggling for life ripped the books off the shelves.

A man fighting off an attacker pushed the mattress to the side.

A young woman driven by rage took his life, then took everything from his safe.

Anger coils in my chest as I imagine Molly planning this entire scenario start to finish. She zeroed in on him at dinner, fingering the chain, letting him touch her body. She lured him to his death.

As soon as I have the thought, I ask the obvious question. Is a girl that small strong enough to accomplish this?

What other suspects could there be?

Turning from the room, I sprint to the door, pushing my way into the hall. “Do not enter that room!” I shout back. “I’ll send the porter to secure the crime scene.”

One thing is on my mind. The only person who might be willing to help Molly do this horrific thing.

Lara.

I fly through the sliding doors into the next car, skidding to a stop at her door. Pausing again, I look inside at the completely barren stateroom. Clothes, shoes, toiletries… Everything is gone.

It’s completely empty.

Pain and confusion war in my chest. She was with me the entire night… as far as I know.

How long would it take for her to slip out and help commit this crime?

Did she know about it?

Was she awakened at some point in the two hours while I slept to help Molly escape?

I don’t know the right answer. I don’t know what makes the most sense. I’m blindsided and confused and fucking pissed as hell.

I’m a police detective.

I have to get my shit together and investigate this.

Stepping across the hall to Molly’s stateroom, I find the identical situation. The space is swept bare. No toiletries, clothes, books, devices. Everything is gone.

Turning, I head back to the front of the train. Passing quickly through the dining car, I stop where the conductor is on the radio with the closest authorities.

My backup.

Allowing him to continue his business, I enter my stateroom. I didn’t know what was happening when I was roused from my bed earlier. I didn’t know to look for clues here, the last place I saw her.

The last time I held her in my arms.

The last time I loved her.

My insides recoil. It can’t be the last time…

Stepping through the door, my eyes sweep the perimeter. I stand in the doorway where she dropped to her knees and looked up at me, eyes round and filled with what I now suppose was a preemptive apology.

My stomach tightens, and I step further in, to the place where I swept her off her knees and carried her to the mattress. It’s a small room. I don’t require luxuries, and I only travel this line once a year for a two-night maximum trip.

Standing in front of the bed, I look down on the mattress where I lay with her spread across me like the promise of a better life. I remember her rising onto her knees to look out the window.

She had commented how the blizzard never stopped. I had let my eyes run down the length of her body, admiring the curve of her breast, the sweep of her hair down her lower back, the glow of her skin in the moonlight.

I pulled her down to me and made love to her. She held me and called me by my name as I dreamed of another life.

A life where I was more than her hero.

A life where I saved her from the demons.

We will have that life.

I’m going to find her, and this time, we’ll finish it for good.

* * *