by Emery Cross
My whole body was pulsing by the time he lifted his head. His gaze locked on mine. It was clear what he wanted. Clutching his big shoulders, I kept my focus on his eyes and lowered myself onto the thick head of his cock again. All that kissing and sucking had definitely made my pussy slicker but it was still painful.
I stopped again, awed by how much more there was yet to go. My thighs were shaking with the effort of holding myself aloft. I was going to suggest doing it on the bed of the truck so I could be underneath, since he was clearly too tall to manage it in the cab. But talking logistics sounded very unsexy and I’d already done too much gabbing in my nervousness.
“Are you going to keep thinking about it or are you going to do it?” he growled. “Because, frankly, baby, the suspense is fucking killing me.”
“I’m doing my best. Don’t get so aggravated.”
“All this attitude goes away once I'm inside that pretty, tight cunt of yours.”
His fingers bit into my hips and he started bringing me down, with the restraint of a saint, judging by the tension I felt in his body. He moved me incrementally. Every inch or so I figured I’d reached my limit, but I was always surprised when I could take more. My fingers couldn’t get a good grasp on his hard muscular shoulders so I had to make do with scrunching his shirt.
As it turned out, he really was too big at this angle. I had to lean back, my shoulders propped against the dash, so that he could seat himself fully. I lifted my hands to my nipples, still wet from his sucking, and tugged on them and watched his eyes darken with desire.
He started lifting himself off the seat, pumping up inside me, and I could feel my pussy getting accustomed to him, melting around him, clutching at him.
Having a powerful male body taking complete control, was not what I was used to—at all. Sex with Rowley was head-spinning.
His strokes were so deep and slick and hot that I lost all inhibition. I moaned and cried his name.
He reached between us and fiddled with the barbell ring, twanging my clit, making my whole body hum.
I arched my back as I climaxed. “I love you,” I said in a whisper.
He stilled for a moment, clearly shocked, and then started thrusting again, but his movements had become reckless.
When his big frame shuddered in release, I wanted to hold him and kiss him, but he just set me aside.
We put our clothes back on in silence. Really all he had to do was yank up his jeans and button himself up. I didn’t bother trying to wriggle into my tights. I stuffed them into one of my boots and then pulled my bare legs up into a cross-legged position on the leather bench.
The truck rocked over the sand as we made our way back to the street. He drove one-handed, his thumb rhythmically tapping on the steering wheel. He was still frustrated. Sex hadn’t pacified him.
For me there was just regret. I’d made the mistake of my life. Damn, if he hadn’t been more skilled than I’d even anticipated. He’d managed to make sex in the front seat of a pickup a life-altering experience. I’d traded one night with him for a lifetime of being unfulfilled.
I WOKE TO FIND I WAS still in the truck, my legs curled up on the seat, my head pillowed against the door. I sat up and looked out the window. The landscape had changed from moonlit desert to fog-filled town streets. I straightened up and smoothed my hair. Rowley shot me a glare. The scenery had changed, but his attitude sure hadn’t. He was more than aggravated, he was angry.
“You give me one damned night. Hell, more like an hour, and then you fall asleep.”
I wasn’t up for another lecture about how unreliable I was. I turned my head and stared hard at the foggy landscape.
The moment he pulled into the driveway, I grabbed up my boots prepared to jump out the second he parked the truck.
I yanked on the door handle. Nothing. Okay, getting out of this truck required a two-step process. I couldn’t see where the button was in the dark so I just started pressing any button my fingers came in contact with. He flipped on the overhead light and I quickly located the unlock button and pressed it. I heard the click just before I tried the handle, and, of course, the handle wouldn’t give. The driver’s side obviously had a priority lock that overrode the passenger’s side.
“Rowley, what do you want from me?”
“Why? Are you prepared to give it to me?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Shit, maybe.”
“You are impossible. I admitted that the therapy couldn’t cure me. That I still have it bad for you.” I didn’t bring up the fact that I’d just expressed my love for him in the heat of passion.
“Baby, that’s just puppy love.”
I wasn’t going to sit there and have him explain away all that longing and heartache as teenage silliness. I often referred to it as a crush, but I knew what it really was, true but unrequited love.
“You forget how well I know you,” he said, ignoring my frustrated efforts to get out of the truck. “In junior high you were off changing sets of friends every few seconds. One moment you were a member of the chess club, the next you were smoking cigarettes in the park with the metalheads. Nobody was permanent in your life.”
I glanced over at him. He gave me a look that said don’t even try to suggest that he was a permanent figure. He was going to use my avoidance of him against me. There was no point in trying to defend myself. He wasn’t in the mood to believe me. I hit the unlock button again, and yanked the handle fast, and swung the door open.
“If you’re done lecturing me, I’m going to bed.” I dropped to the ground, the cement cool beneath my bare feet.
“Well, I wasn’t done.”
I turned to stare up at him, the interior light illuminated his handsome face. I’d never seen him look so unhappy. Wow, I’d really left him satisfied.
“Let’s just pretend tonight never happened.” I shut the door.
Not so easy to pretend it never happened when I was still sore. I concentrated on walking as normally as I could to the guesthouse.
So much fuss about nothing. In the end, he was going to go back to Kat or get with some other woman who was a predictable, solid citizen.
I heard his door shut hard followed by his footsteps coming up behind me. With his long strides it only took him a few moments to catch up with me. “I’m not pretending shit. And you owe me the rest of the night.”
I gave him a fine-whatever shrug. But indifference was the last thing I felt. I might be sore, but I wanted him again.
My hand was trembling so much that I couldn’t get the key into the lock. Why was I so nervous? We’d already done it once. He took the key from me and swiftly unlocked the door.
He flicked on the wall light and the first thing he did was turn his face in the direction of the unpacked boxes still stacked against the wall. He shook his head and slid me an incredulous look. Those boxes were just another sign of my mercurial nature. I couldn’t be trusted to stay in one place for long.
I grabbed two ice-cold bottles of water from the fridge before heading into the bedroom.
I handed him one. I sipped mine. He guzzled his. He tossed the empty bottle on the floor.
He crooked his finger in my direction and I set my bottle down on the nightstand and came to stand in front of him.
He had me naked from the waist up and on my back atop the bed in seconds. His gaze was intent as he helped me out of my skintight pants.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. My mouth watered with anticipation as he drew his shirt over his head and tossed it on the chair.
Before shucking off his jeans, he pulled what was left of the strip of condoms out of his pocket and set it on the nightstand.
He was breathtaking naked. Adonis with a few well-earned scars, black ink tattoos, and a five o’clock shadow.
Having him fuck me on a mattress proved an entirely different experience. He had even more stamina, more than I could handle. But I didn’t complain once. Instead, I
savored every last moment with him.
CHAPTER 8
HARPER
“YOU WILL FIND HAPPINESS without him. You will discover pleasure without him.”
My eyes popped open. Oh, God, I'd forgotten to reprogram my alarm. I'd bought the clock specifically because it could play the hypnotherapist's MP3 tracks.
Rowley was awake and frowning in confusion as the voice continued in placid, uninflected tones.
“He isn't worth thinking about. It's time to make him your past. You deserve a future free and clear of him.”
I reached over him, my nipples hardening as they rubbed against his chest. He grabbed my wrist before I could hit the off button.
"Leave it," he said. "I want to hear more."
I scooted off of him, cringing as the voice droned on.
“Forget him. Rowley Ford is all wrong for you. You are better off without him.”
Hearing his name inserted must have made it feel really personal, I imagined.
“A different man, a man you will truly love is in your future.”
"Fuck, really? A different man," he muttered under his breath.
He threw the covers off, stepped out of bed, and jerked the plug from the wall.
"This is the bullshit you've been listening to for weeks?"
I propped myself up on my forearms. "Afraid so." I gave him a sleepy smile but he didn't return it.
He was pulling on his clothes. After he finished buckling himself up, he grabbed the alarm clock off the nightstand and left the room with it. It was surely fated for the trash bin.
I heard the front door close. No kiss goodbye even. Irritated, I burrowed deep down under the comforter determined to forget him and sleep till noon.
I managed to drowse off again, but the sun pouring through the lace curtains made it a restless sleep.
Supposedly, autumn had started, but there was no sign of it. True autumn days were such a novelty in California. It was really too warm to sleep in.
Rowley wasn't the only one waking up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I wanted to blame the heat, but I would have happily lazed in bed all day with him. Damn, that stupid alarm clock.
I glanced at my new waitress uniform hanging over the chair. Black skirt and fitted black button up shirt. At least I'd been saved Rowley noticing that.
I would have had to explain that I'd quit the bakery and taken another job. I would have surely gotten another earful about my irresponsible ways.
I decided to spend the day on the couch feeling sorry for myself, eating sugary cereal, and watching old movies.
My stupid one night stand suggestion had had consequences. It had changed the whole trajectory of our relationship. Maybe we would have gotten together eventually and dated like a normal couple. Was he even my friend anymore?
He was clearly home from work and using some kind of loud, heavy duty piece of gardening equipment. I picked up the remote and turned up the volume.
I went to the kitchen to fill up my bowl with more cereal and peeled back a corner of the curtain to take a peek. He was trimming the boxwood that grew around the perimeter of the backyard.
I returned to the couch, bringing both my bowl and the box of cereal with me. The hedger finally turned off and I lowered the sound on the TV. Minutes later, he fired up another piece of equipment. The mower, I guessed. The man was making it impossible to sit and sulk.
I got up and walked over to the boxes he'd glared at. After finding the one containing my dresses, I carried it into the bedroom. With zero enthusiasm, I started putting the dresses on hangers and then hooking the hangers on the metal bar in the small closet.
There was a respite in the noise outside. Given the choice between emptying the final two boxes or climbing back into bed, I chose the latter.
I woke up just in time to shower and change for my new job.
I could hear Rowley talking to another man outside. My new job wasn't going to be a secret much longer.
I walked the few steps to the door in my new black pumps and realized they were going to be murder on my feet. I opened the door quietly and stepped outside.
Rowley and a burly bald guy had their backs to me. They were admiring a silver monster of a truck with dealer plates. The truck took up nearly the entire width of the driveway.
"Sorry, but I need to get my car out."
Both men turned to look at me.
"Where are you going in the middle of the night?" Rowley asked.
"It's six o'clock and if you must know I'm going to my waiting job."
"Of course," he said, managing to load those two words with heavy sarcasm. "Let me guess, you quit the bakery job."
I frowned at him.
"Pretty sexy getup."
"It's a button-up shirt and a skirt."
"Where are you working now?"
"That surf and turf place on the hill."
"My cousin worked there and landed a rich lawyer," his burly friend offered unhelpfully.
Rowley threw his friend an annoyed look.
"What?" his friend said with a shrug. "Tell me you haven't heard about that place. That's exactly why my cousin took the job. To meet a rich sucker. It's known for it."
Rowley folded his big arms across his chest and turned his attention back to me. "You planning on racking up another marriage before you're twenty two?"
"Marriage and then, of course, a divorce. Since I get bored so easily," I replied cheekily. "I sure hope I get a better settlement this time."
Over Rowley's shoulder, I caught the surprise on the bald guy's face, his eyebrows were raised nearly to his non-existent hairline. The man hurried to get into his truck clearly not wanting to get into the middle of a private quarrel.
"What happened to becoming a pastry chef?"
I shrugged.
"And the chef classes?"
"The semester doesn’t start until January. I'll go. I'll start the classes."
His top lip curled in a sneer. "You'll start them."
"Well, you know me. I'm good at starting stuff, I just never seem to finish anything."
"Hey, smart ass, when do you get off?"
"Why? Are you going to wait up for me?"
"Harper, what time?"
"They stop serving at midnight."
"That's too fucking late."
"I'm a big girl now. I don't need you looking out for me anymore." I pivoted sharply on my heels, hot tears springing to my eyes. I hated this angry banter. I wanted to go back in time and erase last night.
A LIGHT WAS STILL ON in the main house when I got back home. I smiled inwardly. He'd been waiting up for me. Nobody had ever done that. Certainly not my parents. I’d been a little out of control as a teenager, but I could have run completely wild and nobody would have noticed.
It was like my parents had had children because it was the thing to do in suburbia and then wished we’d disappear.
I could still remember Matt begging our dad to come to a baseball game. He'd finally earned the pitcher's spot on the school team. He was crying, but he was angry too. His fists were clenched by his side and his mouth was contorted. He’d been crying so hard that tears were falling off his chin and wetting his t-shirt. I'd never seen Matt lose it like that before.
Our father had had a disgusted look on his face. "A tantrum is going to get you nothing, you little shit." He had collected his keys and suit jacket and slammed out of the house, leaving his son bawling his heart out.
At least we'd had some love growing up, or God knows how much more messed up we would have been. Not being able to settle down would probably have been the least of our worries.
I could still remember the scent of my grandmother. She had a bottle of violet perfume which she would dab behind her ears.
She was the reason I loved to bake. She made comforting puddings, and pies. I could never figure out how such a loving person created my cold as ice father.
I know Matt had prayed for her just like I had. She seemed very old and frail
to us, and we loved her and wanted her to live forever. But we prayed for selfish reasons, too. We knew she was the only person who cared about us.
And then my parents stuck her in a nursing home and sold her pretty little house to pay for her care. They refused to take us for visits even though we begged. And after she died of a stroke they never mentioned her again.
Rowley’s porch light came on snapping me out of my thoughts. He pushed out the screen door.
Unable to hobble a step further in my killer pumps, I removed them and continued on in my nyloned feet.
"Baby, are you going to make me sleep alone?"
I stopped walking and turned to him. He was gripping the short wrought iron fence that surrounded the steps and leaning toward me.
"And here I thought you were waiting up because you were worried about me."
"I'm capable of doing both, worrying about you and wanting to fuck you."
He vaulted over the railing, his big bare feet landing on the cement. He strode toward me.
When he reached me, I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to keep him at a slight distance. I peered up into his eyes, they were hooded and tired. Putting out burning buildings while half asleep was a dangerous enterprise.
"Just think of it as a series of one night stands." He was throwing the phrase I'd used last night back at me.
I was outwardly hesitating, but inside I was saying, yes, anything you want, Rowley.
"Just fucking," he said, his deep voice resonating through me.
Sure, that's all. It's not like I'll fall even deeper in love. "Rowley Ford, you sure have a sweet way with words."
His lips tilted in a crooked smile. He knew he was winning.
I wriggled out of his hold. "I want to take a shower first."
"You can take it here." He tilted his head in the direction of his house. He was already trying to stretch the boundaries of the deal.
"Just fucking," I reminded him. The raw phrase made my cheeks heat up. I'd used that word twice now in front of him and blushed both times. "Everything else I do on my own terms." I turned and headed toward the cottage.