Page 231 of Tell Me Lies

“Come on, let’s do it,” Javier growled although his intention to be tender, not harsh, hadn’t changed.

She grasped his hand and followed without protest as he led her back to the bedroom. With swift motions, he stripped out of his clothing, then removed her garments. Cecily touched his cock with a light hand, and he nearly came.

“Gracious, you do have a problem, don’t you?” Her tone mocked but her expression didn’t. “Let me help with that.”

Cecily fisted her fingers around his dick and squeezed just enough to titillate.

Javier moaned and plucked her hand away. “We go slow this time, Azúcar, and savor the anticipation.”

He inserted a finger into her pussy and found it wet. Javier grinned. Sometimes he had a woman who wasn’t as ready as he was, and he savored the current conditions. He took her into his arms and let his hands roam over her luscious body, caressing and fondling as they moved. Javier kissed her, his lips gentle, taking his time as he brought them both to a burn.

Cecily proved to be a skilled kisser. She locked her lips onto his and remained, using her mouth to tempt him further. Still standing upright, with her in his embrace, Javier kissed her throat, but he didn’t bite. Small purple bruises were prominent from last night, from her neck all the way down to her breasts and belly. He suckled and used his tongue.

As his desire increased, his ability to stand ebbed so he put her back onto the bed, oblivious of the tangled covers. Javier focused on her breasts, caressing them with easy fingers and a gentle touch, then suckled at her nipples like a newborn baby. Her pink buds hardened within his mouth and almost pushed him over the edge into orgasm.

“Roll over,” he gasped. “On your knees, Cariño, so I can take you from behind.”

Cecily shifted position and raised up, tits dangling below her, butt jutted out so he could enter. Before he did, however, Javier traced the curves of her body, rubbed her back with an easy hand, and then, because if he didn’t act now, he might die from wanting, he plunged into her doggy-style. He thrust his dick within her and bucked like a rodeo bull as intense waves of pleasure rocketed through him. Javier rested his hands on her lower back as he rode them, each one spiraling deeper with every move he made.

He’d meant to take his time, to be slow, but couldn’t. When his need hit a fever pitch, he let go and let the orgasm rock his body. The powerful thrill sapped his strength, but Javier rejoiced that she rode the tide with him, gasping, panting, and at the last, shrieking. That signaled he had pleasured her, always a goal. He might be a sniper and paid hit man, but he liked his women to be satisfied.

Cecily lay facedown on the bed and he joined her. Javier pulled her against him, her bare back against his front, and held her. He couldn’t linger, not when the department store delivery would arrive, but he ached to hold the moment as long as possible.

A sudden realization hit and he cringed from it. He should have worn a condom or asked if she had protection. No wonder fucking her felt so fine, so intense. No barrier existed between his dick and her pussy. He always wore a condom but now he hadn’t even thought of it twice with this woman. If Cecily noticed or minded, she hadn’t said but he resolved not to make the mistake again. Although he hadn’t prayed since the worst moments when he had malaria, he offered up a silent plea that Cecily was free of disease and that she wouldn’t catch a baby from him.

Javier had no room in his life for a companion, let alone a kid. He was a loner, not a lover.

Too comfortable and sated to move, he didn’t until the doorbell chimed. A glance at Cecily confirmed she was asleep. He’d thought he had Cinderella when he first saw her on the roof, now he wondered what Disney princess he’d fucked. Was it Snow White? Naw, an apple put her out, he remembered. He had no apple and there was no curse to make this bitch sleep a hundred years like Sleeping Beauty. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t lost a slipper, glass or otherwise, and he sure as shit was no prince. Guess she wasn’t a princess, real or otherwise, after all.

Javier opened the door and found the delivery items stacked in the hallway and a woman waiting. He wore nothing but a pair of shorts, so the delivery person gaped at him, then asked him to sign. Considering the value of everything he had ordered, he would want a signature too and even in his posh-high rise, the risk of theft existed.

He hauled the goods inside, arranged the boxes and shopping bags on the dining table with the overflow on the floor. The new luggage rested beneath the windows.

Javier didn’t want to start cooking until Cecily roused so he turned on the television. Since he no longer read a newspaper or listened to the radio, his sole source for news came from local TV. Most of the time, he wasn’t interested enough to bother but he wondered if there might be any mention of the Wall Street financier’s death.

He sat through several stories about local government, a national news piece on the president, and sat up straight when the anchor said, “Next up, we have a story on the tragic murder of Gideon Harrington, the well-known Wall Street maven. Stay tuned and we’ll back after some brief commercial messages.”

Javier muted the ads but upped the volume to hear the story.

“Early yesterday morning, on Monday, Harrington was shot while he gardened on the roof of his apartment building in Midtown. Local authorities suspect that a sniper took the shot from an adjacent building, most likely a nearby hotel. Although no eyewitnesses have come forward, several witnesses saw a man and woman exit a hotel just after the kill shot was fired. Lobby cameras failed to capture the pair from the front view, but the footage reveals the woman was in a designer cocktail dress, the man in dark clothing. They apparently escaped but NYPD urges the public to be on the lookout for the pair. The investigation into Harrington’s death will continue.”

A fluff piece on the dead man’s career and his charitable work with the city’s poor came next but Javier shut off the television, disturbed. He should have remembered the lobby security cameras but if he’d been alone as planned, he would have been unremarkable.

Cecily might not be his only problem.

It was time to make a plan.

Chapter Three

Javier always had trouble remembering the time difference between the city and Oklahoma, but he thought if it was after six here, it would be past five there. Jorge should be home from work by now and since Javier had come up with nothing better, he planned to depart for the Sooner State in the morning. Now he had not only the possibility that Cecily would bring down law enforcement on his head, but he also had worries someone might recognize her from the footage. He’d built his career on being as nondescript as possible, but she was high profile. It wouldn’t take much for some society airhead to say, “Oh, look, isn’t that Cecily Randolph DeLauncy? I never liked the woman myself but that’s her. Didn’t she marry that old French guy for his money?”

He made sure the bedroom door was shut and grabbed his phone, ready to get this part over.

“Hello,” Jorge’s wife, a gorgeous Oklahoma-bred woman, answered with her Western twang.

Javier throttled down his nerves and did his best to make his tone sound normal.

“Hey, Ava, it’s Javier. Is my brother close? I need to speak to him.”

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