by C. C. Gibbs
Nicole answered sleepily, her soft greeting trailing off in a yawn.
“I apologize for waking you,” Rafe said.
“Rafe? Really!” Nicole squealed, coming awake in a flash. “I missed you! I missed you! Where are you? When can I see you?”
“I’m on my plane. We just took off from Bangkok. I’ll be back on the island in the morning. Where are you?”
“At home.” She pushed herself up higher on her pillows. “God, you sound good—just hearing your voice, suddenly the world is all sunshine and roses. Funny about that, right?”
“Same here, Tiger. We’re good together, sunshine and roses and nothing but blue skies from now on.” Then his voice took on a small gravity. “You said you were home. Do I dare ask if Isabelle is okay?”
“Dare away. She was released from the hospital today; she’s sleeping in the bedroom next door. She doesn’t remember the accident but otherwise she’s doing pretty well. We’re all really grateful. I told you she’d make it though, remember?”
He could hear the smile in Nicole’s voice. “Yup. You’re one smart lady.”
“Nah, I just stream ESP with my sister.” She laughed. “It’s our own special magic.”
Her soft laughter warmed him bone deep. She lived life without pretense, her feelings and enthusiasms out there for all to see. “You’re my magic, pussycat,” he said softly. “I missed you like crazy.”
She inhaled, trying to keep it together when she missed him desperately. “Will I see you tomorrow? You have to say yes.” She took a little breath and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I need you to say yes.”
“I can’t.”
“Oh God, don’t.” She bit her lip, trying to suppress her surge of temper and the countless images of Rafe with women racing through her brain; so sue her, she’d been Googling him, missing him and needing to see him. And now—here he was, living up to his reputation. “So tell me, what’s your excuse? Has the energy sector run out of aviation fuel? An important business meeting came up? Or maybe,” she said, with a little sniff, “you didn’t mean anything you just said to me.”
“No, none of the above,” he said, understanding her testiness; he’d lived on excuses in the past. “It’s about Ganz. Hear me out,” he quickly added, because the empty hum on the line was ominous. He swiftly explained the situation, how Ganz would die without the intervention, how he needed his friends around him, how he’d come to San Francisco just as soon as Ganz was even semi-stable. He was careful not to mention the bullet wound.
“Oh jeez, oh God, I’m sorry,” she murmured when he finished. “You’re right to stay, you have to. I understand. But you’re not leaving something out, are you?” His heart did a little stutter. “I mean, besides having to stay with Ganz, are you okay? I know you can’t tell me what you did, but Dominic and Leo were on the phone a lot. I’m nervous ,that’s all.”
Head to toe, his tension faded away. “No, I’m not hurt.” Badly. “I’m good.”
“Okay, then I’m good too,” she said with a pitiful little sigh.
She was so not good. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel better. Would you like to come here?” He’d figure out some story about Ganz’s wound.
“I can’t. Isabelle needs me.”
“So you do understand?”
Another sigh. “Of course. I just don’t like it. You know how long it’s been since I touched you?”
“Six days, nine hours, twenty-two minutes. I’m not sure about the seconds.”
She giggled. “Okay, you pass the love-me-madly test. But word of warning—when you finally get here I’m going to hang on you like a lemming or maybe more like an obsessed maniac. I’ll have you know I thought of you every second I wasn’t busy making sure Isabelle didn’t slide deeper into her coma. The first five hours after I got to the hospital I didn’t dare stop talking. Then she moved her finger just a teeny, tiny bit and I knew she’d heard me.”
“That’s amazing, pussycat. She’s better thanks to you.”
“Yeah, maybe. Isabelle still has double vision once in a while, some dizziness here and there, but that’s supposed to go away eventually. And therapists are supposed to deal with whatever survivor guilt issues she might have. So tell me again when you’re going to be here.”
“As soon as I can.”
“That’s not the right answer,” she grumbled.
“I know. But I love you and that keeps me going, gives me hope. Have you decided on the wedding stuff?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.
“No offense, but with your reputation as a player I thought it might be wise to wait until you got here. In case you changed your mind.”
“And?” An ultra-soft query.
“What do you mean and?”
“Come on, we’ve been crazy about each other from minute one. Player, my ass. What’s going on? Tell me and I’ll fix it.”
After a slight pause, Nicole said, “Other than having you at my side, I don’t know exactly what kind of wedding I want. Isabelle’s a great idea person and planner but—”
“You’d rather do it yourself. Want me to help?”
“Could you?”
“Sure. How hard can it be? You decide on a venue and if I get a vote, I say Paris. But wherever—your decision. Then you buy a dress, we order flowers, choose music, find a church if you like, and run through the friends you actually want at your wedding. My list is small.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It is. I have buildings full of employees who can discharge whatever duties they’re given.”
Nicole softly exhaled. “There’s my mother too. I’m the first one in the family to get married. When I tell her, she might want to give input.”
“You haven’t told your parents?”
“Honestly, you are a player, whether you like it or not, so I wanted you with me looking like a real fiancé when I gave my parents the news. In addition, when I left the island everyone was getting ready for something massive, clearly you were involved, there was a level of uncertainty to your world that spilled over to mine; another reason I didn’t tell them.”
“Gotcha. We’ll both tell your parents about the wedding. Now about this input of your mother’s.” Rafe recognized the unspoken implications in Nicole’s comment. “Want me to talk to your uncle? Tell him it’s your wedding day and you want to orchestrate it yourself? He’s tight with your mom, right? He can make her understand.” He’d make sure Dominic understood.
“Could you really?”
“Of course.” His confidence was based on past performance; he’d wielded unlimited authority from a young age.
“I love my mom,” Nicole said. “She’s really sweet, but sometimes she takes her parenting role too seriously.”
“Consider the problem solved. Okay?”
“You’re amazing at everything. How do you do it?”
Who the hell else would have if I hadn’t? Story of my life. “Practice, I guess,” he said in lieu of the truth. “Now, if you want to give me a little reward for my assistance tell me Paris is fine with you for the wedding and I’ll have the house decorated for the reception. If the weather’s good we can have the ceremony in the cloister. Otherwise in the chapel.”
“You have a chapel?”
“Religious orders generally do, pussycat. So last problem solved?”
“I love being steamrolled by you. Seriously, thanks.”
“Anytime. Speaking of steamrolling, what are you wearing?”
She laughed. “My Supergirl T-shirt. What are you wearing?”
“Nothing,” he said, unzipping his shorts. “Why don’t you take off Supergirl?”
“Send me a selfie.”
“Fuck no,” Rafe growled. “You know how many hackers there are in the world?”
“You’re shy.”
“No, I’m not shy, I’m sensible. I don’t care to see my dick in the tabloids. And don’t send me a selfie for the same reason. Now, do you want your vibrator or should
we play this game the old-fashioned way?” While she was going, “Hmmmm,” he said, “It’s just getting light there, isn’t it? Tell me what you look like.”
“Where?” A playful note in the single word.
A quick breath, a smile in his voice. “Prick tease. My dick just fucking maxed out. Got a mirror?”
“No.”
“Go get one,” he said with casual authority. “You have five seconds.”
“Yes, sir, anything else, sir?”
He laughed. “That must be why I love you. You’re clear on who runs the show.” He was sliding his curled fingers lightly up and down his dick—slowly up, then down, unhurried.
“Only when there’s something in it for me,” she said, sweet as honey.
“That’s what I meant. Now go.”
There was a breathless little catch in her voice when she came back. “Ok, mirror in hand.”
“Good girl.” He traced the solid length of his erection with a fingertip. “Now find your little clit, I’ll wait, take your time, ah—sounds like you found it. Tell me what it looks like. Pink and pretty, ready for some fun?” Reaching down, he cupped his balls, squeezed lightly, softly exhaled.
“I heard that.” But with her clit swelling under her finger and desire uncurling through her body, a warm hum underlay her words. “What are you doing? As if I didn’t know.”
“Then I don’t have to state the obvious. Feel that little achy glow yet?”
“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
“Have you?”
“Is that your answer?”
“You first.”
“No,” she said.
It surprised him how much it mattered. “Me either.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He didn’t want to say sex had always meant getting off with a woman he could touch. “It’s the truth.”
“Not even when you were young?”
He never actually was young; he’d missed that stage. “Nope.”
“Am I asking too many questions?”
“I could say no but my dick’s not as diplomatic, so yes. Lie back on your pillows, put the mirror between your legs, and describe your sweet pussy to me.”
“You give the orders and I have to obey them?”
“That’s how the game works,” he said mildly, a smile in his voice. “Do what you’re told, I’ll make you feel good.” He laughed softly. “Come on, this is simple. Now, give me a point by point, graphic description: all the soft folds and pouty pinkness, your impatient little clit beginning to throb and pulse. And I’ll make you feel all shivery and hot. We clear?”
“Then I want a visual too,” she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice when his offer was coursing through her senses like liquid heat. “Are you getting hard?”
“Been there since you said hello, pussycat. And right now”—he glanced down at his raging hard-on, the dark red crest stretched taut, glistening above the softer hues of his painted tattoo—“it looks like all the blood in my body is in my dick.” Flexing his fingers down the wildly pulsing veins, he pressed slightly and stopped breathing for a second.
“So you both miss me?” She rubbed her thumb over her clit, muffling her small gasp. “I want to feel you,” she whispered, squirming as pleasure convulsed under her finger. “Right now.”
Sucking in a breath, Rafe answered, “Good, because he’s fucking huge and twitching to get inside your tight little pussy.”
She sucked in a breath, her nerve endings tingling. “Define huge.”
His grasp had tightened on his erection, his hand moving up and down firmly now in smooth, deliberate strokes. “More than you can take. Jesus,” he said under his breath. “Fuck…”
“Hey!” She heard the throaty heat in his voice. “Don’t you dare! Wait for me!”
He swore under his breath, loosened his grip, waited a fraction of a second for the shock to clear from his brain, then tempered his voice to neutral. “Sorry, it’s been a while. Okay, I’ll wait. You’ve been stroking your clit, right? You working it? Building a nice buzz? Touching your clit feather light, up and down, some side to side, slowly now, no rush, run your finger around that sensitive little bundle of nerves a few times—want me to count?” He laughed softly. “Sounds like no counting required. Tell me how it feels, pussycat.”
“Gollygeewhizandathousandflashingbells,” she breathed all in one word, her body buzzing.
He chuckled. “So we’re not wasting our time. I need you to keep stroking your clit until it’s throbbing so hard you can feel every pulse beat ripple up your pussy. Then we’ll see if you can reach your G-spot. You’re rubbing your clit now, yeah? Don’t stop. I need you slippery wet to take my insanely stiff dick. We’re going to have to go real slowly so I don’t hurt you. I’m thinking you’re going to have to take a deep breath and relax each time before I push in a little deeper. Think you can do that?”
“Love to,” she panted, tracing the length of her slick, swollen clit with her fingertip, feeling the heated flutters shimmer up her sex, her body quivering at fever pitch.
“Okay, let’s see about getting you just a little wider, make sure I can fit. My dick is seriously out of control. Two fingers now, pussycat. Add your thumb, squeeze your clit lightly, not too hard, pretend I’m sucking on it. Can you feel my mouth, my tongue? Hey, you still there?”
She said, “Here,” in a jagged breath, tense and shaky, compressing her clit with her thumb and index finger, flattening it—a deep groan escaping her at the raw flagrant jolt ripping through her senses.
Sprawled on his bed thirty thousand feet over the Indian Ocean, Rafe grinned. “Having fun?”
“Just a little bit,” she purred, as the aftershock subsided.
“A little’s not good enough. I need you hotter and wetter than ever or I won’t be able to get my crazy-ass dick in all the way. You’re going to have to show me you can take four fingers. That’s an order,” he said, soft and low.
“Four? I can’t!” But there was a sting of excitement beneath the alarm.
He heard it. “’Course you can,” he said gently. “Your hands are small.” The fucking hot image of four fingers buried in her cunt sent a fresh surge of blood to his dick. “Do it, pussycat, and you get to come…”
His voice was low and steady, like he knew something she didn’t. “So I’m supposed to try to jam four fingers inside me while you’re just lying there taking it easy?”
“Nothing easy about my goddamn aching dick,” he said on a soft inhalation. “My tattoo is laid out flat. If I were there, I’d be doing this for you. Start with one finger.”
She hesitated. “I’m getting my vibrator.”
“Trust me, you’re not.”
“I can if I want.” But her heart beat faster and her body began to hum.
“Sorry, not gonna happen.” No equivocation; he gave orders for a living. “Now slide one finger all the way up your pussy. Consider this a learning experience.”
The undisguised bluntness in his tone shouldn’t make her all wild and needy. Worse, he knew his orders got her off. “Don’t tell me you’re the professor and I’m the student now.”
“Fuck no. Jesus, I think my dick went limp,” he muttered. “That’s gross.”
She laughed. “You were awful pretty and sexy as hell two years ago when I saw you at that Stanford conference.”
“I wasn’t your professor,” he said crisply, “or anyone’s professor. Jesus, talk about putting someone off their game. Fuck, where were we? One finger or two?”
“No fingers.”
“Then you better get your ass in gear,” he growled.
“Yeah, or?”
“Or I’ll come without you. In about two seconds.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” she shrieked. “Don’t you dare!”
If only she knew what he dared. On the other hand, this was for her, not him. He’d learned long ago to control his dick. “Hey, relax. Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Becoming a husb
and is going to be a steep, fucking learning curve, so be patient, okay?”
“You too. I’m pretty headstrong.”
He bit back about a dozen unsuitable replies. “We’ll work on it together,” he said politely. “Now do you want me to walk you through this or would you rather fly solo with your vibrator? Seriously, your call. I’m just happy to be talking to you.” And happy to be alive. “I can jack off anytime.”
“Do you?”
“What?” he said, instead of answering.
“Jack off often?”
“Sometimes.” He had all the ass he ever wanted. So no was the real answer. “Want to get your vibrator?”
“Are you changing the subject?”
“Yeah.”
Anything personal and he immediately shut the door. “Someday you’ll have to answer my questions.”
“Okay.”
She laughed. “But not today.”
“If it’s not going to blow up the world as we know it, I’d rather not today.”
“Gotcha. Would you mind talking me to orgasm?”
“My pleasure,” he said smoothly. “And pussycat, your hands are small. It’s gonna work out just fine. All you have to do is shut your eyes and use your imagination, ’cause I’m going to be touching you. Now, we’ll take this real slow.”
By the time she was trying to force her fourth finger into her drenched sex, everything in her body was wildly throbbing from her hair roots to her ruby red toenails. Her hand was wet past her knuckles and all she could hear was Rafe’s low quiet voice saying, “I’m going to put my last finger in so give me a little more room, okay? Can you do that for me? Breathe in, relax, there, that’s my girl, I’m almost where I want to be.”
She gasped as her fourth finger slid in.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “Does it ache a little?”
“Ummm.” A little catch of breath. “Sorta.”
“It won’t for long. You just have a really tight pussy. Spectacular, hot, smooth as silk. I’m going to put my mouth on you right now. See if you’re wet enough…oh yeah—definitely wet. Now I’m going to watch you bring your G-spot to life. Curl your finger a bit, brush that tiny feel-good spot lightly, take it easy, that little baby doesn’t like rough stuff. Feels good, right, amazing, beautiful. Slowly now, you’re still tight, don’t worry, once your pussy gets sexed up, no problem; roll your fingers back and forth, your clit, your G-spot, got it?—back and forth, nice and smooth, velvety, slick, nothing so good in the world as your sweet little pussy wanting satisfaction. Now push into my hand, it’s my hand in your aching hotness. Want me to finish you off? Come on, push.”