For What It's Worth
***Spicy bits, here. LOL. So be aware if you read further.
Thirty-six hours later and still there was no power at the Mason/Street home. In fact, none of the houses in their neighborhood had electricity. Fortunately, their generator took care of the basics: refrigerator, two lamps, and a few small appliances. These were the necessities that they'd planned for but didn't have enough wattage to stretch as far as a television or air conditioning. It was late winter and not hot enough to be uncomfortable—yet.
Perry poured two glasses of lemonade and carried them to the den where he found Della on the sofa reading a mystery novel, her back to the window for maximum light. She didn't glance up as he entered the room.
"Good book," he asked, handing her a glass.
"Very," she answered, finally looking at him. "But we've solved more challenging cases," she said, then took a sip of the cold drink. "Just what I needed. Thank you."
"You're welcome," he responded. He sat down the sofa and reached over, taking a bare foot in his hands. Massaging first one foot then the other. Della dropped the book to the floor and closed her eyes.
"Mmm. That feels good," she whispered.
Perry moved his hands up caressing her bare legs as far as her capris would allow. "That feels pretty good, too," he said, pleasure in his voice.
"Are you trying to seduce me, Counselor?" She batted her lashes at him and gave him a look that managed to be both innocent and suggestive.
"Me? Nooo. Far be it for me to assume that you'd put aside your very interesting book to join me down the hall in an uninhibited, decadent, and shameless display of lovemaking."
Della raised her eyebrows. "Just uninhibited, decadent, and shameless? Not lustful, immodest, and passionate?"
"Miss Street, if you will allow me, I will kiss from the tips of your crimson painted toes to the top of your head. Of course, I will take detours along the way. A mission such as this can't be rushed."
She leaned forward until they were almost face to face. "Would you kiss me here," she asked, pointing to her lips.
"I will."
"Here," she turned her head and exposed her neck.
"Yes."
"And here?" She unbuttoned the top two buttons on her pale pink blouse.
"Most definitely." His breathing deepened.
The heat between them was palpable.
Perry stood and took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. He moved to touch her, but she stilled his hands.
"No. Let me show you what I will do, Mr. Mason."
She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, sliding the sleeves off his arms, and dropping it to the floor. Moving behind him, she kissed him starting on his arms, across his shoulders, down to his lower back. She stepped back in front of him and released his trousers, letting all fall to the floor. Using her nails, she gently traced circles on his thighs, his back, across his chest. Finally, she reached down and took his engorged member in her hand, then leaning forward, she kissed and nibbled his neck, licked across his chest to a nipple.
Perry growled unable to tolerate anymore. "Della…."
Pushing her onto the bed, he kicked off his pants and socks. With her help, he removed her pants, underwear, shirt, and bra.
"Woman," he moaned. "God, you are beautiful."
He pressed his face into her décolletage, the fragrance of her urging him on. When his mouth found hers, it was if each wanted to crawl into the skin of the other. It was never enough. From the first time they'd made love, they'd always wanted all of each other.
Wrapping her legs around his, she lifted, willing him to her center. She moaned when he found what she needed, and they fell into a gradual sensuous rhythm. The entire world contracted to only them. Lovemaking become frantic and uninhibited.
Della let out a jagged, low cry and clutched him fiercely. Hearing her cry out was his breaking point. He let go and groaned her name aloud as his being fused to hers.
They lay locked together for a time, then rolled apart, panting, pulses pounding.
He reached for her hand and held it to his lips. "Love you, Della."
She rolled beside him, kissed him, and rested her head against his shoulder, heart full and body satisfied.
*****P&D****
It wasn't completely dark outside when the distant ring of a phone woke Perry. Taking care not to wake Della, he climbed out of bed and headed for the kitchen where he'd left his mobile phone.
"Hello." Dead air. Damn this knee. He'd taken too long. Looking at the caller, he hit redial.
"Paul?"
"Perry, I'll be at your place in half an hour or so. It's urgent."
"I'll be waiting."
After dressing, Perry carefully pulled the soft cotton blanket over a sleeping Della and watched with tender eyes as she snuggled into his pillow."
******************************P&D****************************
"Are you absolutely sure?!" Stunned. Perry leaned back in his chair. He and Paul had gone into his study to talk after Paul arrived.
"Double and triple checked."
"When," Perry asked, rubbing his salt and pepper beard as he contemplated the news.
"Still waiting on the coroner's results, according to my source in the LAPD. What I do know is that he was found somewhere in Will Rogers State Park by some hikers early this morning."
"How," Perry asked, "Gunshot?"
"Again, not sure. Listen, Perry, are you thinking this White killed him in retribution?"
Perry harrumphed in disbelief. "It would be one hellava coincidence if he didn't. No sign of a suicide note?"
"No mention of it, but I'll push my source. Why don't you let me put a guy here to keep an eye on the house? Della doesn't have to know—"
"Della doesn't have to know what?" She looked like she'd just climbed out of bed after having incredible sex, but that could have just been Perry's interpretation of the tousled hair and smeared makeup. He smiled to himself remembering their afternoon.
Until she spoke.
"What don't I need to know? Perry, what's going on," she asked, jerking the belt on her robe tighter. Instead of smooth caramel her voice was like ice water.
Paul looked to Perry, waiting for him to answer. It had been Perry's idea to keep it from her, after all.
The big man held out his hand to Della. When she was close, he took her hand and pulled her to his side.
"Ben McAlister is dead."
"Whaaat?!" Her other hand flew to her chest. "How!?"
Perry summed up the information that Paul had relayed to him.
"We were discussing whether to post an operative outside the house when you came in," Paul said, sheepishly. "We didn't want to worry you." Della gave him a withering look.
"Since when has either of you managed to keep anything from me for long? Especially something I will probably see on the news," she said, annoyed.
"Well, you won't see anything until you get electricity restored," Paul added, grinning.
Perry looked at him and shook his head.
"Sorry," he muttered, "Trying to lighten the mood."
"Ok, Paul, put someone on the house, and keep me, er, us, up to speed on whatever you learn," Perry said.
"Will do. Oh, and, by the way, I've had someone following Donald White since we last spoke. Staying close to home for now. Trying to get a line on whether he has a mobile phone and getting those records to check the towers that it may have pinged. That could help us track his movements before he was under surveillance."
Perry nodded. "Sounds good."
"Okay, well, I'm just gonna head out, and get in touch with Joe Carr and get him up here and in place."
He looked guiltily at Della. "Sorry."
She touched him gently on the arm, and said, "Be careful, Paul."
Kissing her on the cheek, he left.
Della sat down in the chair that Paul had vacated. Looking across the desk at Perry, her eyes expressed her exasperation. "Really, Perry. I would think you'd know by now that I don't need protecting."
He swallowed, started to speak, to try to explain.
Her face and neck flushed, and her eyes were dark. She spoke quietly, without rancor, "How could you know me for so long, love me like you have—like you just did-and understand me so little. It's insulting, Perry, keeping something from me because you think I can't handle it. We have a long history of rather unpleasant things happening to us. When have I ever not been able to handle it?"
Perry blurted out, "Della, I was trying to protect you. I didn't want you worrying about-"
She walked out of the room without waiting for him to finish.
He trailed off after he realized that he was making her case for her.
He sat there, angry, and disappointed in himself. When had he started treating her like fragile glass? She had always been up to any task he'd asked of her. He knew better. She was right. When had he turned into such an old man?