by Karin Tabke
Breathless, she hung suspended in erotic nirvana. His fingers caressed her ass cheek while he rubbed his thumb up and down the tight bud of her anal opening. It was an erogenous zone of hers that she had never known she had until Evan touched her there by mistake one night. Simon didn’t try to enter, he just stroked and applied pressure as he licked and sucked her pussy. Slowly he plundered her seam, languidly sliding his tongue into her, deeply lapping her honey, making deep satisfied sounds. He nibbled her sensitive clitoris, then flicked it with his tongue, but what he did next, suckling it gently into his blistering wet mouth and holding on to it as he flicked it with his tongue, drove her crazy. He stroked her and licked her, kissed her and coddled her. He swirled his tongue around her, devouring her inch by inch until she could no longer contain the orgasm that had been building since she woke up in his bed.
His tempo quickened as her hips picked up rhythm. He didn’t mind her wanton thrusts against his face. His hand on her ass kept her in check, and as he dug his fingers into her cheek, and sucked her clit harder between his lips, her body gushed warmth. She roughly cried out when the orgasm tore out of her, vibrating from her core to his lips. He growled against her, enjoying the way her body shattered around his mouth. Her body twisted and writhed against him, pulling hard at the restraints and showerhead. God it felt good to be at his mercy. She relished the excitement of knowing he could do anything to her sexually and she would love it. Holding her steady, Simon pushed her toward another orgasm. “Ah, Simon,” she moaned, “I can’t—it’s too much.”
Her words only served to incite his lips and hands to a higher level of manipulation and pleasure. He slid his hand from her bottom and then pushed a thick finger into her convulsing body. His tongue swept back and forth across her clit, and just as she tensed for the next orgasm, he suckled her into his mouth and tapped her G-spot with a second finger. It sent her shooting to the moon.
God, she wanted freedom to dig her hands into his hair—oh, God, the intensity of the orgasm rocked through her, one shock wave after another. Her body jerked and heaved against his. “Simon …” she crooned. “Simon …”
He pulled away from her and all she could do was hang limp beneath the warm spray of water. He grabbed her leg and hiked her up against the tile. Wrapping her legs around his narrow waist he drove that lovely cock of his into her to the hilt.
“Simon—” she hoarsely sobbed, barely able to speak his name. He filled her to capacity. Beyond sublime. He didn’t move as her pussy muscles spasmodically fisted him, pulling him deeply into her.
Her hips trembled as she resisted the urge to move against him. A whimper escaped her lips.
“No, no, sweetheart,” he cajoled, licking her parted lips. “Don’t move, not yet, or it will be over for us both.”
Her body convulsed around his, refusing to unlock around him, and because of it, violent tremors swept through his body. He pressed his forehead against hers and with his free hand dug his fingers into her wet tangles. “Kat,” he said softly, the timbre of his voice deeper than before. “You feel so damn good.”
Involuntarily her liquid muscles flexed around him. He moaned and because neither one of them could wait another moment, he moved in her.
“Oh, my, God … that feels so decadent,” she breathed, arching into him. His lips caught a nipple, and he sucked her as his hips moved back and forth, his thick hot shaft thrusting in and out of her. She was soaking wet and molten hot, the heat of their bodies steaming up the shower.
He clung to her as he filled her and filled her and filled her until the imminent release inside of her exploded with such force that the showerhead ripped from the pipe from the pressure of her body’s gyrations, crashing to the shower floor. As the orgasm ripped through her, she dug her fingers into his hair, pushed his head back, and kissed him.
His big body shuddered as his orgasm hit him. His raw moans of pleasure coincided with the last wave of her orgasm, and together, breathless, they crashed to earth.
They sank to the shower floor, Simon still inside of her, her legs still around his waist, his long powerful arms wrapped around her tremoring body, and for long minutes as they recovered, they held each other.
Katy closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against his chest. His heart banged like a kettle drum against her. Hers matched it beat for beat. It was crazy lusty sex, and she wanted more.
Her muscles flexed around his semi-hard erection.
“I’m going to need a few minutes,” he chuckled.
Heat smattered her cheeks. “I didn’t mean for you to—you know, go again.”
He reached over to the corner of the shower and turned the spewing water off from the broken pipe, then pulled slightly away from her, his green gaze searching her face. He raised his brows and said, “Really? Once is enough for you?”
“Um, not that I was counting, but there was more than one for me.”
He grinned. “I was counting those, too, and I know.”
Once again Katrina became uncomfortable with post-coital chitchat. With her previous lovers, it had inevitably, when she failed to climax, turned into a “What’s wrong with you?” lecture. Now that she had orgasmed—several times!—she was still gun-shy. Besides, she liked Simon too much to go there. There was no point in making their inevitable parting harder.
“I’d love to spend the day in bed with you,” she said far more casually than she felt. “But I’m sure you have to get to work and I have a flight to catch.”
“Oh yeah, work.” He grinned, smoothing damp hair from his forehead. “I forgot all about that.” He kissed the tip of her nose, catching her completely off guard. “You’re quite the distraction, Kat. Where are you flying off to?”
Um, did she tell him where she lived? Did it matter? “Home.”
“Where is home?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah,” he said pulling slightly away to look directly at her. “It kind of does.”
“I live in Northern California, Bay Area.”
“There’re flights to the Bay Area every hour out of San Diego. Catch a later one.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with that,” she said, shifting away from him, more than cognizant of the fact they were still very much physically connected. This conversation was too intimate for something that was going to be over as soon as she dressed and walked out the door. “But I have work to get back to.”
He gently lifted her from his cock. Semen flowed out of her and she groaned. Panic flashed through her, but she calmed when she remembered Simon’s comment about being clean when Evan tossed him the condom. Call her naïve, but she had believed him. She was on birth control, but still it was very irresponsible of her not to have insisted he use a condom …
The reality of the details they had failed to ask shed an unattractive light on what she had just done: sport fucked a virtual stranger. Wow, call her Katy-two-night-stand. Who knew she had it in her? It didn’t feel very good. Not good at all. Craptastic actually.
Scrambling to stand up, with both hands still cuffed she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself and stepped from the shower. She needed to leave because the urge to get all clingy was overwhelming. Not that she wanted to have his baby, but she wanted him to show interest in her beyond the here and now, because she liked him. A lot. Anything past right now was impossible, though. She wasn’t Barbie, and while she didn’t think Simon was shallow Ken in any way, she instinctively knew she was not the outgoing, cover girl type that she pegged as Simon’s kind of woman. If they did go past today, he would ultimately dump her for Barbie or one of her friends, and she’d back to where she always was, alone.
Holding her hands out to him, she asked, “Would you please unlock me?”
He stood, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist. She was sorry to say good-bye to the sight of his lovely nakedness. He was a magni
ficent specimen.
Reaching past her to the counter, he grabbed the small key sitting there and unlocked the cuffs. As he slid them from her, he took each wrist into his hands and gently rubbed the angry red welts.
It made her uncomfortable, the silence and the caring act. She wasn’t going to linger and be asked to leave. She was pulling that trigger first. Drawing away from him, she said, “That’s okay. I need to go.”
Chapter Eleven
He simply dropped her hands and nodded, clearly agreeing with her. As she hurried from the bathroom to her clothes, she asked as she was getting dressed, “How did my clothes get here?”
“I used your room key and got them. I figured you’d rather wear something clean,” he answered from the bathroom.
Thanks for the reminder. But she smiled inwardly at his thoughtfulness. Most men would have made her do the walk of shame in her soiled clothes. “Thank you.”
“Does what I picked work?” he asked, coming out of the bathroom.
Looking down at her tennis shoe as she tied it, she shrugged and said, “You can’t really go wrong with plain on plain.” It was true; her entire wardrobe was monochromatic. Black on black, beige on beige, white on white or gray on gray. Didn’t get more exciting than that.
Simon chuckled as he rooted through his dresser. “You were anything but plain this morning.”
“Stop. Please.” She was about to do the walk of shame. She didn’t need to be reminded why.
“Only if you’ll have breakfast with me.”
“I ah—” Suddenly she was famished. And she didn’t want to leave. “I guess I could …” She knew the minute she agreed that she shouldn’t have. It was important to her that she be the one to walk away. Having breakfast with Simon only delayed the inevitable and gave him the chance to walk away first. She was about to retract her acceptance when his cell phone rang. To the tune of Barry Manilow’s “Mandy.” Ugh, breakup song. Her stomach did a slow, queasy roll.
“Hey,” he said to the caller. “What’s up?”
Katrina gathered her soiled clothes to go.
His tone was familiar, caring, and—just a hair shy of guilty. “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.” He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled an awkward smile and put his finger up in a wait-a-minute motion.
“Right now? You’re here?” He asked surprised. “Yes, of course, give me five and meet me in the lobby.” He strode past her into the bathroom. “No, don’t come up here, I’ll meet you there.” He hung up.
Katy just stood frozen. Was she really the blindest female in the world? When Simon came out of the bathroom he looked like a man on a mission.
He looked at her as if just realizing she was still there. “Kat, I need to take care of something, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes tops. Would you wait for me?”
“I—” Hell no was on the tip of her tongue, but she knew those words would make her look like a woman scorned—which was how she felt, but had no right to feel. Secondly, it could either cause an argument or, even worse, he would just shrug and say adios. “Sure.”
He smiled, finished dressing, shrugged on his shoulder holster, pulled his big gun out of the dresser drawer, tucked it into the holster, grabbed his wallet and cell, then slid on his suit coat. He turned and caught her up, bent her over his long arm and soundly kissed her. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Breathless, she touched her fingertips to her lips, and stared at the door he had just gone through. Minutes later, she wondered why she was not running for her room and packing. Finally, she admitted it. She’d just had the best sex of her life and she wasn’t quite ready to admit it was over, even if he was downstairs meeting his ex-flavor of the month or current flavor of the month.
So she paced as she tried to sort her feelings out, but more importantly asking herself—why she was bothering in the first place!
Damn it, while she believed Simon when he said he wasn’t married, she highly doubted a stud of his caliber was unattached. Her shoulders sank. She just knew he was downstairs kissing and making up with someone just like her: an out-of-town fling. The rosy glow of the last few hours washed away as embarrassment took full root in her psyche. Always the fool, aren’t you, Katy?
Or maybe she was just overreacting? Allowing Evan’s lies to affect how she saw all men? Biting her lip, she looked around for a clue. Finally, they landed on Simon’s laptop. She shouldn’t spy, but …
The laptop was in sleep mode and once she woke it up her jaw dropped. His screen saver was a picture of him with a gorgeous blonde and the cutest little girl she had ever seen. There was no mistaking it: The little girl’s brilliant green eyes were the same as Simon’s.
She slammed the lid shut, grabbed her pukey clothes, shoes, and purse and ran from his room to the safety of hers. She had kicked herself over Evan because every damn sign had been there and she’d just been too ignorant to see them. With Simon, she had imagined him to be some knight in shining armor who had come to her rescue. And while there was no fantasy when it came to the sex, the reality was that it would end when she left the hotel. Believing he was not in a committed relationship with another woman, only to discover that he was just like every other guy out there, tarnished everything. She would never knowingly date a cheater. Period.
She was done. Done taking sloppy seconds and done being the consolation prize. She could not pack fast enough before she was striding through the lobby. Glutton for punishment that she was, she couldn’t help glancing at the open restaurant that was serving breakfast. There she was, the blonde in the picture, clinging like a vine to Simon as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.
Hot tears stung her eyes as she ran from the hotel and into the waiting cab.
Wanting to get home to familiar territory to lick her wounds in private, Katy took an earlier flight.
On the cab ride to her apartment, she turned her cell on for the first time in days. It pinged that she had a text. No one but Evan texted her and she was not interested in anything he had to say. She turned it off.
When she exited the elevator to her penthouse apartment atop a converted Neo Classic mansion in Pacific Heights, she bumped into Rosalinda Mai Ramirez Lowenstein, her best friend, and her only neighbor on the penthouse level. Rosie was an eclectic combination of Cuban, Vietnamese, Caucasian and crazy. Her husband, Elliot was a warm, and gentle Jewish man from Brooklyn who everyone called “Supe.”
“Hey, love,” Rosie squealed throwing her arms around Katy’s neck. Rosie was like a dog that way, Katy could be gone for a day or a month or in this case four days, and Rosie enthusiastically greeted her as if she had been gone for a year.
“I was just checking to see if you were home yet. I have to talk to you, sweet-pea. And you’re not going to like it.”
Exhaling loudly, Katy’s shoulders slumped. As if she needed more bad news. “Can’t it wait, Rosie? I’m exhausted.”
Rosie cocked her head sideways making a clucking sound. She was in great shape for her age, which Rosie never divulged but Katy figured to be in the neighborhood of sixty-ish. After contemplating Katy’s request, Rosie shook her head, grabbed Katy’s elbow and guided her down the hall to her apartment door. “No can do. This info is too hot to keep the lid on.”
Katy allowed herself to be half dragged half pushed toward her apartment. “Because the world will come to an end if you don’t share you gossip with me tonight.”
Rosie shook her head. “I wish it were gossip.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a string of keys, inserted one into Katy’s door and pushed it open. Holding the key up, Rosie smiled. “Sleeping with the supe has its perks.”
“I’ll remember that.” If it had been anyone other than Rosie, Katy would have been angry. But Rosie was like family.
Katy walked through the threshold and calmness immediately infiltrated her being. She was home. Her retreat from the world. “S
et your bags down, we have to talk. But you have to promise not to kill the messenger, okay?” Rosie nervously said.
“I could never kill you.”
“Wait until you hear this!”
She pushed Katy down into the Dante chair in her circular marble floored foyer and leaned over her, tilting her chin up so they looked directly into each other’s eyes. Katy blinked. “Hear what?”
“I hate to tell you this, but Evan has a wife.”
Katy felt as if she had been kicked in the gut again. Not this time because she was hurt, she was over Evan, but the hurt and humiliation that went along with how and when they broke up still stung. It would for a long time. “I know.”
Rosie gasped and stood up straight. “And you kept seeing him knowing he was a cheater?”
Standing Katy shook her head. “I didn’t know until two nights ago. Then I kicked him to the curb.”
“I’m so sorry, sweet-pea. I really am,” Rosie soothed patting her shoulder.
Katy walked through the foyer into the short hallway then into her small but highly functional gourmet kitchen and dropped her purse, cell phone and portfolio on the kitchen table, then headed for her bedroom. “How do you know?” she asked.
“Eliot saw him and a blonde coming out of Kuleto’s last week while you were in New York. He watched them being all kissy-huggy-face while they waited for their car, and well, Elliot being Elliot, he wrote down the license plate number and because he has access to secured sites for tenant background checks, he ran the plates. Came up registered to a Melinda Anne Scott and Evan Dryer Scott of Menlo Park. She matched the Mrs.’s driver’s license picture.”
So the blonde in the hotel room was his wife. Lucky for Evan she hadn’t shown up a day earlier. “Remind me not to break any laws around you two,” Katy dryly said but wondered, was a threesome with a cop breaking the law? Her body flushed as she thought of Simon. She hadn’t stopped thinking of him all day.