12. Grayson
CHAPTER 12
Grayson
A s I left the office, I hurried down the stairs and out the door, wanting to make sure Clementine was ok.
And there she was, hopping in the SUV without a backward look, ready to leave me in the dust.
I was forced to practically sprint for the car and when I pulled on the passenger door it was locked.
Not so fast, angel
Fervently hoping she wouldn’t slam on the brakes, I hopped on the hood of her car, spread-eagled on my belly with my feet hanging over the side, my fingers hanging desperately to the edge of the metal.
Clementine’s face looked as shocked as my own must be.
I simply did not do foolish, reckless things like this
She came to a stop, thankfully without slamming on the brakes, then rolled down her window.
“What are you doing, you lunatic?” she cried.
“Let me in,” I said.
Clementine revved her car like she was going to take off in a blast of speed and leave me nothing but a flattened corpse covered in motor oil on the pavement.
I tightened my grip on her mirrors, spreading my thighs tighter around the edge of the SUV. My balls were smashed rather aggressively on the hard metal, but I didn’t care.
“I’m not letting you get away from me,” I warned her.
She rolled her eyes.
“All right, jackass, get in. I don’t have time for this.”
As soon as she let me in the car, I turned to her.
“Clementine, I am so goddamn sorry,” I said. “There is no fucking excuse for what I did. I was the most colossal jackass, and I see that now.”
“Are you just going to follow me everywhere?” she demanded.
“Yes,” I replied immediately.
When no update seemed to be forthcoming on her forgiveness, I tried another topic.
“Why did you lie about me never giving you an orgasm?” I said, trying to infuse as much sternness into my voice as I could, to cover up the desperation.
“Did I?” she asked coolly, flipping her hair so that it fell all over my face, my cock instantly twitching in my pants.
Fuck. Why couldn’t I control myself around her?
Why did she smell like that? Even her delicious sunshiney scent made want to drag her into the backseat and make love to her until she couldn’t walk.
“Maybe you did. I really don’t remember,” she went on.
My stomach sunk.
“Come the fuck on , Clementine,” I growled.
How could she forget ? I specifically avoided thinking about having sex with her because otherwise the memories were so powerful they would quickly overwhelm me.
Clementine under me, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist. Lying on the bed with me between her legs, her fingers digging into the covers or tightening in my hair.
Clementine sweaty, her long hair unbound and plastered to her forehead, as she whimpered she couldn’t take one more orgasm, then opening her thighs, her ass wiggling up and down, still greedy for more.
My mind tried to lock down the memory, if for no other reason than that I didn’t want to have another inconvenient boner and make Clementine think I was a pervert who just wanted her body.
“I guess it wasn’t very memorable either way!” she chirped happily at me, pulling into the drive-through for coffee.
My cheeks burned with baffled humiliation.
I knew she was lying to goad me into leaving. But I wasn’t going anywhere.
“I remember every time we were together,” I choked out.
Talking about my emotions had never been something that was easy for me, and I clenched my fists together with the unexpected embarrassment of sharing something like that.
“I’ve had so much sex since that your face kind of blends into the crowd,” Clementine said.
“Pull this car over and I’ll give you a reminder,” I growled, feeling the possessive pull of her power over me.
“Hell, no!” she said immediately. “It’s not really romantic that you’ve come sniffing around now that I’m hot, you know.”
“I’ve—it’s not—” I started.
Fuck. I was going to have to get better at expressing myself if I wanted her to forgive me.
“You’ve always been beautiful to me,” I said.
She only scoffed.
Fuckkkk. This was not going well.
As we arrived back at her house, I wondered about what the Chief had said to me. There was something I didn’t quite like about his instructions.
Any means necessary
What did that mean?
Why shouldn’t Clementine speak to a journalist?
I was here protecting her, and if she wanted to speak to a journalist, I would make sure that happened.
Between the Chief’s instructions and what I knew about some of Harvey Adler’s associates, I would just feel better if Clementine had a top-of-the-line security system.
I had a few things in my car that I would use to start setting up a system today and add more pieces later as soon as I was able to order them.
“I’m going to put in a security system,” I said.
“Whatever you want,” Clementine retorted. “I know you old codgers like to tinker around with electronics.”
Then she tossed her hair and went to change into her yoga clothes.
What a colossal fuck-up I was. How the fuck was I going to fix this?
As I collected my equipment and began to set up a base for the security system in the living room, my eyes were caught by movement in the backyard. Of course, she was doing yoga right where I’d have a perfect eyeful.
She was wearing tiny little shorts, and they were tight as fuck on the curves of her perfect perky ass, her body held in an incredibly flexible graceful position.
Drool pooled in my mouth. Fuck, the way she affected me was goddamn illegal. I had never felt this desperate for any woman.
Of course, I could leave anytime I wanted. Go text any of the women in my phone for a quick fuck, and then get back to my job.
The thing was that I didn’t want any other woman . . .
Clementine twisted so that she was facing the same window I was working behind, and I could see her skin glistening in the sun, her nipples tight little buds against her loose shirt.
Holy fuck, I wanted her so badly.
My cock hardened in my slacks, and I adjusted myself uncomfortably, unable to drag my eyes away from Clementine’s perfect, luscious body. The way her tight shorts went down into the v of her pussy had me in a chokehold. I wanted my face there, to be able to lay her out on the bed and do things to her that would put that adoring look back in her eyes again.
What she had said about not remembering gnawed at me.
She had to be lying.
Had to be.
I couldn’t bear the thought that what I remembered so clearly and painfully, couldn’t keep myself from remembering now, was something she had forgotten totally about.
The way she had collapsed on me after her body arched off the bed, her release pulsing in wet beats over my face, or tightening in gasping contractions around my cock.
That wasn’t something you forgot!
I couldn’t even remember the names of the last four women I had fucked, but I remembered the exact tone of Clementine’s moan, that low, throaty, ragged quality that made me feel so raw and uncontrolled.
Clementine stretched on her tiptoes. She didn’t have very long legs, but damn, did she ever make use of every inch of them. Her tanned skin glowed in the sun. Oh god, her skin was always so soft to the touch. The cords for the security system went slack in my hands.
I had fucked her a lot .
A lot more than was necessary for my undercover investigation.
I tried not to. I just wasn’t strong enough to stay away.
Every week I’d vow to only have sex with her once, just enough that she wouldn’t get suspicious. And I’d stick to it for a few days, even if she kissed me how she always did, sweet and breathy, her soft lips opening up eagerly for me, hearing those little gasps when I put my hand on the small of her back.
Occasionally, I’d text Vivi and meet up at a hotel somewhere, fuck her for a couple of hours and see if it slaked my lust for Clementine.
It didn’t.
I left every single meeting with Vivi the same way, feeling nauseated and unsatisfied.
And I’d feel like shit for how weak I was. I couldn’t stop wanting her. My wife. And I wasn’t supposed to want her. She wasn’t supposed to make me weak.
And I’d break, come home and take Clementine 3-4 times in a row, my mouth almost frenzied on her, kissing her so hard her lips would get deliciously swollen, only falling asleep to wake up in the middle of the night and take her again and again until morning came and my conscience would kick in and I’d feel furious with my own inability to stay away from Clementine.
I took her whenever I wanted, and she was always eager to give me what I wanted.
Clementine turned sideways, and the baggy T-shirt fell off one shoulder, revealing a bright pink bra strap.
Damn, I wanted to slide my fingers under that bra strap again, undo her bra, feel her perfect breasts in my hands.
My cock was so hard it was throbbing, and Clementine wasn’t looking at me.
I tried to ignore her. I tried to go back to the damn security system. But she would not stop stretching her body into those tantalizing poses.
When she bent forward, long ponytail swaying in front of her, her ass up in the air, the outline of her pussy visible against those tiny tight shorts, my hand reached down to my pants.
My precum was literally leaking from my cock, the hard length twitching in agony.
She was going to make me come in my pants and I couldn’t risk her coming inside and seeing a huge wet spot over my crotch.
I would have to take care of it quickly.
Fuck, I wasn’t some creeper jacking off through the window at my stunningly hot and sexy ex-wife.
But it was just to relieve the pressure. Just because my cock was so hard it was aching. It would be quick.
It was almost like she was taunting me too, moving back and forth in front of this window, disappearing for a moment, but never long, as she’d reappear with her ass in the air, tits stretching against her shirt.
Backing away from the window so she couldn’t see me, I eased my cock noiselessly from my pants, my hands stroking it with quick, jerky motions.
Fuck.
How could I concentrate on this job if I wanted her this badly?
I closed my eyes and tried to think of someone, anyone else. The woman I had met at a bar last week. The blonde Instagram model from the gym. It didn’t work. All I could see was Clementine, the curve of her ass cheeks just barely visible as she bent down.
I set my jaw and tried to ignore the vision, but my release was building in my spine.
Shit, I didn’t have anything to catch it in.
Maybe I could grab some Kleenex.
One of my hands was reaching for the box, the other one fully occupied with my cock.
Her last move was doing things to me. I wanted to take her roughly, take her hard in a way I never had when we were married.
The thought filled me with a wave of lust, and suddenly, the door to the kitchen was yanked open.
And there she was, standing in front of me with her arms crossed over her chest.
But I couldn’t stop, and the sight of her mouthwatering cleavage glistening with sweat made my release break over me, my feverish hands moving so hard and fast that I came right in front of her, my release shooting in long ropes all over my pants and the table.
I tried to catch my breath inconspicuously, but instead I took huge embarrassing gulps of air, like someone who had just run a marathon.
I prided myself on being professional, dignified, and stoic, and this was by far the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me.
As I was agonizing over what to say, my cum sitting wetly on my fingers, Clementine’s pretty pink mouth twisted up into a smile.
“Yikes, Agent Bentley,” she said. “No wonder you haven’t been able to advance very far in your career. Must be all this jacking off when you’re supposed to be working.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling my face burn with shame. “I’ll go clean up and come back and clean up the table.”
“That’s really unprofessional,” Clementine said, shaking her head at me. “Maybe I’ll tell your department about this. I don’t think jacking off when you’re on the job is best practice. Maybe I’ll call your Chief. He might make you give that plaque back.”
“I don’t care about the plaques,” I said through clenched teeth, grabbing a roll of paper towels. “It barely—it barely got on the kitchen table. Mostly on me. I’ll come back with bleach wipes. But I don’t care about those awards, Clementine! I thought I did, but I don’t.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Just clean up this mess and put your fucking cock away before my boyfriend Liam comes over for supper.”