by Claire Kent
***
When she woke up, it was lighter in the room, and she felt that eerie disorientation of waking up in the middle of the day with no sense of time or context. She stared at the clock on the bedside table she recognized as Mike’s and blinked at 10:08 until she decided it was 10:08 in the morning rather than night.
When she turned over and saw Mike sleeping beside her—grizzled and battered with the covers pushed down to his waist—she remembered why she was here and what had happened to lead up to it.
She felt terrible. Exhausted and sore and absolutely ravenous. She rolled off the bed with an involuntary groan and stumbled into the bathroom. After she’d used it, she returned to find Mike awake too.
“Sorry if I woke you.”
“S’okay,” he mumbled, trying to stretch his arms but breaking off with a bitten off exclamation.
“How do you feel?” Her face twisted with pity since she could tell pretty clearly how he felt. “Terrible?”
“Pretty much like shit.” His attempt to speak lightly was mostly unsuccessful as he hauled himself up into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
He took several deep breaths, and Julia was alarmed by the pallor of his face beneath his growth of beard.
She helped him as he stood up, but he pulled away as soon as he’d gained his feet. She didn’t push it. He was probably just weak, in pain, and maybe dizzy from the pain medication. She wasn’t afraid it was anything serious. She just didn’t like seeing him this way.
“I’ve got to eat something,” she said to the closed bathroom door. “Shall I make something for you? What about soup?”
“I don’t have a cold,” he grumbled. “I don’t need chicken soup.”
She ignored the bad mood and took his response for a yes. So she padded barefoot into the kitchen, still wearing only Mike’s big t-shirt, and warmed up a can of chicken noodle soup, which was all they had in the pantry.
It wasn’t the best soup in the world—Drayton would definitely not approve—but it was warm and comforting and didn’t taste bad with some crusty bread, and she was too hungry to make anything more elaborate.
She brought a bowl and couple of pieces of bread to Mike, who ate it as quickly as he could with only one arm. Then she took the dishes away and brought Mike another pain pill and a fresh glass of water.
He took the pill and lay back down against his pillow with a groan. “Just kill me now.”
“You’ll feel better after you sleep some more,” she told him, hopeful without any good reason.
Mike just grunted. Since Julia wasn’t feeling too good herself and she had nothing else essential to do, she lay down next to him and fell asleep again a few minutes after he did.
The next time she woke, several hours later, she finally felt rested. She was still stiff and sore, but the food had helped restore her and she was feeling like she wasn’t going to fall over.
Now, however, she felt absolutely disgusting—grimy and smelly and covered with invisible remnants of her traumatic night.
So, careful not to make any noise, she got up and headed for her bathroom. She brushed her teeth and then got into the shower, shampooing her hair and shaving thoroughly.
The hot water helped. As did the familiar acts of cleansing. Her experience tied up on the bed was starting to feel like a vague nightmare. It had ended as well as it possibly could. There were things she’d have to deal with. Drayton couldn’t be torn out of her life so abruptly without some significant emotional adjustment.
But she felt all right. Almost hopeful.
She was with Mike, and things could be good.
When she got out of the shower, she put on her favorite short silk robe, feeling a pang at the knowledge that Drayton had brought it back for her from a trip to Japan. She brushed and towel-dried her hair, but she didn’t bother to blow it dry. Instead, she went into Mike’s room and was startled to find the bed empty.
“Mike?” she called.
“In here. No need to panic.”
The dry tone relieved her instinctive worry, and she walked into Mike’s taupe and beige tiled bathroom to find him standing in just his boxers in front of the sink.
His hand was braced on the granite surface, and he’d gotten out his shaving stuff.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m feeling better, and I’m sick of looking like a caveman.”
He did sort of look like a caveman—albeit a rather sexy one with his broad chest, muscular back, and flat belly with its tantalizing trail of hair leading down into his boxers.
“All right,” she said, arching her eyebrows at him skeptically.
He met her eyes in the mirror, looking surprised at her acquiescence. And then he clumsily lathered up his jaw and started to shave.
Mike did look like he was feeling better. He had more color and he didn’t appear weak and dizzy as he had before. But he was rather uncoordinated with one bad arm, and he wasn’t inclined to be patient with himself.
The third time he cursed and slammed down the razor, Julia laughed and walked over to pick it up.
Without a word, she took over shaving duties, sliding the razor slowly down the line of his jaw, being extra careful since shaving his face wasn’t anything like shaving her legs or underarms.
He stood still and let her tend to him, his eyes following her every move and often lingering on her face.
It was a sensual act—although not a sexual one—and Julia felt particularly soft and tender as she rinsed off the blade for the final time.
She rubbed her palm against his jaw, to see how well she’d done. “Pretty good,” she said, pleased with success. “And you almost look civilized again.”
Mike snorted. “Right.” He scowled at himself in the mirror. “I need a shower.”
This kind of grouchiness neither surprised nor worried her. Men like Mike never accepted incapacitation easily. “Well, you can’t have one. Not with that bandage.”
He turned his scowl onto her. “You don’t have to look so pleased about it. You’re the one who has to smell me.”
She laughed out loud and reached for a wash cloth. “Stop being grumpy. Didn’t we just declare our endless love in a romantic interlude?”
“Is that what it was?” His voice was dry rather than bad-tempered now, and she caught the glint of affection in his gaze through the mirror.
Wetting the wash cloth until it was sopping, she rubbed it over his face and hair.
“Hey!” he objected, when he was sloshed in the eyes and rivulets of water streamed down his cheeks and the back of his neck.
“You said you wanted a shower. And you haven’t even thanked me for shaving you so expertly.” She dried up the streams of water before they reached his bandage, and she wrung out the washcloth before she started on his neck and shoulders.
“Thank you.”
He meant it, and the warmth in his voice caused her belly to clench with affection.
She rewetted the wash cloth and worked on his chest and back. And then she got on her knees to wipe the cloth over his legs, although his thighs and ankles didn’t need much work.
She actually enjoyed cleaning him up this way. Wouldn’t want to do it all the time, of course, but it was an intimate act of service, and it brought her close to him in such a palpable way.
When she finished, he was halfway erect. She could see the outline of his cock through the cotton of his boxers.
She didn’t comment on his state of half-arousal, however. She dropped the wash cloth into the sink and picked up his comb to tidy up his damp hair.
“There,” she said. “Now you look almost presentable.”
“Thank you.” His voice was low and textured, and the nuance of his tone wasn’t anything like he’d said the words before.
The sound made her pussy clench, and she realized that washing him had half-aroused her as well.
“You’re welcome.” She pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “You should g
o and lie down now. You’re still not at full capacity.”
His good hand slid down her slippery robe to curve around her bottom. “I don’t want to lie down. I want to—”
“I know what you want to do. But in your condition, I think it would be safer if we do it lying down.”
Mike wasted no time in returning to the bed. He stretched out on his back while Julia draped herself along the side of his body, carefully avoiding his bandaged shoulder.
They kissed for a long time, their tongues playing together intimately while Mike stroked her body with one hand. He tasted minty, like toothpaste. And she supposed she did too.
She was fully aroused when she finally pulled up, breaking the press of their lips. “We’ll have to be careful.”
“Screw careful.” Mike’s eyes were hot and demanding, and he’d hardened all the way against her thigh.
When she frowned at him, he retracted his reckless response. “I’ll be good,” he promised. “I’ll lay here without moving like a good boy.”
She couldn’t suppress a choked laugh, but she tried to give him a reproving look. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to get any more hurt.”
He smiled up at her, so dear and Mike-like that she almost melted into a puddle of sentiment on the bed. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you too. But remember what the doctor said. Don’t get too enthusiastic.”
There was a lilt to her last words, which were offset by the way she slowly slid her robe off her shoulders, baring her naked body.
Mike’s gaze raked over her possessively, lingering on her breasts and her pussy. Something in the flare of his eyes told her that he was conscious that he was the only one allowed to see her like this now.
It meant something to Julia too, she realized. Made even the gesture of stripping private, intimate, in a way it hadn’t been before.
“Right,” he said thickly. “I won’t get too enthusiastic.”
She giggled softly as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs when he lifted his hips slightly off the mattress.
His cock was fully erect, and she took it in both of her hands, caressing it gently and loving the way his belly shuddered in response.
After teasing him a little, she straddled his hips and poised herself over his groin. She was wet and ready for him, and neither of them had the energy for extended foreplay today.
She let Mike hold himself in place while she took his cock into her body, moaning softly at the feel of the familiar penetration.
She paused when she’d taken him in as deeply as she could. He filled her completely, stretching and stimulating her deliciously.
Mike released a long, slow groan and moved his head restlessly on the pillow. He kept the arm of his injured shoulder carefully bent and still, and the other hand was gripping a handful of the flesh at her hip.
“You all right?” she asked breathlessly, her senses on edge and fighting the urge to ride him.
He groaned again, arching his back slightly. He didn’t have the control he normally had, and something about it was unbelievably sexy. “You’re not going to ask me that after every move, are you?” he asked when he’d gotten a hold on himself.
“Maybe.” She raised and lowered her thighs in a little rock, and both of them let out their breaths at the way his cock slid inside her clinging pussy. “Are you complaining?”
“Hell, no. Ask all you want.”
For some reason, this made both of them laugh. Mike’s body shook beneath her, and his hips gave a few jerky thrusts up before he’d pulled himself together. “Sorry,” he said. “Almost lost it there.”
The echo of memory made emotion rise up into Julia’s throat. She leaned down, his cock still sheathed inside her, took his face in her hands, and kissed him deeply.
He returned the kiss, although he grunted at the shift in position which changed the angle of his penetration inside her abruptly.
Julia couldn’t stop kissing him, pressing her lips over and over against his. She felt like she wanted to swallow him, like she couldn’t bear for him to ever pull away. It seemed so hard to believe that Drayton wouldn’t be walking in the door, wouldn’t be joining them, wouldn’t be breaking into their privacy.
Finally, Mike said, “Baby, I love you too. You know I do.”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, tugging on his lower lip with both of hers.
When he could speak again, he continued, “But if you want to come today, it’s going to have to be now. I’m not going to make it much longer.”
The bland self-deprecation in his voice broke into her almost desperate hunger. “Right,” she said. “I definitely want to come.” She straightened up, leaning back slightly so she could rest her hands on his clenched thighs.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She grinned down at him. “You’re weak and sickly, after all.”
He scowled at her good-naturedly, but it disappeared as soon as she began to rock over him. “Definitely weak and sickly,” he gritted out, devouring her face and body with his eyes.
She wanted to giggle again, but she had to shift concentration. Bracing herself on his thighs, she leaned backward some so that his cock would hit her g-spot. Then she started to ride him for real, bouncing over him in a fast, shameless rhythm.
Her damp hair shook around her face, and her breasts jiggled with her motion. Then Mike reached out with his good hand and pressed his thumb against her clit, which was swollen and peeking out from between the folds of her flesh.
She cried out as a tight coil of pleasure deepened inside her. He massaged her clit as she bounced and grunted, and soon an orgasm spiraled up from the stimulation.
Her head fell back as she mewed out her release. And, as Mike continued to rub her clit, she felt another climax well up on the heels of the first.
She came a second time, her body shaking and shuddering as the ripples of pleasure overwhelmed her.
She gasped hoarsely as the contractions finally faded, and saw that Mike’s body was clenched like a fist beneath her. “Now you,” she urged, sustaining the rhythm of her hips over his.
Mike bit back a groan—of relief, she thought—and moved his hand to hold her hips in place. His fingers were strong and rough, so tight on her soft flesh that they hurt just a little.
But she loved the feeling. And loved the feel of his big cock rubbing against her tightened channel. And loved the lingering groan he released as he started to thrust into her from beneath her.
He wasn’t gentle. His thrusts were hard and demanding. But she could take it. She matched his rhythm, and let her fuck her hard from below.
It couldn’t have been easy on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem conscious of any pain.
He gazed at her—hot and needy—until he finally jerked his head with a rough exclamation and came in a series of grunts and clumsy thrusts.
She held herself perfectly still so she could feel his release inside her, and then she watched, tenderly, possessively, as his body softened, loosened, relaxed with the release of the deep tension.
She leaned down into another kiss, and this time she wasn’t hurried or overly anxious. They were together. Just the two of them. And what they’d just done felt, for the first time, like it was truly their own.
She wondered if Mike felt the same way. And realized he probably did from the way he kept murmuring, “Baby.”
Neither of them pulled away until Julia accidentally moved against his shoulder.
“Sorry,” she said, at the cut-off sound of pain he made.
“No problem.”
She reluctantly pulled off of him, letting his sated cock slide out of her wet, overly-sensitive pussy. Then she settled herself at his side, pleased when he draped his good arm around her protectively.
“It wasn’t too much for you, was it?”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Definitely not too much.”
“Did you hurt your shoulder?”
“Not in any way that matters.”
“Do you want another pain pill?”
“Believe me, I’m feeling no pain.”
She peered down at his face. Then smiled fatuously as she saw it was true. “Okay.” After a moment’s silence, she asked, “That was pretty good, wasn’t it? Particularly given our limitations.”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed a kiss into her hair.
“Don’t you think it was good?” she persisted.
“Yeah,” Mike agreed. “It was a really good beginning.”
Epilogue
Dom Keller had recently been hired as the Director of Marketing in Julia’s company. He’d lived in L.A. before he’d relocated to take the new job, and he made the most of his California attitude. He was smarmy, good-looking in an overly slick way, and always too overdressed for Julia’s taste.
Tonight, she couldn’t keep her eyes away from his cufflinks—large platinum squares he seemed to make a point of flashing beneath the sleeves of his suit.
She’d never liked men like Dom, too entitled and confident of their own charm. And she wasn’t sure how she’d let herself get cornered by him at one of her boss’s parties.
But here she was, pressed up against a large window that looked out onto the backyard. The glass was cool against her bare arms and legs, in contrast to the warmth of the overcrowded room.
“I’ve heard stories about you,” Dom said, edging closer in such a smooth way that she knew he wouldn’t believe any woman wouldn’t want to get that close to him.
She wasn’t surprised by his comment. There had been rumors running through the company about her for the last two years, ever since she’d started living with two men. “Have you? You can’t always believe gossip, you know.”
Dom planted one hand on the window next to her shoulder. His eyes were hazel, and there wasn’t a single wrinkle on his suit or his French-cuff shirt. “So it’s not true? You’re not as …adventurous as I’ve heard?” The pitch of his voice and the particular glint in his eyes made the nuance of his question quite clear.