DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI: NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA ROSS.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M. A STRICT M IN FACT. IT CONTAINS ADULT SITUATIONS. AS MY FRIEND LAPLANDGURL WOULD SAY, JUST TWO ADULTS IN A NORMAL RELATIONSHIP. IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE, IT'S BEST TO SKIP WAYYYYY AHEAD. THANKS, BEG75

THANKS TO EVERYONE ADDING ME TO ALERTS AND FAVS!


Fantasy versus reality

"We were drawn from the weeds
We were brave like soldiers
Falling down under the pale moonlight
You were holding to me
Like a someone broken
And I couldn't tell you but I'm telling you now
Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you so we both fall down
Fall on me
Tell me everything you want me to be
Forever with you forever in me
Ever the same
We would stand in the wind
We were free like water
Flowing down
Under the warmth of the sun
Now it's cold and we're scared
And we've both been shaken
Look at us
Man, this doesn't need to be the end
Just let me hold you while you're falling apart
Just let me hold you so we both fall down."
-Ever the Same, Rob Thomas


Daylight was just beginning to peek in front underneath the blinds when Samantha woke from the peaceful, content sleep that she had been immersed in. Exhaustion had gotten the better of her and Flack at three in the morning. The multiple bouts of intense and passionate love making draining them both physically and emotionally. The first ending with not only a powerful, mind blowing orgasm of the likes that she had never experienced before in her entire life, but with hot tears that spilled down her face and sobs that shook her entire body. Tears of release. Years of pain and suffering at the hands of one man finally being lifted off of her shoulders because of the gentle words of encouragement and kisses and touches of another. Someone that loved her regardless of all the issues she brought to the table. Who treated her with respect and made her feel safe and secure.

She knew, just by looking into his eyes and in the way he held her, that he would never hurt her and that there was nothing he wouldn't do for her. It was so overwhelming, to feel that loved and that cherished, and to trust someone and love them as much as she did him, that the tears came quickly and easily. Embarrassing her and startling Flack. He'd never, ever had a woman cry after sex. It was a new one for him and he'd had no clue how to deal with it. Had he done something wrong? Caused her pain and discomfort despite the fact that he had been as tender and patient as possible? Two qualities he wasn't exactly famous for. But her inexperience with men had called for him to be gentle and loving. She was almost a virgin she'd been so nervous and self-conscious and so tight. There had been some discomfort, but he'd been pretty sure, by the noises she made and the way she raked his back and shoulders with her nails, that she'd been right into it and had gotten off. More than once.

So what the hell was her issue?

Despite being more than a little unnerved and freaked out, he had also found himself mellowed by the sex and the incredible feeling of being inside of her. The bond that now existed between them was impenetrable. Their connection seemed even stronger that it had before. The feelings they had for one another being passed between them with the simplest of glances and briefest of touches. Samantha had a way of drawing out the sensitive, tender side that he didn't even know he possessed. A side he reserved only for her.

Which was why her crying, after what had seemed like an amazing experience on both of their parts, had shocked and concerned him. And as they lay there, their sweaty, sticky limbs entangled and his hand alternating between softly stroking her hair and her back, he'd kissed away those tears and listened quietly and understandingly to her reasons for her emotional meltdown, as she called it. How she'd never known sex could feel that way. Be that intense, the pleasure all consuming. And almost frightening. And, that by giving herself to him completely, she was entrusting him with every inch of her being. Which absolutely terrified her.

He had no intention of ever hurting her. Physically or emotionally. And he'd looked into her eyes when he promised that to her, then kissed her long and soft. The taste of maple syrup still lingering on both of their lips. Both their bodies and the sheets below them bearing witness to the creative use of the sticky, sweet liquid.

They'd stripped the bed bare and tossed the dirty sheets into the laundry basket in her closet before putting fresh bedding on. They'd showered. Ridding themselves of the syrup and lathering and rinsing each other with gentle hands. It hadn't taken long for things to take an amorous turn. Turning a fifteen minute shower into a nearly forty five minute one before returning to bed, their bodies dripping with water and resuming their activities.

They'd fallen asleep shortly after things had been completed. Managing to mutter simple I love you's before surrendering to sleep. Flack lying on his side with a strong, protective arm over her body as she lay snuggled tightly into him, her breasts flattened against his chest and her head tucked under his chin and her leg draped over his thigh.

Which was not how she found herself in as he eyes flickered open. There was a chill in the room. The cause for her being woken from a blissful slumber. Some time during the past few hours, they'd not only managed to kick the heavy duvet off of the bed, but to arrange themselves in different sleeping positions. Flack on his opposite side, back facing her, and Sam flat on her stomach, face buried in her pillow. Shivering from the low temperatures and lack of clothing, she sat up briefly to retrieve the comforter from the foot of the bed. Lying down, she yanked the thick blanket up to her chin and tossed the remainder over top of her boyfriend's motionless body before rolling over onto her side and cuddling up against his warm back,

She sighed contently and wrapped her arm around his waist and closed her eyes. Never wanting to leave that bed. Or the person she shared it with. She just wanted to lie there forever. Feeling the heat that radiated off his body and listening to him breathe. The outside world forgotten and all their problems and stresses pushed to the back burner.

Her eyes snapped open once more as her bladder made it perfectly clear it had a mind of its own. Groaning loudly, she tossed the comforter off of her and slipped out of bed and hurried for the bathroom. Snagging Flack's shirt on the way and shrugging into it in hopes of warding off the chill in the apartment. The heating system in the building was proving to be less than stellar despite the landlord insisting that it had been completely overhauled just the winter before. It didn't help matters that all the windows were shot and couldn't keep out the simplest of drafts.

Definitely not worth the money I'm paying to live here, she thought, after she finished her business and returned to the bedroom. The clock on the nightstand read quarter to eight. Way too early to be up on a day off, she grumbled internally as she slid back into bed and fluffed her pillow and lay back down on her side. Pulling the comforter around herself and the sleeping body that now faced her.

She watched Flack as he slept. A smile curving her lips at the sight of him so comfortable and peaceful. Long, dark eyelashes falling on his scruffy, unshaven cheeks. His body rising and falling with each steady, deep breath he took. For a man, he was damn beautiful. Of course, he would never want to hear her actually say that to him. Donald Flack Jr was a man's man. He preferred ruggedly handsome or devastatingly attractive. Whatever way it was said, he was damn gorgeous and even more irresistible. Even with the grey hair he was sporting despite his young age.

She reached out and traced his top lip, a fingernail grazing over the small scar on the left hand side. A run in with a perp during his days as a uniform. His first war wound, as he called it. There were many others. Most small and insignificant. Small cuts and injuries made during his career or fights in high school or playing hockey. Nothing that compared to the larger, thicker scars that remained from the bombing that had nearly taken his life and crushed his spirit.

Danny had told her, in confidence, that Flack had taken a beating, both physically and emotional. She knew little about his actual injuries. Other then shrapnel had been embedded in his chest and his stomach ripped wide open. She had heard that Mac had used a dirty shoelace to tie together a severed artery, ultimately saving Flack's life. Danny had talked about the months his best friend had spent in the hospital and the seemingly endless and horrifically painful hours of rehab that he had endured.

Flack rarely spoke of the incident that had nearly killed him. He had told her bits and pieces the night that she had gently coaxed him to remove his shirt and then even more gently kissed and caressed the scar that marred the left side of his stomach. She respected that it was a painful time in his life. That he was attempting to put it behind him and didn't need her asking any questions. She figured, in due time, he'd open up about what he had been through, both physically and mentally.

For now, she just thanked God for sparing him. Because despite her insistence's that she was going to take things slow and not allow herself to fall hard and fast, the man that lay sleeping in front of her was the love of her life. And she couldn't even begin to imagine never having met him.

"You know," Flack said, his eyes closed. "It's rude to stare."

The sound of his voice startled Samantha out of the daze she'd managed to fall into. She grinned and pressed a kiss to his nose. "Faker," she said with a giggle and curled her arm around his neck and moved closer towards him.

"I was awake as soon as you got out of bed and went to the bathroom," he told her. "I just wanted to lie here and see how long it took you to actually say something. Considering I know how difficult it is for you to stay quiet for very long."

"That's not very nice," she pouted, settling her face alongside of his on her pillow.

"It's just you Brooklyn girls never know when to keep your traps shut."

"Bite me!" she exclaimed, then laughed when he bent his head and nipped gently at her shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her slender body and pulled her tight against him. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he buried his face in her hair and relaxed in the warmth of her embrace. They lay quietly together, her foot sliding up and down his bare leg, her breath soft against his throat.

"How come you put clothes on?" he asked curiously.

"I was cold," she replied.

"But now I have to go through the trouble of getting you naked again," he complained.

"Poor baby," she said, kissing his neck. "Like that's a hard feat. It's not like I resist and you have to work hard to get what you want."

"Just takes up thirty seconds of my time that I could spend doing other things,' he reasoned.

"Yeah? What other things?"

He grinned. "If you had have come back to bed naked I'd be able to show you."

She laughed and pushed him away. "You're a dirty minded perv!" she complained.

"Maybe," he said with a chuckle and reaching out to lay a hand on the small of her back, yanked her into him. "But you like me being that way."

"No I don't," she told him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"No?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her face.

She shook her head. "I don't like you being a dirty minded perv at all. I LOVE you being a dirty minded perv."

He grinned and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

She buried her fingers in his hair and kissed him back with everything she had. Sighing contently as his tongue parted her lips and her teeth and invaded her mouth hungrily and demandingly. Moving away from him slightly as she felt his hand slip between them and reach for the top button on the shirt.

"See what I mean?" he asked, breathless from the kiss as his fingers effortlessly began popping buttons open. "I have to do this when I could be doing other things."

"You could still be doing the other things with the shirt on," she informed him.

Flack shook his head. "I've got plans for you," he told her, finishing with the shirt and pushing it off of her pale shoulder.

"What kinds of plans?" she asked, shuddering at the feel of his tongue drifting along her skin.

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he replied, and tangling his fingers in her hair, tipped her head back to expose her throat to his lips. "Do me a favour?" he asked, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Okay," she squeaked.

"You trust me?"

She nodded.

"I want you to take the shirt off and lie on your stomach. Can you do that for me?"

"What are you going…."

"Can you do that for me?" he repeated.

She bit her lip and nodded.

"I won't do anything that you're not comfortable with," he told her, moving away from her as she sat up and peeled the shirt off. She had an amazing body. Silky, pale skin and curves in all the right places. He'd never been into women that were skin and bones. He preferred substance. A bit of meat on the bones. Nothing was more uncomfortable then cuddling up to a stick. And this woman….

Terrence Davis' words echoed in Flack's mind. Off the hook. That was the only way to describe what she looked like without clothes on. And what a simple glimpse of her body could do to him. The thought of taking those breasts in his hands and those nipples into his mouth and running his hands over her thighs and touching her until she was whimpering beneath him enough to bring upon a raging hard-on. And to know that she was relatively inexperienced and for the most part, ready and willingly to allow him to teach her things, was the biggest turn on off them all.

She tossed the shirt aside and arranged the pillows neatly before turning her back to him and lying down on her stomach. Her smooth back and round, firm ass and short, yet shapely legs begging for attention. Attention he was more than ready, willing and able to give.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her hands joined on the pillow, chin resting on them.

"It's a secret," he replied. "You just need to lie there and relax and trust me."

She sighed heavily. "Okay…" she said, hesitation in her voice. "Just don't…"

"You've already told me that that's en exit only," Flack reminded her. "Like I said, I'm not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. You want me to stop, just tell me. Alright?"

She nodded.

"Open your legs," he instructed.

"Donnie, what…?"

"Open your legs," he repeated, his voice gently, his lips brushing against the back of one thigh.

She shuddered. And did as she was told.

"Just relax, baby," he whispered, kneeling in between her legs and running his hands from the back of her knees, up her legs and over her ass. Travelling slowly up her back to her shoulders and back down again.

"I don't know if…"

"Trust me," he said, pressing a kiss to the small of her back, his fingertips tracing the entire outline of the massive tattoo of lotus flowers that stretched from one hip to the other.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before relaxing underneath him.

"You'll like this, Sammie. I promise."

"Okay…but what…" her words were cut off by a small whimper as she felt his moist tongue on the small of her back.

"Put your arms above your head," he said, running his own hands along her sides.

She did as instructed.

"Good girl," he praised, then lowered his head once more. The tip of his tongue coming in contact with the small of her back once more. Then ever so slowly, travelling the entire length of her spine.

She whimpered underneath him. Seduced by the sensation of his tongue and the touch of his fingers grazing along her ribs and teasing the sides of her breasts and his hot breath on her skin.

"You like that?" he asked, his hands pushing her hair over her shoulders and his lips brushing against the nape of her neck.

She gave a tiny squeak and nodded.

He suckled at the back of her neck, his hands drifting along her arms to her hands. Entwining his fingers with hers as his teeth and lips and tongue worked her to a near frenzy by simply concentrating on her neck. He released her hands and slid his hands along her arms once more before giving her skin a soft nip and then travelling the length of her spine once more. She was going crazy underneath him. Whimpering and moaning and digging both her toes and her fingers in the sheets.

"Open your legs a bit wider," he told her, his breathing ragged, sweat beading his forehead.

She opened them, tensing as his tongue dipped between the cleft of her ass. "Donnie…don't…"

"I'm not," he assured her, kissing the inside of her thigh before sliding a hand underneath her, two fingers tips brushing against the fine hair between her legs before pushing into her warm, wet and welcoming body.

She groaned loudly at the delicious intrusion.

His thumb found her clit and stroked it firmly. Once, then twice, before she came quickly, screaming into the pillow below her. Her inner muscles contracting around his fingers, her legs closing around his hand. He kissed along the small of her back, not speaking as he waited for her body to stop trembling and her muscles to relax.


After several minutes, her legs parted and her muscles allowed his fingers to slip out of her. She was face down in the pillow still, panting and whimpered.

"You okay, babe?" he asked, sitting up and leaning over her to kiss her shoulder.

She nodded and raised her head. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" he asked, using a finger to clear away the tears that trickled down her face. "Having an orgasm? That was the whole point. You were suppose to have one."

"I'm on a bit of a hair trigger apparently," she said, a sheepish look on her face.

"Hey, more times I can get you off, the better it is for my ego," he grinned and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I'm just glad you liked it as much as I thought you would. You good?"

She nodded and blew her bangs out her face. Then attempted to roll over onto her back.

He stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I want you to stay like that," he told her. "Okay? So far, other then the shower, it's been missionary. Not that I'm complaining. 'Cause it feels damn good. But I want try something different. Alright?"

"You won't…"

"Exit only, Sammie. I heard the first time and I respect that. Here," he grabbed his pillow. "Take this…I want you to put this under you. Just below your stomach. So it raises your hips a bit. Alright?"

"I feel so stupid," she complained, taking the pillow and lifting her body slightly to place it under her.

"Why?" Flack asked.

"I'm embarrassed."

"What's to be embarrassed about?" he inquired, leaning over her to and reaching for the top drawer on the nightstand. Opening it up, he snagged two condom packages from the nearly empty box inside. One he placed on the mattress within reaching distance. The other he kept in the palm of his hand.

"I don't know anything," she replied. "I feel like you won't enjoy it as much with me because I don't know very much."

"It's the exact opposite, babe," he told her, kissing her shoulder. "Knowing that you haven't been with a lot of guys and that I can teach you things and make you feel things that no one else has? That's a huge turn on. And there's other things, too. That make me enjoy being with you more than I would someone else that's been around."

"Like?"

"Like the fact I love you with every fibre of my being. Do I need to come right out and tell you the physical stuff?"

"You mean because I'm tight?"

He grinned. "That's a nice way of putting it. But yeah, that extra friction because of that? It makes it fucking amazing for me when I'm inside of you."

Her cheeks flushed.

He couldn't help but give a small chuckle. "You blushing, babe? Why are you blushing?"

"The way you talk," she said. "I just never…I don't know…I've never had someone talk like that when we've been…you know…"

"You've never had someone talk dirty to you? You serious?"

She blushed even more.

"It turn you on?" he asked, his lips against the back of her neck as he ran a hand over her thigh and her ass. The tone of his voice sending shivers through her entire body.

"A little," she replied.

"A little?" he chuckled. "Is that why you've got goose bumps and shivering from head to toe?" he asked, trailing kisses along her shoulders and up her neck to her ear. Licking it and nibbling at the lobe before pressing his lips to it. "I bet your wet already too. Is that all because you love me talking like this to you?"

"Maybe," she said. "But it could also be because it makes me wet to think about you fucking me."

A wide smile appeared on his face. "Now who's talking filthy?" he asked, licking and suckling at the back of her neck. His hands drifted up her sides, fingertips grazing along her soft skin and briefly pausing on the sides of her breasts before slipping down to her hips and onto his ass once again.

She whimpered and shuddered as his fingers traced feathery, circular patterns on her ass and his lips travelled all the way to the small of her back. Her nerves completely on edge. Filled with the most overwhelming feelings of want and desire. To the point where she felt as if she couldn't breathe or formulate a simple thought.

"Donnie…" she pleaded, her fingers digging into the sheets as his tongue traced her tattoo once again.

"What, baby?" he asked. "Tell me what you want."

"I want…" her breath hitched as his hand slipped between her legs. "I want you. So bad."

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he said. "Don't be shy."

"I want you to…I want you to fuck me…please…I can't…I can't take much more of this…"

"I'll take care of you, Sammie," he whispered, his lips against her back. "Don't you worry about that."

"Hurry, please," she pleaded.

"You have no idea what that does to me," he said, his eyes sweeping over her naked and trembling and perspiring body "Hearing you beg like that. You have no idea how bad that turns me on, babe. Maybe I should make you do it for a little bit longer and…"

"Stop it!" she cried. "Please! Just stop it and hurry up!"

He smiled triumphantly and sat back on his heels and tore open the foil package clasped in his hands. Normally, her being on the Nuvaring would have been enough protection as far as they were both concerned. But while she'd recently gone through a round of blood tests for work which had shown she was clean, he hadn't found the time or the opportunity to go in for some voluntary tests. He didn't think he was carrying anything. In fact, he was certain he was completely clean. But it was better to be safe then sorry. Until then, doubling up on protection was their best bet.

After rolling the condom down onto himself, he gently pushed her legs apart and moved his body over hers, propping himself on one arm as he used his free hand to position his aching cock at her moist entrance.

"Just relax, Sammie," he whispered. "Just lie there and relax, okay?"

She nodded, then groaned loudly at the sensation of him filling her completely with one strong, fluid thrust.

He moaned at the delicious friction and slight resistance he met. Her lack of experience and lovers made her close to being a virgin. And it had been along time since he'd been with a woman that had never had sex. Years, in fact. Most of the women he'd been with had been around the block and then some. Not something he was entirely proud of, but the sole reason he was such a firm believe in using latex each and every time the need, and opportunity, for sex arose.

"You okay?" he asked, completely still inside of her, allowing her body to stretch to accommodate him.

She shook her head.

"You're not okay?"

"It's not very comfortable," she told him, sounding apologetic. "Is there any way we can…"

"Get up onto your hands and knees," he told her, holding the condom in place as he pulled out of her.

"Can't we just…"

"Do it," he demanded.

She looked over her shoulder and grinned at him. "I love it when you get all bossy and aggressive like that."

He smirked. "You going to do it or do I have to make you do it?"

She didn't respond. Or react.

He grabbed her by the hips and yanked her up off of the mattress. "I said on your hands and knees!" he barked.

She obeyed, her cheeks flushed and her hair mussed and her breathing ragged.

"You are so beautiful, baby," Flack told her, running his hands along her thighs and over her hips, kissing the small of her back. "You have no idea how beautiful you are and how bad I want to fuck you."

"So then just do it," she said through gritted teeth.

He grinned, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he positioned himself at her entrance and pushed into it her with a fast, determined thrust.

She cried out. Her hands fisting the sheets as her head fell forward.

With one hand on her hip, he slid the other up her back before gripping her shoulder tightly. His teeth gritted as he moved in and out of her at a slow, steady pace. Sweat trickled down his back and coated his shoulders and chest. Each stroke striking that sweet, hidden spot that she had always considered a myth. He'd shot that misconception down right quick the first time that he'd ever gone down on her and used his fingers to give her the first G-spot orgasm of her entire life.

He tightened his hold on her hip and her shoulder and began moving faster and harder. Something he had learned, that despite her relative inexperience, she seemed to enjoy a hell of a lot.

The constant assault on her sweet spot and the feel of his lips and his teeth on the small of her back had her gasping for air and pleaded for release in a matter of minutes. Keeping with his fast pace, Flack reached around her with one hand to find, and stroke her clitoris with a deft finger. She came undone almost immediately. Screaming his name, her nails tearing at the blankets below her. The contracting of her inner muscles sending him over the edge almost immediately after. Driving into her one last time before biting his lip to keep back the noises that threatened to erupt from him at the sensation of her body milking him.

Her arms and legs gave out and she collapsed face first onto the bed. His own shaky legs threatened to buckle as well, and just as his body threatened to crush her, he managed to plant his palm on the bed and hold himself up. His entire body quaking as his cock continued to pulse inside of her. He was vaguely aware of her trembling and whimpering face down on the bed. Her lungs struggling to draw air, her entire body drenched in sweat.

He closed his eyes tightly and struggled for several minutes to compose himself before slowly and gently pulling out of her now still body. Her breathing had returned to normal. Her body had stopped shaking. But the whimpering, panting noises continued.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his voice quiet and gentle as he placed kisses along her spine.

She nodded.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" he asked, stroking her hair. "Please tell me I didn't hurt you."

She shook her head and turned her face sideways on the pillow. "It's a good hurt," she assured him.

He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I love you, Sammie. So much."

"I love you, too," she said.

He kissed her once more. "I'll be right back, okay? I just need to take care of some business."

She nodded and buried her face in the pillow once again.

Flack climbed off of the bed and headed through the bedroom and into the bathroom. Disposing the used condom in the trash before grabbing a drink of water and journeying back out into the bedroom. Grinning at the side of the bed at the sight of his girlfriend, completely naked and lying on her back. Arms and legs spreaeagled and snoring lightly.

"You were born a man," he said with a smirk. "I swear to God you were."

Grabbing the comforter, he covered her to her chin before climbing back into bed as well. Lying on his side, he draped an arm over her and rested her forehead on her shoulder.

It was only a matter of minutes before sleep claimed him as well.

Two young lovers, content and comfortable.


The I Hop restaurant located on Seventh avenue was packed with customers. Mostly families out to enjoy the all day breakfast and the famed pancakes and waffles of all different flavours. Some workers from the surrounding establishments conducting casual business meetings. University students either chatting and giggling noisily in small groups or sitting solo with their noses in their text books.

It was shortly before noon hour when Sam and Flack were shown to the last available booth -a window one near the back of the crowded, noisy restaurant- by a young, blond waitress bearing the name Tiffany on her name tag. She was no older then twenty and clearly in over her head with the lunch rush. She was extremely frazzled and out of her element. Telling them several times in just the journey from the front entrance that she'd it was her first witnessing gig and she'd only been on the job for three days.

"That's okay," Sam assured the young girl, giving an understanding smile as Flack helped her out of her jacket. "I know what it's like to be new on a job like this. I was a waitress at Denny's a long time ago."

Flack arched an eyebrow as he tossed their jackets into the corner of his side of the booth. He removed his Mets cap and laid it aside as well. "You were?" he asked his girlfriend.

She nodded and slipped into the booth. "My first two years of college I worked at the Denny's close to campus," she said, as he slid in across from her. "I worked all shifts, but my favourite was the Saturday and Sunday breakfast rushes. The place was an absolute zoo and you were lucky if you had a chance to breathe, but the tips were massive."

"How'd you ever stay sane?" Tiffany asked, dropping their menus before them. "I'm just going insane and it's a Tuesday!"

"Well I was usually still on a buzz from getting so pickled the night before," Sam laughed. "But I took notes. Lots of them. Until my brain learned how to remember orders from the clothes costumers had on. Because let's be realistic, faces all start to look the same when you're in a rush. The worst though? The dirty old men that liked to pinch your ass and call you sweetie pie."

Tiffany snorted. "We get tons of those in the late afternoon. And they're the worst tippers, too. But then in New York City, it's hard to find great tippers."

"Well we tend to be gracious," Sam assured her. "Probably because we both work for the city and now first hand how ungrateful and bitchy people could be. But instead of sexual comments and old men grabbing our asses, we got spit on and shot at and have to deal with all the crazies."

"So either your NYPD or cab drivers," the young waitress said with a laugh. "I'm going to go with the former. Anything to drink while you check out the menus?"

Flack ordered a cup of coffee and some orange juice while Sam ordered the biggest chocolate milk the place could provide her with. They were both starving, and for the most part, exhausted despite the couple of hours of sleep they had managed to grab before finally waking up and forcing themselves out of bed and into the shower and clothes. The memory of the night and early morning they had spent lost in each other, giving and receiving nothing but intense, mind numbing pleasure, still fresh in their minds. They had managed for several hours to forget about anything and everything going on outside of them. But the grins on their faces were permanent. As was the bond and trust that now existed between them. She had given him the most sacred and intimate part of her. And he wasn't about to let that go.

"You never told me you were a waitress," Flack said, after the young woman had returned with their drinks and they scanned the menu.

"I guess it just never came up in the last year and a bit we've known each other," Sam said with a shrug as she sipped her chocolate milk through a straw. "I don't think my college years have ever come up in a conversation between us."

"I think the most we've talked about is what school you went to and for what," Flack told her. "I just never thought you'd have been a waitress for some reason."

"It was a way to pay for my books and groceries and have some spending money," she said. "My step dad agreed to pay my rent and my tuition. The rest was up to me. I worked as a shooter girl at a bar, too."

"Seriously?"

Sam nodded. "I used to carry around these little trays of shooters in test tubes. Zambuca, blow-jobs, B-52's, JD. A whole variety of stuff."

"What kind of bar?" he asked curiously, eyes on the menu as he sipped his coffee.

"It was a Hooters," she replied casually.

He nearly spit his drink clear across the table. "It was a what?" he asked, coughing and sputtering.

"A Hooters," she answered. "Come on. You're a guy. Like you've never been to one before."

"Of course I have. I just…you? You were a Hooters girl? You paraded around in them little shorts and a skin tight t-shirt with your girls hanging out?"

Sam nodded. "Breasts, Don. They're called breasts. And yes, I wore the little shorts and the t-shirt. And let me tell you, squeezing C-40s in that shirt was not an easy feat. The manager loved me because he said I seemed like this quiet, scholarly type yet I had these tattoos and my belly button and my nose pierced at that time."

"You had your nose pierced?"

"I got it done my first year of college. I had eggplant purple hair back then too."

His eyes widened.

"I was always changing my look," she said. "Always dyeing my hair crazy colours or getting freaky high lights put in. I had bleach blond chunks once. Not my best look I have to admit. But yeah. I had my nose and my belly button pierced. And my lip at one point in time."

He shook his head.

"I was a freak," she laughed. "Once I graduated and went for my masters I really toned things down. Got rid of any piercing that people could see and covered the tattoos up more. Got my hair back to normal. Phoenix PD never would have hired me looking like that. But yeah…I was a Hooters girl. I made damn good tips, too."

"Guys probably were tripping all over themselves to get to you," he commented. "I know Danny and I would have been falling all over each other hoping you'd be our waitress."

She smiled. "You're just prejudiced. I made decent money, but the Barbie girls with their teeny waists and their bleach blond hair and their massive Pam Anderson boobs stole the show."

"Natural girls are the way to go," Flack declared. "Anything bigger than what you got would be a waste if you ask me. Can't believe you were a Hooters girl. Your step dad must have loved that."

"Oh he didn't know," Sam said, snapping her menu closed. "He still doesn't. Neither does Adam. They'd be mortified. I told them I was working part time at the library to make cash."

Flack snorted. "In the meantime you're putting up with drunk guys grabbing your ass, among other things and shoving their phone numbers down your shorts."

She grinned. "Are you speaking from experience, Detective Flack? Is that your personal technique for landing a Hooters girl?"

"I'm neither going to admit or deny that," he responded and closed up his menu. "This next question is going to make me sound like a real asshole."

"Donnie, after the things that have happened between us and been said between us, I highly doubt that."

He sighed heavily and sipped his coffee and leaned over the table. Blue eyes fixed on golden ones. "Like the tattoos and all the different piercing's and that whole wild child thing you've got going on, I guess I just find it a little weird that you hadn't been with any one before Zack."

"So you're either trying to ask me if I'm being honest about being inexperienced or if I am, why I didn't sleep with more guys in my time when I've obviously had chances."

He nodded. "Sorry, babe. See what I mean about sounding like an asshole?"

She waved it off. "It's an honest question considering I know how I come across to people being as eccentric as I am. I just like to have fun. I like to go out and party and have a good time. I like to be a little different. That's all. But it doesn't, and never has, gone further then that."

"Because you didn't want it to or…" he gently pressed.

"I've never felt this over whelming desire to be with a lot of men," she explained. "I've never felt that I needed sex to exist. I've never considered it to be a huge part of me. I've never needed it to be a part of my life. Does that make sense?"

"You never felt you needed to, you know…"

She laughed. "I was, and I am, perfectly capable of giving myself an orgasm. I just didn't feel the need to have a man in my life to do that for me."

"And now?" he asked.

"And now I'm almost thirty-four years old and it's the first time that a man has been able to do things like that for me," she admitted.

"So Zack never…"

"Zack was all about himself. Soon as he got off, that was it. Game over. He didn't care about me or my needs. So being with you? It's an entirely different ball game. Not just because of the way you talk when we're doing this. Which I have to admit, totally turns me on. But because you actually pay attention to my wants and my needs and you do something about it. You know that you're the first person whose ever given me oral sex?"

His eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I'm thirty-four and ninety percent of all of this is new to me. So if I'm nervous and I don't seem to know what I'm doing, you know why. It's not because I don't like what you're doing and I don't enjoy it. It's just…I don't know. It's just that I don't know what to do or how to react. I'm afraid of looking or sounding stupid, I guess."

"Samantha, I've already told you that all you need to do is relax and everything will come nice and easy. Just relax and trust me."

She smiled. "Trusting you is the easiest part," she said. "And the scariest, in a way."

He leaned across the table and kissed her softly. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "Ever."

She touched his face softly and started into this incredible, oceanic eyes. "I know," she said confidently.


"We need to talk about Terrence Davis," Flack said half an hour later, as the waitress departed after dropping huge plates of pancakes and breakfast sausages down in front of them.

"I was hoping we could avoid that topic of conversation until we got to his apartment," Sam sighed, digging into her buttermilk pancakes smothered in whipped cream and strawberries.

"I think we need to talk about it now," he said. "Get a game plan. Walking into a thing with a guy like Davis without planning things out before hand is dangerous. I've dealt with a lot of guys like him, Sammie. You don't take things like this lightly."

"I know. I just…I guess I was hoping it would be a simple in and out thing."

"There's nothing simple about any of this, babe. We're going to talk to my CI about getting his people to take care of your ex fiance. You know what could happen to both of us if the department ever caught wind of this? We'd lose our badges. And probably wind up in jail."

She sighed heavily. Davis had instructed them to be to his upper east side apartment for one o'clock. And to not look like cops. So both Sam and Flack had went casual in jeans and sweatshirts.

"Now I'm more than willing to take that chance. But I need you to be absolutely sure that you're willing to take it too. Because if you're not ready to face the consequences, tell me now and I'll go and see Davis on my own and make sure nothing can be traced back to you."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'd walk through hell for you, Sammie. You need to be totally honest with yourself and me. Is this what you really want?"

She nodded.

"And you can live with the fall out if there is any?" he asked.

"Can you?" she responded.

"I'm willing to lay everything on the line for you and you know that. But I need to know where you stand in all of this."

She thought about it for several seconds. "I want Zack to be taught a lesson," she said quietly.

"That's not what I'm asking, babe. I'm asking if you're ready to deal with any shit that might come from this. We're hiring someone to take care of a problem. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Terrence said that…"

"Davis is full of shit. If he told you that he doesn't want anything in return, he's full of it. And you need to tell me if you're ready to deal with what could come from this in the end."

"Zack needs to be taught a lesson," she said forcibly. "And I don't care what shit I catch for it. It has to be done."

Flack nodded and dug into his blueberry smothered pancakes. "We need to be a united front with this, Sammie. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Now what are we willing to give to Davis in return for doing this?" Flack asked. "I mean, I told you last night that Davis doesn't do things like this free of charge. Have you thought about it all?"

She nodded again.

"And?"

She reached for her purse sitting beside her and zipped it open. She took out a small blue velvet box and a piece of Kleenex and held both out to him. "I'm willing to give him these," she said.

Flack put down his fork and knife and took the two items from him. He opened the blue velvet box first. Inside was a pair of what appeared to be platinum and diamond hoop earrings.

"My step dad gave me those," she explained. Her voice sounded pained at the mere thought of giving the earrings up. "They were his grandmother's. They're white gold and near flawless diamonds originally from Tiffany's. They're over a hundred years old. He got them appraised and I know for a fact they're worth more than thirty thousand dollars."

"Samantha, you can't give these away. They obviously mean a lot to you and…"

"It's all I have," she said. "Those and what's in the tissue."

He closed the box with a heavy sigh and picked up the tissue and unravelled it. A diamond engagement ring tumbling into the palm of his hand. The stone itself was large and sparkled brilliantly. And he was struck by the brief thought that it was far better then anything he could ever give her. And that thought was severely disheartening.

"That was my ring from Zack," she explained. "He brought it over last night. I guess he thought I was going to take him back. I had pawned it before I left for New York City and I guess he managed to go and get it back. I know for a fact it's worth quite a bit of money."

"And you're willing to give this up?"

"It means nothing to me, Donnie. It did at one time. But now? I want him out of my life. And that includes anything he's ever given me."

Flack just nodded and wrapped the ring back up before grabbing her purse and returning it and the earrings to the bag before zipping it up. "I've got about eight grand in a savings account," he told her.

"I can't take money from you or let you give Terrence Davis money for something that really has nothing to do with you."

"I love you, Samantha. So this has everything to do with me."

"Can't we just talk to him first, Donnie?" she practically pleaded. "Maybe he really is on the up and up about not wanting anything. Maybe he will just do this as a favour. I mean, that is possible, right? That he doesn't want anything in return?"

"It's possible," he said. "But not probable."

"But we won't know that until we talk to him," Sam said. "Let's talk to him first, okay? Then we'll worry about whatever comes after that? Can we do that?"

He nodded.

"I just don't want to worry about that stuff right now," she sighed and went back to her breakfast.

He watched her as she sat there eating in silence, her golden eyes filled with worry.

And fear.

He prayed, harder then he'd ever prayed before, that they weren't walking into Terrence Davis' place with too much hope and too low, or low, of expectations for the hardened criminal.

And that they weren't walking straight into hell.


Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate each and every one of you! The support of me and this story has been overwhelming! Please, please R and R folks! Means a lot!

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