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77.04% Apprehension: Part Two / Chapter 47: Kingston's Confession

Chapitre 47: Kingston's Confession

He pulled the car into the driveway and backed it into the garage.

"I have to get my keys. Then I should go," she said, closing the car door.

"You don't have to go. Please. I think we should talk. Please tell me. I know you were a Marine. I'm sure you saw terrible things and had to do terrible things."

"I wish it were that easy to explain. You've lived this white picket fence life in a big house with a BMW parked in front of it. My past, my hell, is like an anchor I haul around with me every day. I doubt you have known real tragedy."

"That's not fair. You might think you know me because you've looked at a few framed pictures, but you don't. Do not assume to know my past. Did we have money? Yes. Did I live a pretty great life? Yes. But there has been unbearable pain that has happened to my family. You don't hold the monopoly on pain and suffering. Just because I have never slept in the dirt in some faraway country doesn't mean I haven't experienced my hell. It's not all about you all the time. I don't carry it with me because I know what's done has been done. I, you, no one can change the past or who they were. All we can do is be a better person tomorrow than we are today," he said. "You can wait here; I will get your keys. I don't want you to be here any longer than you have to, and I'm not going to beg you to."

He left her there in the garage. She had never seen this side of him—raw, hot-tempered, and sexy. She walked through the garage into the house. He stopped short and almost knocked her down. She pulled his neck down until his face met hers and kissed him. It was a kiss that said, "I love you; I trust you."

"Buttercup, that is the most beautiful thing to say."

"Why don't we go upstairs and have a conversation? I think you're right. I have to stop carrying this on my own. My mind won't ever let it go, but I can at least stop keeping it all to myself," she said.

"That is a great idea."

He picked her up, and she wrapped her arms around her neck and legs around his waist. They just looked into each other's eyes the entire way to his room. She kissed him and slowly slid off him.

"I'll be right back," she said, walking into the bathroom.

He made the bed, which was disheveled since they left quickly this morning. He smoothed out the comforter and plumped the pillows back up. He was standing at his side table, taking off his watch.

"Dean," she said.

He looked up. There she was, standing in the bathroom doorway. She was back in his shirt, with only the two middle buttons done up. He approached her and grabbed her with one arm around her waist. He pulled her quickly towards him. She bumped into his body, and he looked at her.

"You don't have the slightest idea how beautiful you are. Do you?"

He cradled her cheek in his hand. She closed her eyes and put her hand on top of his. She felt the warmth of his hand and the smoothness of the skin. She wanted to stay like that and continue to soak in the emotion she felt.

She felt him press his lips gently against hers. She met his kiss with slightly parted lips. The kiss was soft, slow, and sensual. The endorphins rushed through her brain. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed at this moment. It was just her and him. No past, no future, only the present. She gently pulled away from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I want you to do something for me that's never done before."

"Really, and what would that be?"

"Make love to me, Dean. I crave to know what it's like. I yearn to be more than just close to you; you were not my first, but I want you to be my last."

His heartbeat had never been so fast. The energy surged through his body like lightning.

"As you wish," he said.

He ran his fingers slowly down her chest, in between her breasts, and down to the two buttons. He unbuttoned the shirt. It slid lightly from her shoulders. It slid down, uncovering her arms, and fell to the floor. He could not understand how a woman could be as exquisite as she was yet not feeling worthy of love. He took his clothes off, and they embraced. Flesh against flesh. He slowly slid his hands up and down her back, over her scars. He grabbed her by the ass; it was tight, firm, perfect. He picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around him. They stayed that way for a long moment, kissing and enjoying the feeling of him, hard and warm, pressing against her lips, soft and wet.

He lay her on the bed like she was a porcelain doll. He stood at the foot of the bed; he soaked in all her beauty. He wanted to remember every curve, every dimple. He started to massage her legs. They were smooth, soft, and toned. Perfect. He worked his way up and spread her legs slightly to rub the sensitive skin inside of her thighs. His fingers gently brushed against her as if by accident, but it was intentional.

She shuttered with every touch, growing warm and wetter. She moaned faintly, and her hips started to move. He slid his body between her legs. He kissed her from one pair of lips to the other. He kissed her mouth. She held the back of his head and kissed him hard, the passion pouring through their bodies like a raging river.

He started kissing her down her neck, on her shoulders, up and down her arms. He put his mouth on her erect nipple. He flicked it gently with his tongue, caressing her breast. He nibbled and sucked. She moaned louder. She was aching for him, yearning, begging for him in her mind. He slid his hand down her chest, over her stomach, till he found her mound. It was smooth as silk. His thumb found her clit. He rubbed it, then slid his fingers into her.

She raised her knees and parted her legs. He glided them slowly back and forth. He felt her tighten around his fingers with each stroke. He began to move them faster; her breathing became shallow and hard. She grasped the heavy comforter, which formed a ball in each hand.

"Yes, just like that. Oh God, please don't stop Dean, I'm going to..."

She was loud. She couldn't finish her sentence. Her back made a perfect arch. Her muscles contracted around his fingers; then he felt a warm rush of liquid.

She collapsed back onto the bed. She was breathing heavily, her toes tingled, and she felt as if all her energy had exploded out of her and filled the room around her. She couldn't speak, her breaths becoming moans of exhaustion.

"Are you good?" he asked.

"No. I am great."

He gave her a couple of minutes to compose herself. He propped himself up on his hands like he was doing a push-up. He was looking down at her.

"I love you, Allie."

He hovered over her and looked into her face. Before he moved any further, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him over onto his back.

"So, it's going to be like that," he said.

"That's exactly how it's going to be."

She straddled him. She sat there for a moment; he was pressed against her. He was hard and fully erect. She rubbed herself against him slowly. His eyes rolled back into his head. Then, they were closed. She rose to her knees and held him. Allie took his soft, velvety tip against her lips. "Oh Christ, that is one of my favorites."

"Feel me."

He reached down and played with her pussy. You're wet for me.

She slowly drifted down, and he entered her with ease.

"God, I missed the feeling of your hot, tight cunt."

She sat on him, not moving, just feeling him inside her. Then, she started to rock back and forth slowly.

He ran his hands down her curves. Her perfect hourglass figure. His hands made their way around her back, and he grabbed her ass softly. He controlled her pace. She liked not being in control. She wanted him to move her just how he wanted. He guided her up and down; she had her hands on his chest. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped up towards the ceiling. She was biting the corner of her bottom lip.

He watched her for what he wanted to be forever. He was making this memory so he could recall it whenever he desired. Watching her only made him more impassioned. He knew he couldn't keep himself contained much longer. He moved her faster, and it took him deep into her with each pass. He could feel her tightening; she could feel him hard and pulsating; he twitched inside her, and she could feel it.

"Do you like that baby? I love the way your cock grows even larger inside me."

"I like it, but I want to pound into you. I need to smack your ass. I need it."

"As you wish. Turn around, baby, and present that ass to me."

Wow. He sure knows how to talk dirty.

She was now on all fours, shaking her ass at him. "Like This?"

"Just like that, beautiful."

She felt him pushing against her hole. "Don't be shy, Dean."

"OK."

She felt her ass sting before she even heard the crack. She yelped. He started moving a little faster. "Pound it like you promised."

He grasped onto her hips and started slamming into her. He moved at a speed that was one of the best times.

She lifted her leg. They both felt the places he was hitting were now brand-new spots.

The sound of the smacking skin, a spank every now and then.

He was about to cum, she was about to cum. They focused their gaze on each other. His eyes sparkled like emeralds; he saw the storm in hers. She felt him, and he felt her. She ground her hips. The feeling was intense, fervent, and pure. She clenched her thighs on his hips.

"Dean!"

He sat up and held her close to him. They were moving together in a rhythmic motion. She buried her head in his neck, her fingernails raking his back. It was painful, but that made it more erotic for him. He couldn't hold back any longer. He came deep inside of her, and she met his orgasm with her waves and spasms of pleasure.

When it was over, they stayed pressed together and didn't move. She just wanted to stay there, him holding her tight. They were both breathing heavily, and she wanted to feel him as long as possible. When he grew soft, she rolled to the side. They lay there, her head on his shoulder. They were both sweating, the ceiling fan slowly cooling them off.

"So now what?" he asked.

"I will tell you my secrets, and you decide if you still want me to meet your parents."

She was playing with his hand, interlacing fingers and then releasing them. He stopped and held her hand up, looking at the back of her left hand.

"You have beautiful hands. Your fingers are long. I never realized how big your hands are."

"I can palm a basketball. I can't hold it for long but can do it."

"You know a ring would look perfect on this finger."

"Have you ever done the dead man's hand?" she asked.

"I can't say that I have."

"I learned it at 6th grade camp," she said. "Put your hand up against mine."

They put their hands together.

"Now squeeze the fingers. Run your fingers up both sides," she said.

"Oh wow! That is so weird." "Are you trying to change the subject?" he asked. "Would you like to talk about meeting my parents?"

"Maybe, not yet," she said.

"Okay, then let's discuss when you want to take ownership of the Challenger?"

"How about I tell you a little bit about me first? " she said, playing with his fingers again.

"As long as you're ready, I am listening."

She took a deep breath. She had the words stuck in her throat, and she did not know how she was going to choke them out. Her heart was racing. She was so nervous that her eyes started to swell with tears. He saw one streaked down her face and roll over her nose. We wiped it away.

"Hey, hey," he said, lifting her face by the chin. "You don't have to do this if you are not ready. It has been a very intense and emotional day."

"No. I'm going to do this now," she said.

He held her close to him. He kissed the top of her head.

"I love you. You're my Princess Buttercup."

"I haven't had a nickname in years."

"What was one of them?" he asked.

"Caretaker."

"Wow, that's cool. How did they come up with that?"

"My name, Alexsandra, means defender of men. I mentioned that to someone in one of my schools; the person had never heard the name before. He started calling me Caretaker. I take care of business and keep everyone safe," she said.

"Kinda makes Buttercup sound mundane."

"I like mundane. I have had enough metaphysical for one lifetime. I left Caretaker at the airport for my last flight out of Camp Lejune. I left a little bit of me everywhere I went. Every drop of blood I lost that fell into the dirt, sand, or sea is now a part of those places. I didn't come home whole. None of us did. Some left more pieces of them over there than they brought home."

"What did you do in the Marines, Allie?" he asked.

"I... was... a... scout sniper. One of the first women to go through scout sniper school. I didn't start out doing that. You had to move up in rank before you could apply. So, when I made it to Lance Corporal, I was accepted. Before that, I was an armorer. I spent all my free time between the weight room and the range. I remained a scout sniper till the day I was discharged."

"So, you've..."

"Killed people? Yes," she said. "My first deployment was checking out destroyed and abandoned towns, ensuring they were clear of insurgents. I often sat on a roof with my spotter, watching my team's 6. We did some patrol shifts in a few places we were stationed at."

"Sounds brutal."

"What I did was brutal."

"You did what you had to do, what you were trained to do," he said.

"That didn't make it any easier because I chose to do it," she said. "So, are you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"How many people have I killed? That's why I stopped telling people what I did. As soon as I would say I was a scout sniper, they would ask how many people I had killed. That is one of the worst questions you can ask. We didn't kill people for the highest body count. I wasn't an executioner. I was there to save lives. Taking lives was an unfortunate aspect of it. No one asked me how many lives I saved, just how many lives I ended."

"I wasn't thinking of asking, but you're the one who brought it up," he said.

"I have 73 confirmed kills. I've had to take down men, women, and even children; they were mostly older boys trying to make their fathers and mothers proud, God proud. A way of telling to get the fuck out of their country. It was a very necessary evil.

These kids are toting guns that would throw a grown man off his feet. I had a teenage girl in a C4 vest. She couldn't have been more than 15. That's the only girl I had ever taken down on my own. Women are a different story. Some of these women were the most vicious transgressors I had ever encountered. Crueler than some of the men.

My nightmares are primarily about children. Most people forget their dreams, but I have them so often they have stuck with me. I can hear the pop; I can feel the recoil. I woke up before with pain in my shoulder pocket. The doctor once said it's called recurrent posterior shoulder instability. I've done my share of physical therapy, and most of the time, it's okay, but sometimes the way I sleep can aggravate it, or if I have stress for too long on my rotator cuff. It's either a dull ache or a lightning bolt up my neck. Sometimes I think it's psychosomatic. If I think about it too much, it will start to ache. So, I try not to think about it, and that's why I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Allie, I am so sorry you have to carry that with you on top of everything else," he said. "My mom always told us that if you tell someone your dreams, God will keep them for you."

"GOD is cruel. He created man with free will. Free will is what gives people the choice to send their kids out with C4 strapped to them."

"So, you're an atheist?"

"No, I am a person who believes that if you want to worship anything, go for it, BUT don't do things in his name. Don't kill in his name. Use your free will to better the world. Not destroy it. I am a person who feels that I will receive my reward for walking this earth because I try to spread kindness. I falter. I do believe in the soul. I believe we are absorbed back into the energy surrounding us."

He pulled her close. He wanted to absorb her pain, take it from her, carry it for her.

"Like you said, it was my job. It was my choice. I knew what I signed up for when I applied. I don't have many talents, but I was an expert shooter, and I still have perfect 20/20 vision to this day. How many people my age can say that? Not many."

"I need to ask you a question. No matter what you say, I will be doing this for the long term," he said. "Okay?"

"Well, now that you've built that up, go ahead."

"How bad is your PTSD?" he asked.

"Oh. Yeah. I do have PTSD, and it's looming. I am surprised I passed the psych evaluation for the police department. I told them a little bit of what I knew they wanted to hear.

Sometimes, it does shake me to the core. I was sucked into my hell by the time I left. I did some heavy therapy. I am a huge proponent of mental health. I volunteer twice a month at the VA. Or I when they have a resistant vet who thinks they can handle things independently. I have a way with people. Some have said they were convinced because I am pretty and made a good case. Whatever gets them into therapy," she said.

"They're not lying. You are stunning," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

She craned her neck and looked up at him.

"Now and then, I feel like a hypocrite. Even though I have done an immense amount of therapy, there are times deep inside a place of me when I am bleeding, screaming, crying. It drops me to my knees. Sometimes, I think about the use of saying something to anyone. Do people care, or do they just want to hear my story for the story itself?"

"I care. I want to know it all so I can hold you when you think you will fall on your knees," he said, stroking her hair.

"Makala is the only person I have ever talked to about this since I decided to stop telling people. As far as she is concerned, I have only killed men and a few women. No children. In fact, besides my team, commanding officers, and shrink, you are the only other living human being I have told. I don't think anyone could look at me with any respect if they knew. They were sanctioned, every single one, but it's not like policing, where you are told to negotiate with a person. If you see any threat to your team, react, and never hesitate. Your average person will never comprehend being in a hostile environment like war."

She finally released the lump in her throat and let the tears flow. She had tried to be stoic and hold it in but felt embarrassed. She wanted to tell her story and move on—with or without him—that was his decision.

He felt her tears fall on his chest like raindrops. He knew that she did not want him to see her cry. She was always told not to show her weaknesses because they could be used against her.

"My precious Buttercup, the day you don't cry is when you have lost your humanity. You are kind and show it in your own way, but it's always in your heart, eyes, and touch. I have seen it, I have felt it," he said.

"So, do you still want your family to meet your girlfriend, a PTSD-riddled murderer?"

"I think you mean a PTSD victim who, even though she had to kill, in my eyes, is a hero who has survived things few can. The Few and The Proud," he said. "Plus, it is badass to know your girlfriend is a Marine. It's also a huge turn-on. I love those uniforms you guys wear."

"Do you want me to get married to you in mine? I could pull it out of the back of my closet."

"Would you?"

"I have always thought if I ever did get married, I would do the white dress, as much as I don't like dresses on a normal day, for that day, I will. I won't look like a cupcake, though," she laughed. "You never answered my question. Do you still want me to meet your parents, knowing what you know now?"

"I would be proud to introduce you to Jesus Christ himself."

"I will go with you this weekend. If Bruss says, he won't mind picking up my slack on the Kasper case."

"I know he will," he said.

"Oh, do you know?"

"I do because I already asked him," he said, grinning like a Chesire cat.

"When did you do that? You've been with me all day."

"I pulled him aside when we were at Painesville. I was optimistic that you would come around, and I was right," he said. "Now, the important question is, do you know how to ride a horse?"

"I've ridden you, and you know what they say, save a horse."

"Ride the cowboy?" he said, laughing

"Gitty up."

They made love again before falling


Chapitre 48: Stapleton Stables

"Do you have any plans for when you are visiting your parents, sir?" Arthur asked.

"I think she's already going to be overwhelmed. Plus, Natalie is coming this weekend."

"Oh, Miss Natalie will be there. That might be a good thing."

"Tell me, how is that a good thing on God's green earth?" Dean asked.

"You want her to meet your family. Good and bad. She will be able to see how your family functions. The dynamic. One day, you may want her to be a part of the family. She needs to know what she is getting herself into."

"You are absolutely right, Arthur. When she becomes part of this family, she should know that we are the fun kind of crazy."

"What does she already know about the family?"

"I was trapped in a car with her, and she started asking questions. Like, was I a drug dealer," Dean said.

"A drug dealer? Why would she think that?"

"Because of the lifestyle I am living. It's a little lavish for an FBI agent, so I don't blame her."

"You aren't exactly inconspicuous, Sir, at least when people get to know you." Arthur said." She knows what the family does. Does she know anything else about the family?"

"Arthur, are you asking if I told her how much the family is worth?"

"I think that is an appropriate question for me to inquire about."

"I have not. Unfortunately, Google does exist. But she fell in love with me, a poor FBI agent. She was exposed to everything after agreeing to be with me," Dean said. "But she was dumbfounded when everything came to the surface. You decided to tell her about the Bentley on your own," Dean said.

"I guess I should have taken the pass, Sir." He glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Well, it's okay. She knows about most of it now. Do you think Mom and Dad will like her?" he asked.

"Do you love her?" Arthur asked.

"Deeply. I love her with every fiber of my being."

"Very few can say they have experienced something that special."

"Arthur, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course. I have kept many secrets in my many years."

"I want to marry her. I'm going to ask her to marry me this weekend. I will talk to Mom and Dad about Gram's ring."

"Gram's ring? Do you love Miss Allie that much? Enough to give her Gram's ring?"

"What do you think they will say?" Dean asked.

"I can't answer that, Sir. Miss Allie is a wonderful woman. I can tell just by her actions that she loves you very much. I'm sure your parents will see that too. And they are going to love her."

They pulled up to the front of Allie's apartment building.

"I'm going to go up and help her bring her things down," Dean said.

Dean exited the car and headed into the building. Someone was leaving and let him in. He took the stairs two at a time. He was excited. Having her meet his parents was a big deal for him. His parents were suspicious of the women he had brought home. He had two serious relationships. One was high school through college. She ended the relationship shortly after he graduated. She decided that she wanted to backpack through Europe and find herself. His parents thought that she was okay. Her mom found her clingy, but she was nice enough, and his father thought she was annoying and could only take her in small doses. That became obvious when they took her on vacation with them. She was the only person who could have a frown at the happiest place on earth.

He knocked on the door gently. He slowly opened it and peeked in.

"Babe? Are you ready? I'm here for your bags," Dean said as he opened the door.

Malibu was on the couch.

Hey Caretaker! Your Prince Charming is at the door!

She came out of her room, her hair still wet, and she was wearing her thick white bathrobe, which she was towel drying.

"I'm sorry! I am running a little behind. I must have slept in late. I've been sleeping a little better these past few weeks."

"It's okay. Take as much time as you need to," Dean said.

He looked at her like a man in the desert, looking at a clear spring of cold, fresh water.

"You know, I don't know how I will go for three whole days keeping my hands to myself."

She approached him and pulled him close. They kissed. It started off as just a slow, soft kiss, and it began to escalate to one that was going to lead one of two ways: someone pulling apart and insisting they get going or someone dropping her robe and his pants. She looked over at the couch.

Fine! I get it! I'll be going now! Meet you in the Bently.

Malibu walked out through the door.

"Maybe we should take a few minutes to get this out of our system."

"You know it never takes a few minutes. Even our quickies are twenty to thirty minutes long. Maybe we shouldn't risk being late."

"That's a risk I am willing to take."

She looked at him in his green eyes. "I am, too," she whispered.

She slid her hands under his shirt and slowly removed it, pulling it over his head. He had to arch his back so she could reach him.

They stood there running their fingertips over each other's chest.

His crept down her chest, over her belly button, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His fingers found the strip of thong between her thighs. She parted her legs just enough for his fingers to find their way through. He moved the strip to the side. His large thick fingers found her clit. He applied pressure and began to rub in a circular motion. She became wet and warm. He slid two fingers slowly into her. He felt her body go slightly slack. He put his arm around her and took her weight as she began to melt into pleasure. He kissed her softly, full on the mouth, their tongues tumbled together. He felt her moan through her breathing.

"More, please."

He slid in a third. He moved them inside her. She moved her hips.

Take me to my room and make love to me.

He carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He took his jeans off. He climbed on the bed and began to kiss her. He started at her ankles and worked his way up her leg.

He spoke in between each kiss.

"I ... am ... going... to ... kiss... every... inch... of ... you."

"Please feel free to linger on a few of those inches."

He ran his hand up her leg, over the curve of her waist up to her breast. She inhaled; her breath staggered.

"God, I love you," he said.

He moved up her body, and their mouths met. She was breathing heavily.

"Will you?"

"What? What do you want, my Buttercup?"

"Make love to me."

"As you wish."

He kissed her neck and nibbled on her earlobe. She pulled him into her. She nodded slowly. He opened her legs with his knees. He drove himself into her. It was hard and aggressive. She let out a throaty scream, meeting the intensity of his thrust. She climaxed almost immediately. He pushed her knees back. He slid out to the end and slowly used his tip, moving it back and forth. They slowly built up till they were at the threshold of release. He pushed back deep inside her and quickened his pace; tiny beads of sweat were forming on their skin. Both began to breathe fast and hard.

He let out a moan, "Oh, Alexsandra Grace."

Hearing him say her name pushed her off the edge. She climaxed again. The feeling was too much to bear. He braced himself against the headboard, pressed his pelvis hard against her, and didn't move. He shouted when he came. He looked down at her, and they smiled at each other.

"Wow."

"Yes, Cowboy. Wow."

"Do you think that will hold us over for a few days?" he asked.

"No. But it will have to do. I can't get enough of you."

"Does that mean you would want to make love to me for the rest of your life?"

"Or yours. Either works for me."

He bent down and kissed her. He slid out of her and lay next to her. They were both shaking.

"So, do you think Arthur figured out what we were doing?" she asked.

They both broke into laughter.

Dean took her bags and carried them to the car. Arthur popped the trunk, and Dean put them in. He opened the door for her, and she climbed in.

Malibu was sitting in the passenger seat next to Arthur. He turned around and looked at her. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips into a smile.

"So? How is he?"

"Do you want me to answer that question? Don't ask a question you may not like the answer to"

Yeah, but I bet he didn't get to call you Caretaker.

He sounded self-righteous.

No, but he made me come more than once, a lot more than once.

"Oh, that was a low blow."

If you're waiting for me to get jealous, pack a lunch, it will be awhile.

He does that better, too.

He shook his head.

Ah, man, that was cold. And I'm dead.

Dean climbed into the back seat with Allie.

"Sorry, Arthur. She was running behind."

You both look like you've been running the New Your Marathon.

"It's okay, Sir. I get paid by the hour if I'm driving you or not. But you have to tell the pilot why we are an hour behind our flight plan."

"Wait? We're flying to Louisville?"

"I didn't mention that?"

"If you mentioned it, I wasn't listening while sober."

No, he didn't tell you. I would have remembered for you.

"Sooooo... we are flying. I can get cramped because I am not big on long car rides."

"Oh, well, that makes sense. Okay."

Man, I haven't been on a plane since they flew my body home. Cool.

"Are you spending the ENTIRE WEEKEND with me? "

I promise to skip the good parts that involve all your good parts.

They started, and Allie noticed that they had passed Cleveland-Hopkins airport. Her face showed confusion.

Dude, are you sure they're not kidnapping you to kill you and then hide your body?

"Hey, Cowboy, where are we going?"

"The airport."

"Didn't we just pass the airport?"

"I also forgot to mention we are not flying commercial."

You are being kidnapped.

Arthur pulled down Curtis Wright Parkway into the lot for the Cuyahoga County Airport.

"Isn't this a public airport?"

Oh, dear God, Caretaker! HE HAS A PRIVATE JET. It would be best to grasp that people with money have expensive toys.

"This is where dad has the...." he mumbled something inaudible.

"I'm sorry I didn't hear that," she said.

He said this is where Dad has the Gulfstream.

"The Gulfstream?" she asked.

"How did you hear that?" Dean asked. "It's like you have four ears."

Arthur pulled the Bently up to a hangar and parked the car. He went to get the bags, leaving them in the car.

"Want to join the mile-high club Buttercup?"

OH MY GOD, he doesn't know you're a platinum card-carrying member already!

"You know that is not true. Take that back."

Okay. But you have to admit that was a good one.

Yes. It was a good one.

Arthur pulled her door open. He put his hand out. "Miss Allie, if you will follow me."

They walked towards the hanger towards a G700.

"You, Sir, must explain our tardiness to Captain Eric."

He led Allie into the plane while Dean met the captain at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, but we don't flaunt our money," she mumbled.

"Hey, Eric. I'm sorry about putting you behind. It's all on me. I'll make sure I tell Dad."

"Mr. Stapleton, I saw the girl. No explanation necessary," he smiled.

"I know, right," he answered with a smile.

"I would devise a valid lie as you cannot tell your mother why you ran behind. May I suggest a flat tire."

He gave him a playful punch in the arm. "You always had my back."

Caretaker, it would help if you talked with him.

"I've tried. He's so vague. I have had to stitch things together with Google's help."

"This is way beyond what I am comfortable with," she muttered.

"What was that, babe?" Dean asked, coming up behind her.

He sat on the seat opposite her.

She looked around.

"This is a thousand times better than any plane I have ever been on."

"Yeah, but you got to jump out of some of those, which is fucking cool."

Have you told him about the first time you jumped?

"No. Because no one needs to know, and that story was supposed to die with you."

"What is it like to jump out of a perfectly good airplane?"

"Well, the first time you do it, it's an experience. Can't describe it. You have to experience it," she said with a grin.

You skipped the part about your leg falling asleep and hitting the deck of the C130.

Did you have any fear at all? How about the first time you had to go?"

Since we should always be honest." She points at him. Do. Not. Laugh.

"Sure. I have respect for you. What can be that funny?"

"My leg fell asleep, and when it was my turn to hook up and go, I hit the deck of the C130. "

Dean did the best that he could, pressing his lips together.

Allie let out a snort because of Dean's face. "Alright, Carron. Go ahead and let it out."

Even though he did what he could to keep a straight face, he turned red and let the lowest laugh.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you." Allie sounded disappointed.

Dean dismissed the steward and told her to relax somewhere, but no one was to come into the cabin.

He saw that the pure volume of his laugh took her aback. He took her in his arms. "Come here, Buttercup." He tapped his knee. Let me show you how I am going to make it up to you."

They had agreed to make it up to each other when the occasion called for a sorry.

"You know, my love, I didn't get to eat this morning. I was hoping you could help me with that."

"So, I will give you something to eat, and that is your sorry?"

Dean slid his hand up her leg til his fingertips brushed her pussy lightly. He felt her shudder. "Is that a yes?"

"It's a fuck yes."

"Then show me that beautiful cunt." Within seconds, she was bare from top to bottom. "Yes, there she is. I can smell your excitement, Buttercup." He took a deep breath and took in a noseful of her.

His cock was hard and only will get bigger and harder by the time he took his first lick.

"Oh, Fuck. Fuck me with your tongue, please."

"You never have to say please when it comes to satisfying you."

He pushed his long, thick tongue inside her. He moved back and forth. He pressed himself till he couldn't breathe.

"Oh my God. You are beyond forgiven."

His mouth went to her clit. He flicked and sucked. His tongue swirled around her button. She pushed her hips up and started to moan heavily. He hummed in his ecstasy, and the vibration was intense.

"Dean, a little to the... YEP. You know." She grabbed a pillow beside her seat and yelled her bible verses. He could hear her words through the pillow. She was very loud. "Oh, my fucking orgasm." She couldn't hold back. "

He sucked her clit and gave a nibble. "Oh, you know how I love that. You're killing me, Buttercup."

Her damn broke, and a gushed her sweet juice. He drank like a thirsty man. Licking every drop.

When he was done, he got a warm towel to wipe his face and clean her.

"So, is skydiving out of the question?"

"No, you're not going to throw me out of the jet, are you?"

He laughed. "Throwing you out is not what I want to do to you on this flight."

He bent forward and kissed her, running his hands up and down her leg. "Why don't we watch a movie to occupy our time? Fifty Shades of Gray or any other movie with much sex. Would you know any of those kinds of movies?"

"Those kinds of movies? I most likely know more than you. You are incorrigible," she said between kisses.

"No, insatiable when it comes to you." He helped her, and they made their way to the master suite.

Please don't make me disappear. I'm enjoying the flight, and a little in-flight entertainment would be excellent.

"My love life will not become your porn Malibu."

"You know this has a bedroom in the back?"

"I thought what we did at my place was supposed to be our last indulgence before our 3 days of celibacy. And then eating extra fry at the bottom of our bag."

"Yeah, but I forgot there was a bedroom on this model. The last one didn't have the bedroom."

"The last one?"

He moved over to the seat next to her. He put his hand on her thigh again. His hand slowly crept up. His fingers were an inch away from her crotch.

"You need to hold your horses, Cowboy. I think Arthur will catch on to what's going on if we go into the bedroom. " She took his hand off her thigh and placed it in his lap.

"Allie, I have slept with four women, one of which is you. I have never had sex on an airplane. So, let's have SEX on this plane."

"Sex? Really?"

"Yeah, not love, just sex. Remember when we would not have love, just sex? Remember the night in the back of my truck outside Muldoon's?" he looked at her with pleading eyes.

"You love to bring that up."

"That was one of the most erotic nights of my life. And you remembered all of it. I knew right then that we would be together sometime in the future. I would give my life for you, Buttercup."

"You are making this really hard to say no to."

"Yay!"

"But no."

"Booo," he frowned.

"I'll make you a deal. If you can stay off me for the next 3 days, then on the way home, I will have SEX with you on this plane. As many times as we can between Kentucky to Cleveland."

"It's like a one-hour flight."

"Oh, well then, we can do it once."

"What happens if you can't stay off of me?"

"As long as I remain sober for the next three days, there is absolutely nothing that will break my vow of temporary celibacy."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"But let's just say you do break your vow."

"Then you get lucky twice."

The plane touched down, and the landing was smooth. They disembarked the plane. A deep blue Mercedes-Benz was parked about 30 feet from the aircraft. The crew was already loading the bags into the car. A middle-aged man greeted them.

"You must be Miss Allie. I'm Ron. I am the Kentucky version of Arthur."

"Nice to meet you, Ron."

Dean opened the door for her, and she slid in. He got in on the other side and sat next to her. He took her hand in his. She was looking out the window, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked. "I've never seen you so nervous. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you nervous."

"I don't know. Suddenly, I am worried about what your parents will think about me."

Damn, Caretaker, you've never cared what people thought about you, ever.

"I know. What's wrong with me?"

Maybe you care because you actually care for someone. That is unfamiliar territory for you.

"Meeting your parents is the last step in establishing a relationship. If they don't like me, then it's over."

"Who says it would be over?" he asked. "They can disown me, and I will still be with you. Besides, I'm not worried about it."

"Why is that?"

"Because Natalie loves you," he kissed her on the cheek. "And because I am crazy in love with you."

"You just say that because you don't have to meet any of my family unless we get an Ouija board. I have an aunt in Wisconsin, I think. I am not even sure if she is still alive. I guess we can always double-check when we talk to my parents."

Your aunt is not dead, Caretaker. Trust me.

"Good to know because that's what I wanted most out of this conversation."

They drove through the city, and beautiful landscapes appeared. The world seemed to have gone from gray to a stunning white.

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"I always mean what I say, but which time?"

"When you said you would make love to me for the rest of your life, or mine, whatever may come first."

"I did say that. I meant it. As long as there is no reason for me to think otherwise. Why?"

They pulled into a long driveway. The Ranch came into view. It was sprawling and went on as far as the eye could see. She would love to have a set of field glasses right now. The house was beautiful. It was a ranch-style house with a wrap-around porch. It was white wood.

She saw the large stables and the white fenced pens. There were half a dozen beautiful horses out in the large field. The car stopped in front of the house. Arthur and Ron got out of the vehicle.

Allie sat there frozen.

"Baby, this is the part where you get out of the car."

"No, I'm good."

"Buttercup, you can't spend three days in the car."

"Why not? It's a really nice car."

Caretaker, get out of the car, or the next time you have sex, I WILL be in the room.

"Fuck," she said under her breath.

Dean got out of the car and went around to open her door.

"Fine. But you're coming with me!"

Oh, NOW you want me to tag along. Why? So, I can be in awkward situations with you for 3 days? I think I might go on a 3-day sabbatical. I'll pop in to check up on you, but I am not staying. Malibu out."

He faded from her sight just as Dean opened the door.

She took his hand, and he helped her out of the car. He embraced her and kissed the top of her head.

"You've got this. Remember, you're badass." He held her around her shoulders. "I have faith in you, Alexsandra. I have enough for both of us until you are ready to believe in yourself." He kissed her on the temple.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Please don't make me do this."

"Buttercup, we are sort of past the point of bingo."

"Military term. Nice. Ok, I will get out," she said, sighing.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, his parents came onto the front porch. Natalie was leaning against the door frame. She waved. Allie smiled. It was a relief to see her there. She relaxed her body a little. Dean helped her up the stairs. His mom put her arms out.

"BEAN! It feels like it's been forever," she squeezed him tight.

Carol Stapleton was a small-framed woman. She stood about 5'5 and had strawberry-blonde hair. It was cut short, and it looked like she had it done.

"Mom, he was here last month."

"Oh, Natalie, hush. I can never get enough of my baby boy."

"Mom, I'm here for three days. Release me."

She let go of him. His father took his hand and pulled him in for a bro hug.

His father stood the same height as him but was half the size as far as body composition was concerned. His father had the same emerald green eyes—that is where they got them from. He was handsome for an older man. She could see what Dean would look like in the future, and the future looked promising.

"Oh, where are my manners!" she put her arms out. "You have to be Alexsandra. Come on, I'm a hugger."

She took her into a firm embrace. Allie's eyes teared up. She hadn't been hugged like that in a long time. It reminded her of when her mother would hug her as a teenager.

"You are beautiful! Let me look at you."

She held her out like someone would hold a baby in front of them. "Isn't she beautiful, Jack?"

"She's gorgeous. Stapleton men always get the best-looking women."

Natalie cleared her throat, "I do pretty well for myself."

"Well, we wouldn't know, dear. We have yet to meet your mysterious girlfriend," Carol said.

"Can I hug you?" Jack asked Allie.

Allie put her arms out, and Jack pulled her in for a hug. Her father didn't hug her much, and his sweater smelled of cherry pipe tobacco.

"Well, we are going to catch our death out here! Let's go into the house," Carol said, linking arms with Dean.

Jack put his arm around Allie's shoulders and walked her into the house behind his wife and son.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, Allie felt the warmth of the house. It wasn't the kind of warmth that comes from a furnace; it was the kind of warmth that comes from a happy home. Allie had never felt anything like it before. Dean's mother unhooked herself from her son.

"Can I take your coat, Allie?" Jack asked.

"Thank you," she took off her coat and handed it to him.

"Why don't you show Allie around? Show her your room, where the bathroom is, all that good stuff."

"Dean, do you want a beer?" Jack asked.

"Sure, Dad, sounds good."

"Allie beer?"

"No, that's okay, I'm good."

"Really?" Dean asked her.

"Yeah, just not feeling it."

"Come on, I'll show you how to get to my room."

He took her towards the back of the house and down a long

Dean took Allie's hand and started walking her around the large house. "This place is beautiful."

"It's been in the family for generations. It has been added on over the years. When it was first built, it was two thousand square feet."

"What is it now?"

"Larger than two thousand."

"Well, thanks for the pertinent information. Really? How large is it now?"

"Here's my room."

He led her into the large room. It was about the size of Allie's thousand-square-foot apartment. There was an oversized poster bed made of dark wood. A sitting area with a couch, an armchair, and a large flat-screen TV on a stand. A PlayStation was on one of the shelves under it, and a couple of shelves filled with games. A couple of dressers and a set of side tables matched the bed. Shelves lined the walls filled with trophies and framed photos. College textbooks, books of poetry, philosophy, fiction, and non-fiction. There were about a hundred books in all. There was a full bath with a large tub. He shut the door behind them.

"I think they like you, Buttercup." He took her around the waist and pulled her into him.

"You know your dad is a handsome man. It's kind of a glimpse of your future."

"So, you wouldn't mind growing old with me, as long as I'm a hot old guy?"

She put her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers.

"I would grow old with you even if I didn't see what a hottie you would age into."

"Are you calling my dad a hottie?"

"Your mom is a lucky woman."

"No. My dad is a lucky man, as am I," he said. "Ya know, my parents' bedroom is at the opposite end of the house."

"Is it now?"

He was holding her and slowly walking her backward towards the bed. The back of her legs bumped against the mattress, causing her to sit down. She looked up at him. Her head was at his waist. She raised his shirt, exposing his stomach. She kissed him gently.

"You know the deal. So, I wouldn't worry about where your parents are sleeping."

She continued to kiss him. He was starting to grow under his jeans.

"Well, you're not making this very easy for me." Dean breathed out.

"You guided me backward to the bed. Did you want me to check the quality of the mattress?"

"Not the way I would want to."

She lay back on the bed. It reminded him of the first time she lay on his bed.

"It's not a fluffy cloud in heaven, but it will do."

"Can we just do some stuff, or does everything count towards plane sex disqualification?"

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him. He looked like he was pleading with her through his facial expression.

"What would qualify as "stuff" Cowboy?"

"Anything but actual intercourse."

"Let me mull it over. Maybe you should finish showing me the house."

She stretched her arms, and he pulled her up from the bed.

He showed her around the house. There were five more bedrooms and a few half baths, but each room had a full bath. The living room housed a grand piano and a comfortable family room. It had a beautiful darkwood kitchen. The house was grand yet inviting.

They took a seat in the family room. There was a fire going on. The wood crackled and popped. Natalie was folded up in an oversized chair with a pair of bunny slippers on. Jack was smoking a pipe, and Carol was working on needlepoint.

Norman Rockwell called. He wants his painting back. Malibu whispered into her ear.

It caused her to jump. "Didn't you say you were going on a sabbatical?"

You thought I wasn't going to see the house firsthand? You think I would miss this. Have you forgotten me, Caretaker?

"If I am seeing it firsthand, then technically, aren't you already seeing it firsthand?"

Caretaker, you genuinely enjoy sucking the fun out of everything for me.


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