* * *
Elizabeth awoketo soft kisses along her shoulder and nape, Quinn behind her, his erection pressing into her lower back. “Mmm. Good morning.”
“Mornin’, beautiful.” He fondled her breasts, teased her nipples, bringing her fully awake—and making her ache for him.
He nibbled her earlobe, still playing with her nipples, drawing them to tight points, caressing their tips with his callused palm. Then he reached down to cup her.
He knew her body now, knew what she loved—and he made her wait for it. Instead of lavishing attention on her clit, he ran his fingertip around the entrance to her vagina, tickled her inner thighs, toyed with her lips.
She moaned in frustration, laughed. “Oh, you mean, awful man!”
He chuckled, nipped her shoulder, keeping up the torment until she was whimpering, her hands balled into fists. “Is it this you’re wantin’?”
He stroked her clit, earning an “Oooh,yes!”
She was already so aroused that a few minutes of this had her on the brink. When he thrust his cock into her, she came, pleasure shimmering through her. “Oh…God!”
When the tremors inside her had ebbed, he turned her onto her belly, forcing her legs wide apart with his own, making her gasp. Then he caught her wrists, pinned them to the bed above her head, and began to move, thrusting into her from behind, going deep. “Och, you feel so good.”
She’d never had sex like this before, flat and spread-eagle on her belly. Quinn completely dominated her, fucking her hard, his big, muscular body seeming to surround her, holding her in place, his cock caressing some sensitive place inside her.
She’d never come from penetration alone before, not even with Quinn, but each thrust pushed her closer and closer to the edge, until her every exhale was a cry, her fingers clenching the sheets, the ache inside her unbearable.
This time when she came, it was different, orgasm rolling through her like thunder, getting stronger with each thrust. “Quinn!”
But he was right there with her, groaning as pleasure claimed him.
He sank onto the bed beside her, drew her back against him. “I cannae get enough of you, Lilibet.”
They snuggled for a while, but hunger got the better of them. They made breakfast together—scrambled eggs and toast—then showered. And then it was time to get to work.
She and Quinn sorted through the pages she’d printed, dividing the two phones’ data and then separating them into piles based on content—phone calls, text messages, voicemail, downloads and uploads, transactions, and GPS locations.
They started with the original phone. It was painstaking work, as they listed calls from contacts—his neighbor, Ava, Andrew, rugby club pals—and then looked up every number that wasn’t identified.
“Another scam call.”
“Aye, lots of those.”
Almost all of the calls not in his contacts turned out to be scam calls, though some were legitimate. One had come from a pediatrician’s office, another from the dry cleaners about his suit, and several from a dog breeder about a puppy.
Elizabeth wanted to cry. “He reserved a puppy as a surprise for Ava and the girls. The breeder has been leaving him messages. I guess she doesn’t watch the news. You should call her, let her know what happened. We should tell Ava.”
There was nothing unusual in his text messages or voicemails. The vast majority had come from Ava, the text messages including photos of their girls, moments from daily life for the father who couldn’t be home. Olivia with lunch all over her face. Olivia and Isla asleep in a pile on the sofa. Isla sniffing a bright pink rose.
Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. “These poor little girls. They won’t even remember him.”
A muscle clenched in Quinn’s jaw. “He’ll never be more than a man in a photograph to them.”
Most of Jack’s data uploads were images of the girls he had passed on to his sister, Hannah, though he had also sent and forwarded some emails to Ava, Hannah, Andrew Lewis, and Quinn.
Quinn read one exchange between the two men arguing about who’d been drunker after a game of rugby, chuckling to himself. “Och, there’s no way that Lewis could outdrink Murray. Murray can put away a half bottle of…”
Quinn’s words trailed off. “He used to…”
“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth was getting to know Jack, too, watching the last few weeks of his life unfold in calls and messages, photos and emails.
They moved on to transactions, and there was only one—flowers for Ava.