Chapter 16

He watched them walk out of McNally's, anger seething through him. Tonight, instead of sitting in a corner, he'd accepted an invitation to join a few of the firemen he knew casually. He wanted to be closer to her and that jackass cop she seemed to be so hung up on. He wondered how she'd feel if someone ran over the man, or better yet, burned his house down. Of course, that wouldn't work since he lived in an apartment, but the idea was intriguing.

The talk everywhere was of the fires, the confirmation that they were the work of an arsonist and that whoever it was, wasn't finished. Damn straight, he wanted to shout. How about telling everyone how smart I am? How clever.

Did Kristi think he was smart? Did she admire his ingenuity? He wished he could ask her. But, right now, it had to be enough for him to admire her from a distance. He itched to stroke his fingers through the golden strands of her hair. To strip her naked so he could skim his hands over her tempting curves and run his tongue over skin he was sure was silky, satiny smooth. If only he could get her alone and tell her what he was doing, just for her. Just so he could watch her work. Admire her, because she was the object of all his dreams, and wet dreams at that.

So they'd called in an arson investigator. No big deal, as far as he was concerned. He was smarter than whoever it was. He'd known they'd derive it was arson, but he hadn't left anything that would identify him. He had no criminal history to call attention to himself. The other fires? He'd been a child. Who would ever suspect a child? Right? So what if a couple of them had gotten out of hand. His parents hadn't been worth keeping alive, anyway.

All these thought of Kristi and fire were making him hot. Sexually aroused. His cock was hard enough to pound nails. He grabbed his beer from the table and swallowed the rest of it in three gulps, hoping to cool off. Before he could get the waitress's attention, however, the people at Kristi's table began to leave. She walked out with that asshole cop. Was she taking him home again, to her house? Fucking damn shit. He wanted to be at her house.

He wondered what she'd thought about the flowers. Had she kept them? Did she tell anyone? He wished he'd been able to park closer to her house when she found them, but he'd been tempting fate as it was.

He wanted to get her alone, but it had to be just the right circumstances. He didn't want anyone to know and try to talk her out of it. And he had to get rid of that cop. Okay, so it would take a little more planning. But soon, very soon, she would be his.

He wanted to get up and follow them, but he worried it might look too obvious. No, he'd give them time to get where they were going. He had both addresses. Then he'd check them out. And plot and plan. It was almost time for another statement. Another fire. And maybe that would give him a way to get rid of that cop.

*****

They were barely inside Kristi's house before she threw herself at him, barely taking time to get her jacket off and grabbing at his. She shoved the sleeves down his arms and yanked the garment off by the cuffs. Her own jacket dropped to the floor on top of his. When she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her bedroom, he had no option but to follow.

Not that he'd want another option.

Patrick had never seen her desperate like this before. They stopped moving when they bumped into her bed.

"God, Kristi."

He pulled her ponytail loose and threaded his fingers through the golden silk of her hair. He tried holding her head between his palms so he could kiss her the way he wanted to, but she was like a wild thing. When he managed to capture her mouth, she bit his bottom lip then soothed it with her small tongue. Heat shot like a bullet to his cock, making it harden and swell almost to the point of pain.

He tore his mouth from hers. "Kristi. Sweetheart, wait! Wait!"

But there was no holding her back. He'd worn a button-down shirt tonight, and the buttons seemed to frustrate Kristi. She yanked his shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere before she pushed the sleeves down his arms.

"Off," she chuffed. "Take this off."

He managed to get it off before she destroyed it altogether, along with the T-shirt he wore beneath it. He pulled at the sweater she wore, trying to rid her of it, but she brushed his hands away with unexpected force. In one fluid movement, she dropped to her knees and reached for the button on his jeans, popping it. Next came the zipper, the rasp unnaturally loud in the room. She shoved the denim fabric down until it gathered at his ankles, following it with his boxer briefs. His cock, thick and swollen, sprang free, the head scant inches from her face. From her mouth.

Now! She smiled and ran her tongue over her lower lip. Now she had him where she wanted. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, feeling its heat and the pulsing of blood through the vein circling it. She gave one experimental slide up and down before taking the head in her mouth and drawing on it.

"Shit!" Patrick's voice was raw. "Holy fucking shit, Kristi."

He gripped her head in his hands, guiding her, although she sure didn't need much help. She seemed to know just how to hold him in her mouth, how to caress his heated shaft with her tongue.

Kristi slid her mouth down the length of his cock to where her fingers held him lightly and then back up again. She repeated the movement, her lips stretching to accommodate his size as they glided over his hot silken skin. Sliding one hand between his thighs, she found the soft sac with his balls and rolled them with her fingers.

"God damn!" Patrick jerked at her touch.

She took his intensity as an encouraging sign and increased the pace of her fingers up and down his length. Each time her mouth slid back to the dark purple head, she trailed the tip of her tongue around the furled skin. Then she sucked, hard, and began the slide and glide again.

She would have thought it impossible that as she worked him with her mouth and her tongue and her fingers, he'd swelled even more. She increased her pace, up and down, around and around, more, more, more. And all the time she used her other hand to manipulate his balls, squeezing gently in a steady rhythm. Kristi closed her eyes, reveling in the taste of him and the feel of him in her hands.

She knew when he was reaching the point of climax. His body tensed, every one of his muscles tightened, and he used his hips to rock back and forth into her mouth. She increased her speed as he rocked harder. His balls drew up, the vein in his cock pulsed hard, and, with a cry, he exploded into her mouth.

She took him as deep as she could, tilting her head back to accommodate him, squeezing the base of his shaft as he throbbed inside her, spurting deep into her mouth. Breathing through her nose so she could take him to the back of her throat she swallowed every drop of the thick fluid. When his cock softened and she'd swallowed the last of his liquid, she drew her lips slowly up the length of him to the head, swirled her tongue around the velvet head, and gave his balls one last squeeze before releasing him.

"Holy fucking shit, Kristi," he gasped, falling back onto the bed. His breathing was rough and jagged. "That was almost a religious experience."

She burst out laughing. "I don't think there was anything religious about it." She tapped one thigh. "Sit still. Let me take care of you here."

"God. I thought you already did that. Your mouth is...is... Unbelievable."

Leaning back on her heels, she pulled off his shoes and socks then dragged his jeans and boxer briefs off and tossed them to the side. Leaning forward, she placed a soft kiss on each thigh and another on his now resting dick.

Patrick smiled at her. "I think I need some recovery time after that." He winked. "Although not for everything I want to do." He reached for her. "Come up here." Then he grinned. "But ditch the clothes first."