His cock slipped between her thighs, skimming the wet, swollen bud of her clit. Her head fell back, luxuriating in the press of Clyde’s thighs against her ass, the stiff shaft of his cock seeking entry. All brain activity ceased, all common sense about the state of her heart followed.
A tilt of her hips allowed her to sink down on his rigid shaft; it filled her, stretched her with deliciously slow increments. Wrapping the length of her hair around his hand, he tugged her head back, making her spine arch upward. Clyde used his other hand to cup her breast, muttering his approval when she offered it to him in total abandon.
She rode him as he thumbed her nipple, tingles of ecstasy pricking her skin. Leaning back, she placed her hands on his hardened thighs, enjoying the feel of the springy hair that covered them.
His hips lifted upward, driving into her, surging, pushing her to yet another height. Lust drove her to reach between them and drag her fingers through the hair at the base of his cock. Clyde bucked, jerking inside of her, filling her so full it took her breath away.
Her climax was swift as she drove downward one last needy time, rolling her hips with a whimper. A trail of sweat trickled between her breasts, and Clyde licked it away, pressing his hot lips to her skin as he came, too. His grunt of satisfaction was thick, muffled by her exposed flesh. Delaney tugged her head back upward, loosening his grip on her hair, and laid her cheek atop his head, inhaling the shampoo he’d used when he’d showered earlier.
They sat for a while, Clyde still in her, drawing her close and pulling the throw blanket from the end of the bed to cover them when she shivered.
Delaney squeezed her eyes shut at the rightness of this. How easy it had been to make love to this man she knew so little about, but longed to spend every waking moment with discovering.
So this would be a primo moment to bust a move.
Yet she just wanted to rock back and forth like this forever.
At the edge of her bed.
With Clyde.
“Heeeeey, you two—stop, you’re burning my eyes,” Marcella said with scorn, parting the desire-induced haze Delaney was in with her cold words spat with rapid fire.
“Coitus interruptus,” Clyde said with sigh and a frown, blinking his eyes at the light Marcella’d so rudely turned on.
Delaney fought for breath, struggling to right herself and shimmy off the end of the bed, but she dragged Clyde with her, his right ankle still wrapped around her left. “Did you forget how to use your phone, Marcella? You know, that cute pink thing with all the shiny buttons?”
She waved her hands in a flurry of agitated motion. “Get off of each other and skip being all offended that I’ve interrupted the festivities. You and me, D? We gotta talk and we gotta do it now. I’m not looking—get dressed.”
Delaney pushed her disheveled hair from her face, untangling herself from Clyde and scooping up her clothes, throwing them over her head. “Wow, sounds urgent. Oh, no. Did you miss the buy one shower gel get one free sale at Bath and Body Works?”
“Yeah, yeah I did. So I’m cranky. And guess what? I missed it because of you. Now—get out here now.” She stabbed a slender finger in the direction of the darkened kitchen.
Marcella’s voice bordered on seething and hysterical, and while she might get upset over missing a sale at one of her favorite stores, she’d never get this hinky about it.
Which meant she needed to unstick herself from Clyde.
Delaney gave Clyde a sympathetic look before fully dressing and hurrying off to the kitchen. “What the hell is so important you couldn’t wait until . . .”
“You were done? Sorry, chica. Next time I promise to put my social skills to better use, but this can’t wait. Now sit. We’ve got to talk.” Marcella yanked down the edge of Delaney’s skirt and buttoned a button on her blouse with a look of disgust.
Delaney didn’t want to sit. “So talk.”
“Who’s Vincent?”
Her stomach plummeted. “Why?”
Marcella rounded her, lingering with a menacingly close stance. “D? Now wouldn’t be the time to play stupid. Don’t fuck with me. Cut the bullshit, and answer me. Who—is—Vincent?”
Her mouth went arid with fear. “Someone I knew a long time ago.” Which was totally the truth. Totally.
Marcella’s lips popped in skepticism. “How did you know him, Delaney? Was he a friend, a lover you conveniently forgot to mention to me? What did he mean to you?”
“I don’t get what this has to do with anything.”
“If I didn’t just have my nails done, I’d haul off and clock that fake question mark right off your pretty face. It has to do with your life, dipshit! Tell me what this Vincent means to you, and maybe I can piece this together.”
“Piece what together?”
“The shit I heard tonight.”
“How about you tell me what you heard.”
“I heard that Vincent’s time was up, and so is yours!” she hissed in Delaney’s face. Fear, crystalline and bright, shone in her green eyes; it was visible in every line on Marcella’s smooth skin.
But that was impossible. Vincent’s time couldn’t be up.
He was dead.