I was going to have a whole week to myself, nice and peaceful.
I was exhausted. Looking after a two-year-old and three infants was harder work than anything I'd ever done in the military, even with Lee and Ken there to help me out. So Lee, Ken, Simon and Noah planned a fishing trip with Jack, out to the cabin on the banks of the lake, while Lee's parents were going to take Matthew, Michael and Marcus for the week. My plans: Not even getting dressed.
The first whole day was glorious. I had been up at four with the men, to see them off and also to entertain Ken, Simon and Noah while Lee dropped our triplets off to Nanny and Poppy Miller's. They were all gone shortly after five, and I went back to bed. I'd slept until nearly noon, then lazed around in my pyjamas, all day long, watching movies. As I said, it was glorious.
Later that night, at around seven-thirty, there was a knock at the door. Damned doorbell was broken, and the fist pounding loudly on the wood frightened me nearly to death. After taking a second to regain my composure, I tentatively headed out to the foyer. I didn't bother lookng through the spy-hole before unlocking the door; this was Armadale, not Edinburgh. It had already been installed on the door when we bought the house, and Lee had no desire to remove it. I opened the door, only to have a shiny badge shoved under my nose.
"Edinburgh Police. I've got some questions for you, lassie."
My heart nearly came out my mouth before I recognized the childish curl of his slowly-graying hair, and the mischeivous twinkle in his smiling, blue-gray eyes. Then I smacked him on the shoulder.
"John!" I exclaimed, half snarling, half laughing. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!" He laughed and I stepped aside to let him in. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Mr. Dove home?" I rolled my eyes at the stupid nickname he insisted on using.
"No. Lee's gone fishing with Jack for the week."
"Aw, daddy's little boy is gone with him, eh?" I nodded. "And it's about time the kid learned to fish! He's two years old already!" A chuckle. "What about Captain Cost?" God, I don't even know where he came up with the names. They didn't even make sense.
"Gone with him."
"Corpse around, do you know?"
"No. He took Noah and went with them, too."
"Hm. A right old party they're having. What about Nicole?" The only nickname that I at least understood where it came from.
"Nikolai doesn't live here, remember? I daresay he's at his house, in Russia, with his wife and hischildren." John MacTavish shrugged.
"I suppose that would be a fair assumption."
"And will you stop it with the stupid nicknames?"
"Nah, I think they're funny." A pause. "And what about the triplets? Gone to bed, I suppose. I've yet to see them, save for the first day you and Lee brought them home from te hospital."
"They're gone, too. Lee's parents took them for the week."
"What? So you're all alone? Aw, poor lass!"
"No, I asked for this," I assured him. "They've all cleared off to give me a break. And I fully intend to spend its entirety in my pyjamas. But if you're okay with that, you're quite welcome to pop in for a drink."
"Ach, don't mind if I do."
So we sat at the kitchen table, John MacTavish and I, both sipping casually on a beer. We were having a fine old chat. But I caught him, more than once, looking at me pretty funny when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't precisely place what was in his eyes, but it was making me mighty uncomfortable. He wasn't drunk, either. That's what scared me. He'd shown up completely sober, and he's only sucked back one bottle in my presence.
I was brewing coffee at the counter, my back to him, when I heard his chair legs scrape back. I heard his footsteps approach, then felt his presence directly behind me. I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck. I said nothing, nor did I turn around. But when he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, I looked around to see what he wanted.
The lips that met mine were not gentle.
What frightened me more was that I found myself returning the kiss savagely. I loved Lee more than anything in the world. I wanted to be with him forever. But I'd only be lying if I tried to say that I didn't have any feelings for Detective Inspector John MacTavish. I'd always had some sort of a crush on him, even in spite of the twenty years separating us. He had always seemed hot to me. He was a badass cop, real tough and hardened, who didn't take shit from anyone. But he was also rather seneitive, a real human being, who had his own vulnerabilities. And that, for some reason, was appealing to me.
And MacTavish powerful handsome, for a guy fifty-two years young. I'd always had a thing for older men, anyway. Even when I was a teenager. I loved MacTavish's thinning hair, the way it curled around his ears and at the nape of his neck. I loved that it was flecked with gray. I loved the lines on his forehead, the wrinkles at the corners of his pale, fiery eyes, the creases that framed his firm mouth. I loved the way his hands felt on the back of my head. They were tough and calloused, heavily lined from the passing of the years. But they were soft and smooth at the same time. They held me delicately. Yes, there was a lot to be said for age.
I lost myself, going deeper and deeper into the kiss. John spun us so that he was facing the fridge, and he braced me up against it, his lips never leaving mine. And I wasn't pushing him away; I was pulling him closer. The air was so thick with passion, it could have supported a human body. Finally, MacTavish backed away slowly. Both of us just looked at each other, gasping for air, not saying a word. It was when I saw his arousal through his jeans and felt my own loins tingle that I snapped back to reality. I realized what I'd just done, and I was ashamed.
"I knew my hunch was right," the cop muttered gruffly, turning away from me to gaze out the kitchen window over the sink.
"John." I was scared, now. More scared than I'd ever been. And I hated myself. Because my arousal wasn't going away; it was growing with every second that I looked at the back of his head. "John." But I couldn't think of anything else to say.
We stood ther ein utter silence for a long time. John was still staring out the window, his back to me, both hands firmly on the counter. I was still with my back against the fridge, and I was hugging myself, as if for protection. After what seemed like ages, the silence cracked. And I was shocked at the words coming from my own mouth.
"We can make love. Whenever you're ready."
I soon discovered that kissing wasn't the MacTavish's only talent.
I was no rookie, by any stretch of the imagination. But next to the Inspector, I looked like a raw virgin. That was another thing age had going for it; he'd been around the block a few more times than I had.
I had never been one for rushed sex and, as things turned out, DI MacTavish wasn't, either. We undressed as soon as we'd hit the bedroom. But there was much more kissing before there was any intercourse. I think my lips touched every single inch of his body, and his mine. Even when he finally entered me, his lips were still on mine, sucking and plunging desperately.
And he went very slowly. His cock was much bigger than Lee's, bigger than any other man I'd ever slept with. It felt strange to be driven soo deep inside. But he wasn't driving hard, even if he was going as deep as he could with every measured, deliberate push. ANd his pace only made it feel that much better. Both of us were nearly mad with desire, the earnest need to go faster, to climax, to release with one another. And this was precisely the reason MacTavish went so slow. He was going to make it last. And he was going to build it up so high that, when it finally happened, it would feel like Heaven and beyond.
I let him lead. He knew what he was doing. I just laid there on my back, plundering his lips and groping his body. I ran my hands slowly from his shoulder blades to his ass cheeks, my hands clammy and slipping on his shining, sweaty back. The skin had started to go slack with the years, but his policeman's muscle was still rock-hard beneath. As my hands reached his bum, his mouth moved to my nipple. He was sucking viciously, his tongue going around and around. I bucked violently, involuntarily, as my juices began to flow around his inserted dick. My hands tightened outside of my control, fingertips digging hard into his tight cheeks. My moaning seemed to be driving him wild. He began thrusting savagely in and out, bringing his speed past a crawl for the first time in the two hours we'd been rolling around on the sheets.
John was nearing his end, now. He grabbed my forearms and lifted me from the bed. I flew upright, wrapping my arms around him in a tight embrace. His hands found the back of my head once more, tangling in my hair, lips on mine again. He was driving his pelvis in and out, in and out, in and out, a blinding rhythm, as I felt his manhood begin to pulse and quiver within me. His stifled screams lashed against my mouth as he exploded. We clutched each other tighter than a lifeline as John's body writher against mine, his passionate groans deafening, even with the padding of my lips. When his cum finally stopped, we both collapsed on the bed, him still on top of me, his cock still inside, and we kissed a little longer. From time to time, MacTavish gave a thrust inside, grunting in pleasure as he did so. He barely had the awareness to pull out of me before we both blacked out into blissful exhaustion.