Big, huge thanks to Sunny Kerr for betaing. So that meansall mistakes are mine.
This is the End but don't let that stop you from telling me you liked it, loved it, or hated it. In fact tell me anything: what's your favourite colour? Whatever. lol
Here you go...
Cats Can Become Monogamous...
Her face was only inches from his, her brown eyes were searching his. Her pupils were dilated from arousal. She was biting her bottom lip, her lips set in an almost pained expression. He wondered what she was thinking, with her legs around his waist, with him inside her body.
He hadn't started moving yet. He just wanted to memorize the feeling of her holding him, inside and out. Her hands were on his back, sliding over the plains of muscle under the skin of his back. Her fingertips were causing goosebumps to rise on the skin over his body.
Danny leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue parting her lips to lightly play with her tongue. His body mirrored his tongue's movement, and he was lost in the sensation of her soft skin pressed to him.
Her breasts were pressed tightly to his chest, the delicate skin of her nipples brushing against him. He couldn't remember sex being so wonderful.
"Gawd, Montana, you ar' so hot." He murmured against her lips. He moved away from her lips, kissing the tender skin of her neck, soothing the fading hickey. His hips stilled, and she writhed under him; His ministrations on her sensitive neck were obviously doing amazing things to her body.
"Don't…call…me…Montana." She panted, closing her eyes, her body arching up under him, urging him to keep moving. His body wouldn't disobey her; he pulled out then thrust in.
He kissed her lips again, his face hovering over hers, waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him. When she did, he felt a rush of the emotions he had been battling since she started this sex game.
Danny wasn't romantic, until he met Lindsay.
He wanted to buy her flowers.
He wanted to buy her chocolate, in a box, with red and pink lace. The box would probably be in the shape of a heart.
He wanted to hold her after mind-blowing sex.
And he wanted to take her home to his ma.
Danny knew she was pissed off at him, but watching her pretend that she didn't have the hickey was hilarious. He at least had the decency not to smile, laugh or joke about it while they worked though.
Don Flack, on the other hand, being as sharp as he was, mentioned it.
"Nice hickey, Monroe."
Danny raised his head when he heard the detective speak. He noticed the flush of colour creep up her neck and tint her cheeks pink.
"What?" she asked, pretending she didn't understand what Flack was talking about.
"I didn't know you were seeing anyone." He grinned. She was glaring at Flack. but Danny knew the harsh look was really for him. He couldn't help but think how cute she looked when she was pissed off and blushing.
Lindsay was a nice, dark shade of pink now.
"I'm not. Can we get back to work now?" she said, her voice was dangerously low and she cast a quick but piercing glare in Danny's direction. He lowered his head.
"Yeah, Flack," he agreed. "Dis body ain't gettin' any fresher."
Not surprisingly, she avoided him for the rest of the day.
He stood outside her apartment building. He raised his head, holding his phone to his ear as he watched her window. It was two floors up, and the light was on. He knew she was home, even though she wasn't answering her phone.
Fifteen. He started to pace on the sidewalk, his head still tilted back. Twenty. She picked up the phone.
"Get lost, Messer." Her voice came through the earpiece, followed by the sound of her hanging up.
He frowned at the phone and re-dialled her number. He had to wait another ten rings before she picked up her end again.
"Ah, camman, Montana. Don't go bein' like tha'," he said as soon as he heard her breathing into the receiver.
"'Being like that'! Danny, you embarrassed me." He could picture her, her mouth set in a thin line, the slight dimple in her chin more pronounced from the frown, her eyes narrowed and dark, almost black.
"Flack was the one tha' poin'ed it out."
That was the wrong thing to say. He heard the click and sighed. He dialled her number again.
"I'm sorry," he said, and waited.
"And what are you sorry for?" she asked, sounding annoyed and expectant.
Danny stopped pacing. His neck was starting to hurt from watching her window.
"I'm sorry for embarrassin' ya." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Can I come up?" He glanced back up at her window.
"What? Where are you?" She asked.
"I'm on the curb." He stepped back so he was in clear view from the window. She pulled back the curtain and glanced down at the street, the phone was resting between her ear and shoulder. She had changed from her work clothes and she was now wearing a light blue tank top and fitted jogging pants. She wasn't smiling. "Can I come up?" he asked again. He tried not to sound hopeful.
"No." She answered. She stayed at the window, looking down at him. He wished she was right in front of him so he could touch her.
"Alright, can we still talk?" He asked, watching her. She disappeared for a second, and he felt a wave of disappointment. Then she reappeared, as she sat on the windowsill.
"Okay, we can talk," she said quietly into the handset.
Danny grinned; pleased she wasn't going to dismiss him again. He glanced around for something to sit on. He found a recycling box and some newspaper, turned the box upside down and set the paper on top to keep the sticky dirt from getting on his pants. He sat down and looked back up at her.
"Why're ya so mad a' me?" Danny watched her through the glass. Her body was turned sideways facing left, her right leg bent, her arm holding it, hand resting on her knee. Her other hand still held the phone to her ear, her face turned to him, watching him back.
"Hickies are trashy, Danny." She frowned at him. "And having Flack point out the one on my neck was humiliating."
"It's na' tha' bad." He noticed the strap of her tank top had fallen off her shoulder. Her hand left her knee to push it back up. He licked his lips thinking about touching the skin of her shoulders.
"Fine." She said, shaking her head.
"Alright, Montana, tell me a story." He said. He knew this conversation was going nowhere.
"A story?" she asked looking down at him.
"Yeah, 'bout da first time you rode a bike. Somethin' like tha'." He smiled thinking about a younger Lindsay.
"I actually learned how to drive a tractor before I rode a bike." He could just make out the beginning of a smile on her face. He grinned, picturing her on an old John Deere, a straw hat perched on her head with her hair in two braids, hanging over her shoulders. He could see her wearing a blue plaid shirt, with a tight white T-shirt underneath and blue jeans with holes in the knees. "I can't believe I actually told you that."
"Naw, it's sweet. It's why I call ya Montana. You're country through 'n through."
"Sid says you call me Montana because you have a crush on me." He wasn't sure if she was joking. He really wished he was standing in front of her, to be able to read the expression on her face.
"You talk to Sid 'bout me?" He asked. He tried not to sound as hopeful as he was. He considered she might just be playing a game and decided he didn't want her to be.
"No, you calling me Montana came up in the Sara Butler case." She explained. "I braid raw hide for reins. Sara had similar calluses on her palms." Her voice lowered to a whisper.
He ran a hand over his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, thinking he should change the subject. He noticed a man walking his dog just up the sidewalk from him, and decided to wait until the man had passed before speaking.
"Ya know, Montana, we've made love five times, and I haven't been on top. Not really." He heard her chuckle.
"'Made love,' Messer?" Her tone was light and curious. He knew she was asking about his choice of words. He felt his face heat up in a blush and lowered his head so she couldn't see his face.
"Wull, I don't really see what we're doin' as screwin'. There's just something' diff'rent about it." He rubbed his face in a nervous gesture. He wondered if he should have said that or not.
She was silent for a long time, and Danny lifted his head in hopes of reading her expression. She wasn't looking at him. "Assumin' ya don't just do random men like tha'." He said and clamped his mouth shut.
Lindsay hung up. His eyes shot up to her window just in time to see her disappear into her apartment. He shook his head at his own stupidity. Thinking fast, knowing each apartment had access to the fire escape, he found the one that went to hers and climbed up.
Danny peered through the darkened window from the fire escape. He wondered why the fire escape led to the bedroom. Lucky for him, he supposed. He knocked on the windowpane and waited. A few moments later he saw her come into her room and turn on the light. She looked surprised for a second then crossed her arms across her chest. The tank-top strap fell off her shoulder again, and Danny tried not to think about it.
"Let me in," he said loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough not to draw the attention of her neighbours.
"No. Go away, Messer. I don't want to talk to you." She looked angry, and Danny lowered his head.
"Camman, Montana. Open the window."
"If you don't go away, I'll call the police," she threatened. She started to the phone on the nightstand next to her bed.
"Naw, I don't think ya will. Cuz then you'd havta tell 'em why I'm here. And if you don't, I will." He didn't smile, when she stopped short of picking up the handset, he was smarter than that. He met held her gaze, to ensure she knew he was serious.
She set her jaw and walked over to the window, her anger was obvious in her steps. She unlocked the latch and pushed the heavy window up with Danny's help. He noticed she backed up, out of his reach.
He wanted to comment but he was lost in his surroundings. He had never been in her apartment, let alone her room, and now he was. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he liked it. She had blended Ikea with country -- dark red sheets and a steal grey comforter, with a patchwork quilt folded at the bottom of the bed. The quilt looked old; he guessed the fabric used to be white but now was off white. Without thinking his hand went out to touch it.
She cleared her throat, and Danny looked back up at her. She was giving him an impatient expression, and he ran a hand through his hair, and scratching his head.
"Now wha' I said outside, I didn't mean."
"Well what did you mean, then?" she crossed her arms again, pushing her strap back on her shoulder. The motion looked angry, and Danny knew he had better get talking.
"I meant tha' dis game ain't a game ta me." He swallowed, his nervousness making his accent thicker. He watched her, waiting for her reply. His hands were sweating, his palm itching to touch her. He wanted to kiss her, convince her that she didn't want to be playing a game.
He held his breath when she opened her mouth. Her shoulders slumped; her arms fell to her sides.
"It was a game," she admitted, and he grimaced. He shook his head and started to walk around her, heading to the front door instead of going back out the window.
Danny couldn't help but feel a thick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. He swallowed the sick taste in his mouth and he couldn't bring himself to look at her when he stopped next to her. He glanced over when she reached out and touched his arm.
"Wait." It was her turn to explain. He licked his bottom lip and gave a nod for her to go on. "It was a game but it was only to get you to notice me." He stayed quiet, watching her hand slip from his arm and cross over her torso to rub her other arm. "I've seen the girls you like, and I'm not one of them, so this was how I got you to notice me."
Danny felt elation so intensely that he had to will his body not to react. He turned to her, took in her lowered head and the pink tinge to her cheeks. He brushed back her hair and lifted her head so he could look her in the eye.
"I noticed you, Montana. Sid was right 'bout my crush. You makin' da first move wasn' enuff for me ta know wha' your intentions wah." He locked eyes with her. "I needed ta hear it from your mouth." He touched his thumb to her bottom lip. He licked his lips and lowered his mouth to hers.
She responded to him immediately. He ran his hands up her arms, the skin flushed with goosebumps under his touch. Her neck was hot against his cold, damp palms. She smelled faintly musky, with a hint of baby powder. She was so soft under his hands.
He backed up, holding her inches away from him. He reached for the bottom of her top and took the hem between his fingers. He asked with his eyes before pulling the fabric up over her perfect-size breasts, head and tossed it back towards the laundry hamper next to the door. He took a moment to feel the buoyancy of her mounds, his thumbs skimming over the impossibly soft skin of her nipples.
He bent his neck and kissed each breast. She inhaled, and he smiled at her. He touched her neck lightly and slid his hand down, over her clavicle to the smooth expanse between her breasts and over the satin skin of her stomach. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her jogging pants and raised an eyebrow. She bit her lip and nodded.
A groan escaped his throat when he slid her pants over her hip bones and discovered she wasn't wearing panties. He inhaled. She helped remove her pants and started on the buttons of his dress shirt. He was undressed in a matter of seconds and on the bed with her under him.
He pushed his way into her body but didn't move.
"Gawd, Montana, you ar' so hot."
He kissed her and began to slide in and out of her arousal-slick body. Her heels dug into the back of his thighs, pulling him closer to her, pulling him deeper into her. Her hand found its way between their bodies, and Danny didn't mind. He didn't think he would last much longer with her burning hot around his most sensitive body part.
He heard her breath turn shallow; he felt her body stiffen and grabbed her shoulders to get the grip he needed to thrust harder and faster. She was whimpering and gasping for breath. One thrust in and she stilled completely. The second thrust in and he felt her flutter around him, milking him, pulling him into a powerful orgasm that ripped a strangled moan from his throat.
His arms quivered as he used his very last ounce of strength to push most of his weight off her and collapsed with their bodies still connected, slick with sweat and mixed fluids.
"Eh, Lindsay?" he murmured into her shoulder.
She tried to move her head, to look at him.
"Yeah, Danny?" She was breathy.
"I wan' you ta meet my ma."
END. For sure this time.