With Abandon: With or Without, Book 4

by J. L. Langley

  “No. It’s not that.”

  “Come on, Kit. Tell me what you think.” Not impatient. Coaxing. I think I’d have preferred exasperation. Then I could have worked myself into a snit and we could have sidestepped the issue for the time being.

  I rolled onto my back. “I don’t know. It’s never been good for me like that.”

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  Startled, I turned my head. J.X.’s nostrils had a pinched look, his mouth a straight line. I realized he was angry on my behalf. Angry at the idea of this imaginary lover who had hurt me with his careless, selfish ways. J.X. not realizing that I had probably been as careless and selfish as any of my lovers. Not that there had been so many of them, though I’d indulged in the usual youthful experimentation before settling down with David.

  “It’s not like that,” I said quickly, and I reached over to stroke his hair back from his serious face. The strands felt like silk—short, cool, black silk—and they clung to my fingers. “I mean it does hurt—”

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “But that’s not really it. I don’t mind a little discomfort if the payoff is worth—” I stopped in time.

  Not really in time, though.

  “But the payoff isn’t worth it?” His tone was absolutely neutral.

  I held his gaze with my own. “I think it would be with you, which is why, for probably the first time in my life, I’m starting to fantasize about it.”

  His face softened. “I think I could make it good for you, Kit. I’d make sure nothing hurt you. I’d take care of you every step of the way.” His voice went dark and husky, and he put his hand to my crotch, feeling me up through my jeans with an expert, even possessive hand.

  I heard myself make a sound in the back of my throat, and I closed my eyes, focusing on that touch.

  “I love you,” he said, and his mouth covered mine.

  There was a lump in my throat. I wasn’t used to someone…caring so much. It got to me in a way I’d never have expected. I made another of those freaky sounds—uncomfortably close to a whimper—and thrust against him.

  J.X.’s tongue slipped into my mouth, wet, hot, intrusive. Another thing I’d never been crazy about. What can I say? There’s a reason I chose to write about an elderly spinster and her cat. It wasn’t just the, um, hygiene factor—although supposedly dogs’ mouths are cleaner than humans—it was so personal having someone push his tongue into your mouth. Hard to think of other things when a guy’s checking out your back molars.

  J.X., however, French kissed me with delicacy and skill, and need bloomed like fever in my bloodstream.

  “I do want it,” I panted. “I want you to fuck me.”

  He groaned like I’d granted some amazing, impossible wish—which, frankly, was all the more exciting.

  He kissed me again, broke the kiss with seeming reluctance. “Hang on. We need something…”

  “Condoms. Hell. It’s been years since I’ve had to—”

  “No, not condoms. I mean, yes, condoms, but I’ve got condoms. I mean something we can use as lube.”

  I was still dealing with the fact that he evidently carried condoms everywhere like he was still nineteen, when the significance of the word lube hit me. I gave a shiver that was half excitement and half alarm.

  Jesus, we were going to do this. I was going to let him push that long, thick cock right up my tight little asshole.

  Wide-eyed, I watched him disappear into the bathroom and reappear a few seconds later with a bottle of Fekkai glossing conditioner.

  I was still clumsily trying to peel off my clothes as he took his place beside me on the bed. Together we helped each other undress, warm hands lingering in unconscious caress, accommodating each other. My heart was going a million miles an hour as I leaned back against the pillows he’d propped up for me. I watched his face, so grave and absorbed as he squirted the pale, shimmering liquid onto his fingers.

  The scent of sex mingled with that of sunflower and olive oil and citrus. Very California. Very us.

  He leaned forward to kiss me again. As our mouths brushed, a thought occurred to me. “Not on this bedspread!”

  He laughed against me, drew back. We did some frantic shoving and rearranging of bed linens.

  “Anything else?” His eyes were crinkling at the corners, and the knowledge that he would deal patiently with any further minor uproars went a long way to relaxing me. What was the big deal after all? It wasn’t like I’d never done this.

  “Be my guest,” I said.

  He grinned, reached forward to stroke me, cupping my balls lightly in his hand. “And what a wonderful host you are.”

  I spluttered a laugh, let my legs fall wide, making a cradle for him as he lowered his lean, muscular length onto me.

  “Am I hurting your arm?”

  “It’s not my arm I’m worried about.”

  I said it without thinking. His face was instantly serious. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “I know. Don’t listen to me.”

  He appeared to consider this. “Sometimes I think the words get in the way with you and me, but I always listen to you. I always will.”

  I nodded. “You’re better at this than I am. I’m trying to learn by example.”

  He looked touched. “That’s one of the nicest things you’ve said to me.”

  “I need to say more nice things to you.”

  I proceeded to turn over a new leaf. That led to some nuzzling and nibbling and other forms of unspoken communication. As J.X.’s clever fingers tweaked one of my nipples, I arched up. He watched me, his eyes dark and hooded, his mouth pink from kisses and love bites.

  I knew what was next and I consciously relaxed my muscles as I felt his warm hand spreading the silky lotion in the cleft of my ass.

  This was it. I shifted, allowing him better access, trying not to tense as J.X. pushed his finger through the tight band of muscle. It was invasive, certainly, but it was electrifying too. I bit my lip, trying not to make any sound that might be mistaken for pain. It was a bit uncomfortable, but the wicked pleasure of J.X. touching me there melted any resistance I might have had.