Pipe Dream

Driving rain and icy pellets of sleet stung her slender body as she ran. The black sheath dress she had been so proud of hours earlier now hung in sodden rags. She slowed, her heart feeling like it would explode in her chest.  She stumbled down the concrete steps to the water front, her toes numb. Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks. Jared had been right. He was always right. Her heart cracked a little more.  She had thrown away what they had on a foolish pipe dream.

The Curator's hands still seared her skin. Clutching the tattered remnants of a strap against her shoulder she bitterly corrected herself, Assistant Curator.  The bastard had lied about that too. He must have thought her pathetic. How many other artists had Marston duped with his smooth words and empty promises? Had they been strong enough to walk away? Would she have been two years ago? Anger choked her. No. Before Jared she would've let him bully and dupe her into sleeping with him. The flare of surprise on his smug face had been satisfying. Her hand print had stood out vividly against his tan cheek. From there it had gotten ugly.

Hunching her shoulders against the cutting wind, she ran up the steps to the towering condos. She prayed the lobby was deserted this time of night, sparing her further shame. Finger-combing her hair and pulling her dress about her in a desperate bid for respectability, she hurried inside. Halfway across the lobby a worried voice made her wince.

"Are you all right, Miss Callan?"

"I'll be fine. Is he in?"

"I believe so, Miss. Go right up."

Teeth chattering, Avery tried to rub warmth into her into her icy skin as she watched the floors click by. Nerves knotted her stomach. They hadn't parted on the best of terms. Jared's adamant refusal to allow her to show her work with Marston had rubbed her more than a little the wrong way. Hurt feelings and pride had prevented her from seeing his words for the truth they were. A fifteen year veteran of the Chicago Police Department, Jared wasn't a fool. He knew a con when he heard one. She should have listened to him.
     
His Glock was in hand when he opened the door. Wariness and concern twisted his harsh features, blue-green eyes sweeping the hall. She gasped as his hand encompassed her elbow, his touch like a brand. Steering her inside, he closed and locked the door before pulling her into his arms. Pressed tight to his hard chest she felt safe. His voice was a low rumble against her ear as he waited for an explanation, a target for the fury she felt vibrating through his whip lean frame. Bitter tears started to fall again. The blame lay at her feet.

"Did he hurt you?" he ground out.

She shook her head, knowing exactly what he was asking.

Shivers wracked her slender frame, and broken sobs chased away the words of apology dancing on her tongue. Her arms went around his neck as he lifted her easily. Carrying her through to the bathroom, his hands were gentle as they helped her from the ruined gown. Steam rose from the shower and her teeth chattered violently. Ripping his clothing off with disregard, Jared stepped into the shower, pulling her with him.

Cradling her under the hot water, his hands ran over her, returning warmth to her blue-tinged skin.  She pressed tight, rubbing, silently begging him for forgiveness and the comfort of his body.  Her heart leapt as he responded.  Flames of rage in his pale eyes banked to desire. Gripping her ass, he lifted her, urging her legs around his trim hips. Her head fell back in bliss as he impaled her.  Her body stretched around him, the fullness and sense of possession, heavenly.  His lips found hers through the veil of her inky curls, his kiss hard as he reclaimed her.

Her whole body shook. Tears of regret still leaked under her lashes. His burning skin felt divine. She moaned, arching against him, wanting to meld body and soul with this man. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she gasped, posting on his thick cock. His thrusts stabbed deep, spearing her cervix until she screamed in pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Pressure built until the world fractured. Her screams bounced off the tiles to mingle with Jared's roar of completion.



"You were right about Marston. I wanted the world to see my art so bad, I was blind and deaf.  I know now what's important. Please forgive me."

"There's nothing wrong with having a dream. You'll get there, and he'll pay. I promise," he said, wrapping her up. When he spoke again his voice was hoarse with emotion. "I love you. You'll always have a place right here."

The squeeze of his arms left no doubt where her place was. She never wanted to be anywhere else. Closing her eyes, she prayed fervently, making silent promises to her savior that if what they had could just be real and not another pipe dream, she would give up anything.  This man was her dream.

© Mara McBain 4/2011

~ WC ~ 868

Photo prompt above ~ Round 36

Written for:

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