Trouble Under Venus

by Autumn Piper

  The bikini was much more revealing than my usual athletic-type tanks. Since I didn’t plan to be cliff-or scuba-diving, it should stay put. Maybe it was time I take a vacation where I could relax and wear a little number like this the entire trip. All my wild adventurous trips seemed to get me nothing but lonely.

  With a hotel towel draped over my shoulder, I grabbed my heavy old-style room key and jerked the door open a bit more roughly than intended.

  Mitch all but knocked on my nose with his knuckles.

  My heart beat a traitorously happy tattoo inside my chest at the sight of him.

  “What the? Where you going?” He panted. His face was dark with exertion, droplets of sweat running from the ends of his hair around his face.

  “I…nowhere. I guess.” Surely Mitch the Triathloner hadn’t worked up such a sweat in only two blocks. “Why are you sweating so much?” He had on his running clothes... “It’s not that far here.”

  “I…” He stepped inside past me and I closed the door. Then he bent over, resting his elbows on his knees, gasping to catch his breath. “I, ran…” A couple deep gasps. “…the other way, at first.”

  The other way. He’d run the other way. “You mean you went the wrong way?”

  “No. I knew where I was…going.” His breathing was returning to normal. “But then I…changed my mind.”

  All I could think was fine. Fine, in a huffy voice, for him running in the opposite direction. And fine, he changed his mind. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” This time it was certainly a question.

  “Okay.” I stepped closer to him, to show my okayness with his changing his mind. “Very okay.”

  He caught my face between his hands. His lips, salty and hot, buried mine. Another half step and we were tight against each other, my hands in the hollows of his shoulders, then sliding down hot biceps. Skipping down his ribs and along his lower back. Clasping his butt like I’d longed to do for a lifetime. When his lips left mine and moved down to my neck, his hair brushed my nose, smelling of sweaty man and shampoo.

  “Nice suit,” he murmured against my collar bone as he unlatched the bikini top. He was well on his way to groping my breasts, but for my part, I was still content holding his rock-hard butt.

  When he pinched my nipples, I groaned. With an impatient flick, he pulled the bikini top from my arms, tossed it aside. He lowered his face toward my chest and I clung to his butt for dear life. The things his mouth did to me… I’d never known the sides of my breasts were so sensitive. He had me whimpering in agonized ecstasy by the time he scooped me up and deposited me on the bed. As he shimmied my suit bottom off me, I couldn’t help asking, “When you gonna take off your clothes?”

  He actually blushed before peeling off his shirt, toeing off his shoes and socks, and then the breathtaking moment of revelation when he ditched those running shorts. With a mere glimpse to admire his package before he was atop me, I conveyed my appreciation in a sigh.

  Then he was full-length on top of me, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, key sexual anatomy to just between my legs. Unable to resist, I reached down and touched him, tentatively at first and then with a full grip. He shuddered against me, moaning into my mouth. His body was hot and still a bit damp with sweat, salty wherever I tasted him. Perfect, in every way. And obviously as eager as I was to get on with intercourse. The tip of his penis was slick and wet under my fingers. Perfect time to initiate penetration. My body fairly screamed its desire, throbbing and pulsing in need for him. I bucked my hips against his to signal my readiness.

  But Goodbody had other plans. With one last, tender kiss, he moved his mouth from mine and took it touring south, down between my breasts, for a leisurely, tickly trip across my navel, and on down to Writhing Territory. Oh, holy God, what that man could do with his tongue! True to form, he made me come in seconds, his appreciative chuckle rumbling against my thighs as I thrashed and clenched bunches of bedding in my hands. And then, despite my wiggling and pleading, he took his good, sweet time kissing his way back up my tummy and chest.

  When he was even with my face again, braced on his arms above me, I looked long and hard at the green eyes I’d fallen for. He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes for an extended blink, and then smiled with that half dimple.

  He slid inside me smooth and deep, taking my breath, halting my heart. On second thought, if I could stop the hands of time, this would be the instant.

  “Oh God.” I sighed.

  “Baby.” His hands tangled in my hair, and his face…well, his face told me it felt every bit as wonderful for him. He performed a couple of slow thrusts. “Oh, fuck. Baby.” In an instant, his control vaporized and he went for it, pounding hard and fast until my entire body clenched and released in joyful spasms. My orgasm seemed to turn him on, because he thrust deep and then held me tight, his face buried against my neck as he gasped my name, again and again.

  Why it felt like the beginning of something, I couldn’t say. This moment had been a long time in the making. A tear slid from the corner of my eye, nonetheless.

  Wiping the tear away with a knuckle, he asked, “What’s that for?”

  I wasn’t sure. But a bit of fibbing seemed imperative to self-preservation. “I always cry when I—”

  “The condom. Goddammit, I forgot the condom!”

  “Oh.” A not-so-small detail. Only, whether from the hormones and endorphins awash in my body or plain stupidity, I couldn’t bring myself to be distressed. I’d just had amazing sex with Mitchell Goodman. I loved him, even if he didn’t know it. Nothing was going to mess up this moment.

  “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” He’d already pulled out and left me yearning to have him inside me again. Half his body weight still rested on my legs, but it wasn’t enough.

  “It’s…okay. I forgot too.” I snuggled in closer, to nuzzle his neck. “We’ll use a condom next time, huh?”

  “Next time,” he mumbled. “Christ, that was really stupid of me. After we put it off during the camping trip because we had no protection. And then we just…shit.”

  Panic threatened to mar my moment. Was he fearing an unplanned pregnancy and feeling trapped? If he felt forced into a relationship, I’d never get a chance to win him over. That would be bad, certainly. My dad came to mind. Maybe he’d been on his way to falling in love with my mom when Grandpa forced them to marry. We’d never know, because the dynamics of their relationship changed forever once that pregnancy—which was me—came into the picture. God, surely history was not repeating itself. I found myself crying again. What should be a happy moment was nerve-wracking instead, all because of uncontrolled passion.

  “Hey. Oh Christ, Drew, please don’t cry. If…something comes of it, I’ll do the right thing. I’ll take care of you.”

  Was that resignation in his voice, or reassurance?

  “I know you will.” I wiped my eyes with the back of one hand, determined to change the subject and shed no more tears. “Besides, I’d be all set if I conceived a kid now. It would go in the Guinness Book for the longest-ever gestation of a human baby. I mean, thirty years has got to be a record, right?” My joke fell somewhat flat on my own ears, owing to the likelihood that time travel wasn’t entirely safe for the pregnant. Time to leave the subject completely. “So tell me why you ran the other way down the street, when you had secret, no-strings sex waiting for you.”

  All along my body, I felt him tense. “No strings? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means…” I wasn’t sure what I’d meant, except to put him at ease so he wouldn’t feel so pressured for a relationship. “Hey! Answer the fucking question, Goodman! Why’d you take off running when I invited you over here?” I glared into his face, waiting for an answer. His eyes darted left and right. “And what made you change your mind and come here after all?”

  Smiling in an “aha!” kind of way, he locked gazes with me. “Thinking of you here, so close. Ready. Willing.” Apparently thinking of it still got him excited, b
ecause he’d gotten quite hard against my leg again. “Looks like I found you just in time, though.”

  “I wasn’t gonna sit around here all day and mope, if you didn’t show.”

  “I’d have been here sooner, but I had to come in through the back door. There was some scene down front with a cabbie and two cops. I wasn’t taking any chances of being recognized, since there’s an APB out for Miguel.”

  “Oh.” Good point, it was probably a bad idea for Mitch to be seen too much. “I guess spending the day in bed with a fugitive is as thrilling as my second choice for the day. Paraskiing. I flipped through the phone book, but it’s a pain trying to find specific sports stuff like that without the internet.”

  “Paraskiing.” He shook his head at me like I was nuts. “I’m glad I was first and not second.”

  “I’d have invited you along.” I clapped my hand over my mouth when I remembered. “Oh, right, your fear of heights. Sorry. But you know, you can come down whenever you want, paraskiing.” Unable to resist the grin or the jibe, “And I’d hold your hand the whole way.”

  “Yeah?” In a second, he had my body pinned with his. “How ’bout I give you something better to hold all day?”

  He didn’t give me a chance to make a smart reply; his mouth had taken mine, stealing my breath once more.

  Chapter 26

  In one afternoon, Mitch and I made up for many lost opportunities. Our growing trophy of empty condom packages represented more than mere quantity, though. With each successive round, the quality of Mitch’s lovemaking became slower, more intense. All except, I’m proud to say, the bout in the shower. When I sank to my knees in front of him, his staying power vanished.

  By the last time, it seemed we’d go on forever, lost in a loop of continual pleasure. We had no need to ever stop. I felt happier and more secure than I had in years, more complete than I had…ever.

  Pausing to rest, he lay atop me and looked down into my eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “Mmm. How you make me feel.”

  “Horny?” He chuckled and nipped my upper lip between his teeth.

  “Besides that.” With him staring down at me, those drowsy eyes boring into my soul, it wasn’t hard to admit, “Whole. You know, like in that movie where they say ‘You complete me.’”

  “Ah, Drew.” He shut his eyes as if trying to block something out.

  “What?”

  “Shhh.” To make sure I shut up, he used his old tactic of kissing me silent. And resumed thrusting with renewed vigor. The way his hands held me tight was all new, though. So was the way he held us close together, hardly moving as he came, almost clinging as if afraid. The prolonged pressure of him against my center kept the orgasms coming in long, deep waves until I thought I’d die if my muscles clenched one more time.

  The single thought in my mind was how much I loved him. I must have said it aloud at some point, because he pressed his finger to my lips.

  “Don’t. Please. We have no idea what’s gonna happen tomorrow night.”

  “What?” Did he interrupt my proclamation because of his case? Those damn tears made an encore appearance.

  “Oh Christ. Not the crying again. You’re killin’ me, Drew.” He scrubbed his fingers through his hair as he sat up, breaking all physical contact. “I thought we’d get it out of our system but we just made it worse.”

  “Worse?” How could anything be bad after this afternoon, let alone worse? “You can’t play mind games with me, Goodman. I’ve got feelings, you know!”

  “I know, which is why I tried to convince you we should keep our distance ’til this whole thing was over.” He’d stood and walked to the foot of the bed.

  “Yeah, but saying one thing and doing another, all your damn mixed signals, have me more confused than, than…” I was so confused I couldn’t even compare it to anything. “Shit. I can’t think.” He held his head in his hands, shaking it as my voice raised. “Hot, cold, hot, cold. Of all the men, I have to fall for a schizophrenic Don Juan.”

  “It’s not my fault your dad’s a controlling asshole!” An instant look of regret crossed his features.

  I stood up. “What has my father got to do with this?”

  He turned his back to me, but I stepped around him to see his face. I swore I wouldn’t. Wasn’t that what he’d said the night before?

  “Mitch? Tell me. Is he the reason you’ve been acting so weird?”

  His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. To unclamp those lips, I reached out and twisted his nipple.

  “Ouch! Damn. Yes, your old man’s the problem. The night you guys rescued me, he made me promise I’d keep my hands off you.”

  Silence fell between us. So Keen thought he could control my love life. Correction: he thought he was protecting me from guys like him. And Mitch had agreed. Not because he feared being arrested and jailed, but because he wanted to stay on Rico’s payroll. For his case. It always came back to the case, didn’t it?

  I’d spent an afternoon in bed with a man willing to disguise himself as a nerd scientist with hair dye and contact lenses and fake tans, so he could learn about chakras and yoga and risk his life traveling across the space-time continuum for a case. Of course said case was important enough for him to swear off a girl for a few more days.

  Yet, he’d risked it all for our rendezvous.

  “But you,” he said, chucking me under the chin and tipping my face up so I had to look at him, “wouldn’t stop trying to seduce me.” His face broke into a grin about a mile wide. “Just like in Sedona, since that first night you were ogling me from your balcony.”

  “Oh! I was sooo not ogling or sedu—”

  His kiss was even better than getting the last word.

  At last he pulled his lips away. “Still the only way to get you to shut up.”

  If I started talking again, would he kiss me more?

  “So,” he asked, resting both hands on my shoulders, “Where’d you say Daddy Dearest is going tonight?”

  “I…” What reason would Mitch have to doubt Keen’s story? I couldn’t keep the suspicion from my voice. “Why do you ask?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I ask, because I’d like to drive you to the beach and watch the sunset. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be missed.”

  Oh. That would be nice. “He’s going to the library.” I tried really hard to sound nonchalant, but it came out sounding like a lie. Maybe because I doubted it myself.

  “The library? You believe that?”

  I shrugged. “The other night he was researching stuff about patents for his flashlight idea.”

  “But?”

  Mitch had on his case-face. He was serious and for once, he seemed to truly value what I had to say.

  “But I don’t know. I mean, well, I kinda snooped through his pockets because—”

  He shook his head at me and grinned.

  “Because he had donut on his face. So he had these receipts in his coat pocket and he’d been at the donut shop all evening long, drinking coffee. But not buying donuts.” I crossed my arms between us and waited, figuring what I’d learned meant very little, if anything. Any minute, he’d laugh at me.

  “Donuts.” Mitch let go of my shoulders and paced. His spectacular rearview almost made me forget what we were thinking about until he spoke again. “Uh-huh.” He nodded, then turned and gave me the full frontal. “Drew, what do most people think of when they hear ‘donuts’?”

  I wanted to say “carbs” to harass him. But he was taking me seriously so I’d better play the part. “Cops? You think Keen’s spending his evenings off from Conga with the fuzz? So you think he’s turning state’s witness?” This was good news; maybe Mitch would be able to find out what happened to him.

  “State’s witness? At this point he’s more of a nark. Bet he’s using his clout with the cops to increase his stature in Rico’s organization. It would explain how he always knows where the cops will be. But these are local cops, not the kind who would relocate him.”
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  “Oh. But maybe they’ll turn him on to the FBI. I mean, he could finger some big players, right?”

  “Baby, your dad was not relocated. I used the TTR to have Sudo get hold of my partner. There’s something I want to show you. Get dressed. We’re going for a ride.”

  * * * *

  Riding behind Mitchell Goodbody on a motorcycle had fast become one of life’s finest pleasures.

  It was good we left the hotel when we did. On the way out, we’d seen two cops and a hotel employee knocking on doors down the hall from mine. Who knew if they would have recognized Mitch, but better safe than sorry.

  After a hurried, incognito walk to his apartment, I’d waited while he threw on some long pants and then we’d ridden off on his bike.

  The sun was sinking low as we headed into a neighborhood, rather than the beach. Mitch pulled up in front of a duplex on a street lined with many more exactly like it.

  “Wait here, and watch,” he said.

  With quick strides, he approached the door and rang the bell. I waited and watched. Bored with looking at the door, I pasted my eyes to his Levi’s-clad butt instead. And then a man came out. Mitch asked directions to a particular address, coaxed the resident off his stoop to point him the right way. When Mitch moved aside, standing there in jeans and a rugby shirt, was none other than Stu. Grandma’s Stu. Not looking in the least like a dancer.

  I was still trying to wrap my head around why Mitch would be showing me Stu, when he returned and started the bike.

  By the time he’d parked at the beach and killed the engine, I had a million questions for him.

  “Before you start,” he interrupted, “would you like me to tell you who that was?”

  I shook my head. “I know who it was, it was—”

  “Steven Miller, future patent holder of the Focus Flashlight, future millionaire, soon-to-be-ex FBI agent.”

  “Stu.”

  He pursed his lips. “Steve.”

  “Stu gets the patent, for Dennis?”