“Why do I feel like you’re enjoying my pain?”
“Because you denied me, Oscar, and you will pay for that.”
He tried to frown but a smile broke through. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here. Don’t I get credit for that?”
“Nope.” I sauntered to the door. “Not a single credit. A gentleman does not deny a lady.”
I was reaching for the doorknob when his arms landed around my waist and he pulled me back to the couch.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked.
“Being a true gentleman.” He put me back on his lap, pulled his shirt over his head and kissed me like he was starving for me, even after all our earlier kisses. I ran my hands over the warm muscles of his back. I loved the feel of him. I bucked my hips a bit, rubbing myself against his hardness. He groaned and dropped his hands to the hem of my shirt, sliding his hands over me in a way that had sparks flying from his touch straight to all my pleasure centers.
I broke our kiss and leaned back. “Just to be sure. This being a gentleman thing means you aren’t going to stop this time?”
“Not unless you ask me to,” he said, his voice raspy, his expression pure desire. “I’ll never be accused of denying you anything you want, anything that brings you pleasure.”
“I think I could get used to that.” I pulled my shirt over my head, unsnapped my bra and tossed it on the floor.
His heated gaze dropped to my breasts. “So, fucking perfect,” he said, his voice a deep growl. Then he dropped his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth. Pleasure shot through me like a bolt of lightning and I moaned.
He took his time, thoroughly loving each breast until I thought I’d go insane with need. “Please, Oscar.”
He looked up and grinned. “I love the look on your face right now.”
“It gets better if you stop teasing me.”
He laughed, and then he stood with me wrapped around him and carried me upstairs to his bedroom. He set me carefully on the edge of his bed and dropped to his knees, awe on every line of his face. He unbuttoned my pants and helped me out of them, but he left my panties on. I was glad I’d chosen to wear my cute pink and purple lacy ones. He pressed kisses along the inside of both thighs and slow kisses along the edges of my panties. What was with this guy and delayed pleasure? Was he trying to drive me insane?
“Oscar. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please get down to it already.”
He chuckled, slid my panties to the side and slid his tongue down the center of me. That touch, after so long a wait, nearly made me leap off the bed it felt so good. I gripped the comforter in my fists and held on, prepared for him to continue, but he sat back. “What?”
He didn’t answer, he slid my panties off, and then he attacked me like a starving man. The sensations were overwhelming, his tongue and his mouth and his fingers. All worked me to the point of absolute bliss and then pushed me over the edge with an orgasm that made me scream with pleasure.
I wasn’t a quiet lover, but no man had ever made me scream. Maybe there was something to his delayed pleasure technique, I thought as I lay there a limp, quivering blob of pleasure.
He stood and looked down at me, his smile smug. “Nope, this is definitely my favorite look.”
He dropped down next to me, still in his jeans. He pressed soft kisses to my neck and played with my nipples, causing shocks of pleasure to jolt through me.
“Why aren’t you naked?” I asked.
“Trying to be a gentleman.”
I rolled my head to the side and glared at him. “Quit being a gentleman. I’m not in the mood for it.”
His grin made something pinch in my chest. Damn it, I really, really liked this guy. “What are you in the mood for?”
“You naked and inside me.”
Somehow, his gaze grew even more heated. He stood and took off his jeans and boxers, revealing his perfect body in all its bare glory. I wanted to taste every inch of him and have him inside me in every position. He produced a condom from a dresser drawer and rolled it on his hard length. Damn. I was pretty sure I’d picture this moment, his hands on himself, his focus on me, his body bare, every time I looked at him or thought of him from now on.
My only problem was, I couldn’t decide how I wanted him. I loved all the positions and all the angles. I just loved sex in general. It was fun and toe-curlingly pleasurable and all the good things.
He stepped to the edge of the bed. “Does a gentleman ask how you want it? Or does he tell you how he wants it?”
I grinned. “Tonight? The gentleman demands how he wants it and the lady will protest if she doesn’t agree.”
He climbed onto the bed, but sat up against the headboard. “I want you to straddle me, like you did on the couch, so I can see your face, can see everything you’re feeling.”
I climbed onto his lap and lowered myself onto him. He closed his eyes and breathed out with pleasure as I slid onto him, inch by slow inch. Once I was seated all the way on him, his eyes opened and he watched my face as I began to move, rocking myself to another orgasm in record time. He watched me and the lust and need on his face was the sexiest thing I’d seen in maybe ever. “Again,” he said, when I came down from the high.
“What?” Orgasms made me dense.
“Make yourself come again.”
“I’m not sure I can. Two in one night is already pushing my limit.”
“I’m in no hurry,” he said. “Do whatever you have to do to get there again.”
I did that and more, running my hands over myself, giving him a show as much as working myself toward another orgasm. In the end it was the look on his face and his tight grip on my hips that brought me over the edge again. He insisted on a fourth orgasm before he reached his own climax, his face twisting with pure pleasure.
After he disposed of the condom, he came back to bed and wrapped himself around me, pulling the blankets over us. “Stay with me, tonight,” he said.
I should have gotten up and left, because I knew how quickly I could get used to sleeping in his arms, how much it would hurt when it ended. But I stayed, because I didn’t have the strength to leave, to crawl away from his warm body and the safety I felt with him wrapped around me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Oscar
Dilly smiled at me as the man on stage destroyed the beauty of an Adele song. I grimaced. I didn’t want to get up on stage, didn’t want to give karaoke a try, had never had the slightest interest in standing in front of a room full of people and making a complete fool of myself. A lot of guys, most guys, would have called me out for going along with her plan. They’d say I was whipped or that she had my balls, but I couldn’t manage to care. I was enjoying this back and forth game of ours too much and looking forward to the next challenge I’d plan for her.
I felt happier just being with her than I’d ever felt before. Now that I got to touch her and kiss her, I took a moment from my thoughts to do just that and her smile grew. I laced my fingers through hers and tried to calm my nerves.
“We’re up next,” she shouted over the loud music, as three women stepped onto stage and started singing an old Guns N’ Roses song. “Want to go up there and get ready?”
“Nope.”
She laughed and stood, pulling on my hand until I followed her. I resisted, because I wasn’t ready for her to know that I’d follow her anywhere she asked, that I’d already fallen so hard and fast I would do just about anything for her. It had been three days since we’d slept together, and she’d spent every night in my bed. The sex was incredible, and I couldn’t keep my hands off her when we were together, but the waking up with her in my arms, seeing her face every morning, that was the best part of my day.
The women on stage finished singing, and I climbed the stairs with Dilly. We’d chosen the Sonny and Cher song, I’ve got you Babe. It would be easy to sing, and the words were nearly impossible to screw up. We stepped onto stage and nerves shook me as I saw the crow
d. Granted, most of the people weren’t looking at us. They were chatting with one another, drinking and laughing, mostly unaware of us, but still…I looked over at Dilly and was surprised to see the panic in her eyes. She was afraid? Why would she suggest doing something that scared her?
The music started, and she raised the microphone to hold it between us. She was supposed to sing first, but she just held the mic as her lines played on the screen. She opened her mouth and moved her lips, but no sound came out. She was frozen, absolutely still.
Seeing her fear, I forgot my own. Forgot how much I didn’t want to be up there. I grabbed her and spun her so that she was looking at me instead of the crowd, and I started to sing. I was singing her part, but it didn’t matter. She looked up at me and her fear faded as her eyes roamed my face.
At the chorus, she sang along with me. We stayed like that, facing one another, and sang the song as best we could. I could see the monitor over her shoulder, but she had nothing to feed her the lyrics. She knew the song pretty well, and just stayed silent when she didn’t know the words. I would have prompted her, but she’d never have heard me over the music and the crowd.
When the song ended, no one clapped or hooted for us, except some loud guy who’d obviously had too much to drink. It didn’t matter. We’d done it. I led Dilly down the stairs, right out of the club, and onto the dark street. “I’m sorry,” she said as soon as we were outside. “I didn’t think I’d freeze up like that this time.”
“This time? Why’d you suggest karaoke if it scares you?”
She laced her fingers through mine and we walked together in the direction of home. “I do it because it scares me,” she said. “At least once a week, I try to do something that terrifies me.” She paused and her grip on my hand tightened. “It’s…It’s a sort of reminder.”
“So, you do karaoke, stand on a stage, and freeze in fear to remember what it feels like to be afraid?”
“To remind myself that even scary things aren’t as scary as they seem and, that if the worst happens, like freezing up in front of a room full of people, I can survive it.”
“Is it an adrenaline rush thing?” I basically understood her reasoning, but it seemed like an unnecessary form of torture.
“Sometimes,” she said. “But I’m not addicted to it or anything. I don’t even look forward to it. I dread every new thing I come up with that scares me.”
“That is some serious dedication to overcoming fear. But maybe you can stop with the karaoke, now? If you’ve tried it several times and you still freeze up, maybe it’s just not for you.”
She shrugged, her steps light, quick. I couldn’t help but feel that she was shutting me out, holding back some vital piece of information. “Maybe.” She stopped in front of a small bakery. “I think we should reward ourselves for our karaoke trial.”
I couldn’t resist pulling her close and kissing her. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all night.”
She grinned and led me inside, her hand still in mine, any distance I’d felt between us gone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dilly
I woke up in Oscar’s arms, as I had for the past several nights, and it still felt like the best thing ever. I opened my eyes and studied his face, sleeping, peaceful. He was so handsome all the time, but I loved him best when he was awake and talking, laughing. His face was so expressive, and I loved…I loved…Oh, shit. I loved him. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest and my stomach flipped. This was bad, it was so, so bad. One promise I’d made myself years ago was that I’d never fall in love, I’d never allow myself to become so dependent on anyone that losing them could destroy me the way losing my father had destroyed my mother. And the chances of my losing him, in the very near future, were high.
He’d accepted the news about me being a liar and my mother being mentally ill so well. He’d been so understanding, but he didn’t really know…My mother had been relaxed this week, easy. The calm before the storm. Would he be able to handle it when she was difficult? When she demanded all my time? No one ever had before, no matter how much they’d claimed to care about me and I hadn’t…I hadn’t loved any of them. I might have had plans for the future with them, but I’d never felt this overwhelming need and love for any of them.
With Oscar, I wasn’t thinking about the future, I was thinking about right now. I was thinking about how much I’d miss him while I was at work and how much I’d look forward to seeing his face when I got home. How curling up in his arms and chatting with him while he held me would be the very best part of my day.
His beautiful eyes opened, and he smiled at me. “Good morning.”
And it hurt, it hurt like my chest was being ripped open, because it was so perfect and wonderful that I knew it couldn’t be real, that it couldn’t last. He must have seen it on my face, because his smile faded, and his sleepy expression went alert. “Are you okay?”
I forced a smile and I lied to him. “I’m wonderful.” Because everyone loves a happy, easy-going person and no one wants the doom and gloom that was my life. Oscar didn’t deserve it, not when he’d made me so happy. He didn’t deserve the difficulties of my mother’s illness and he didn’t deserve to be burdened with me if I should ever become sick like Mom. I wrapped myself around him and kissed him. We couldn’t last, but I was going to make sure I enjoyed every moment that was left no matter the risk to my heart and my sanity.
He kissed me back and the kiss quickly heated to lava-hot levels. That was the way it always was with us, one touch, one kiss and we went nuclear. Luckily, we were still naked from the night before, so he was inside me and working his magic over me in a matter of moments. I loved the passion, the heat, the way we moved together so perfectly, and he knew all my most sensitive spots as though he were a mind reader.
Once we were both sated, I pecked his lips and climbed out of bed to dress. “Do you have to leave already?”
“I need a shower before work,” I said.
“Stay and we can shower together.”
I looked over at him. The sheet was covering his lower half, but just barely, and his gorgeous body was more than a little tempting. “I have an early meeting with my boss, otherwise I’d be all over that offer.”
He sat up and his eyes narrowed. “Is everything okay?”
“As far as I know. Why? Did you hear something?” I’d never had any problems with my boss and no reason to think there was a problem, but she rarely called me in for a meeting, so I wasn’t exactly indifferent to the possibility of doom.
“You just don’t seem like yourself this morning. I thought you might be worried about something.”
Damn it. Why was he so perceptive? “Maybe I am a little worried, but I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Text me after and let me know how it went.”
Why was he so sweet? I leaned over, gave him one more kiss, one that got way hotter and heavier than I’d intended, somehow managed to pull myself away from him, and headed back to my place with Buddy at my heels.
I let Buddy wander around the front yard and do his business while I tried to calm down. I pulled in deep breaths and reminded myself that everything was going to be okay. So, I was in love with Oscar. So what? Yeah, it would hurt when our relationship ended, but it would be okay. I’d survive. I wouldn’t allow myself to crumble like my mother had. I just needed to enjoy what I could with Oscar and keep my heart out of it as much as possible.
I looked to the mountains and let the beauty and peace of the view wash over me. It would be okay. I would be okay.
Buddy, finished with his morning business, trotted over to me and licked my hand. “Thanks, sweetheart,” I said. “You want some breakfast?”
He followed me inside and I got him his breakfast. I was too nervous about the meeting, suddenly, to eat, so I showered, dressed, got Buddy settled, and headed out. I called my mother before I went into the coffee shop, got my coffee and, before I was ready for it, found myself seated in
my boss’s office.
Sheila smiled at me warmly. She was about ten years older than me, dedicated to her job, and kind. She was dressed in business casual, her hair in a high pony tail on her head, her make-up so perfect I wanted to ask her to help me do my own. “How are you doing, Dilly? I’ve heard nothing but good from our older patrons and from the staffs at the local nursing homes.”
“I’m doing well,” I said, relief washing over me. If she was going to fire me, surely she wouldn’t compliment me first. “I love this job so much. The outreach program is a perfect fit for me.”
“I agree. You’ve come up with so many wonderful new ideas and innovations for the programs. You are the heart and soul of the outreach program and I couldn’t be happier with the job you’re doing.” She paused, and her smile grew. “In fact, that’s why I called you in here early to talk to you. You’ve been invited to speak at the annual ALA conference this June. They want you to share your experiences and information about your programs.”
My heart sank. “Where is the conference this year?”
Her smile slipped just a bit. “It’s in New Orleans. I know you said you couldn’t travel for work, but this is an enormous honor. If it’s flying that’s a problem—”
“It’s not flying,” I said. “I have…It’s my mother, Sheila. She’s not well and I can’t leave her.”
“You wouldn’t be expected to attend the whole conference. You could fly in, give your speech, and fly back out all in one day.”
And if my mother had a melt-down and needed me, I’d be too far away to get to her. It might just be one day, but Mom had lost so much weight and she was far weaker than she’d been the last time I’d left her alone. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if something happened to her while I was gone. And, yet, my heart broke a little bit. Of course, I’d be terrified to get on stage and talk in front of all those people, but I’d never been to New Orleans and the opportunity to talk about what I’d done, to share the progress we’d made, to share my passion, sounded wonderful. I was sure that talking about what I loved so much would help me overcome my fear of being in front of so many people. “I’m sorry. I just can’t leave her for any time at all.”
The Good Guy on my Porch (Catalpa Creek #3) Page 19