by Ellen Devlin
“I think I can come up with a few things that might take your mind off of the plane trip.”
He brought his lips to hers but didn’t kiss her. He brushed his parted lips against hers and then back again, slowly. They were breathing together, his lips sliding over hers, almost not touching. He captured her lower lip with his mouth in a grasp so light it melted against her as he moved to do the same to her upper lip.
Bringing his other hand up to cup her jaw on the other side, Tom slid his hand to the back of her neck, into her hair. He tilted his head slightly, and his whisper soft kiss continued to move across her lips.
Liz didn’t know how long she would be able to stand it. She slid her hands under Tom’s shirt, around his chest and up his back, touching him softly, letting her fingers play over his muscles as he was letting his lips play over hers, and as his fingers were brushing over her face and playing in her hair. There was already a pulsing between her thighs, and when Tom softly and ever so lightly touched her tongue with his, the resulting shock and spasm made her press her legs together, and she briefly wondered if it would be possible she would have an orgasm just from this—this unbelievable, slow, sensuous, delicate, erotic, teasing kiss.
She must have made a whimpering sound, because Tom stopped to look at her. His eyes were dark with lust, clearly as aroused as she was, but the one in control. “So I think something like that might help you on a plane ride,” he whispered.
Liz looked completely confused. “What?” she whispered back.
Tom chuckled deep in his chest and pulled her into his arms firmly. “If I managed to make you forget we were even talking about plane rides with one kiss, I think I will be able to keep you occupied on our way to Minnesota.”
“Was that a kiss?” She looked at him, still flushed and breathing hard, and tangled one hand in his hair. She dropped her voice back down to a whisper, “You almost made me come with that kiss, Tom.”
“Really.” He looked very pleased. And horny. But definitely pleased. “Then your plane trip should be lots of fun.” He nuzzled her neck and said, in a voice that was now low and growly, “So you’re turned on.” He started undoing her jeans. “And I’m hard as a rock.” He was still speaking into her neck, pulling her clothing off. “And I can’t stand another minute of teasing.” He tangled his hand in her hair, looked up from her neck into her face. “And fuck if I don’t just want to bend you over the back of your couch.”
“Holy crap.”
Clothing vanished, and the same man who had just been touching her so delicately now turned her around, bit the back of her neck where it met her shoulder, pushed her over the back of her couch, and entered her in one hard, deep thrust. She spread her legs wider, angling so he could reach as deeply as possible, and held on as Tom rode her, bucking back to meet his thrusts. He held her hips and pumped deeply and powerfully, stroking in and out of her with the steady rhythm of a man wanting to make this last.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all day. All fucking day.”
Liz was gasping and starting to moan with his thrusts. Her earlier arousal meant she was close to coming already.
“God damn, Liz, you are so fucking sexy.” He paused, adjusted her, leaned over, and bit her gently again as he started moving. The change in angle was good for both of them; Liz was incredibly close to an orgasm, and Tom changed his pace, thrusting faster and deeper.
“Tom.” It was a groan. “Oh, Tom.” A moan of pleasure.
“I want to feel you come. I want to feel it. Come on my cock, Liz.”
Liz put her head down and yelled into the cushion as she climaxed around him. He continued to pump into her, holding her hips, and growled in victory as he felt her pulsing around him. Pausing one more time, breathing hard, he made one more change of angle and then began thrusting into her as fast and hard and he could, sweating, grunting with the exertion, and finally shouting out his climax in the primal roar Liz loved so well, gripping her hips so hard there was a chance of bruises, pounding into her with each surge, until he was utterly spent.
“Holy shit.” Liz was still speaking into the cushions.
Tom started laughing and stroked his hands on her back. “Every wet dream I’ve ever had, Liz.” He placed kisses down her spine and said, “God, I love you.”
She turned around and smiled as he pulled her up for a real kiss. “I love you too.” She looked at him under her lashes. “Every one, huh?”
His eyes got smoky again, and he growled. “Shit, I really, really love you. If I think of any others, I’ll let you know.”
***
“Everything is set for our trip. With one issue.” Tom looked at Liz. “My mother has decreed we have to have separate bedrooms.”
“Okay.”
Tom looked a little irritated, so she asked, “Are you upset?”
“Yes! I’m a grown-ass man! This is so fucking irritating.”
Liz smiled and said, “Well, what if Colleen was bringing a boyfriend home?”
“What?”
“Would it be okay if she brought a boyfriend home and they shared a room?”
Tom looked shocked. “Hell, no!”
“Why not?”
“She’s twenty-two! That’s not the same at all.”
Liz thought for a moment. “How about Erin? She’s twenty-five. Would that be okay?”
Tom’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s still not the same.”
Liz’s mouth twitched. “Because she’s still too young at twenty-five? Or because she’s a girl?”
“No! Maybe.” He gave her a half-hearted glare. “Why aren’t you just letting me rant about this?”
“Because your mom is trying to be fair and trying not to compromise her beliefs. I can get behind that.”
Tom just stared at her. “You are so fucking confusing.”
Liz laughed. “Hey, I’m just a guest. I’ll follow whatever rules are laid out for me.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up. “Besides, we can probably find time to slip away at some point, right?” She took a breath and then squeezed him a little tighter. “Are you sure this is all going to be okay?”
Tom was surprised. “Of course. Why not?”
“I don’t know. I’m finding this scary. It doesn’t help that I don’t like flying, but honestly, I can’t remember the last time I actually cared this much whether people like me or not.”
He took her face in his hands, looking in her eyes. “Really?”
She nodded.
“Sweetheart, it will be fine. I love you.” His eyes twinkled. “And I have a pretty good feeling my family is going to love you too.”
***
Liz knew Tom’s parents immediately when she saw them. His father was an older version of Tom, minus a few inches and the beard and with grey hair rather than light brown. His face showed age, but the lines appeared at the corners of his eyes and mouth, as if they were mostly from smiling, rather than from worries. His blue eyes sparked with a twinkle when he caught sight of his eldest son.
Tom’s mother was lovely and rather petite by comparison. Where Tom Sr. stood around six-foot-one, Kathleen looked to be closer to five-foot-five, perhaps a little bit shorter, but carried herself with the bearing of a woman who knew her worth. Her hair was also greying but looked to have been blonde when she was younger, and it framed a face that was kind, with a warm smile. Rather than the dark blue of her husband and son, her eyes were a beautifully light, and surprisingly bright, shade of blue.
The greeting was warm and loving between Tom and his parents. They were clearly a very close family, and his mother and father both pulled Liz in for hugs to welcome her, insisting she call them Tom and Kathleen. When she asked about confusion between the two Toms, they laughed, and his dad said, “Oh, no, there’s never a problem. That one there,” he pointed at his son, “is Tommy. I’m Tom.”
Her Tom smiled and shook his head, looking a little sheepish, as if he had been somehow transported back to childhood. Addressing Liz, h
e said, “You can never grow out of what your parents and siblings called you when you were a kid. Believe me, I’ve tried. I even tried to get them to call me Micky, but that never stuck, either.”
Kathleen turned back around as she was walking, saying over her shoulder, “I didn’t name him Micky, or Michael. I named him Thomas, and we called him Tommy.”
“The only other choice I was given was the full ‘Thomas Daniel McCullin,’ and hearing my parents calling me that was never good news…”
Liz laughed at the image that created.
“…so I put up with Tommy.” He bent down and whispered in her ear. “But not from you. I have always loved hearing you call me Tom. From the first day we met.”
She looked at him under her lashes and smiled.
His parents drove them to a rental car place closer to their house—Liz and Tom could have taken care of all of that on their own near the airport, but his parents had wanted to come meet him, so they had agreed. When they arrived at the McCullin house, the rest of the siblings and spouses were already there.
Liz had “met” some of them online—she was Facebook friends with Joe’s wife, Anita, for instance—but meeting everyone in person was chaotic and wonderful, and overwhelming, even for a confirmed and dedicated extrovert. If this had been a random party full of people, she may or may not ever see again there would have been no stress, but she was actively concerned that these folks might not like her.
Liz firmly believed that people who enjoy each other’s company would gravitate together; people who didn’t would drift apart, and that’s fine. It’s human nature.
But this group of people right here…she wanted them to like her. Logically, she knew there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it, except to be herself and hope for the best. And logically she also knew there was no way that Tom’s family was going to be a bunch of jerks. But the emotional centers in her brain didn’t always like to listen to the logic circuits, no matter how much sense they were making.
Interestingly enough, the one person who she had felt pretty confident she would connect with, Tom’s youngest sister, Colleen, was very standoffish. Rather obviously so. Not quite to the point of being hostile, but enough that Tom pulled Colleen aside after a while to ask her what was going on.
“Nothing, Tommy. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m tired and have a headache. Maybe that’s it.”
***
Liz snuggled under the covers on the day bed in the small guest room. It looked like Tom’s mom might use it as a sewing room—the table on one wall looked like it might house a sewing machine, and there was a stack of fabric on another smaller table next to it. And Liz thought she had seen a few quilts around the house; maybe Kathleen was a quilter? She filed away the question to ask at breakfast.
The day had been long, and the anxiety over the flight, and the trip in general, had taken its toll. She yawned, stretched, and flexed her feet and legs, luxuriating in the crisp sheets, and smushed her face into the soft down pillow.
Tom’s family had been lovely, of course. The logical part of her brain had known they would be, even while the emotional part had been doing a tap dance all over her nerves.
The doorway cracked open, and a familiar six-foot-four silhouette briefly blocked the light before slipping in and closing the door behind him.
“Are you awake?”
It was a quiet whisper, very low, very sexy, and Liz was suddenly very, very awake.
“Yes.”
He moved quietly through the dark room, not saying anything further. She just waited and watched in the moonlight as he took the chair from in front of the sewing table and silently tipped it under the door knob. He came over to the bed, took the pillow, and put it on the floor. The floor was carpeted, and there was a soft, fluffy throw rug on top of that, as well.
Tom gently took her hand and stood her up. She was wearing loose pj’s; he eased the bottoms off, and she stepped out of them. Tom was wearing a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, which he also stepped out of, pulling her hand to himself gently for her to feel the extent of his arousal, breathing in sharply when she wrapped her hand around his hard shaft and stroked lightly.
He sat down on the rug, lay back on the pillow, and gently pulled Liz down to straddle his abs, his erection behind her. They kissed, lips parted, tongues dancing, breathing deepening…she could feel his hard cock twitching against her back, and Tom could feel her heat and wetness against his torso.
He put his mouth next to her ear and practically breathed the words to her. “I was going crazy knowing you were two rooms away. The bed squeaks, and the floor probably does too.”
They kissed again. Tom’s hands wandered up Liz’s sides, brushing the undersides of her breasts. He moved so his thumbs gently caressed her nipples, feeling them tighten under his touch, and she gasped.
“We have to be seriously quiet,” he breathed in her ear. “Light sleepers and a wakeful baby.” He kissed her again. “Can you do that?”
She kissed him and pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, moved over to nip his earlobe, and whispered, “Yes.”
Liz shifted down Tom’s body, putting his erection in front of her. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and stroked a few times, enjoying the feel of the soft skin covering his hard cock. She leaned her other hand on his shoulder and lifted up enough to rub the precum-covered tip of him against her clit for a few moments. Tom made a small hiss.
Liz shifted so that the head of his cock was at her entrance and pressed down. She was wet, and he was slick, but they had not been fooling around very long yet tonight, and she was still very tight. She worked him in and out slowly, a little deeper each time. Each movement was creating more lubrication; each deeper thrust slipped inside just a little more easily. On the last downward stroke, when she finally took him all the way in, she bent forward and ground her clit against Tom’s public bone. She was shaking as she leaned over to kiss his chest and realized that he was sweating and had the throw rug in a death grip.
Tom opened his eyes as Liz sat up and smiled down at him. He had begun to doubt his ability to go through with this plan the moment she had grabbed hold of him. Wild thoughts had crashed through his head all at once—how bad would it really be if his parents and siblings knew he was banging his girlfriend in the next room?
Would his sister really care if the baby woke up because the bed was rhythmically thumping into the wall?
Did he even care anymore if anyone heard what he sounded like having sex?
What if he just grabbed Liz, threw her on the bed, and…
She put her hands on his chest and started to move, riding him in a slow back and forth grinding motion. Her smile was gone, replaced by slightly parted lips. Her eyebrows were knit together in a look of concentration, and her eyes were no longer focused on his face. She leaned on him, holding his shirt in her grip, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she continued to move, grinding against him, ever so slowly increasing speed and pressure.
Her head dropped down so her hair framed her face in the moonlight. Tom let go of the rug and grabbed her hips, breathing heavily through his nose to try to avoid groaning and growling with each breath. He was having to focus to keep from making his normal pleasure sounds; having to keep silent was taking an unexpected amount of effort. It was as if not having the vocal outlet was causing physical pressure. He gripped her hips tighter, trying to maintain control while he felt himself building toward orgasm.
Liz leaned down to her forearms and balled her hands into his shirt, pressing her forehead against his chest. She was grinding on him faster now. Leaning forward put more pressure on her clit and meant that she could feel Tom’s cock sliding in and out of her further than before with each forward and backward movement. She increased the rocking motion, pulling her hips further under each time she pressed forward, and pushing them further up on every backward stroke. The friction was sending her climbing toward release, and she tried not to pant an
d moan.
Tom put his feet on the floor and started thrusting against her with a silent urgency, and her movements became erratic, almost frantic. He tipped his head back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, feeling the pressure building.
Her climax slammed into her. She felt every muscle in her body spasm at once. Thighs squeezed, core compressed as if she was doing a sit up, hands almost tore his shirt, and every internal muscle clamped around Tom. And then pulsed again. And again. And again. She took a gasping breath. And then she felt him.
Tom felt her orgasm squeeze every part of him, and it pushed him over the edge. He felt his balls tighten and gave a final thrust. He held Liz tight to his body as he ejaculated, his face screwed up in what looked almost like agony, trying not to make a sound, digging his fingers into her hips. He felt as if all of the pressure of keeping silent was forcing itself out through his cock, surging into her as he erupted.
Liz collapsed on his chest, and they lay there breathing for a few minutes trying to recover. Liz finally let Tom slip out of her and rolled partially off him. She felt boneless. She snuggled up to Tom’s ear and whispered, “I don’t think I can walk.”
She felt him smile, and he quietly made an amused sound. In a very gallant move, he picked her up and put her back into bed, tucking her in with a kiss.
“You’re amazing,” he whispered in her ear.
He picked up the pillow and tucked it under her head. He put his pants back on, picking hers up and putting them under the covers with her, so she could put them on later. He then quietly moved to the door, unhooked the chair, and returned it to its place by the table. Liz watched this all through half-lidded eyes.
He opened the door a crack, and she saw his silhouette framed in the doorway for just a moment before he closed the door behind him.
He turned down the hall and almost walked directly into Joe. Joe looked at Tom, looked at the doorway, raised an eyebrow, and smiled.