Love Is In the Air Volume 1

by Susan Stoker

  His face when he turned around, my jeans fisted in his hand, was the best thing I'd seen in a long time. His mouth fell open in surprise, those soft, full lips begging to be kissed. My jeans fell to the floor with a low thud. "Hope?"

  I know it was the hormones giving me courage, and I didn't care. I wanted my husband, and I loved the thrill of shocking him. It was always the other way around with us. For a lot of reasons, I'd lived a sheltered life for far too long, and while Griffen hadn't been my first kiss, he'd been my first everything else.

  Shy by nature, it was easier to let him lead when it came to sex. I got so caught up in my head, nervous that I'd do something wrong, not sure if my instincts were right. When Griffen took control, I didn't have to worry anymore.

  That had worked for us just fine—until my hormones took charge. I was still shy, I just didn't care quite so much about doing something wrong. I was learning with Griffen there was no wrong. Especially if I started by getting naked.

  "Can you wait for breakfast?" I asked, thrilled at the husky tone in my voice. I sounded like a sex goddess. Good, because I felt like one. Griffen swallowed hard and nodded. I strode across the room, hips swinging, body pulsing at the sight of his tongue darting out to lick his lips. He reached for me as soon as I drew close.

  I shook my head. "No. I finally have you at my mercy. You stand there and keep your hands to yourself."

  Griffen dropped his hands to his sides, his cheeks flushing, jaw tight. I pressed a kiss to that jaw as my hands went to the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Now that I had him all to myself, I was impatient, eager to get what I wanted.

  Shirt gone, I worked on his jeans, tearing at the button at his waist. I shoved his jeans down, taking his boxers with them. My plan hit a bottleneck at his feet. Kneeling on his discarded t-shirt, I lifted his foot, tugging at his boot. I had one foot free of boot and jeans when I looked up and realized I was face-to-face with his very hard cock.

  Hmmm. It had been a while since I'd been in this position. I'd missed it. A lot. I'd gotten pregnant so early in our marriage, basically right away thanks to a forgotten condom, and not long after that, the idea of putting anything in my mouth became a serious no-go. Poor Griffen. He'd never complained, not a word, but I could bet that if I'd missed this, he'd missed it even more.

  Forgetting his other boot and his jeans, I sat back on my heels and contemplated the sight in front of me. Long, thick, and very hard. Leaning in, I nuzzled his cock, drawing in the earthy scent of him, marveling at the softness of his skin, velvet over steel.

  Fingers stroked the hair back from my temple, not urging me closer or away, just touching, stroking. Loving. Unable to wait a second longer, I closed my mouth over his length and sucked.

  Yes. Exactly what I'd been missing. With one hand, I stroked his hip, moving to close my fingers around his tight ass as I sucked harder, taking him deeper. I couldn't take all of him, not even close, but I did my best.

  I loved this, loved the feel of him filling my mouth, loved the way his breath hitched, and he moaned. Taking my time, I indulged, drawing him in over and over, tasting and teasing, making us both crazy.

  My body thrummed with need. I loved Griffen's cock in my mouth, but I wanted more. Instinct. I didn't need to think, I just needed to do. I wanted to be touched. I had two hands, didn't I?

  Sliding my mouth from Griffen's cock, I straightened a little, inching my knees further apart, giving his length a long, slow lick before taking him inside again. His breath came fast, pulse pounding so hard I could feel it against my tongue. With one hand, I circled his cock, holding him tight, squeezing as I sucked.

  "Hope," he groaned above me, voice low and rough. "Holy fuck, Hope. I can't–" His fingers threaded through my hair, gripping tight as if he was holding on for dear life. I sucked harder, heat throbbing everywhere. I wanted more and I didn't want to let him go.

  Dropping my hand to my breast, I cupped the swollen flesh, oddly delighted by the way my breasts had changed. Still of modest size, they'd filled in and grown so much more sensitive. A sharp pinch to my nipple had me moaning. Griffen swore. I looked up to see his pupils dilated, red flags of color on his cheeks, his skin stretched tight as if I'd dragged him right to the edge of his limits.

  But Griffen had control. He could last a little longer. I slid my fingers across my chest to cup my other breast, watching his eyes track my hand, hungry and just a little disbelieving. Power washed through me, transmuting instantly into desire. It was always Griffen shocking me. I'd never realized how hot it would be to turn things around. I pinched my other nipple, almost falling to the floor at the wave of pleasure.

  The need between my legs wouldn't be denied. My eyes locked to Griffen's, I dropped my hand and stroked, surprised to find myself slick and ready. Later. Because I'd just remembered something. Slowly pulling my mouth from his cock, I looked up. He started to step back, probably to haul me to the bed. I closed my hand around his cock.

  "No. Not yet."

  "Hope. Buttercup." His nickname for me came out on a groan. I arched an eyebrow and smirked up at him.

  "Do you remember when we were in Atlanta? The first time we— uh, I—" Damn it. How could I have his cock in my hand and I still couldn't say it?

  "The first time I made you come?" he asked, smirking back at me.

  "And I told you—"

  "That you'd made yourself come, but that was the first time you'd come with another person." His voice was so low, so rough, I could barely hear him.

  "And later, you said you wanted to see that, but I was too shy." My face flamed at saying it, even driven as I was by lust and hormones and the sheer freedom of being with Griffen, who loved everything about me, even when I was uncertain and awkward.

  With gentle fingers, so gentle despite the tension gripping him, Griffen brushed my hair back from my temple. "I remember."

  "I don't feel shy now." That was all I had to say. Fueled by my own need and the desperate groan vibrating in Griffen's chest, I parted my lips and took him as deep as I could, driving a finger inside me at the same time.

  I have no idea how I stayed upright. My hand and mouth on Griffen's cock anchored me even as my fingers between my legs turned my muscles to jelly. I sucked and squeezed, pressing my palm into my clit hard, driving my fingers deeper. A whimper escaped my throat, then another as sensation rose in a wave, drowning me, stripping away all reservations, all sense of self-consciousness. I was only pleasure, driven by need and Griffen's harsh pants above me.

  I needed to come, needed him to come. I'd never felt that, his orgasm in my mouth. I'd seen it, tasted it, felt it inside me, but never like this. He was mine. His pleasure was mine and I wanted it. The thought of it, of him coming like this, in my mouth, exploded in my brain, the mental image sending me over the edge.

  Hips rocking into my hand, the rough hair on his thighs scraping my nipples, I fucked myself with my fingers and sucked on his cock like it was the only thing tethering me to this earth. Maybe it was. It didn't matter. This was all I wanted. Almost.

  I didn't have to wait long for the rest. Griffen's fingers tightened in my hair, and he groaned out my name, his hips jerking as orgasm took him the way it had taken me. Hard, and fast, and so fucking good.

  I was still getting my bearings when Griffen scooped me off the floor, striding to the big bed. He tossed me and I bounced once, sitting up to find Griffen between my legs. Head spinning, I asked, "Didn't you— I mean, you can't—" Post-orgasm, my boldness fled.

  His grin sent a tremor from my head to my toes. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You with your mouth on me was enough to blow my head off, but fuck, Hope, I couldn't hold on. I saw you come and that was it."

  I grinned back, not sure I'd ever been more pleased with myself. "That was the idea."

  Griffen dropped his head, rolling his forehead against my breast bone, his silky blond hair stroking my skin. Turning his face to the side, he murmured, "And I thought I had the g
ood ideas this weekend."

  "You got us here," I reminded him.

  "True. And I'm not done yet. Stay there." Griffen rose from the bed, snagging his phone from his jeans. He sent a quick text before climbing back onto the huge bed. "Breakfast will be here in thirty minutes. I bet I can make you come at least one more time before then."

  His mouth closed around my breast and I knew I'd never take that bet. We'd already learned he could bring me right to the edge of orgasm just by sucking my nipples. By the time I was stepping into a quick shower twenty-five minutes later, he'd made good on his challenge twice over. My knees were weak, my stomach growling with ravenous hunger, and I didn't think I'd ever been this happy in my entire life.

  4

  Griffen

  We feasted on croissants and raspberry jam, eggs Benedict, and smoked salmon. By the time we were done, Hope's eyes were drooping.

  "No stamina," I teased. "We barely got out of bed and you already want a nap?"

  "It's so sad," she agreed, laughing ruefully.

  I wasn't complaining. I carried her up the stairs to that big bed we still hadn't properly broken in. Hope got her nap, but the second her eyes fluttered open I kissed them closed, hands stroking, mouth following, touching her everywhere until she was begging me to fuck her. Hope saying 'fuck' always went straight to my cock. I couldn't help it. My sweet Hope never swore. Not unless she was furious—or really, really turned on.

  No one made her angry if I could help it, but I loved few things more than getting her so hot she said 'fuck'. Especially if she was begging me to fuck her. I could take care of my wife. Now that we had a little temporary freedom, I was going to take care of her all day and all night. With a few breaks for sleep and food.

  We barely dragged ourselves out of bed the rest of the day. We managed to call for dinner and eat at the big table, bringing dessert in front of the fire when the sun set, and we could almost justify needing the extra heat.

  I stripped her naked in front of the flickering flames, laying her across a soft, faux fur rug and licking the tiramisu from her skin until she came apart under my mouth and again on my cock.

  The second the terms of the will were satisfied, I was dumping the company on Royal for a month and disappearing with my wife. A weekend was not enough.

  We were drunk on each other, so gone we might not have left the house until Monday, but I had one more surprise for Hope. On Sunday, after a late morning nap, I tossed her a pair of jeans and a flowy tank top she liked.

  "Actual clothes? Really?" Her raised eyebrow startled a laugh from me.

  "We're going outside. You can wear your robe if you want to. Or nothing at all."

  Mouth twisting in a wry grin, she pulled on the top and wiggled into her jeans. Looking down at the button that resisted closing, she said, "I'm going to have to go shopping soon. None of my pants will button anymore." Pulling an elastic band from her hair, she looped it through the button hole and hooked the end around the button. It gave her another inch, so at least her jeans wouldn't fall down. Good enough.

  "We can hit a mall on the way home."

  "Or I'll hit the internet," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I'm not sure I want to haul the security team into a maternity store."

  "They wouldn't mind," I lied. They would, but they'd never say a word. "Whatever you want."

  "I'll worry about it later," she said, turning for the door. "Where are we going? Do I need shoes? Because I don't think I have shoes."

  I handed her a pair of slide-on tennis shoes I'd thrown in the duffel. "Voilà. I told you I packed for you."

  She grinned at me and put the shoes on. "Forgive me for doubting you. It's just that I haven't put any real clothes on since we got here, so I was starting to wonder what was in there."

  "I was mostly planning to keep you naked, but I packed the shoes just for this."

  "Now I'm really curious."

  She followed me down the stairs and through the kitchen where I grabbed the wicker picnic basket the staff had left at my request. When I told them what I wanted and why I wanted it, they were more than happy to accommodate me.

  "It's a little bit of a walk, but not that far," I explained as I led Hope out a side door, across the wide deck, and down the stairs to the grass below. We followed a path leading through the trees behind the house, the forest so dense that within minutes the house all but disappeared. A few more minutes and I set the picnic basket down, stopping Hope.

  "Close your eyes," I ordered.

  "Why?" she asked, her eyes already shut tight.

  "You'll see," I said after pressing a kiss to her lips.

  Here the path widened, flat and smooth, so I didn't have to worry about her tripping on a root or rock. A few more steps and we were there. Moving behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, I whispered in one ear, "Open your eyes."

  Hope's warm brown eyes flashed open. As she took in the scene, they filled with tears. "You remembered."

  "Of course I remembered. I meant to do this at home, but there never seems to be any time."

  Spread before us, the forest opened into a small clearing that dropped off in a steep cliff at the other end, giving us a spectacular view of the mountains beyond. But the view of the mountains wasn't why we were here.

  We were here for the buttercups. Like a golden carpet, they spread out before us, so thick they eclipsed the grass. Buttercups everywhere we could see, framed by the trees and the sky, their golden heads open to the sun.

  When we were kids, Hope had loved to escape to the field beyond Heartstone Manor and hide away with a book, surrounded by the buttercups that grew in abundance while her uncle and my father worked in the house. Our friendship had begun there, among those bright yellow flowers, as we hid from our responsibilities at home. She'd told me her dreams. I'd told her mine.

  Life had taken us so far from the children we'd been and yet had brought us back to the place we belonged. Together. All these years later, I finally understood what she'd meant to me, even back then. She'd been my destiny, and I'd been hers.

  "I told you," I said in her ear, "I always loved you. It just took me a while to figure it out."

  "We're having a picnic?" she asked, her voice wavering the tiniest bit.

  "Just like I promised, a picnic in the buttercups." I hefted the picnic basket and took Hope's hand in mind. "The first of many."

  "The first of many," Hope agreed, and her kiss, surrounded by the buttercups I'd named her for, was the promise of everything good to come. The promise of everything I’d ever dreamed, finally come true.

  --- END ---

  Tragic Hearts

  Jeana E. Mann

  1

  "Is that—are we going there?" I point toward the largest house I've ever seen. Situated on the top of a hill, the home overlooks a valley of tall trees and white rail fences.

  "Yeah," Mom answers in an awed whisper. "I mean, no. That's our employer's house."

  The closer we get, the bigger the mansion becomes. The summer wind blows spray from a fountain onto the Bronco's dusty windshield. A few yards away, a shirtless guy looks up from trimming a hedge and flattens a hand over his eyes to get a better look at us.

  Goodness, he's gorgeous with tanned skin, rippling abs, and black curly hair hanging over his eyes. He stares back at us before wiping the sweat from his brow using a muscled forearm. I gawk like an idiot as he reaches for the water bottle at his feet and takes a drink. Lord have mercy. It's like watching a TV commercial. He lifts a hand in a half-hearted wave. I wave back. Maybe Tennessee won't be so bad after all.

  Mom releases the steering wheel to run her palms over the thighs of her jeans like her hands might be sweaty and gives me a shaky smile. "Okay, kiddo. Let's go see our new home."

  We leave the shirtless guy behind us, curve around a six-car garage, some stables, and other outbuildings. Our new home is a short distance down the hill from the manor. I blink twice, certain my eyes are playing tricks on me. Someone has built a life
-size Victorian dollhouse in this small patch of woods. When I was a kid, I dreamed of living in a house exactly like this, one with gingerbread trim and a huge wraparound porch. I skip ahead of Mom, forgetting my anger, pushing through the gate of the picket fence to stand in the yard.

  "Is this for real?" I ask without turning around. Instead, I bend backward to stare up at the rooster weathervane on the roof.

  "Yeah. Can you believe it?" She drapes an arm around my shoulders. For a fraction of a second, we're like our old selves—happy, carefree, contented.

  "No." Roses and ivy cascade over the corners of the porch. I take in a deep breath to savor their sweet scent. "What's the catch?"

  Mom places her hands on her hips and exhales. "No catch. We get free room and board in return for overseeing the daily business. It's furnished. Two bedrooms. Two bathrooms. You can have the one upstairs. I'll get a new bedspread and curtains if you want." Always the bigger person, she's offering an olive branch, even though I've been selfish and hateful for most of the drive from Indianapolis to Nashville.

  "It'll be fine." I throw my arms around her neck, the way I did when I was small, and try not to sniffle. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch, Mom." Moving here wasn't my idea. I was just starting to find friends in Indy when she announced we were moving—again.

  "It's okay, honey." Her hand rubs small, soothing circles over my back.

  When I look up, the hot guy from the yard is standing on the steps. My belly does a backflip at finding him within an arm's reach. Somewhere between the yard and our porch, he put on a T-shirt that shows every dip and swell of his muscles. He smiles at us, hands shoved into the pockets of his low-slung jeans and a smirk beneath his mirrored aviator shades. I back away from Mom, feeling more than a little embarrassed at acting like a baby in front of him. Mom turns, her gaze following mine, taking in the ripples of his abdomen beneath the tight shirt.