Reaper III: Rookies

by Amanda M. Holt

  Shortly after, we were pulling up to the rear parking lot of Charlie Friday’s.

  There weren’t many vehicles in the lot, but that was to be expected since it was only a Wednesday night and roughly ten thirty, at that.

  “Thank you so much, for the ride,” I began, my heart pounding quicker in my chest as I realized the impact of what I was about to do. “Can I repay you with a cup of tea upstairs?”

  I had put myself out on a limb and wondered if he was going to take the bait.

  A long silence filled the space between us.

  Finally, he let out the breath that he had been holding.

  I needn’t have worried. Or wondered…

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, accepting the invitation. “It’s still plenty early.”

  We left his truck and I led the way, Neal following me to the rear entrance of Charlie Friday’s, to the stairwell that led to the three apartments above the bar. As we walked up the stairs, I wondered, for a moment, if I had completely lost my mind.

  He was a coworker!

  What was I doing, inviting him back to my place so soon?

  I was sure he knew that there was more than a cup of tea in store for him.

  We were adults, true and I was horny, also true, but wasn’t this moving a little too fast, even by modern standards?

  Plus, there was no guarantee that he would want to have sex with me.

  Being a charming ol’ country boy with good manners and all…

  I didn’t have much more time to think about it, because we were soon outside the door to my apartment and before I knew it, I had the key in the lock and was turning it to grant us entry. Resolving to make the best of the evening, no matter what the outcome, I stepped inside my apartment and put my winter coat on the rack.

  Neal stood just inside the door, a little uncertainly, as if he did not know what to do with himself now that he was here. I kicked off my winter boots and set them in their place by the door.

  “Hang up your coat and stay a while,” I called to him as I made my way into the kitchen to set two cups out on the counter. I opened the cupboard and surveyed its contents. “You have your choice of chai tea, green tea, jasmine tea, some kind of berry zinger tea that my mom gave me and Earl Grey or orange pekoe.”

  “That’s a lot o’options.”

  Neal added his jacket to the coat rack near the door and then moved into the small kitchen to stand near me. He was close, but not so close that he made me feel uncomfortable.

  The kitchen suddenly felt too small.

  For one person, it was cozy enough, but put two people in there and it became smaller still. He looked down at me, with tenderness in his clear blue eyes and I felt that familiar warmth spreading through my loins, through my entire body.

  I had almost forgotten what desire felt like, if I had ever even truly known it before now.

  “What are you having?” He asked me.

  We both knew that the invitation for a cup of tea was merely a ruse to get him upstairs and into my lair. It was just going to be a matter of time before one of us made a move to call our own bluff.

  “Chai,” I said, bringing the package up to my face, to breathe deep its spicy fragrance.

  Even through the pungent aroma of the tea, I could smell him, that earthy male musk that was his and his alone.

  “Sounds good to me,” he decided, looking casual and comfortable as he leaned back against my kitchen sink.

  Did he know how sexy he looked just then, his long body stretched out like that, his sweater taut across the muscles of his lean chest and strong arms? Did he know how the denim of his jeans was straining against his groin, making my imagination run wild with possibilities?

  I checked the water level on the electric kettle and flicked its switch to on.

  “It usually takes a few minutes to boil,” I said, apologetically.

  “Don’t you worry none,” he spoke softly. “I’m in no rush.”

  Good, I thought to myself. I want you to stay awhile.

  “So what does your dad do for a living?”

  “My birth father, or Paul?” I asked, for clarification.

  “Either, or.”

  I decided to keep the explanation brief. “I never knew my birth father. As is the case with many deadbeat dads, he left my mom shortly after I was conceived.”

  His blue eyes were sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. Paul—my true father—he’s the best parent a girl could hope and have. He’s been supportive of me in every way.”

  Looking at Neal, I found myself basking in the warmth of his nearness. Could he feel my nearness, as I could feel his? Or was the Dark Thing making me more sensitive to the heat emanating from his body, making me more sensitive to my surroundings?

  “Paul’s an architect. He even designed the home that he, my mom and brother live in.”

  “And your mother,” he began, “What does she do?”

  “She’s a nurse,” I replied. “She worked full time at the Boothe General Hospital until she became pregnant with Darren and then part time ever since.”

  “I’ve always admired people in the health care professions. They have an even tougher job than we do.”

  I grinned at him. “Her second job is to be a constant worrier.”

  “Isn’t that the case with all mothers?” He asked, in that slow, sexy country drawl of his.

  “Mine is the exception to the rule.” I groaned.

  “How so?”

  “She’s a mega-worrier. For example, she didn’t let me take the training wheels off my bike until I was eleven. Eleven.”

  “A worrier indeed. I bet she made you wear a helmet, too.”

  “…and kneepads.” I remembered my embarrassment all too well.

  “Well, things were different for us out on the farm.” He confided. “I only knew what training wheels and helmets were from what I saw in the Sears catalogue. We pretty much rode our bikes at our own risk. If we fell, we picked the gravel from the scratches in our knees and got back on to ride again.”

  “I hear that kids grow up to be stronger that way, with less coddling.”

  “Tough as nails, actually.” He conceded, crossing his arms over his strong chest. “You seem to have turned out okay, coddled or not.”

  “It’s like the old saying goes, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Even if that means suffocation by way of your overbearing mother.”

  As predicted, a few minutes later the kettle began to make soft gurgling sounds and I knew that it had come to a boil. I shut it off before the switch even popped back to the off position and poured hot water over the tea bags, in their respective cups.

  Fragrant steam rose up from the cups to meet me and as I set the kettle down, I caught Neal appreciating the backside of my body with hungry eyes.

  His glance shifted and then he looked me in the eye. I smiled at him and held out his cup of tea with hands that were surprisingly steady for the adrenaline that was coursing through them. He took it, holding both the cup and my hands briefly, tenderly, in his.

  His touch, this time, was more intimate than all of the others I’d had the pleasure of on this evening.

  If nothing else, if he left after his cup of tea, I supposed that I would have the memory of this gentle touch and this pleasant evening, to sustain me through the lonely winter night ahead.

  To my pleasant surprise, he put his cup of tea down and in his rich, masculine voice said, “So when are we going to talk about this?”

  “About what?”

  “This undeniable attraction between us.” Neal took my cup away from me and set it on the counter next to his. He lifted his warm hand to my face and cupped it gently, forcing me to stare into his intense blue eyes. “We’re adults, Samantha. We can talk about it, can’t we?”

  “Actions speak louder than words,” I said, daring him to act.

  “Woman, you are driving me crazy.”

  He leaned forward and closed the distance
between us.

  His kiss came as suddenly as his words, but it was soft, pliant and oh…so sensual. He took my breath away with that kiss and I found myself greedily suckling his bottom lip, wanting more of him, more of him, more of him…

  He held my face with his hands and kissed me harder, more ardently, showing me his desire – a desire that was a match unto my own.

  “Open your mouth for me,” he said breathlessly and I moaned, letting him in.

  His tongue flicked across mine as he kissed me deeply, with more passion than my imagination had given the ol’ country boy credit for. His need was evident as he pressed his body against me, pinning me between his torso and my kitchen counter.

  The muscles of his back were hard beneath my fingers as my hands sought first, his shoulders and then worked their way down his spine, to his narrow waist and lower, to cup the muscles of his well-defined ass.

  I smiled into our kiss as I felt the sign of his arousal pressing into my hip, straining against his jeans, as surely as I could feel the hard strength of his chest against my soft breasts.

  As our mouths continued to explore each other, his hands fell to my ass and squeezed the cheeks possessively. He then ground himself into my hips and I broke our kiss to look down, at the awesome clothed erection that was there between us, a long firm rod of at least seven inches that promised to please. I

  swallowed a gasp of delighted surprise that spilled from my lips like warm honey from my mouth. I threaded my hands through his tousled hair and kissed him roughly, wantonly, stealing his breath from his lips.

  It pleased me to see that he was as aroused as I was. It justified my own arousal, gave meaning to my heat. My pussy was throbbing with anticipation and I knew that this was just the beginning of my pleasure, so long as he was willing to play along and give me what I wanted.

  What I needed...

  “You're a good kisser,” he said, breaking the contact of our lips to stroke my jaw with his fingertips.

  “I try,” I replied, lips swollen from our passion, my breasts aching for his touch.

  “You've got a hot body.” He crooned, a hand on the small of my back. “One I've come to want very badly...”

  “Then take what you want.”

  I wanted the pleasure that I knew his body could give.

  His reaction was slow, sexy, intentional. The very tip of his tongue darted out to lick the rim of my upper lip and then the rounded pout of my lower one. He delved his eager tongue into my mouth, where it danced and tangled with my own, a kiss of enticement enriched with demand.

  Finally, he pulled away to speak.

  “How about I take my time with you?” He turned my head so that he could whisper in my ear. “I want to lick and taste every inch of you.”

  “Wait…” Reluctantly I hesitated, my palms pressing into his chest.

  Logic had to prevail for a moment.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I gave my box of condoms to a girl I bartended with. I haven’t had a chance to replace them. Haven’t had a reason to replace them.”

  “Oh. Shit.”

  “Shit is right.” I groaned with frustration. “Do you have a-?”

  “No, I’m not packing any protection, I’m sorry to say. Didn’t know this was in store for me.”

  A long silence passed between us.

  The sexual tension in my kitchen was so intense, I could taste it.

  I exhaled a long sigh of annoyance.

  “Well…Neal…did anything come up in your medical?” I was referring to the blood tests he would have undergone before his time at the academy.

  “No,” he replied and I trusted the solemn set of his mouth. “Yours?”

  “Nothing.”

  I wanted him inside of me so badly.

  “Then I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

  I swallowed nervously. “I am.”

  “Are you on birth control?”

  “Since I was eighteen.”

  “Then we’re more or less covered if the statistics are in our favor,” he said quickly and kissed me again, fanning the flames that were burning low in my body. “Take us to your bed.”

  Weak in the knees, I led him by the hand to my small, tidy bedroom.

  He grinned when he saw the twin bed, amused by its small dimensions.

  “Well, it’s not much to work with,” he teased me, “but it will have to do.”

  At his gentle insistence, I lowered myself to the bed and he covered me with his body. I wrapped my legs around him, encouraging him as he pressed his pelvis against me. We were both still fully clothed, but the action was as intimate as it came. From what I could tell of myself, I was soaking wet now and ready for him, my clitoris throbbing against the seam of my jeans with every new motion he made.

  I ground my mound into his hand when he unzipped my jeans, seeking my moist slit with his fingers. His fingers, though large, were incredibly nimble, exploring my crevice and my clit.

  “God… you're so wet.” He groaned, fingering my slick hole.

  “I’m so Goddamned horny.”

  He probed two fingers inside of me and I gasped and rocked against him, already so near an orgasm that I thought it might burst out of me, without warning.

  He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them.

  “Mmm. You taste good.”

  “Oh God,” I groaned, as he returned his fingers to their ministrations.

  Sure, I was enjoying the way he was finger fucking me, sliding his fingers slowly in and out. I knew that masturbating me just wasn’t going to sate the gnawing hunger deep within.

  I wanted to have him inside of me.

  I needed to have him inside of me.

  “Masturbation just doesn't cut it.” I pulled his hand out of my pants. “I have to have you. Inside of me. If I don’t, I think I might die and then you’d have to explain that to Phil.”

  He seemed slightly taken aback, yet delighted by my claim.

  He kissed me one more time, roughly and then stood up. “If that’s the case, then we have to get you out of those jeans.”

  I raised my bottom to help him, as he pulled them down over my hips.

  He whistled, low and sexy.

  “What?”

  “Do those sexy orange panties match your bra?”

  “But of course,” I grinned at him and tugged my panties down my legs.

  “Nice landing strip.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Now let me see yours?”

  “Nothin’ to it.” He smirked at me in the dim light. “Lose the shirt.”

  I pulled my shirt up over my head while he stepped out of his jeans, revealing an erection that his navy boxer shorts could not fully conceal. He was soon pulling his sweater over his head, to reveal a chest that was every bit as masculine as it had felt, with a small amount of golden hair at the center and a sparse trail of it leading down to his navel.

  He pulled his boxer shorts down and stepped out of them, so that he was standing naked before me.

  “Neal…”

  “Like what you see?” He asked, stroking his seven inches of sweet promise.

  “Oh yeah.” Licking my kiss-swollen lips, I groaned. “For the love of God, hurry.”

  My breasts perked up within the restraint of my orange lace bra, as though begging for his touch.

  He pressed his body against mine, covering me entirely. A soft moan escaped my parted lips and his next kiss was so ardent, it left me with the distinct sensation that the room was spinning. The very feel of him was intoxicating, elating, euphoric…

  “You have such beautiful breasts.” He pulled down the bra to suckle first one nipple and then the other. His hand found one breast and then the other, kneading them gently. I thought that I was going to orgasm from the feel of his tongue alone, by the swirling sensations I was getting from his mouth as it explored my left nipple and then the right. My nipples stood erect as his tongue continued to tenderly assault my breasts.

  He w
as clearly in no rush.

  But I was.

  “Please, Neal – do me now,” I begged.

  He shrugged and smiled down at me.

  He gently parted my thighs at the knee and positioned himself between them.

  "If you insist..." He said simply and slid his entire length into me, in one sweet, long movement.

  I had not been as ready for him as I'd expected and gasped my surprise, my delight. He filled me entirely, with depth and girth of ecstatic proportions... I wrapped my legs snug around him, taking him captive, holding him there, inside of me.

  “Oh, God, Sam…”

  “Neal?”

  “You feel so good,” he drawled. “So tight.”

  All I could do was moan my pleasure. He started with a slow, deep, steady rhythm, no more than six or seven thrusts in all and then he stopped, just as I was beginning to melt from the molten hot ecstasy of our shared passion.

  "Why are you stopping?" I asked, bewildered by the pause in motion.

  There was tenderness in his blue eyes as he smiled down at me. “You're about to come already, aren't you?”

  “I was, until you stopped.” I pouted.

  “Good.” He began to thrust anew, with the same slow, sweet rhythm. The tempo of his motion was riveting, causing something primitive in me to stir, as though to unheard music. That restless little something inside of me began to unravel, slowly, uncoiling as the heat of my building orgasm was just beginning to blaze, in a way that left me moaning when he stopped again.

  “Neal!” I groaned, my pussy throbbing around him.

  “Oh, sorry.” He chuckled and thrust deeper, a new tempo, a new stroke. My orgasm picked up where it left off and I fought off the spasm, waiting until it built to the point where I couldn't help but give in.

  I shuddered and buried my short nails into the skin of his back and cried out as wave after wave of intense pleasure fluxed through me like untamed electrical current. My clitoris twitched and pulled rhythmically, each spasm a new brand of wonder. When at last I began to coast down from the dizzying heights of my orgasm, it was only so that I was at the brink of another from Neal’s attentive thrusts and withdraws...

  “Oh, Neal!” I cried out as a stray wave of pleasure left me speechless in its wake.

  “That's two,” Neal counted, keeping the same maddeningly steady rhythm.