by Darcy

Note: This story is the sequel to Into Temptation.

He waited, tucked back into the darkness, blended into the shadows, his eyes glittering when they captured light like a wild animal's. He waited for her, for Elizabeth. His Lizzie, the woman who had once been his mistress, his love, until he'd wrecked it with raging temper, over-reaction, and a sorry bit of play-acting with a slag who disgusted him. At the time he'd thought he wanted to hurt her, to show her she meant nothing to him, to get his own back because she had wounded him. He thought he'd get over their affair, get over her, with little or no trouble. And he had, to a point. He'd carried on with his plans and his work and his life, and not even his best mate knew how he struggled. But he couldn't get her out of his mind, couldn't forget the way her flesh felt in his hands, couldn't forget that she was the only woman he'd ever loved, the only woman who'd ever loved him.

So he took to haunting Middle Park, the place they'd met, a place he knew she'd often frequented. She'd told him once she lived in Albert Park, so he made forays into the neighborhood, lurking about in the shopping malls and supermarkets, thinking that sooner or later he'd see her. He even went so far as to disguise himself with dark glasses and a watch cap pulled down over his ears. He wore a turtleneck and gloves to hide his tattoos, traded his Doc Martens' for a pair of Pumas, did what he could to blend into the middle class landscape. For the first time in his adult life, he tried to fit in, to assimilate, if only for the sake of the hunt. And it paid off, because when he saw her at last, she didn't recognize him. Her eyes had gone over him with a blank, indifferent glance; there had been not one spark of recognition, even though he'd been staring hard at her. When she left the supermarket he followed to her car, unnoticed, unseen, and memorized the tag number on the silver Acura. And then, through a WAR sympathizer inside the Melbourne Police Force, he finally gotten her last name and address: Elizabeth Fitzgerald. 398 Hammond Street, Albert Park, VIC.

Armed with this information, he began his stalking in earnest. He followed her in a stolen car whenever she left the house. He rifled her post, on two occasions lifting pieces of mail and opening them. That was how he discovered that her husband was dead, had died just after he'd seen her that last time. And for the first time he wondered if it was not just Lizzie running from him, tiring of him, that had led to end of things. Perhaps the man's death had something to do with her missing their usual Wednesday and Friday meetings. Maybe he'd been ill, in the hospital. Maybe Lizzie hadn't been able to come to him because she'd been stuck there with the old man.

Hando wondered if he'd gone off his knob for nothing. Maybe it was all a mistake, a huge fuckin' mistake that had driven him mad with frustration and fury, tortured him with a sickening, aching craving for the better part of a year. He heard footsteps approach; the measured crunch of them on the loose gravel of the carpark She was coming. He was about to satisfy his craving for her. For Lizzie.

He stayed hidden in the shadows until she got the car door unlocked. Before she could get it open he was on her from behind, stifling her scream with a gloved hand, whispering into her hair. "Shut up, Lizzie. It's me." He licked the shell of her ear, couldn't stop himself from sucking the lobe into his mouth, closing his eyes in sweet remembrance at the familiar taste of her skin on his tongue.

Elizabeth swallowed her scream. That voice - deep and sensuous, like whiskey mixed with honey and poured over gravel…how she'd longed to hear it again. She stiffened and twisted to look at him. Her eyes were huge, beautiful and wary, the pupils black and bottomless in the dim light.

"Will you scream if I let you go?"

A shake of the head. No.

"You do and I'll make you sorry." A clear warning.

A nod. She knew.

Elizabeth waited until his fingers loosened over her mouth, until his arm fell away from her neck. She turned to face him, a thousand disjointed thoughts running through her mind. Hando leaned in and trapped her between his arms, forcing her back against the car with his powerful body.

"I've missed you, Lizzie. It's past time for a reunion." His lips nuzzled into her neck, his nose stroking, nudging her. He sucked the flesh of her throat hard into his mouth until it hurt, until she whimpered, and then released it, his tongue licking at the spot to soothe. "Mmmm…You taste good. I never forgot how good…" he muttered.

She found her voice. "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Yeah?" he growled, rocking his pelvis against her, still leaning on his hands. It looked obscene and yet graceful, both at the same time. "You glad to see me, Lizzie?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I hated you, after."

"And you loved me."

A nod. His lips were hovering over hers, just millimeters separating them. His breath fanned hot on her face; she stared at his mouth, the tender bow-shaped lips. "Do it!" her mind screamed. "Kiss me and make me forget."

His teeth bit down gently on her upper lip, pulled and worried it. She gasped into his mouth. Nobody kissed like her beautiful young god, nobody loved like him either. Her moisture flowed; she was instantly wet and wanting him. He slanted his face across hers and took her mouth with a vengeance, sucking at her, biting and licking with his broad tongue. She tasted beer and cigarettes, could do nothing but open her mouth and let him in to plunder.

Pumping his hips against hers, pinning her against the car, he forced a thigh between hers and ground his bolt against her belly. Elizabeth ran her hands up over his head, reveling in the feel of the rough stubble under her palms and pulled his face down harder to hers. Oh, she couldn't get enough of him, not ever, not after such a long time.

"Want you," he grunted, thrusting a hand under her skirt, tearing at her tights. They ripped to shreds, opening the way for him. He stroked along her weeping sex, slid a finger against her clitoris until she had to lock her knees to remain upright. "Now."

"No, not here, not out in the open…"

He reached beside her and tore open the back door of the car. "Get in."

"I don't think…"

Dragging her, pushing her roughly inside so that she half fell to the leather seat. He followed, sliding in and tearing off the overcoat at the same time. She watched disbelieving as he opened his pants and pulled out his cock, pumping it with slow, tempting strokes.

"Suck me."

"No."

His hand shot out and grabbed her hair, his eyes wild, feral. "Do it now. Suck me." He brought her face closer and kissed her tenderly, murmured against her lips. "Please."

Where was her resistance? Melted away, as it always had at the sound of his voice. Melted into complaisance, just because he'd said please. She bent and licked at him, at the milky drops already pearling in his slit, tasting him again. Down over his cockhead, flattening her tongue and applying the pressure under the ridge, just where she knew he liked it. Above her he hissed and swore.

"Sss, Jesusss…ah Christ, Lizzie…"

His hand was still in her hair, but now it was gentle, caressing. She tightened her lips around him, bathing him with her tongue. Bobbed on his shaft, drawing hard, nursing, worshipping him. He leaned his head back and let her take him until he couldn't stand it anymore, afraid he'd come in her mouth. He wanted to be inside her, fucking her, claiming her again. He pulled her off him, dragging and lifting until she knelt over him.

"Fuck me, Lizzie. Christ, I need you…"

She took him inside and lowered herself down. He groaned and pulled at her jumper until it was up around her neck, then yanked at her bra until her breasts swung free. His lips fastened over one nipple, he lapped and sucked at it as she began to pump on him. Lizzie threw her head back as he hilted inside her. She could feel him throbbing, knew he wouldn't last long. Up and down, grinding herself hard on his cock as he thrust up into her. Faster, harder, until the car rocked under them and anyone passing could have told what went on inside. She didn't care. Didn't care who saw, who knew.

Big hands tight on the cheeks of her ass, forcing her down. Lizzie felt him far inside, his shaft gliding over her sweet spot with every thrust. She shivered and tensed, hovering on the edge of the abyss, and with a hand on either side of his face, pulled his lips to hers as she tipped over into a freefall of ecstasy. His breath came hard, he grunted as she milked him, squeezed him. Hot wet kisses, her mouth melding to his until he drove his tongue inside. His thrusts became stronger, deeper, arrhythmic. He spent himself in her familiar and welcoming warmth, murmured and groaned into her mouth.

"Lizzie! Fuck! Baby, ummm. Ummm."

A grunt from deep in his chest with every release of his seed, until there was nothing left in him. He leaned his forehead against her chest, brushed kisses against her skin.

"Love you," he whispered, almost too low for her to hear. But she heard him. And she knew.

"Love you, too," she thought, but she didn't say it. Not yet. Not yet.