Watch Me Fall

by Cherrie Lynn

  She smirked at the thought, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the weatherman breaking in on the TV to warn of another approaching storm. Wonderful. At least maybe Jared could ride this one out with her, snuggled on the couch as she’d suggested earlier. Being wrapped in the warmth of his arms sounded much more preferable to chewing her nails worried about his safety out there.

  When he came out five minutes later, she nearly choked on pure air. Wearing a light heather-gray T-shirt that kissed his muscles in all the right places and worn, soft-looking jeans, he was pure heaven to behold. And he didn’t even realize what he was doing to her, because as soon as he spied her on his couch, he said, entirely too conversationally: “Hey, I’m a dumbass. I didn’t even think. If you want to change, I’m sure I can dig something up. You’re probably freezing.”

  “I’m actually pretty dry now.” Everywhere but between my legs. “It’s okay.”

  “Sorry. I suck as a host.”

  You can totally suck— “No, you’re awesome.” For the first time, she noticed the dark blue blanket slung across one of his forearms. Awesome, indeed. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin.

  “If you’re still up for a Twilight Zone marathon, I am too.”

  She was up for so, so much more, and hopefully he was as well. “Do you have popcorn?”

  Indeed he did, explaining it was the girls’ favorite snack. Outside, the rain still fell and the thunder still rumbled, but the two of them moved easily around Jared’s kitchen, fixing drinks and food. She had the unwelcome thought that she was getting far, far too comfortable here, but it felt so nice when she scarcely felt comfortable in her own home.

  “Which one should we watch?” he asked as they settled with their couch picnic. He handed Starla the remote, and she navigated to the episode list on Netflix.

  “Let’s see… There’s ‘A Stop at Willoughby,’ that’s a good one.”

  “Ooh, ‘The Purple Testament.’ Isn’t that the one where the soldier sees a glow on the faces of other soldiers who are about to die?”

  “That’s a good one too.” She selected it and hit Play, pleased that he knew his Twilight Zone episodes as the unmistakable theme music filled the room. Jared pulled the blanket over the both of them, and she snuggled into his chest as if she belonged there, feeling his heart thump slow and steady, loving the weight of his arm around her. His hand settled in the curve of her waist, just where the hem of her shirt touched her jeans, just where she could imagine his fingers slipping between the articles of clothing to find bare skin. But his fingers stayed where they were, on top of her clothes, maddening her.

  But it was also nice. How often had she found herself around a guy whose primary objective wasn’t to get into her pants? Except for her male friends, probably never. When she started something with a man, she knew where it was headed. Every single time. To bed. Maybe once, maybe a few times, but if it advanced more than that, a catastrophic breakup was sure to follow. Or stalking, if the last few weeks were any indication. With Jared, she had no such expectations. A million possibilities waited to be explored. It excited her and terrified her at the same time. As he’d asked her the night he’d returned her purse: Could she handle it? Could she fit into his life?

  Fuck it. She didn’t even care. She only knew that here, right under his jaw, a mere inch from her nose, he smelled like heaven, and if she didn’t kiss him again soon, she was going to die.

  Her blood thickened in her veins as she shifted closer, inhaling him before trailing her lips along the bearded line of his jaw. Jared released a shuddering breath, his fingers tightening on her waist. Her biggest fear was that he’d push her away, but he didn’t. Tilting his chin upward, he gave her easier access, and she took it. Every muscle in his powerful body tensed as her lips left teasing kisses up to his ear, his damp hair tickling her nose with scent and sensation.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She felt so good, and Jesus, it had been so long. When his marriage had crumbled, yeah, he’d sworn off. He’d told himself the last thing he needed was another woman to hurt, to disappoint, to damage. He and his ex-wife had been hot together at first, but soon enough he’d realized it for what it was: the novelty of someone new. Starla had guessed right; Macy was his one and only for so many years that when Shelly had come along, it was as if she breathed new life into him. But eventually it wore off. It left him cold.

  The woman in his arms now, though… He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to her. Starla’s lips were so soft. There was something tentative and vulnerable about her now, and he hadn’t expected that. He’d reclined on the couch, taking her with him so that she lay atop him, their legs in a tangle and their mouths taking turns exploring each other…bare throats, sensitive earlobes. On the TV, the show played on. Outside¸ thunder rumbled and rain pelted the metal roof of his porch. Even while he’d been out there battling the storm to get his animals to safety, he’d been thinking of her. While she’d been standing in the kitchen with his dad and Jack, looking flustered and damn near bashful, he’d wanted her so bad he could hardly concentrate on anything but the way her lips touched her coffee mug.

  Now those lips were touching him. One of his thighs slipped between hers. The almost catlike way she undulated against him was nearly his undoing, but she pulled away to look at him, eyes dark with need. He felt that same need flickering through his body like heat lightning. Hotter and brighter than anything happening outside these walls. “I promise I haven’t had too much to drink,” she said. “Even if I had, I would remember this.”

  Chuckling, he stroked her silky hair, watching the colorful strands slide easily between his fingers. “Hmm. I’m not sure I’m convinced.”

  A wicked twinkle ignited in her eyes. “Then I guess we’d better work extra hard to make it memorable.” Sitting up, her gaze never breaking contact with his, she pulled her T-shirt off in one swift motion. His lungs locked down and his heart seized at the sight of her creamy skin with its vibrant tattoos. Tentatively, he lifted one hand and trailed his fingers over the cluster of orchids blooming on her right shoulder. Her skin was as petal soft as those flowers appeared. Starla’s eyes closed as he followed the lines down to the upper swell of her breast. His dick throbbed so hard, he knew she felt it even through their jeans; a throaty sound fell from her luscious lips and he shot upright to catch it, kissing her deeply and then dropping his head to see if her skin tasted as sweet as it looked. It did. Jesus, sweeter. Her hands grasped desperately at his hair as his sought the closure on her lacy black bra, making quick work of it and pulling it from her shoulders, down her arms, and finally flinging it to the floor.

  She was breathtaking. He’d expected no less, but as much as he’d dreamed and speculated about seeing her naked, he wasn’t prepared for the sight. The little silver rings in her taut pink nipples begged him to play with them. Jared drew one caressing palm over her breast, feeling the wild beat of her heart and the hitch of her breath, teasing her nipple with the barest tip of one finger until she urged his head forward and he drew her into his mouth. So warm, so soft. He flicked her ring with his tongue, gently sucking.

  “Oh God, yes,” she breathed. Her hands clawed at his shirt, and he let her go only long enough to let her wrench it off over his head. It went to join her bra on the floor, and then her hands were on his naked flesh. “Jared.”

  She smelled so fucking good. She tasted so fucking good. He kissed a path to her other nipple and gave it similar thorough attention before murmuring, “Will you remember this?”

  “Fuck, yeah, I will.” Though her words were tough, her voice shook, and he realized she was trembling. The couch didn’t give them much room to maneuver, but somehow he got her up and under him. Her hair shimmered in the grayish light from the TV. That same light caught and fractured in her dark eyes as she gazed up at him. He could just look at her all night, but there were also a million other things he wanted to do with her.

  She was holding back. He didn’t know
how he knew, but he did, and it gnawed at him, this feeling that she wanted to tear him apart but wouldn’t let herself. Maybe she worried what he would think. Or maybe she was nothing like he had anticipated. Bracing himself up on one arm, he trailed a knuckle down her stomach and watched the muscles twitch under his touch. So sensitive. The button on her jeans gave easily, and she wriggled her hips to help him get them off. He ended up on the floor in the process, and they both had a laugh, but when he realized he was at the perfect level, he moved her thighs on either side of him while she watched him intently with those amazingly direct eyes of hers.

  Down here, her scent went straight to his fucking head and short-circuited it. Pure feminine need. He stroked her thighs, leaning down to take a little nip of her inner thigh with his teeth. Sighing with pleasure, she opened to him, raising one knee and dropping her other foot to the floor. He didn’t take off her panties, not yet. He teased, touching over damp, fragrant fabric until her hips began to move…

  But the hard little nub under there was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Oh fuck, she didn’t…

  Gently, he pulled her panties aside. Oh fuck, she did. A lovely little silver piercing rested in her folds.

  No wonder she was watching him so closely. Wondering what he would think.

  It was the hottest goddamn thing he’d ever seen. That a woman would be so dedicated to her own pleasure only made him want to pleasure her all the more. He dropped his mouth to her pussy, savoring her sudden sharp, joyous cry. As if she’d been waiting for this so long, so long…

  The sound ended on a gasp as the lights flickered and blinked out. Sudden, impenetrable darkness engulfed them, and he couldn’t see her except in flashes of lightning. No sound but the thunder and their heavy breathing and the wet sounds of his sucking and licking her. He didn’t stop. Her hips threatened to throw him off, but he wrapped his arms tight around her thighs and held her down, held her open, her panties wrenched to one side, her hand buried in his hair. Then the words tore from her throat, a chant, a musical prayer: “Make me come, make me come, oh God, Jared, yes, don’t stop don’t stop don’t—”

  He wanted nothing more than to surge up and plunge into her, feel her hot and wet around his throbbing cock, but not when she was so close, so delicious. He teased that tiny silver sphere until she came apart around him, her thighs clamping hard on him and her fist damn near ripping hair from his head. He’d give it gladly to make her feel this good. Because she deserved it. And maybe it was only his imagination, but she tasted even sweeter as she came. His name had certainly never sounded sweeter from anyone else’s lips as it did when she shouted it.

  “And will you remember that?” he asked as she finally floated back down from her heights, loving her dark, dirty laugh as her muscles eased.

  “I don’t know. I might need you to do it again, you know, just to be sure.”

  Slowly, he pulled her panties off her hips. She lifted her legs so he could divest her of them completely. “Good. Because I can do this all night.”

  “I wouldn’t survive all night.” His eyes had adjusted to the dark somewhat. She sat up and reached for the button on his jeans. Only then did he realize it was already undone. He must have unfastened it at some point to relieve the unbearable pressure. “Come here, baby,” she crooned, reaching deep to take him into her hand. His entire body seemed to groan with pleasure as her fingers found him. She kissed him, drawing him out of his jeans. Jared felt her smile against his lips. “I wish I could see you.”

  Yeah, he couldn’t formulate a reply. Her grip was too damn perfect. He couldn’t see anything but neon explosions against the back of his closed eyelids. Her sweet scent still drew him, her softness. She sighed as he trailed his fingertips down her slit and nestled at her entrance. Both of them released a moan as he slipped a finger inside. Wet. So wet. So tight; she gripped him as if she couldn’t bear to let him go. He pushed in another, savoring her whimper, her increased pressure as she squeezed his dick. Not nearly as much as she would squeeze him when he slid inside—

  His phone took that damned moment to ring, and worse, it was Shelly’s ring. Which most likely meant Mia. With the power being out, he knew right where this was headed.

  He dropped his head to Starla’s shoulder, gently pulling his hand from her though she mewled in protest. “That would be my daughters.”

  “Oh.”

  “Shit.”

  She laughed, but there was a sad quality to it. He could understand. He wanted to cry. “Go ahead,” she urged. “Be a good dad.”

  Wincing, he stuffed himself back in his jeans and grabbed the phone while Starla began blindly searching for her own clothes. As soon as he answered, Mia started babbling, but he caught the gist: Daddy, the power’s out, Ashley’s scared, she’s such a baby (No I’m NOT!), whatever, we’re bored, can we come stay with you tonight?

  They knew he had a generator, and any other time, he would already have it fired up by now. “I’ll come get you,” he told her, cramming the heel of one hand into his eye.

  “Yay! Bye.” And she was gone as fast as she’d shown up.

  Forcing himself to gently set his phone down on the coffee table lest he wrench it to pieces and fling it across the room was a struggle, but he managed. He put a hand on Starla’s leg to still her movements. “Hang on, and I’ll get you some light.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Not that I wouldn’t love to keep you naked right here in the dark.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have time…?” She left the question hanging, and yeah, he was facing a serious case of blue balls, still so hard it hurt. It wouldn’t take long… Jared released a shuddering breath as her hand snaked its way back down his abs, but he gently caught her wrist. Getting his dick sucked while his kids were waiting on him to rescue them from a dark house just seemed wrong.

  “It’s okay, darlin’,” he told her, and gave the back of her hand a consolatory kiss. He had to get away from her before he gave in. “Hang on.”

  Movement helped somewhat. From years of habit, he was able to get to the kitchen and the drawer with the flashlight. Then it was out the back door and into the rain, a steady patter that was the equivalent of a cold shower on his overheated bare skin, hitting him like needles. The worst of the storm seemed to have moved on, though—too bad he couldn’t say the same for the one in his body.

  ***

  As soon as the living room lights came on, Starla surged upward to find her bra and shirt, unwilling for him to find her half-naked on his couch when he’d just turned her down. In fact, she was unwilling for him to find her on his couch at all, so she retreated to the bathroom to repair whatever damage that session had done to her hair and makeup.

  It was okay. She understood, but she was disappointed all the same. Her mind and her body had been ready to spend the rest of the night in his bed. They’d been ready for more orgasms like that one. Many more. Now that his kids were coming, she’d be spending it at home, alone, with the leech in the next room. It would be all the worse if their own power was out. They didn’t have a generator. She knew better than to even ask if Jared would still be willing for her to spend the night with him now that his daughters were coming over.

  She got it. She did. But still. Fuck. The man was so talented with his tongue. Her internal muscles quivered, ready for more, so much more. Her panties were wet from her own desire and from his mouth. The mirror showed her cheeks were flushed, her neck and chest splotchy. It was almost fucking embarrassing how much she wanted him, and she spent so much time splashing water on her face trying to cool off that he finally tapped on the door.

  “Starla? You okay?”

  No. She wasn’t. But she dried her face and opened the door anyway, unable to look up at him. She needed a cigarette. “Sorry, I know we need to go. Yeah, I’m fine.”

  His knuckle nudged under her chin and lifted her face to his. As she was forced to meet his incredible, invading blue eyes, her knees almost gave out. “You are so b
eautiful, and I’m so sorry. I’ll make this up to you.”

  “No,” she said, surprised at the note of desperate longing in her voice, unable to keep it out. “Don’t make it up to me. See me because you want to, not because you think you should.”

  “If you think I don’t want to,” he rasped, “you haven’t been paying attention.” Then his mouth descended on hers, and she tasted herself, and her knees did give out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  He took her to Dermamania, where her car still waited in the parking lot, and kissed her good-bye until she almost staggered when she finally climbed down from his truck, knees still weak and rubbery from the strength of his lips. The storm had passed on, leaving puddles and a clean, summery scent in the air. Grinning like a fool, Starla slammed the door and waved, warmed on the inside when he didn’t drive away as she walked the short distance to her car.

  So he was still there watching when she found the note clamped under her windshield wiper.

  Only one word, stark black and ten feet tall on the white paper. WHORE. The ink had bled outward in the rainwater, but it was easily decipherable.

  Jared was at her back before she even realized it, taking it from her as if he didn’t want her to be subjected to that word one second longer. The expression on his face could have been carved out of granite, hard and unforgiving. “Sonofabitch.”