Chapter 10

Darla found Flint in the gym. David had told her that their head of security worked out with free weights and rode a stationary bicycle most mornings. "Not just when it rains," David said. "He hates running."

Flint was exercising on the bench press. She marveled at the weight he was pressing: one hundred pounds on each side. He was sweating, and his muscles bulged. She sucked in air, amazed that his intense masculinity affected her so much. Flint was more like Pops than David. Rugged. No, more than rugged — dangerous.

He hadn't seen her, so she took a long moment to watch him. The scars from his wounds were ugly, but they didn't put her off. They were a part of him, like his brooding, dark eyes. Why is it, she asked herself, that scars on a man are acceptable, but similar scars on a woman aren't?

Doesn't matter, she decided.

Unaccountably, she wanted to run her fingers over the scars, feel the ridges, trace their jagged lengths. Her lips, too. Taste them. Taste him.

She wore leotards with silk shorts, legwarmers, and running shoes. She looked good. She should. She'd made an effort to look good. She walked farther into the room, and he saw her. He placed the heavy barbell on its rest and moved to a sitting position on the bench.

"Good morning," he said and wiped his face, neck and upper chest with a towel.

"Good morning," Darla said and mounted a stationary bike, adjusting the bike to an easy setting. She wasn't in the gym to exercise. She was there to get in Flint's face. He'd been avoiding her, and she wanted to know why.

Look at her, Flint thought. No woman can look that good this early in the morning. She's fully dressed, and she affects me more than Nora stark naked. He glanced down at the bulge at his crouch and cursed under his breath.

Fuck this. I can't take it.

He stood and started to walk away.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Darla said.

He turned to her, the towel he held in front of him covering his obvious erection.

"I'm finished exercising for the day," he said. Christ! Look at the sparkle in her eyes!

"You've been avoiding me, Flint. Why?" she said and moved off the stationary bike to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips.

"I've been busy," he said. "I..."

"Have I offended you in some way?" she said.

"No, of course not. I..."

"Do I have bad breath? Body odor?"

"No. I..."

"Are you avoiding me because I'm divorced and come with a child that isn't yours?"

"No, I..."

"Have you decided I'm a slut because I fuck my brother, my father-in-law, my mother, and my sister-in-law?"

"No! Goddamn it!" he shouted. He sighed and said softly. "It's not you, Darla. It's me."

She walked up to him, stood inches from him, and looked up into his eyes. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her so much he could taste her lips on his. He felt dizzy. Her fragrances wafted to his nostrils. A hint of perfume, soap, toothpaste, shampoo, all dominated by her scent, a fragrance named Darla.

"What about you?" she said.

He said nothing.

"Tell me if I'm wrong," she said. "When Pops met my mother, he made an idiotic assumption. He was poor, poorer than you, unemployed, down to his last dollar. She was rich. He was, to use his words, a hick from the sticks with a farmer's tan. She was a beautiful, sophisticated woman. He didn't think he was good enough for her. Is that what's going on, Flint? Do you think you're not good enough for me?"

"Yes! That's exactly what I think! Christ, look at you! No woman has a right to look so beautiful at this time in the morning."

Without thinking he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. He mashed his mouth to hers, jerked her body to his. It was the most passionate kiss he'd ever given any woman, and Darla returned his passion, doubled it, kissed him back, plastered her body closer to his than he thought was possible.

Then she jerked his mouth off his. "You're good enough for any woman, including me, Flint. Got it?"

Before he could speak, she kissed him again. Her cunt mound found the base of his erection. She rubbed her cunt against his hard-on as she ran her fingers through his hair. She chased his tongue back into his mouth with hers. One of her hands left his neck and grasped his hard cock over his shorts, but that wasn't enough for her. Using both hands, she jerked his shorts down off his hips, stroked his cock once, and then tripped him. He landed with a grunt on his back on the workout mats.

With his rampant cock bobbing in the air, he watched as she kicked off her gym shoes, stripped off the legwarmers and her shorts, and then wriggled out of the leotard. Time elapsed: five seconds, maybe less. He'd tossed off his clothes in the same amount of time.

With a low growl, she landed next to him, kissed him again, and rolled, pulling him over her. "Not good enough for me, huh? Hah!" Her legs opened, and he fell between them. "Fuck me, goddammit! Show me you're good enough for any woman. Show me!"

With an angry roar, he thrust his cock inside her. One massive, powerful thrust, and he buried his length, his swinging balls slapping her ass, his pubic bone mashing her clit.

"Yes!" she screamed.

Her hands raked through his hair, and she jerked his mouth to hers. At the same time, her hips waved.

No! He wouldn't let her take control. He'd show her! He'd fuck her better than any man had ever fucked her. His hands grabbed her hips, and he ripped his mouth off hers. Rearing back, he thrust forward, slamming into her.

"I'll show you!" he growled.

"Yes! Show me!"

Her legs wrapped his thighs; her hips met his thrusts. The slapping sounds of their colliding bodies reverberated off the walls of the gym.

"Show me!" she screamed.

He didn't clench his ass. If he did, he'd come. Instead, he jerked using the muscles in his back, turning his thrusts into a wave, slamming into her, bouncing off, fucking her without clenching. He'd fuck her until she couldn't fuck anymore.

He'd show her!

Using his hands at her hips, he lifted her as he thrust forward, dropping her at the precise moment to force her clit to rasp against his pubic mound. His retreating cock also rubbed the bundle of nerves, applying pressure, and then smashing it again, and again, and again.

He reached with his mouth and nipped at a stiff nipple. Then the other. But he didn't slow down. Instead, he increased the pace of their fuck, forced her hips to move faster, bounced off her clit, felt the end of his cock hit bottom.

He became a fucking machine, a reverberating piston nothing could stop.

Soon, the sounds coming from her mouth became unintelligible and constant, wails of passion, moans and groans of pleasure, and then he felt her body stiffen under him.

"Coming!" she screamed. "I'm... yes! Yes! Ah!"

The pulses of her cunt nearly took him to a peak, but he wasn't finished, not yet. He'd fucked her. Now, he wanted to make love.

His hands moved over her heated flesh, caressing her. She was perspiring. He was sweating. He kissed her softly as she came down from her orgasmic high. His mouth trailed kisses down her neck, and he kissed her breasts as he moved slowly inside her.

"You were magnificent," he whispered in her ear, and then twirled his tongue around the intricate folds. "Again. Come for me again, Darla. Make love with me and come for me again." He kissed her. "You felt my passion. Now feel my tenderness."

"Yes," she breathed, and her hips started to move, slowly, gently like his thrusts.

Sometime later, they climaxed together.

"You were magnificent," she whispered as they held each other in orgasmic lethargy. "Good enough for me. Good enough for any woman."

He didn't associate her comment with Nora and Carol. Not then.

David carried two cups of coffee to the master suite. Nora was dressing for work, and he wanted to talk.

"You're a sweetheart," she said with a smile when she saw the extra cup in his hand. She took it and sipped, and David watched her eyes light up.

"From the racket coming from the gym, Darla just seduced Flint," David said.

Nora grinned. "About time. The approach/avoidance games those two have been playing have been a sight to behold. What's your take on Flint? Is it lust or love?"

David shrugged. "Lust for sure. Don't know about love."

"If it's love, he'll need to know about you, David."

He groaned but said, "Yeah."

Telling anyone about his flights of consciousness always created negative emotions: disbelief, anger over loss of privacy, fear. The emotions ran the gamut. Nora had considered him a freak, and even after she'd accepted his flights, when she discovered he could slip the bonds of time, she'd gone off the deep end again.

"Darla will let you know when it's time," Nora said.

"I figured. Got a small decorating job for you," he said, and then told her about Ridley. "No rush. You've got a month to replace the rented furniture." He gave her a slip of paper on which he'd scribbled Ridley's name, cell phone number, and address.

"All right. He sounds like an interesting character."

"His addiction to charitable good deeds makes ours pale in comparison. We throw money at those in need. He gives of himself, Nora."

"We do more than throw money around, buster," Nora said.

"Not much more, not that I'm suggesting we should be more like Ridley. That wouldn't work for us, but by creating a symbiotic relationship with Ridley, we can share in the pleasure derived from his good deeds."

"Did you study Arabic last night?" she asked as she set the empty cup on the bathroom counter.

He sighed. "Yeah, about half the night. I completed Rima's assignment — twice. I'm not getting it, Nora."