TITLE: "The Long Road"
AUTHOR: Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial or Cruecial411]
RATING: R [Language, violence, and adult content]
SUMMARY: Frank follows a ladylove out of state where they become embroiled in conflict with an old enemy. Will the sparks fly or die? [Sequel to "Mission: Aggravation," "Thorn In His Side," and "Back For More."]
GENRE: Drama, Suspense, Action, and a special breed of Romance [Lustmance]
DISCLAIMER: UC: Undercover and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others. NO infringement intended. All other original characters belong solely to the sick, twisted, and vivid imagination of the author.
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FEARIt was around midnight when Donovan was roused out of bed by a gentle rapping at his door. He climbed out of bed and shrugged into his robe. He hoped the noise didn't disturb Stasia. He padded silently to the door and stuck his eye up to the peephole. What is she doing back, he thought. He opened the door and barely had time to breathe before she threw herself into his arms and kissed him. He felt himself responding to her every touch. He had to get her inside quickly before they awakened the other woman in his life. He swung her around and hooked the door with his foot. A gentle push and it closed. He winced when it made a hollow banging noise. While kissing the breath out of her, he listened for the baby. The noise apparently hadn't bothered her a bit. Good. Her hands were at his robe, ripping at the sash, tearing it open. They moved over the smooth muscle of his chest and she raked her nails down it, causing him to release a hissing breath against her lips. What the hell was she trying to do to him? He didn't know. He didn't care. Whatever it was, he liked it. God did he like it. Her impatient hands pushed at his robe and he literally ripped it off his body. He noticed that he had yet to stop kissing her. Could she breathe? Was he really worried about that? No. Uh uh. All he was worried about was getting her out of her clothes and making love to her. He had wanted her since he saw her earlier, but there had been no time. There was never enough damn time. His robe finally off, he released her lips and watched with hungry eyes as she lifted her arms over her head, waiting for him to rid her of her blouse. He did not hesitate. He carelessly tossed it aside and he went to her again. His lips claimed hers once more as his hands cupped her breasts. He felt her nipples hardening through the lacy material of her bra. She would have to come out of that. Oh yes she would. He drew the straps down off her shoulders and allowed his mouth to attack her shoulder. At the same time, his free hand was dragging the other strap down. He quickly switched sides and let his hand fall down the small of her back. With very slight movements, the bra was unhooked and discarded. With his arms wrapped around her, his head dipped down and drew a hardened nipple between his lips, sucking it into his mouth, pulling and tugging. Oh damn. How could he do this to her? The thought entered her mind again as he went to work on the other. What else did she have on? A skirt? Slacks? God why wasn't she undressed yet? When his mouth moved back up, his hands slid down her naked back and settled on her buttocks. A skirt. Good. Relatively easy to discard. He took a handful of her skirt and with a near animalistic snarl, he tugged at it, yanking and pulling. It came off quickly, but he wasn't altogether certain it would be wearable after tonight. He noticed with a look of wonder that she had somehow discarded her shoes. When the hell did that happen? Had he been losing time? Oh. What did it matter? He kissed her again, pulling her body roughly against his, crushing her into him. She felt her body moving backward. He was pushing her along, supporting her with his hand, but he was determined to get her away from the door. She would not leave him again tonight.
Her legs hit the edge of the couch and she yipped in surprise. For a moment, she felt the awful sensation of falling down. She didn't land on the floor. Instead, he had positioned her body in such a way that she fell back on the cushions, half on/half off the couch. She didn't have to wait long to right herself. He came after her almost immediately. His body pinned hers to the couch. She noticed that both of their bodies were becoming quite slicked with sweat. Uh God. When Donovan's weight shifted slightly, she felt her body slipping just a bit. She was about to fall into a gigantic quivering pool onto the floor when his strong hands gripped her and pulled her back underneath him. They stifled a laugh within a kiss. I am such a dolt. A small whimpering cry left her as his hand slid down her side. It never dawned on either of them that they were still covered by their undergarments. How utterly embarrassing. What were they? Two goofy teenagers? He groaned a little and slid his hand inside the elastic waistband of her panties. The moment he touched her flesh beneath the silky material, a second whimpering cry left her. How did he expect to get her out of her panties if he didn't move? She was sure he'd find a way. She was right, he did. She felt them going down, sliding between a space not wide enough for a cigarette paper. How was he doing this? Oh he was good. He was so good. She freed one leg and left the other alone. She had little patience. His lips found hers again as her own hands worked inside his tight little black shorts. He looked so hot in them that it was a damn shame to remove them. However, her sadness was short-lived. She worked them down far enough where their legs and feet could get them off the rest of the way. The heated, hardened flesh, the male part of him, was crushed against her, throbbing with a life of its own. How long would it take to feel it inside her? At times, he could be an incredible tease, and she didn't know if she could stand it, not tonight.
He groaned, the sound emitting from deep down in his throat, as she shifted her body just the tiniest bit. If he had bothered looking, he would have seen her propping one leg against the couch while the other hung crazily in the air. All he did know was that she had moved, drawing him closer and closer to the center of her, an area so moist and aching, so welcoming. No. He wouldn't rush. He refused to rush. He would take his time, control the urges, touch her, taste her, love her like he wanted. They had all night, all day tomorrow, and perhaps the day after that as well. His hand fell on the side of her hip, the one attached to the leg flailing almost crazily in the air. He drew it around him as a way to control the madness, to put the game at his advantage instead of hers. She snaked her leg around him at his prodding, but was pretty close to begging him to end the torture. Why was he doing this to her? What had she ever done to him to deserve this? Oh, he was a wicked, wicked man. She liked it, though, she liked it a lot. Halfway out of her mind now, she felt the dizzying sensation of being pulled up. Where was he taking her? She wasn't sure if she had the strength to walk back into the bedroom. He just might have to carry her. Instead, he sat up and pulled her forward, wrapping her legs around his waist again. Would he come inside her now? Would he continue the torture game? If she lived through the night, she'd get him back some way. Oh yes she would. He kissed her again, his hands plunging into her hair, and hers moved down his naked chest, traveling lower, settling on him. He took in a startled, hissing breath, and he broke the kiss. Leaning his forehead against hers for a moment, he moaned a tormented 'uh uh,' before drawing her hand away. Not so fast. Not yet. He lowered her back down to the couch and she thought he would come back down with her, but he didn't. Instead, he placed her body in a partial sitting position. What the hell did he think he was doing? She didn't have long to wonder or ponder the fate of the world. She didn't have time to breathe, actually. She felt the invasion of his wet tongue inside her. Normally not one to like this sort of thing, she got jolly right into it. She plunged a hand into his hair and tossed her head back. Oh God oh God oh God. What was he doing to her? Uh uh. He will not make me come. He will not make me come. Not yet not yet not yet. Oh. Too late too late too late. She took a fistful of his hair as the sensation overtook her. She wasn't the type to cry out, either, and she had to fight the urge. After all, he had neighbors. Instead, she whimpered with each strong contraction until the feeling subsided slowly.
Sensing that his job was done for the time being, he placed a trail of kisses back up her body until his lips were on hers again. Once more, she felt her body sliding over beneath him. She knew that he would eventually have to come inside her. What did he want her to do? Beg? Had she ever begged before? Her hand found him again, and this time, he didn't push her away. It was her turn for a little return torture. Oh ho. What do we have here? Their kiss deepened as her hand moved up and down him slowly, deliberately. At one moment, her touch was heavy and her fingers squeezed mercilessly. At another, her fingers would only brush lightly along his length. The noises coming from inside him made her smile. He certainly could dish it out better than he took it. She heard another groaned response: uh uh. She would stop, but only if it meant he would come inside her once and for all. God. Would he take the cue? She removed her hand again, positioning her body in the same awkward way before he had decided to orally torture her. Could he take it? Could he continue to hold back without losing his mind? Jesus. He didn't understand how he had lasted this long. With his lips and teeth nibbling the delicate flesh of her throat, she felt the slight shift of his lower body. Oh God. It was about damn time. Jesus. She sighed deeply as she felt the throbbing girth of him entering her slowly, just a gentle push here and there until he was completely inside her. He pulled back and away, totally exiting her, and she groaned in annoyed frustration. Oh. He was an Indian giver. Before she had time to complain, he slid into her again, not withdrawing this time, but moving within her at a snail's pace. How did he have the control? Good God. He lost his hold on control just the slightest bit when she dug her nails into his back and began moving with him, in perfect harmony. Had it ever been this way with her before? Had it? How could he have been stupid enough to let her go? When his body stilled in the throes of climax several minutes later, he pulled her up to a sitting position astride him, never losing the connection with her. He plunged his hands into her hair [had it ever felt this soft] and nibbled the flesh at the side of her neck. What to say? What to do next? Where to go? It was confusing, but there was one thing that he was not confused about.
He brought his lips up to her ear where she could hear his heavy breathing, feel the puffs of air as he inhaled and exhaled. "I love you. You know that, don't you?"
Her arms came up around his back. "I know." Say it back, you dolt. Say it back. "I love you, too."
* * *
A cry in the early dawn hours awakened Donovan. He went to his daughter's room to take care of her. She was crying softly and holding out her little arms to be picked up. He knew she felt completely shuttled around. He hugged her to him and assured her that she wouldn't be uprooted this time. She was home to stay. When she quieted down, he laid her back in her bed and tucked her in. He went back to his bedroom, stripped out of his robe, and slid into bed. Unable to go back to sleep right away, he lay propped on his elbow and stared at her. He couldn't help but wonder what motivated her to come back after being so determined to leave. She lay on her back, her arms splayed out. When he woke up a few minutes ago, her arm had been laying across his chest. The bed sheet was pulled up past her breasts and he hooked a finger inside. Carefully, so as not to awaken her, he drew the sheet down. His hand reached out and touched her breast. She moaned a little in her sleep and covered his hand with hers. He slid his hand along her breast and settled it between them. She moaned again and mumbled something he couldn't understand. He smiled a little and drew a gentle line along the tattoo that had fascinated him so when he first laid eyes on her. He supposed that unconsciously, he had made his choice, but was it one he could stick to? What if she hadn't made hers? He hadn't given much thought to that. He hadn't given much thought to anything the moment she came through the door. There hadn't been much time for reflection anyway, had there? Shaking his head a little and sighing, he settled on the bed beside her, not quite removing his hand from the tattoo placed almost strategically over her heart.
* * *
Pax came awake slowly. For a moment, she wondered if last night had been a hallucination. When she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she was shown the reality of the situation. Nope. Wasn't a hallucination. Had she been thinking straight when she came over here? Did it matter? She had wanted Frank and she came after him. What else needed to be said? He loved her [she didn't have the foggiest idea why] and she loved him. God. Why was she so stupid? She could have easily gotten on the plane and made her way to Miami. It was where she needed to be. Fuck. She turned to her side and reach out to the vacant side of the bed. What had happened after the crazy shit on the couch? Oh yes. He had taken her to bed and made love to her again. It seemed as if she were drunk or something. She couldn't remember anything. Or was it that she didn't want to remember anything? The tricky bastard had basically made her tell him she loved him. She tried to deny it, of course, but once it was out, it was out. It was a dirty trick, but also one that kind of hurt when he didn't immediately return the sentiment. She kept a wall built around her heart and didn't let many people in, but when she did, she gave completely over. It was his admission that fueled her desire to come back for a few more days. She still had her tickets and could easily swamp them out. Question was, did she want to go? God. What the fuck was she thinking? She could be in love with the witless fuck, but she damn well couldn't live with him, could she? It wasn't in her. It wasn't something that she had been designed for when she was hatched. She closed her eyes. Jonella Paxton, Donovan's princess has given you the Dolt Disease.
From the other room, she heard the unmistakable sound of a child crying. Dear jumping Jesus on a fucking camel. He had his kid here? He fucked her brains out twice with his kid in the other room? Jesus. She had never had an easy time around little kids. Most of them ran away from her screaming at the top of their lungs. If the kid were here, the princess would surely return today or tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes closed and decided to get a few more winks of sleep. She might ship out sooner than she thought. After a moment, the child's crying tapered off and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't mesh well with little kids. Nope. Nope. She heard the bedroom door opening and her body tensed. Damn it. Why couldn't she just fucking relax? She felt him slide into bed behind her. She was a bit torn. She wanted his touch, but didn't want it at the same time. She hadn't gotten the hang of this love thing yet. It had been many, many years since she had felt any emotion close to it. The moment she felt the solid wall of his body behind her, she let out a long, trembling sigh. Ugh. How wimpy was that.
"I'll be gone before your princess picks up the kid," she said.
Confused, he gazed down at her. He then nodded. Duh. She didn't know Remy had left to scout for a place to live out of town. "You don't have to go anywhere, Jonella, Stasia is staying with me now. My ex left town earlier yesterday and I'm not sure when she's coming back."
For a moment, she felt the jubilated elation of a child: Me! Me! He chose me! She shook it off. God. Where the fuck did that come from? "She left? Just like that? Why?"
"Possibly to find her own life, but also to give me enough time to make up my mind. She thinks the time with Stasia will direct my attention back to her."
"Won't it," she asked.
"No," he stated firmly, "it won't."
"What the hell are you saying," she asked. She knew she needed to look at him, but she couldn't. She was afraid to hear his answer, whichever way it went.
"What do you think I'm saying? I want you, I think you want me, and I refuse to be drawn into a game of tug-o-war. What do you want? You've never told me, not once."
"I don't know," she said.
"You don't? Then why did you come here?"
She huffed. "Goddamn. Your ego is bigger than the whole state of Texas. Maybe I wanted one more cheap thrill before I hopped the plane to Miami. Maybe I needed a little side entertainment. Fuck, Frank. Why do you ask questions like that?"
He shook his head and chuckled. "Same woman you've always been," he told her, "I tell you I love you, and you're still trying to push my buttons. You don't have to do that anymore. You didn't have to do it before."
"Are you going to make me say it," she asked, her voice muffled in the pillow.
"What do you think?"
She growled and drove her fist into the bed. "I want you, okay," she said grudgingly. "I want you. I've wanted you since I first met you. Happy now?"
He kissed her shoulder. "Not just yet. Give me a day or two."
She turned to her back, ready to throttle him. "You bastard. When are you going to stop fucking tricking me? Goddamn, you're fucked in the head."
"Shut up," he said, not unkindly. She was about to say something else, to curse at him again, but he stopped it with a kiss.