by Sandra Hill
One of her arms was thrown above her head, showing a clean-shaven armpit. A vulnerable position and female body part that caused the testosterone in his body to amp up about a thousand percent. (Can anyone say hair-trigger arousal?)
Was this how the three little bears felt on first seeing Goldilocks in their bed? Nope, they were too young for hard-ons that could drill concrete. But, really, he’d just been thinking “man cave,” and now it was “bear cave.”
Is there some kind of woo-woo synchronicity or something going on here?
Nah, it’s probably sunstroke.
For a brief blip of an insane moment, he considered going over and arranging himself atop her body and waking her with a slowly drawn drawl of “Honey, I’m home.” Better yet, a growly, “Who’s been sleeping in my bed . . . uh, recliner?”
But no, he couldn’t shock her awake like that. Besides—he paused to take a whiff of one of his own pits—time to shower first.
He practically tiptoed up the stairs to his bedroom, removing his clothes as he went and dropping them wherever. Then he almost had a heart attack when his cell phone rang, sounding as loud as an explosion in the silence. He quickly checked the ID. Tante Lulu. That was just great. He clicked on the phone before the second ring.
“Yeah?” he said in a soft voice, but ruder than he intended.
“It’s Tante Lulu.”
He rolled his eyes. “I know.”
“Ya doan hafta be snarly jist ’cause yer frustrated.”
The woman knew too much! “What can I do for you?”
“Where are you?”
“In the closet.” And that was actually a partial truth. He was in front of his closet, with the door half-closed to muffle his voice.
“I knew it! I allus thought it was Daniel who might be gay, but it was you all along. Not that I have anything against homo sapiens.”
He gritted his teeth before saying, “I am not gay.”
“Jist kiddin’.”
“And, by the way, it’s homosexuals, not homo sapiens.”
“I know that, idjit.”
“You’re getting on my nerves, old lady. What do you want?”
“Are you callin’ me old? I’m not so old I can’t whup yer be-hind fer bad manners.”
He rolled his eyes again. This must be how Luc, Remy, René, and John felt when they were ten years old and were caught misbehaving. “Sorry.”
“Anyways, I jist wanted ta alert you. Fleur fell asleep up in yer apartment. Yer Aunt Mel went over ta call her fer dinner, but she was zonked out. Mel decided ta let her sleep. Poor chile is wiped out from all the stress . . .” She paused, before adding, “. . . and frustration.”
“I can only hope,” he murmured.
“Whadja say?”
“She’s still asleep.”
“Well, dinner’s in the warmin’ oven when you two are ready ta eat. I’ll prob’ly be asleep by then.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s only six thirty.”
“A gal’s gotta get her beauty sleep. Besides, tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.”
He wasn’t going to ask what she meant by that. She’d no doubt tell him. In detail. There was a long silence. Finally, he asked, “Is there anything else?”
“I fergot what I was gonna say. I hate when that happens. Oh, I know. Are ya gonna do yer thing now?”
“What thing?”
“Yer moves, boy. Everyone up and down the bayou knows you got moves.”
Oh, good Lord! Is she asking if I intend to have sex with Fleur? “That’s kind of a personal question, isn’t it?”
“At my age—and, no, I’m not callin’ myself old—nothin’ is too personal. Anyways, you been draggin’ yer feet, boy. Time fer some action.”
He put his free hand up to his forehead and counted to five. “Is that all?” he asked, and immediately realized that he should have counted to ten because, of course, she always had something else to say.
“I could give ya pointers. Time was, I knew a lot about hanky panky, way more than I’ve ever admitted to. Not jist with my fiancé, either. And I keep up ta date, too. I read Cosmo in Charmaine’s beauty shop. And whoo-boy, the things I learn. In fact, didja know . . .”
Way too much information! “You have got to be the most interfering busybody in all creation.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing ta care about people. Back ta that Cosmo article. If a man has veins bulgin’ out of his you-know-what durin’ the slip ’n’ slide—that means sex ta young folks—it can be real interestin’. Do you ever get veins? If ya don’t, I could ask Tee-John ta teach ya. He knows stuff like that.”
For the first time since he’d met Tante Lulu, he hung up on her. He was still shaking his head with amazement at the things that came out of her mouth as he took the fastest shower in history. Not bothering to shave, although his nighttime stubble could use some work, he brushed his teeth, donned a pair of black running shorts and a plain gray T-shirt, and headed back down the stairs, barefooted.
Fleur was still asleep, thank God, and Tante Lulu was right about one thing. She was probably exhausted from all the stress of what had been happening.
He leaned over her and was about to whisper something super sexy in her ear. He had no idea what, but it was gonna be good. That was when he accidentally hit the vibrator button on the side of the recliner, and it immediately began to do its thing.
He jerked back, not wanting to be accused of doing it deliberately. That would be perverted. Wouldn’t it? Like taking advantage of a woman when she was sleeping or blitzed.
But she didn’t even wake up. Instead, she smiled in her sleep and jiggled her body around a little to better fit into the dips in the leather caused by his own body.
Praise the Lord and pass the gumbo! Even that unconsciously sexy realignment revved his engine, which was already humming along nicely.
Her movement caused her dress to ride up higher, and the buttons to strain across her chest. He could swear he saw the outline of her nipples.
And, oh, man, did I just get a peek at white panty?
No, it was the flicker of light from the TV.
I am pathetic.
He noticed some beads of sweat . . . um, glistening . . . on her forehead. And she was breathing kind of heavy through her parted lips.
Maybe she’s having a wet dream. Do women have wet dreams?
Well, she’s definitely hot. Yep, it’s warmer in here than I thought.
I could turn up the AC.
Or, I bet she’d appreciate it if I unbuttoned one, or two, or three buttons.
I am losing my freakin’ mind.
He patted the bulge between his legs and thought, Down, boy, down! It was losing its freakin’ mind, too.
But then, as the vibrations continued, she raised her other arm, to join the one already above her head, and she arched her back slightly. The final nail in his coffin was the soft moan that escaped her lips.
He moaned, too, and forced himself to say, “Hey, Fleur.”
Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled. She smiled!
That’s it! No more Mr. Nice Guy! “Move over, darlin’,” he said and eased himself onto the recliner beside her. It was a tight fit, but with them both almost on their sides, facing each other, they fit. Real nice.
He waited a moment for her to shriek and shove him off, or to say “CLICK!” real loud, but instead she just stared at him, rather dazed. Whether from being still half-asleep or by his magnetic charisma or some other bullshit, he didn’t care. He was where he wanted to be, where he had wanted to be for a long, long time.
And, just FYI, the sweet vibrations under his hip weren’t too bad, either.
“This is a bad idea,” she murmured as he nuzzled her neck and inhaled a light lily of the valley scent. Samantha’s body wash. Despite her words, she tilted her head slightly to give him better access to her neck.
“Uh-huh,” he agreed—or the best bad idea I ever had—and licked the skin to see if it tasted
as good as it smelled. It did. Moving up to her ear, he took the tiny lobe between his teeth and tugged. Then he deep-kissed the ear itself using the tip of his tongue and his lips. Afterward he softly blew the inner whorls dry.
She melted against him. Really, that was how it felt to him. And somehow—he swore he didn’t know how—eight of her fifteen buttons were undone and he was kissing the bare skin of her chest right down to the center panel of her bra. Forget the damn buttons. He leaned down and took as much of one breast into his mouth as he could, dress and bra and all, and began to draw outward until he had the hardened nub between his teeth. Then he flicked it with his tongue repeatedly like a bleepin’ snake.
She let out a tiny shriek, which caused him to pause. He wanted to make sure she was awake and willing. No way would he force himself on her. But then, she sealed the deal by putting her hands on his head, holding him in place. “Glorious, glorious!” she said.
Her eyes were closed and for a moment he wondered if she was praying. After all, she was an almost-nun. Which should have stopped him in his tracks.
Not a chance! Instead, he pulled out his entire arsenal of tricks for breast play. Alternating between one and the other, he palmed them, pinched them, licked and suckled until she was keening in one continuous, “Ohohoh, oh, oh, oh . . . !”
He could feel her tense and then relax in a soft climax. Her eyes got wider and wider as her lower body spasmed. “What was that?” she asked with wonder afterward.
Huh? She had to know perfectly well what that was. It wasn’t her first orgasm.
Or was it?
No, that had to be impossible.
But he couldn’t think about that now. He had his own situation to take care of. While she was still in a sexual euphoria, he arranged himself atop her body, spread her thighs with his legs, and managed to get his hands on her buttocks under her dress to rub the silky fabric, the whole time pressing his erection against the cleft of her panties. One, two, three times, he thrust and shot his wad.
Man, it was the best dry fuck he’d had since he was a teenager. Good thing he’d thought to put on briefs under his shorts. He wondered how soon he could try again, this time inside her body, maybe up on his bed. A little wine, before or after, would be nice. And food. He could bring the warmed-up dinner over here, and they would eat it in bed. Afterward, they’d tiptoe over to the mansion and try out the rainforest shower. Happy times!
His fantasy—and, yes, it was a fantasy, apparently—was interrupted by Fleur shoving his shoulders and knocking him over and onto the floor. “Guess this was how the three bears felt when Goldy gave them the old heave-ho.”
“Huh?”
“Have you lost your mind?” he asked as he got up from the floor and shot a glower at her.
“I must have. To let you manhandle me.”
“Manhandle? Is that a nunly word for making love?” He was rubbing his behind as if he’d hurt himself, which he hadn’t, of course. It was only his pride that was bruised.
“Making love? Hah!” She was sitting up but having trouble getting the vibrator device to turn off.
He almost smiled. Her dress was hiked up to her thighs, and it was still half unbuttoned, with two wet spots dead center on her boobs. He was probably in no better condition, except his shorts were dark, and he didn’t give a damn. “Oh no! You are not going to lay this on me. Although, yes, I almost got laid.”
“Very funny! Not!”
“Hey, you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”
“You tricked me.” She’d finally turned the vibrator off and was working steadily to reclose the gaping dress.
“I wasn’t the one all splatted out like a sexual buffet in the apartment of a member of the opposite sex who has a raging hunger.”
She gasped.
That was crude. “Not that I didn’t appreciate the buffet.”
“CLICK!”
He grinned.
“I was asleep, for heaven’s sake!”
“Only at first. You know what this is, don’t you? Morning after regret. Typical! Females hook up with a guy, then get all embarrassed the next day, or afterward. The only way to save their pride is to blame the fool who banged them. If they could, they would demand an unbang. Well, darlin’, there is no unbanging this.” He waved a hand before the half-hard-on that still bulged at his crotch. Almost immediately, he regretted his words which had to sound chauvinistic and crude. He had to remind himself that Fleur was different from other women. He had to watch his language.
Her mouth had dropped open with amazement, whether at the crudeness of his gesture, or his ramble, he wasn’t sure.
He was pretty amazed himself.
“Did you learn that from Dr. Phil?”
“No, an old Playboy magazine. Dan and I used to collect them.” He paused. “When we were ten years old.”
Not even a twitch of a grin. “You took advantage,” she said in a small voice, realizing that she was losing the argument.
But he wasn’t giving an inch. “Maybe you took advantage of me.”
That gave her more food for thought.
Which made him think of food food. “Why don’t I go get the dinner Aunt Mel and Tante Lulu saved for us and bring it back here? We can talk.” Before she started to protest, which she was obviously going to do, he added, “You must have come over here for a reason.” He wasn’t delusional enough, yet, to believe she’d come deliberately looking for sex. It had to be something else.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “Have you talked to Brother Brian today?”
He shook his head. “He left several voice mails, but I haven’t had a chance to return his calls yet. It didn’t sound urgent.”
“That figures, that he would leave it to me,” she said with disgust. “I need to tell you about today’s happenings and what’s about to happen tomorrow. For some reason, he and Mother Jacinta think I can convince you to—”
He put up a halting hand. “Wait. I’ll get the food and be back in a sec.” He thought about adding an apology for upsetting her with their little make-out session, but decided he wasn’t sorry. Not one bit.
Grabbing a pair of flip-flops that were under the coffee table, he was headed toward the stairs when he heard Fleur go into the bathroom, close the door, and then let loose with a loud shriek. He figured the mirror on the back of the door must have given her a floor-length look at herself, especially the wet spots on her dress that were like carnal headlights. To her, they would appear like neon Scarlet Letters of shame.
He should feel sorry for her, and he did, but he would bet his bottom dollar that he looked even worse, like “a horny goat caught in a barbed wire fence,” as Tante Lulu was wont to say. He laughed at his thinking of the old lady at a time like this.
She must have heard him and misinterpreted the laugh because, instead of her usual click nonsense, she said, “FUCK!”
Oh, yeah!
Chapter Ten
Zapped again! . . .
Fleur was embarrassed. Of course she was. And it had nothing to do with Aaron’s ridiculous philosophy about morning after regrets or about unbanging the bell, or some such nonsense he expounded. It had more to do with her being an almost-nun. Bottom line: She had really screwed up on her road to becoming a nun. Or almost screwed, she decided with a vulgar streak she hadn’t known she had.
This is just great. The almost-nun who almost screwed. Sounds like the title of a tabloid magazine article.
“What’s so funny?” Aaron asked. He was sitting across from her at the small table in his apartment, finishing off his second helping of jambalaya and rice, not to mention four slices of buttered homemade bread. All washed down by a bottle of cold beer.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“You were smiling. I asked you to share the joke.”
“No joke. I was just laughing at myself for behaving like a fool.”
“You’re a fool for getting your rocks off?”
She flinched. “Crude much? Why
are you behaving like this?”
“How? Like a normal guy? I’m not a kid, and neither are you. Men and women enjoy each other. It’s a fact of life. In fact, God made us that way.”
“Are you saying God made you do it? Tante Lulu would have something to say about that.”
He smiled, and flashed that silly/sexy dimple. Probably deliberately. “No, sweetheart, I didn’t get a call from Above. I didn’t need any push in that direction.”
“This is not like you, Aaron.”
“Maybe this is the real me. Maybe I’ve been behaving like a wuss this past year, sniffing after you like a hungry dog. Asking ‘Can I?’ or ‘May I?’ when I should have just jumped your bones like I wanted to.”
“That’s disgusting.” Which it wasn’t. She felt herself weirdly attracted to this more aggressive Aaron. A part of her, deep down, felt zapped, like an electric current, at his mention of wanting her in that way.
“If you think that’s disgusting, ponder this, darlin’. I’m almost positive that I gave you your first ever orgasm. You should be saying thank you, instead of knocking my good work.”
“Good work? Good work?” She couldn’t help herself. She had to smile at his outrageousness. Another zap!
He reached across the table and took her hands in each of his. She tried to tug out of his grip, but he held tight. “Listen, Fleur, I love you. Don’t know why. Don’t know when it started. Don’t even know if I like it all that much. But it’s a fact, and I’m going to stop playing games and pretending otherwise. Okay?”
“No, it is not okay,” she said, “but will that change anything?”
“Nope.” He drew both hands up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles, one set, then the other, before releasing her.
Double zap!
He got up to get himself another beer from the fridge and asked, “What was so important that you braved the bear cave?”
She had no idea what he meant by bear cave. Some stupid man joke, she supposed. “Brother Brian has invited Jake, the ex–Navy SEAL priest, and Mother Jacinta to come here. Tomorrow! To help set up your cottages as a way station for the rescued girls.”