Restless Spirit (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-three

My door was open. What the fuck?

Another storm was kicking up. The air had the same electric quality as it had the night before Shepherd left. The hairs along my scalp – the tiny fine ones that were invisible unless you felt them as opposed to saw them – were all at attention.

I glanced to the barn and dug for my always-missing cell phone in my bag.

DID YOU LEAVE MY DOOR OPEN?

I texted Adrian and waited, stomping my feet on the front steps, for him to answer. It didn’t take him long, the phone jingled in my hand and I read: NOPE. WHY?

‘It must have been me. It must have been.’

I stood inside the front door for a moment and waited. Nothing. Plus, didn’t it stand to reason that if someone at the festival had malicious intent toward me, they couldn’t be here too. Right?

‘Hello?’ I called out. I tried to keep my voice bold and loud. But it wasn’t lost on me that I was doing the typical horror movie heroine dealio where I called out to the villain as if he’d pop up and say, “Oh, hi there”!

Holding my breath, I listened for any noise in the basement. Any indication that someone was down there, or even a critter as Adrian suspected.

Not a sound. Well, nothing but the thundering pound of my own pulse in my ears. I rushed forward, nearly diving across the floor. The bat was stashed under the sofa. I don’t know why I put it there, but I had. My hand found the smooth wood that had been my protector more than once and I tugged it free.

Still nothing. No noises.

It seemed a good idea to spin in a slow circle. I’d become convinced that someone had entered behind me and was waiting to grab me up, but no one was there.

‘Of course,’ I hissed.

Right about now I could have gone for a gun. Or a harpoon. Or a rocket launder. I rushed through the great room, checking any nooks and crannies – which were few and far between. The small, cosy kitchen was bare. Even the pantry was empty of bad guys when I tossed the door back ready to attack. A box of tea bags slid off the shelf, spraying small white packets all along the floor at my feet. That was the most excitement the kitchen offered. I hurried on, leaving the mess for later.

The office space was bare as Nan had left it. One chair, one standing lamp, one roll-top desk with a computer on it. A closet with an accordion door that stood open baring its bookshelves full of books and papers and bins that Nan had neatly arranged.

The woman had owned two basketfuls of clothes she wore. They were all up in her room. This had been her “paperwork hub” as she’d put it and she’d cleverly used this closet as a filing cabinet of sorts. To the right were fat colourful bundles of holiday wrapping paper. The shelf overhead stored gift bags, old books, and various other day-to-day stuff in big round wicker baskets.

No intruder.

I took the steps two at a time, my boots frantic on the steps. Upstairs, my bed was a rumpled mess. The closet door was open. One of my duffles tossed on the closet floor among Nan’s neatly arranged shoes. Her clothes still hung from the rod and her neat purses and tote bags still marched across the top shelf overhead. Her big leather bag, her red leather satchel, her straw beach bag, her “market” purse made of canvas that had seen better days. A gardening bonnet, a funeral hat, a cowboy hat that had been my grandfather’s.

No one hiding in my room.

Bathroom empty.

Storage room a wreck but as I poked around with the tip of the Louisville Slugger, nada. No one. There was a trunk and stuff that appeared to be mail-order items she planned to give for Christmas. I found a black sweater that was peppered with teeny tiny skulls that appeared on first glance to be polka dots.

‘Gee,’ I paused. ‘I wonder who this was for, Nan?’

The sound of my own voice spooked me. All that remained to be checked was the basement.

I went back down the steps on tiptoe. I didn’t want to announce my failure and my return. When I rounded the corner, my eyes registered a broad back, wide shoulders, a bent head. In the kitchen.

Fed up, adrenaline flooded and ready to kill someone, I gave a big yell and rushed the guy. Who the fuck was he to be in my new house? Who the fuck was he to scare me when I was just getting used to my new life?

He turned fast but it felt like slow motion. The profile came into view as the big body stood and he turned. Even as my brain screamed
ShepherdShepherdShepherd!
my body refused to slow down.

I jabbed him near the solar plexus with the business end of the bat and when he flinched and reached for it – even as my mind was screaming for me to stop – I cocked the bat to hit him properly. The blow was glancing – too slow and low – and part of that deceleration, thankfully, was the start of my mind overriding my body.

When I made another sweep, wondering in some surreal way why I was still moving –Shepherd reached for and caught the bat. He grunted, flinched when I fought him and then my ears picked up his words.

‘Tuesday, Tuesday … it’s OK, Tuesday. It’s me. It’s OK, kiddo. Hey …’ A running monologue of calming words.

‘Oh, fuck!’ I hiccupped. The fear had bubbled over into stunned shock and I dropped the bat. Only he was holding the broad end so it didn’t hit the floor. Shepherd laid it gently on the counter and caught my upper arms in his big hands.

‘Oh, shit,’ I sighed and I started to shake.

‘Are you OK?’ He bent his knees just enough for us to be eye to eye.

‘Are you OK?’ I yelled and then laughed like a hyena due to my shredded nerves. Sexy.

‘I’m fine. I just want to know what’s got you so worked up you’re coming at people with that bat of yours.’

That bat of yours … I snickered. My history and reputation with the bat was really starting to stick, wasn’t it? But … good. Better to be known as an ass kicker than a cry baby.

‘Someone …’ I shook my head.

‘Someone what? Broke in?’ I felt his body tense so close to mine and I shook my head again.

‘No, no. Someone’s been around here. I think. I feel. I mean I saw someone one time but I don’t know who it was. It could have been anyone, someone lost, a kid. I thought it might be Reed or Adrian. I thought … I don’t know.’

I shook my head repeatedly and wondered if I’d shake my damn brains up too much.

His lips were tight and he kicked the tea bags out of his way. ‘Come on. Come home with me and then I’ll come check around here proper.’

‘And there could be a raccoon,’ I added mildly. ‘And my car is full of apple crap.’

He stared at me. ‘Apple crap?’ He was trying not to smile.

‘Pies, preserves, sweaters, a bookmark. And someone at the apple festival called me a slut and almost knocked me down and …’ I blew out a mighty sigh and ran a hand through my hair before realising I’d braided it and had to untangle my fingers and rings.

‘Come on. Come home, have a glass of wine and slow down so we can figure this out.’

I nodded. ‘Fine. But I want my pies.’

‘Sweetheart,’ he said, wrapping his arm around my neck, tugging me in and kissing the top of my head. ‘I want your pies.’

I turned to leave. I wanted out of the house for the moment. Shepherd called me. ‘Tues?’

‘Yeah?’ I looked over my shoulder to see him offering me the bat. ‘Don’t forget Old Faithful.’

I rolled my eyes and snorted at him but put my hand out and took the bat. ‘Shows how much you know. His name is Louis.’

Shepherd followed me out and we solved the apple crap issue by driving the Grenada the few hundred feet to his house.

We spread the apple fair loot out in the kitchen and Shepherd found a bottle of wine and glasses. ‘Now tell me what the hell is going on.’

I took the wine, sipped it. ‘After,’ I said.

‘After what?’

I put the glass down and walked into him. Fast and hard, we collided and my fingers wound into his beard, my body pressing to his so I could feel his heat.

‘After you fuck me,’ I said, between kisses.

‘I’m worried–’

‘I’m worried you’re going to argue.’ Pushing my pelvis to his, I felt the heated line of his erection. His belly pressed my belly, his heart beating so fast its cadence tapped against my breast.

He pulled back, holding my face in his hands. His dark-dark eyes studied mine and finally he growled, tossed me over his shoulder and turned.

‘Are the doors locked?’ I gasped as he took the steps two at a time.

‘See, you are worried.’

‘Only mildly worried,’ I corrected.

‘They’re locked. Don’t worry. And if anyone comes within a foot of you they’ll have to go through me.’

He dropped me on the bed and slid to his knees. Pulling, twisting, yanking at my jeans until he had them down around my knees. He pressed his face between my legs, nudging me with his tongue, his beard an added sensation against my skin.

‘I had dreams about eating your pussy while I was gone.’ His words were muffled by my inner thigh, but then his tongue found my slick hole and he thrust it inside of me. And then his words didn’t matter a lick.

I laughed, though. I thought he was kidding.

‘I’m dead serious,’ he said and when he sucked my clit and then soothed the swollen bit of flesh with his flattened tongue I came. So full of adrenaline and having missed him and all that stuff. I came and he muttered, ‘Good’ and flipped me on my belly.

Chapter Thirty-four

‘Yes, good,’ I said. ‘Good, good.’

He paused. I knew what for. ‘Go,’ I said. ‘Do it. We’re good.’ Then I chuckled at our copious amount of goods.

Shepherd ran his stiff cock along the length of my wet opening. I kept moving back to meet him, wanting him so bad to enter me but he didn’t. He was teasing me. Slipping the smooth hot head of his cock into me and then moving back to simply tease the edges of my cunt with my own moisture.

‘Jesus, God, please,’ I said and moved back a hair to force his hand.

I should have known better. The feel of him disappeared entirely until he was brushing the arch of each bottom cheek with my own wetness. Painting me with the head of his erection and laughing softly.

‘How much adrenaline would you say is in you now?’ he asked conversationally.

‘A gallon.’

‘I agree.’ A blow landed and I hissed but the bubbling melting pleasure that spread along my skin and spasmed through my sex was pure bliss.

‘I am turning inside out,’ I admitted, shamelessly pressing up to where his hand hovered without touching me.

‘Don’t do that.’ Another blow. Hard and fast and perfectly placed so I was ready to come just from the burst of pleasure-pain.

‘I know. I know. Please, Shepherd.’ I was begging and that was OK with me at the moment. I’d say anything if he’d just fuck me. And keep hurting me just enough.

‘You hit me with a bat,’ he said and three blows rained down.

I hung my head, moaned low. ‘I know.’

‘Even after you saw my face.’ Three more blows.

A tear slipped free of me but my cunt was so swollen, so ready, my entire body throbbed with my heartbeat.

‘I was too … amped up.’

One … two … three. He shoved his thumb in my ass and then the head of his cock was pressing, pressing, pressing into me so fast. I was so wet. So, so fucking wet.

We both made a sound like people being saved and then Shepherd gripped me up tight in his free hand and fucked me long and easy until I started to come.

I moved back to meet him, toes curling, fingers gripping the bedding so tight my knuckles turned white. ‘I’m going to come. I am. I’m going to–’

I came and Shepherd waited for that final spasm before pulling free. His thumb was still in my back hole and I knew what he was doing.

‘Tell me not to.’

I couldn’t. The feel of him there was staggering and a bit scary and I wanted more of it. I said nothing.

He slipped a finger and then another into my still tender cunt and flexed those fingers, tickling another small spasm out of me. Then he slid those fingers into my ass, using my own slick juices as lubricant.

‘Tell me not to, Tuesday,’ he said again and positioned the head of his cock to my asshole.

I held my breath, my heart pounding in my ears, my body wanting this so bad I didn’t have a rational thought left in my head. I said nothing.

And then he was inching into me. Slowly. Three thick fingers pushing into my pussy even as his cock slid lazily into my ass.

I could feel his fingers sliding against his cock with just my pink flesh between pussy and ass as the barrier. The thought alone stole my breath. I was full of him. Entirely full of Shepherd Moore and it was perfect.

‘Have you ever done this before, Tuesday?’ he asked me softly, rocking into me with an almost indifferent rhythm. But I could tell by his breathing, by the thickness of his voice that he was far from indifferent. He was on the edge.

‘No,’ I whispered. I pushed my forehead to his bedding. It smelled like him. The thick scent of leather and cold air and man.

‘I’m your first?’

‘Yes,’ I said. My voice had drawn down to nothing but a barely there breathy exhalation.

‘Do you like me in your ass?’

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

His big hands slid over the arc of my ass cheeks. He palmed them softly and the skin he had just spanked responded with a tingling pleasure to his now soothing touch.

‘I like you in my ass.’

‘Do you want me to come?’

His fingers shoved back into my cunt – deeper this time – and he teased my G-spot while thrusting deep into my ass. ‘Yes,’ I sobbed. My whole body was only aware of one thing. His presence inside of me.

‘Are you going to come?’

‘Maybe.’ I moved back to take him and this time he made the deep desperate noise in his chest.

‘If I let you touch yourself will you come?’

I could hear the tension in his tone. He was trying so damn hard to sound in control and I almost smiled. But then he drove into me forcefully and stole that chuckle right out of my chest.

‘Yes. I think.’

‘Then do it,’ he said and began to move smoothly in and out of me. His fingers mimicking his cock.

When I added my own trembling fingers on my clit to the fray I came with a low moan and Shepherd drove into me once, twice, thrice and came. My pulse flickered under my skin like silverfish in shallow water – fast and skittish but sure.

We stayed that way for a moment when he stopped emptying into me. Me bent in submission before him. His hands now splayed along my lower back. My face pressed to the mattress.

I realised I wanted to say something to him. I wanted to tell him I loved him. The urge was just as strong in me as the urge to fuck him had been.

Instead I said, ‘Let me up.’

He let me up but hooked an arm around me as I turned from him. He pulled me back and kissed me, simply saying, ‘Don’t run from me.’

I eyed him. Wanting to do just that. But when I took a breath to still my fear I said, ‘I won’t.’

We ate one of the pies standing at his kitchen island. Wine with homemade country apple pie heavy on the cinnamon. Yum. My hair was still damp from the quick shower we’d taken but I’d braided it loosely to keep it at bay.

‘So this person at the fair?’ Shepherd prompted.

‘Slammed into me. Hard. I mean, almost knocked me off my feet kind of hard. And called me a slut. Which doesn’t really bother me. Sticks and stones and all that shit. But the hit was so unexpected and that …’ I shrugged.

‘Rattled you.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Then what did you do?’

‘I came home.’

‘Hunh,’ he said.

‘Hunh? What does hunh mean?’

‘I’m just wondering if perhaps the person who bumped you and all that was herding you out of the fair.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘That they wanted you to run home.’

‘If they called me a slut because they’ve been watching me since I got here and–’ I broke off, not wanting to get into the whole Shepherd-Reed-Adrian triangle.

He held up a hand. ‘I know I didn’t ask anything of you, so I don’t want to know. But just for the record …’ He popped the last bite of the pie in his mouth and I shrieked with faux rage.

But then I swallowed hard. ‘What?’

‘I’m getting there. Getting close to asking something of you. So you keep that in mind, OK?’

‘OK,’ I said.

Then he leaned against me, kissed me and said ‘I’m going to go check your house out.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

He eyed me, trying really hard not to smile. ‘Why didn’t you let one of your other knights in shining armour help you while I was gone?’

‘They asked,’ I said, rubbing my neck hard to loosen some tension. ‘But I told them I didn’t need them.’

‘You let me help you,’ he reminded me.

‘I …’ Tilting my head back I blew a big breath out toward the ceiling. ‘I guess I need you.’

Shepherd grinned – it was a very victorious grin – and then he patted my ass. ‘Sweetheart, watching you with that bat, you don’t need anyone. Not physically. But I’m glad your heart is starting to think it might need me. Maybe, possibly …’ he teased, jostling against me with more playfulness than I’d ever seen from him.

He seemed downright happy.

Which made me happy. And terrified.

‘Maybe,’ I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

‘Careful. When you put it out like that, I want to put it to good use.’

‘Possibly later,’ I said and grabbed the Louisville Slugger from his hand.