Sarah's Private Dick Read online

  It took everything she had not to scream actually, for such a big man he moved ridiculously quietly and she honestly hadn’t heard him approach or come in. Now he was here, in her private sanctuary, complimenting her on her work. Sitting in a chair looking up at him just made her feel even smaller as he loomed over her. When she realized that his eyes were roaming over the mounds of her breasts she blushed deeply and quickly stood.

  For a moment she wondered if what Gloria had said was really true, that people wouldn’t think it was bad if she happened to be attracted to a man… but Gloria was so young. Sarah had her own standards and she knew that a lot of other people wouldn’t think it was right either. If nothing else, Sarah had prided herself on being the perfect wife for Martin and she wasn’t going to sully his memory just because there was a dead-sexy man in her house.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Um, sorry, what did you need?”

  She was always apologizing around him.

  Derrick thought that she was just too cute. It was becoming increasingly obvious to him that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her. Which, of course, made everything much harder. Figuratively and literally. It didn’t help that the moment she’d realized he was standing there her nipples had popped out. He hadn’t been able to look away from her breasts and she’d caught him at it. Of course, his dark skin didn’t show his embarrassed flush the way her ivory cheeks did. A beautiful rosy hue that brought quite a bit of color to her face.

  “There’s a hidden drawer on the desk upstairs, I was hoping you might know how to get into it.”

  She frowned. “A hidden drawer?”

  Derrick nodded. “Some desks have those, if there are things people want to hold on to but don’t want other people to know about. I don’t know if there’s anything in it, but I think that Vincent was afraid of us finding something in the office here and now that I’ve found the drawer I think that might be where it is.”

  “Can you show me?” Sarah asked. “I can’t remember anything about a hidden drawer, I rarely spent any time in there.”

  Not at all loathe to spend some time with her, even though he was now obviously thinking with his lower brain, Derrick nodded and led the way back up the stairs. Too bad he couldn’t walk behind Sarah up the stairs again. That had been a sight worth seeing the first time.

  ****

  Sarah was shocked when Derrick showed her the hidden drawer. It seemed fused to the desk above it, but as she crawled underneath the desk she could see that it was clearly holding something. Holding up the flashlight that she'd picked up to get a better view, she looking at the machine work around the drawer.

  "Do you think it has a hidden latch somewhere?" she asked.

  The heavy wood of the desk muffled her voice somewhat but her question was clear enough. Derrick had been wondering the same thing, of course, although he'd hoped she'd know how to unlatch it. Obviously this was something Martin hadn't shared with his wife. Looking down at the dainty barefoot feet that were poking out from underneath the desk, Derrick did his best not to place the two of them in a boss / secretary fantasy in his head. Instead he crouched down and looked at the pretty widow. She was running her hands around the wood, looking absolutely entranced and slightly excited. That made him grin. Apparently she liked a little mystery in her life.

  "I haven't been able to find one," he told her. "Do you want me to keep looking or go ahead and just take it out by brute force."

  Nibbling on her lip Sarah thought over the options as she scooted out from under the desk. Which, of course, put her right next to Derrick's crouched form. When she looked up at him their faces were only a few inches apart. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Or think. Was it actually possible to drown in a pair of eyes? She felt like she couldn't get any air.

  "Um," she said. And then cursed herself for sounding like an idiot. Oh whatever. "Yeah, go ahead and bring it out." Then she scooted out of the way and stood up as he folded his large frame into the space under the desk. When she'd been down there it had seemed almost spacious, now it looked cramped and tiny as his entire body seemed to fill it. What on earth had Martin been keeping in a secret drawer? Things that he'd meant for her to find, one day after his death? A hidden will? Piles of money? Well she wouldn't mind that last one at all if that was the case.

  There were some heavy creaking sounds from beneath the desk.

  "Do you need a crowbar or anything?"

  SNAP.

  Well that answered that question. Sarah's jaw dropped. Wow. Derrick brought the term 'brute strength' to a whole new level. Considering that he wouldn't be able to get much leverage in that position, or much of a grip, he must have the most insanely strong fingers, hands and arms. Which brought up a whole new set of fantasies for her head to obsess over. Not that she hadn't already been fantasizing about what those dusky fingers could do to her body.

  "Shi- shoot," he muttered under his breath as he got a little stuck trying to get out from under the table, obviously changing the word he had been about to use. Like she hadn't heard curse words before. Sarah almost giggled.

  As he wrenched himself free of the space under the desk the contents of the drawer spilled out, scattering across the floor and all urge to laugh died a sudden and brutal death.

  Photos. Hundreds of them. For a moment Sarah's eyes couldn't take in what she was seeing and then it all coalesced into a horrible big picture. Martin and Vincent with women who were obviously prostitutes. Young women. Some with just Martin and a woman, some with just Vincent and a woman, and the worst were the ones with both of them sharing a woman. No... no those weren't even the worst. She reached out with trembling fingers.

  "Sarah."

  Derrick's voice pierced through the fog that had become her brain and she looked up at him automatically, all the color drained from her face, nerveless fingers holding the picture of Martin with Paula, a server that had worked Polenta up until three years ago. How many other women that Sarah actually knew would be in the pile. For a moment she couldn't even see the beautiful dark face in front of her, all she could see was her husband, sweaty limbs entangled with woman after woman... well no wonder he hadn't been interested in sex with her. Even the prostitutes in the pictures were prettier than her, almost all of them were blonde, they were all bustier, skinnier and younger than her. Paula. Dammit. She could remember being concerned about Paula's schoolgirl crush on Martin, not because she thought anything would happen but because she knew that it would eventually break Paula's heart.

  How wrong she'd been.

  "Sarah, look at me."

  She realized that she was blinking back tears as she looked at Derrick's face, his fingers cupped beneath her chin to keep her from looking down. From seeing any more of the pictures. But the damage was already done. All this time, all these years, she'd been the good, faithful wife. Neglected but determined to be happy and makes the best of things. Fury ran through her, flushing her pale cheeks. Those late nights that Martin had claimed to be working, his inability to take a real vacation, it had been because he'd been sleeping with other women. While she'd been at home, alone, faithful and childless. Even now she'd felt guilty just about being attracted to someone else. Someone that she hadn't done anything with!

  The photo in her hand was taken from her and strong arms wrapped around her. The trembling in her body only increased as her spirits suddenly plummeted again. Sure, she and Martin hadn't had much of a romantic spark, but had he really tried? Or was she so unattractive, so undesirable that he hadn't had any choice but to go to other women for sexual satisfaction? Doubts assailed her as she compared herself to the women that she'd glimpsed in the pictures. As she remembered Paula's flat stomach and slim thighs when the company had had a summer pool party. Sarah had worn a tankini. Paula's bikini had been tied with strings.

  "Sarah, Sarah, shhhh.... I'm so sorry." The deep rich voice of her private investigator pulled her back into the present. His arms were around her and he was holding her, keeping his body in b
etween her and the photos that had been scattered across the floor. Even though what he really wanted to do was find someone to pound into the ground, preferably Vincent since her husband was no longer available, Derrick managed to keep the raging fury out of his voice. Making sure that Sarah was alright after such a shocking revelation was the most important thing. And he had no doubt that it had shocked her.

  When she'd seen the pictures all the blood had drained from her face, leaving her looking like a corpse, and her eyes had gotten a glazed, glassy look that was absolutely terrifying as it leeched the personality from her expression. She hadn't seemed to hear anything he was saying. Alternating emotions had made her flush red and then pale again, and the way she shivered against him made him want to wrap her up in his limbs and warm her. Hold her and tell her that everything was okay. Even though it obviously wasn't.

  "How could he?" she whispered. And then she let out a wail. "Why?"

  Why indeed. What a fucking idiot her husband had been. At home he'd had a real woman, sweetly compliant, sensually gorgeous, funny, sweet and intelligent. What on earth had possessed the asshole to sleep around like that? Maybe just the thrill of sharing women with his friend? At least now Derrick had a pretty good idea where the money Martin had been skimming went. Prostitutes that looked like the ones in the pictures could cost a pretty penny. Although not all of them looked like hookers or escorts, the picture Sarah had been holding before he took it away from her was probably someone she knew or had known, judging by her reaction. He could tell that one had been the most painful of all to look at.

  As she began to cry he didn't know what to do so he just held her and murmured over and over again that he was sorry. He hated being helpless but no solution presented itself immediately. He wished to hell that he'd never told her about the hidden drawer, but how were either of them to know how damaging the contents would be to her?

  Lost in his own fury and frustration, it took him a few minutes to realize that she was talking, rather brokenly, and when he started to make some sense of what she was saying it made him feel ice cold. Not just asking why or how could he, she was answering the question herself. Berating herself for not being prettier, skinnier, sexier.

  It was incredibly unprofessional, but he couldn't just sit here silently and let her think those things about herself. Gripping her shoulders he pulled her out of his arms and turned her to face him, setting her on her knees so that she was at about the same level as him in his current crouched position. She wasn't sobbing really, but tears were leaking out of her reddened eyes and he could tell that she was holding onto her emotions with an iron grip. The expression that she had was full of anger and self-loathing.

  "Sarah, look at me," he said, shaking her a little bit. It seemed to get through to her and her unfocused hazel eyes seemed to narrow and focus in on him. Good enough. "This has nothing to do with you. He was a jerk. You're an incredibly sexy, vibrant woman. Do you hear me?"

  She heard. The laugh that she gave him was low and bitter. "You're just saying that to stop me from crying." She gave him a nicely ironic smile. "I appreciate it, I really do, but you don't have to say that."

  Derrick growled at her, shocking her into really seeing him. Grabbing her hand he placed it on his crotch, letting her feel the hard ridge of his erection. His dick hadn't cared that she was crying, he'd just liked having her in his arms, holding onto her and smelling the sweet flowery scent she was wearing. Feeling her soft hair brushing against his bicep muscles. Even though he hadn't allowed himself to focus on the soft curves of her body against him, his libido had responded anyway. When she realized what she was touching, her fingers splayed across his jeans, her eyes got very wide but she didn't pull away.

  "You're sexy. You can feel how sexy I think you are," he grated at her. "And he was an idiot. None of those women in any of those pictures hold a candle to you."

  Then he let go of her wrist, expecting her to drop her hand away from him. Not even entirely sure why he'd used such an extreme measure; her distress had his own emotions in turmoil and he was quickly realizing that he wasn't thinking too clearly. "Oh," she said, letting her breath out in almost a sigh. Then, before he could react, she leaned forward and kissed him. He responded immediately.

  Derrick's lips were as soft as his cock was hard and Sarah let her fingers grip him through his jeans. Huge. He was absolutely huge if that's really what she was feeling. When his lips pulled away from hers she leaned into him, kissing the soft, dark skin of his neck, leaning into his body.

  "Fuck... Sarah, I don't... we can't... I don't want to take advantage of you," he said, stuttering his words, trying to get across his meaning without giving her anything that could be taken as rejection.

  That restraint on his part just made her even more determined. The sensual heat that was pouring into her body wasn't something she wanted to deny any longer. Why should she? With the glaring proof of Martin's infidelity spread across the floor of his home office, why the hell shouldn't she give in to her overwhelming attraction for this gorgeous man? Especially when he'd just proved to her, beyond a doubt, that he was pretty damn attractive to her too.

  "You aren't," she said reassuringly. Her body felt warm, hot in fact, and her repressed libido thought this was a wonderful idea. There was no expectation on her part that he would stick around after this, she just needed to feel pretty and wanted. "Touch me, please, Derrick. Make me feel good."

  It would take a better man then Derrick not to respond to that plea. Hell it would take a saint. "Not in here," he said. Even though he'd had fantasies of bending her over the desk, he was coherent enough to know that she needed to be pampered and cherished, and that an office wasn't the place to do it.

  "The next room on the left," she said, running her hands over his hard chest muscles. She could barely think, it was like the fire between her legs had burned away all rational thought. When he picked her up, his hands spanning her waist, Sarah wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her crotch against his hard erection and looping her arms around his neck. The hard muscles of his body rippled and moved against her as he stood, like her weight was nothing. With both of his hands underneath her buttocks, Derrick could barely concentrate enough to walk as she sucked on his earlobe.

  "Fuck ,Sarah," he muttered as he stumbled into the bedroom, practically falling on top of her onto the bed. He had the barest impression of dark wood and then he was staring down at her. Grabbing her ponytail he pulled out the elastic band holding it in place and spread her auburn hair across the navy blue of the comforter. "You're so beautiful."

  She responded to the praise like a flower opening, her entire face brightening with pleasure. With her legs wrapped around him he was becoming more and more aware of the urgent need to bury himself inside of her. Claim her. Bring her to heights of ecstasy that she'd never experienced before and make her his. The sudden possessiveness that was sweeping through him was shocking in its intensity. But he found that he didn't want any other man ever putting this expression on her face. He wanted her to be his. It was a primal, Neanderthal urge, far too soon for him to be feeling like this. In fact he wasn't sure if he'd ever felt like this before in his life. Something about this woman, her vulnerability, her innocent sensuality, the sweet and funny personality that he'd discovered at lunch today, was taking down all of his defenses.

  When her fingers ran down the sides of his face he could see the awestruck wonderment in her eyes, that he was here, that he found her attractive. He was going to fuck that surprise right out of her if he had anything to say about it. Make her realize what a gorgeous, sexy woman she was. Part of him was still saying that this was a bad idea, but it was a very, very small part.

  The raw look of lust and gentle intention on Derrick's face was balm to Sarah's broken self-esteem. That this stunningly sexy man was so attracted to her made her feel like the sexiest woman alive. Her body was on fire like it had never been in her entire life. For the first time she felt like sex was something
she needed, rather than something that she put up with. When Derrick's hands slid under her shirt, up the soft skin of her stomach and pulled her shirt over her head, it set every nerve ending on fire with anticipation. His upper body loomed over hers as he crouched between her thighs, watching her expression as he pulled her breasts from her bra, making sure she wasn't changing her mind.

  If he stopped, she'd kill him.

  Sarah arched her back, moaning, as his thumbs rubbed over her nipples. Her legs tightened around him as the pleasure shot through her, the sensitive buds coming alive under his fingers. Looking down at her chest she could see how his strong fingers gently kneaded her soft flesh, the dark ebony of his skin was shocking against the cream of her skin and the pink of her nipples, and just as sexy as it had been in her fantasy.

  When he lowered his head to her chest, taking one pert, rosy nipples between his dark lips, she thought she might cum just from that. The contrast of their skin color was so intensely erotic, it fascinated her as he stroked her breasts. Reaching up she grasped his head in her hands, rubbing the top of his bald head and marveling at the feeling of smooth skin. When she reached down to unbutton his blue shirt Derrick pulled away and Sarah made a disappointed whimpering sound.

  "Shh," he said as he began kissing down her stomach. "Just feel."

  At the moment he was barely keeping himself under control. A gentleman's instincts, knowing that she was emotionally vulnerable right now. If he kept his clothes on, he might have a chance at not letting this go too far. If she started touching him, the way he was touching her, then he'd be buried inside of her within five minutes. Maybe less.

  "Please, please, please," she said, her hips rocking upwards as he unbuttoned her jeans. The plain cotton of her panties matched the bra she was wearing, which was holding her breasts up because of the way he'd folded the cups under her soft flesh. As soon as he started tugging off her jeans he could smell her arousal and he hooked his fingers around her underwear, pulling all of it off of her at once.