Kaleidoscope

by Ashley, Kristen

  “Come here, Emme,” Deck ordered.

  She didn’t come there. Her eyes went to the stove and they lit with a different light.

  “What’s that I smell?”

  “Murgh makhani. Pilau rice. And naan bread that’s going to become cheese naan soon but it’s gonna suck because I don’t have a tandoor.” He told her and finished with, “But we’ll make do.”

  Her eye drifted from the stove to him. “What’s murgh makhani?”

  “Indian butter chicken.”

  Her face got close to the look it got when he slid his cock inside her.

  He was about to order her to come to him again when she went on.

  “What’s a tandoor?”

  “A traditional Indian clay oven.”

  “I’m getting you one of those for Christmas,” she declared.

  Deck burst out laughing.

  When he stopped, she was smiling at him.

  “Come here, Emme.”

  Finally, she hauled her ass to him.

  He pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss and when he lifted his head, she stated, “I’m not joking about Christmas. My sister lives in India. I’m going to ask her to send me one.”

  “It’ll probably cost a mint to send it here but, just sayin’, it will not go unused.”

  Her eyes slid to the stove then back to his. “I hope not. That smells awesome.”

  He kept an arm around her, turned her to tuck her into his side and went back to the stove after kissing her temple.

  “I brought my bathing suit,” she informed him.

  “Won’t need it,” he informed her.

  Her arms, both around his middle, gave him a squeeze and a slight shake.

  “Jacob, honey, I want to go swimming because I want to go swimming and because I feel it’s my environmental duty to use that pool as often as I can seeing as you’re wasting so much energy to heat it.”

  He looked down at her. “I didn’t say we weren’t going swimming. I said you won’t need your suit.”

  Her face changed, her eyes drifting half closed and he felt her body shiver.

  “And I also didn’t tell you, murgh makhani comes with my personal label ale and leads into turtle sundaes,” he continued.

  At that, her body melted into his side.

  “Awesome food, homemade beer and skinny-dipping,” she whispered. “Have I told you I like you today?”

  “No. You told me you really like me,” he contradicted, and she did, that morning, about thirty seconds after she watched him come, which was after he made her come.

  She melted deeper into him, tipping her head back. “You’re right. That’s what I said because that’s what I meant.”

  Her body, the invitation of her mouth, her words, he didn’t let it slide.

  But when he bent his neck to take her mouth that time, it wasn’t quick.

  * * *

  Three hours later…

  “Fuck, Emme.”

  He was close but she was closer, losing concentration while riding him, his ass to one of the steps of his pool, water up to his neck, Emme holding on tight, moving through the water, her sex convulsing as she took his cock, something he knew meant she was near the edge.

  Something he knew she’d let fly.

  He liked that, loved giving it to her, but he was as close as she was and watching her come without taking that pussy was pure torture, and when she lost concentration, he might have her pussy but he wasn’t taking it.

  So he put his hands to her waist and pulled her off his cock. She cried out as he surged out of the water, taking her with him by bending at the same time, wrapping her around his neck.

  She cried out again but this time it was, “Jacob!” as the slap of cold air hit them, her hands grabbing onto him as best she could.

  He went to the French doors, threw one open, got them in the warmth and pushed it closed. Then he stalked to the couch.

  “Jacob!” she yelled again. “We’re all wet.”

  He bent his back and neck, tossing her wet and naked on his couch. “Don’t fuckin’ care.”

  “We’re gonna ruin your—”

  “Spread, baby. Now. One leg over the back of the couch. One foot to the floor.”

  She shut up, her eyes locked to his, her face flushed, hair wet, tangled and all over his couch. She opened her legs, throwing one over the back of the couch, putting one foot to the floor.

  Fuck him.

  Gorgeous.

  He covered her, took her mouth and thrust deep.

  Her arms rounded him and her whimper raced down his throat.

  Soon, her pussy convulsed as she took his cock and her whimpers turned to heated mews.

  But he was close too.

  And he brought them home together, bodies and mouths connected, her cry mingled with groan.

  Magnificent.

  * * *

  Two days later…

  It was four o’clock in the morning and Deck was in Emme’s library, at her desk, computer on, file spread out at its side, working.

  He’d decided that, once they sorted the outside and the kitchen, he’d talk her into focusing on this room because he liked it.

  She’d cleaned it, polished the copious wood of the shelves and carved paneled inlays and it was furnished. But there were holes left from the rewiring and parts of the wall that were not wood but plaster had been papered circa 1968 and whoever chose the wallpaper had not chosen something that would become retro chic. There wasn’t much of it, but it was so bad, the little of it there was was an eyesore.

  “Honey, is everything okay?”

  He turned and saw his girl, barefoot, hair tousled and in his shirt, only a few buttons done up, walking his way.

  Seeing her in his shirt, he mentally calculated the distance to the guest room, inventoried the library’s furniture and decided on the couch and uninhibited noise. No way their sounds would carry up to the guest room, even if her mom and dad were awake.

  Still, they’d close the door.

  “Things are fine,” he answered as she stopped at his side.

  Her eyes slid over the desk and computer and he turned in her chair, a big baronial one she said she inherited from her father when he redecorated his office in Denver.

  “Come here,” Deck murmured. She looked to him, down to his lap, around the chair, hesitated a second then climbed on, knees in the seat beside him, ass to his thighs.

  He put hands to her ass, pushing up his shirt and finding no panties.

  He started to get hard.

  Fuck, he’d had his share of women, but none had made him react like Emme did.

  He knew it wasn’t all about her beauty, that hair, those eyes.

  It was about her going wild.

  And it was that her face still registered surprise sometimes when he was giving it to her, she knew she was going to get it, it wasn’t going slip away, and he liked that. It was cute. It was hot. But it was something only he gave her, which was well beyond cute or hot.

  It was also, he reckoned due to what they had before, that she trusted him so she felt free to explore, opened herself to him and let him take what he wanted, was comfortable and relaxed so he could guide her there. Enough to wander around without panties. Enough to sleep naked when he asked. Enough to come hard, never be guarded, occasionally expose uncertainty and let him take over and guide her out of that too.

  It was just Emme.

  “Why can’t you sleep?” she asked, and he stopped concentrating on the feel of her ass in his hands and focused on her.

  “Told you I only sleep four hours a night,” he reminded her and he had, over murgh makhani and turtle sundaes, before the pool, two nights ago.

  Her eyes held his as her hands slid up his chest to his neck.

  “Is this healthy?” she asked softly.

  “Been like this my whole life, baby. Never had any issues with fatigue.” He glided his hands up her back, pulling her closer and she didn’t fight it. “It’s just me. Looke
d into it, it’s not unusual. Other people are the same.”

  “Are those other people exceptionally bright, like you?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” he answered, liking also the way she teased him about his intelligence, brought it up often. It was something she understood, something she was not in awe of but that didn’t mean she didn’t admire it. She did. She made that plain, just in a playful way that meant she wasn’t intimidated by it as many people, men and women, were.

  “So, are you working?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  Her eyes wandered to the desk then back to him.

  “You said you’d never talk to me about your work,” she remarked in a leading way.

  Deck didn’t like this turn of conversation.

  Close to her ending things, Elsbeth bitched about this. Mostly the fact that, in establishing his business and reputation, he didn’t make near the money he did now. But Elsbeth was not the only woman Deck had in his life, nor was she the only one who bitched that what he did was confidential, he couldn’t share, but also, sometimes what he did was dangerous and he wouldn’t share in order not to cause concern that was unfounded.

  Because Deck never took an uncalculated risk.

  And Deck was very good at calculation.

  He took one hand from her ass to brush her bangs out of her eyes as he suggested, “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this at four o’clock in the morning.”

  To that, she strangely asked, “Do you mind talking about Elsbeth?”

  He didn’t know where she was going with this new conversational turn, but he answered, “No.”

  “She never told me about your work,” Emme shared.

  “That’s because she also didn’t know.”

  She nodded, pressed closer and continued, “Though, she did say that you didn’t make much money doing it.”

  “Back then, I didn’t,” Deck confirmed.

  “That’s obviously changed now, what with your mini-mansion and environmentally unconscious pool-heating waste.”

  He grinned, wrapped his arms around her and again confirmed, “Yeah, Emme, that’s changed now. I established a reputation, jobs more frequent, I can charge more.”

  She held his gaze steady, nodded and asked, “Do you like what you do?”

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “Does it challenge you? Mentally, I mean.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you know, back then with Elsbeth, that you’d eventually be this successful?”

  His chin jerked back but he held her stare.

  He never took an uncalculated risk.

  He knew.

  Elsbeth dumped him because his carefully crafted plan was not reaping the rewards she wanted by the time she expected.

  He, on the other hand, did expect it to take time and he’d told her it would.

  She’d lost patience with their two-bedroom apartment and not trading up their cars every year like her father had been doing since she was sixteen. Something, even though she also had a job, she expected him to bear the brunt of, like her father had been doing since she was sixteen.

  She’d also held off accepting the engagement ring Deck had given her three years in, not wearing it, not making it official, not planning a wedding, waiting.

  Then giving up.

  And he’d let her. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had words when she told him it was over.

  It was just that he didn’t do too much to change her mind.

  Fuck.

  “I knew. I also told her,” Deck shared.

  “She just didn’t wait,” Emme guessed.

  “No, she didn’t,” Deck told her something she knew.

  “More fool her,” she murmured then the dimple appeared, “but lucky me.”

  His hands started roaming and he grinned back. “Thinkin’ that too,” he replied. “Just about me.”

  At his words, her eyes warmed, she pressed closer and whispered, “Mom likes you.”

  Maeve had shown that day. Maeve had also cooked dinner for them that night and done it the entire time complaining about the stove, the flooring, the state of the countertops and how she’d probably wake screaming from her nightmares about Emme’s kitchen.

  In other words, Maeve Holmes was funny, like her daughter.

  But she did not make Shake ’n Bake.

  “I like your mom,” Deck whispered back, hands still roaming.

  “Can I ask one question about your work?”

  Sneak attack.

  “Emmanuelle—”

  She lifted a hand to his jaw, gliding her thumb along his lower lip and interrupting, “Just one, Jacob.”

  “You can ask it, baby, but in askin’, I’m askin’ you, please do not be pissed I can’t answer it.”

  She again held his gaze steady and nodded.

  “I don’t know what you do, not really. And I may not want to know what you do, considering it might be scary.”

  Again, pure Emme. Not fucking stupid.

  She went on, “I probably should have issues with that but I really don’t, if you like it and it challenges you. Except one. You’re not going to talk about it, you’ve made that clear. So that means you’re never going to be able to share about it, and by that I mean the stresses, the frustrations, things people usually can let go of during a mind dump with someone they care about. Which means you’ll likely hide those things from me as well. Therefore, what I’m going to ask is, will you pay attention to how it’s going, how it’s affecting you and stop doing it if it makes you unhappy?”

  Staring in her eyes, hearing her words, Deck’s blood heated, his chest got tight and his gut clenched.

  But his mouth said, “We haven’t had the conversation, but I seriously hope you’re okay I fuck you without a condom.”

  Her head jerked even as she blinked and asked, “Pardon?”

  He slid his ass down in the chair, his hands down her back to her ass, pulling her over his lap and saying, “Need to fuck you right now, don’t have one, so I hope you’re good with that.”

  Her hips jerked in his hands, her lips parted and he took one hand and moved it between them, finding her wet. At his touch, her eyes lowered slowly, her teeth sunk into her lip, and when her eyes opened again, she didn’t open them all the way.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, his fingers toying between her legs.

  She let her lip go, her hips undulating with his fingers and her eyes attempting to focus. “I’m…” her eyes slowly closed and again opened halfway, “on the Pill.”

  “Saw your pills, Emme, baby, is that your yes?”

  Another slow blink.

  Fuck.

  Gorgeous.

  “Have you always used protection?” she asked.

  “Always,” he answered.

  “Positive?” she pressed.

  She was getting wetter and her face was getting hotter.

  He needed in there.

  “Positive.”

  “I have too,” she replied. Her hips moved, her eyes tried and failed to focus on him, and she whispered, “You didn’t answer my question, honey.”

  He knew exactly what she was talking about and answered immediately so he could move this shit on.

  “I’ll stop doing it if it makes me unhappy. Now, you good with no protection?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, more than likely because he slid two fingers inside as she said that one word.

  He slid his fingers out, freed himself, positioned and slammed her down on his cock, filling her.

  Her head flew back, hair flying with it, then it fell forward. She pressed her face in his neck, and she started riding him.

  “What if Mom or Dad comes in?” she asked his neck.

  “They won’t,” he grunted, helping her move, his fingers digging deep, pulling her up and driving her down.

  “What if they do?” she pressed.

  “They won’t.”

  “Ja—”

  “
Baby, favor, you’re takin’ my cock, we don’t talk about your folks.”

  She lifted her head, still moving on him and showed him the uncertainty.

  He grinned, took one hand, slid it in her hair, pulled her to him and stopped grinning when he took her mouth.

  Five minutes later, he lifted her, still connected, walked her to the couch and finished taking them both there.

  Five minutes after he brought them home, hands trailing, lips drifting, hers found his ear.

  “What brought that on?” she asked.

  “Need a reason to fuck you?” he asked in return.

  “No, but—”

  He turned his head, caught her languid, beautiful eyes and she stopped talking.

  “Means a lot you give me my head to do my job, something I enjoy doing, something that challenges me, something I can’t discuss with you and something I know I can now do without you eventually bitching, nagging, wheedling or manipulating.”

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  Deck held her eyes.

  “Means a fuck of a lot, Emme.”

  “Oh,” she repeated on a whisper.

  Deck lifted a hand, trailed the backs of his fingers along her cheek, the corner of her mouth and down her neck before he rounded her with both arms.

  “You wanna snooze here while I work?”

  She nodded. “I’ll go get cleaned up and come back.”

  He dipped his head, kissed her and pulled them both to their feet. Emme disappeared for five minutes, came back with a thick throw from the family room and stopped at Deck to touch her mouth to his. Then she went to the couch and curled up.

  She was asleep within minutes.

  Deck worked for half an hour and only stopped to watch Buford amble in, look at Deck, look at Emme in the couch, take half a second to make a decision, then move to Emme and settle with a groan on the rug in front of her.

  Grinning, Deck went back to work and did it until it was time to wake Emme so she could get ready to go to the yard.

  * * *

  Six days later…

  Deck watched as Emme slid down his chest, her lips moving across it, no tongue, just lips, featherlight, the barest whisper, echoed by her hair which was drifting everywhere.