by Deborah Camp
He gave her a few more licks that made her gasp and shudder before he shifted up her body to take one of those tantalizing peaks into his mouth. He sucked hard and she arched up, her hands diving into his hair, her nails scraping his scalp. His tongue chased her nipple, making it harden to a little stone and then he took the other one in his mouth. She made incoherent sounds as he suckled one and then the other, back and forth until she grasped his face and made him stop.
“Inside me,” she whispered, her eyes glowing with mad desire. “Now, please. Now.”
Her fingers circled him and she attempted to guide him to her portal. He brushed her hand away, turning to the side table to get a condom from the drawer. “I told you that I’m on the pill.”
“I know, but I always wrap it up.”
“Right, because you’re always fucking a new girl. I’m not new. You think I’m dirty? You think I wouldn’t tell you if I had an STD?”
“No, of course not.” He frowned and looked at the condom foil between his fingers. “This is for you, too.”
“I believe you, Matthew. If you say you always use a condom, then that’s that. You trust me? I trust you.”
He stared at her, listening to what she was telling him as much as what she wanted from him, what she needed from him. “This is a big trust, baby.”
She nodded.
He hadn’t gone without a condom since his marriage. She would be the first and only woman since Carin that he’d experience flesh to flesh. His balls grew heavier and his cock bobbed as a new surge of blood filled them. He tossed the condom back into the drawer and positioned himself at her opening. Sucking in a big breath, he breached her and the sensation of her hot, wet flesh sliding against his hyper-sensitive cock made his eyes roll back into his head and a groan of pure gratitude rumble in his chest.
All civility fled from his mind and body, overtaken with primal need to wring every bit of feeling from the coupling. His whole world contracted to the joining of his body to hers, the hot friction of him thrusting into her and pulling out, the tight clinging of her walls as he moved deeper into her. Sweat beaded his forehead and dotted his upper lip. His body grew slick with it as he gripped her waist and quickened the tempo. Her panting and murmurs, her hiccupping moans and little grunts fueled him. He paused only long enough to turn her onto her side. He grasped one of her ankles, lifting her leg to give him room to penetrate her at this different angle, parts of her rubbing new parts of him, spawning new sensations that sent her over the edge and drove him out of his mind.
Driven by desire, he shifted her onto her stomach and took her from behind, grasping one of her shoulders and hanging onto her hip with the other as his movements accelerated and a ball of fire settled at the base of his spine. He brought her to orgasm again. Her insides clung to him, milked him, and the fire licked up his backbone and then shot back down to his erection. The intensity of his climax blew every thought out of his head. He gave a shout and released into her, each long spurt like the kiss of a whip, stinging and demanding total surrender. The muscles in his arms trembled and he eased himself down until he could kiss her nape, nuzzle her hair, smell himself mixed in with her heady perfume.
“Zaney,” he said, his voice gruff but weakened by the earth-shattering experience of giving everything he had in him to this woman. “Zaney.”
“Mmmm.” She sighed and her breath fluttered strands of her coppery hair that curtained the side of her face. “You’re a beast, Birdsong.”
“If I am, you tamed this beast,” he said, smiling as he dragged his lips down her spine to the dimples above her cute butt. “That was . . . beyond beyond. I’ll never forget this night, Zaney. If I live to be one hundred, I’ll die thinking about you and how our very souls seemed to merge just now.”
“The poet again,” she murmured with a lazy tilt of her lips. “I bring out both the bard and beast in you.”
He opened his mouth and bit down gently on one butt cheek, making her yip in surprise.
“Beast!” she protested, propping herself up on her elbows to glare over her shoulder at him.
Laughing, he grabbed her and flipped her over onto her back, bracketing her body with his legs and arms. He stared down into her flushed face. The hair curled damply at her temples and forehead and her smiling lips, a little puffy from his demanding kisses, tempted him. His heart melted around the edges at the way she looked at him, at the trust she’d shown him, at the power of her desire for him and of his for her.
“My lucky charm,” he whispered against her lips. “I don’t deserve you.”
She linked her fingers at the back of his neck and stars danced in the green pools of her eyes. “You’re right. You don’t.” Her eyebrows arched when she felt his fingers slide to her waist. ‘No! Don’t you—! Matthew!”
He released a maniacal laugh as he set to tickling her and making her beg for mercy.
Chapter 16
All Bets Are Off
Being a girlfriend had its perks.
Back home, Zaney and Frito spent most nights at Matthew’s place. Toodles tolerated them. Zaney and Matt watched television, talked, laughed, and then ended up in his bed, limbs entangled and breathing hard.
They had dinner together every evening and even managed to meet for lunch occasionally. Zaney went back to work and Matt texted her a couple of times every day, asking how things were going and what she’d like to eat for dinner. That he was thinking of her throughout the day made her feel that this was much more than a fling. They were building something.
The first weekend they were back from Connecticut, they’d gone to a flea market where Zaney had found beautiful, Art Deco picture frames. Matthew had been drawn to a hammered silver, lidded box that was the perfect size for remote controllers. Back at his place, Zaney had gone through some of his family photos and placed the best ones of his parents and siblings in the frames. She’d positioned them around the apartment. He’d put his remotes into the box and placed it on the coffee table.
“You’re right. It looks more as if someone lives here instead of a staged magazine cover,” he said, standing in the living room and admiring the framed photos on the end tables and mantel. “I don’t know why I never put more of my life and interests into the place.”
“You needed a woman’s touch.” Zaney stopped behind him and hugged him around the waist. She rested her cheek between his shoulder blades.
He turned around to face her. “You’ll have to meet the Birdsong gang soon. Maybe I can arrange for a dinner date one evening. Would that be okay with you?”
She leaned away from him. “You want me to meet your family?”
“Yes. Is that bad?”
“No. It’s just . . . unexpected.”
He seemed to ponder that for a few seconds before he said, “You’re right, it is. Maybe we should wait before we drag anyone else into this.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like we’ve committed a crime!”
He laughed with her. “No, no. It’s just that with you going through my photos and choosing ones for the frames, I thought you should meet them.” He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Later. You can meet them later.” Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her. “I’m happy to keep you all to myself for now.”
“Did Seth talk to you today about us getting together for dinner this week?”
“Yes, he did.” He set her back on her feet. “A double date. Quaint.”
“What about Saturday after Lonnie finishes at work?”
“That works for me. I’ll check with Seth. If he’s okay with it, we’ll make reservations somewhere.”
“Okay.” She traced his cheekbones with her fingertips. “I think they have big news to tell us. Why are you frowning?”
“That sounds ominous. You don’t think they’re engaged, do you?”
“And how would that be ominous?”
“They haven’t known each other long enough for that.”
&nbs
p; “Well, Dad, he’s all grown up and probably knows his own mind and heart by now.”
“Yeah, but marriage is a big step.”
Not liking how the conversation was panning out, Zaney disengaged herself from his loose embrace. “Life is about taking big steps. If you don’t, then you don’t get to enjoy the big rewards.” She went into the kitchen and filled the tea kettle, letting that bit of philosophy simmer in him for a minute. At times, he seemed to be totally into this new phase of their relationship, but then he’d make it all wobbly with a comment or observation that revealed that true coupling made him wary. It was like he was waiting for a trap door to spring open.
She was about to place the kettle on the burner when a scuffling noise caught her attention. Looking about, her gaze swung to the doggy bed that she’d placed in the corner of Matt’s dining room for Frito. The scruffy pooch was stretched out, his limbs stiff, his body quivering.
“Frito?” Instantly, she was on her knees beside him. His eyes were large and glassy. “Frito!”
“What’s wrong?” Matthew asked, skidding to a stop beside them.
“I think he’s having a seizure or something.” She swallowed the sob working up her throat and picked up Frito. His little body shook and he whined. “I need to get him to the vet.”
“Come on. I’ll take you.”
“My vet is only two blocks away. But it’s after six and they’re closed.”
Matt grabbed a throw off the sofa and gave it to her. “Wrap him in this and let’s go. I’ll get my car. I know where there’s an emergency clinic.”
She draped the throw around the quivering dog and went across the hall to her own place. Grabbing her purse and keys, she locked her apartment and went outside to wait for Matt. His car came into view and he double-parked at the curb in front of her. She got in, cooing softly to Frito.
“How is he?”
“He’s not trembling as bad, but he’s completely out of it. And he’s drooling.”
“Shit. The place is only a few minutes away.” Worry lined his forehead as he steered the car into traffic. “Has he done this before?”
“No.” She tried not to cry even as tears built in her eyes. Stroking Frito’s small head, she whispered endearments to him. “I don’t know what brought this on. He’s been acting fine.”
“Hold tight, babe. We’re almost there.” He glanced at the bundled dog, then cursed when they had to stop at a red light.
Zaney swiped at her leaking eyes. “He’s shivering, but not like he was before. I think he’s coming around.”
Five minutes later, Matthew stopped the car in front of the clinic and let her out while he went to look for a parking space. She rushed inside and a young woman behind the counter gave her a look of concern.
“What’s the problem?”
“My dog’s having a seizure.”
“Bring him back here, please.” She led Zaney to a room. “The doctor will be right in.”
“Thanks.” Zaney sat in one of the chairs and rocked Frito in her lap. He made snuffling noises and his little body quivered every so often. “My poor baby,” she crooned. “What’s happening to you?”
A short, blond woman in a white coat swept into the room and held out her hand. “Hello. I’m Dr. Gayle. Who is this?”
“Frito Pie and I’m Zaney Miller. Frito is having a seizure . . . or he was. He’s coming out of it now, I think.”
The doctor took Frito out of Zaney’s arms and set him on the exam table. “Let’s have a look at the little man.” She listened to the dog’s heart and stared into his eyes. “Yes, he’s had a seizure. How long did it last?”
“Ten or fifteen minutes. It seemed like hours, though. What would have caused it?”
“Any number of things. Is he on any medications? No? Let me take some blood and stool samples so that we can get an idea of what might be at the root of it. Is that okay with you?”
“Do whatever you think is best for him. He’s my everything.” She looked toward the door when she heard Matthew’s voice. “Oh, that’s my . . .” She shook her head. Why couldn’t she call him her boyfriend? It felt weird to say it out loud. Rising from the chair, she stepped out into the hallway and caught his eye. “We’re in here.”
He strode to her, still wearing his worried scowl. “How is he?”
“Better. The doctor needs to run some tests to see what’s going on with him.”
In the exam room, Matthew rubbed Frito’s head before he addressed the doctor. “Hello. I’m Matthew Birdsong. He’s not trembling anymore.”
“Yes, the episode has passed. Hopefully, it won’t repeat. I’ll get a vet tech and we’ll give him a more thorough exam.” She handed Frito to Zaney. “You can hold him for now.”
“Thanks.” Zaney wrapped him in the velvety throw again as Matthew sat beside her. “He’s better.”
“That’s good.” Matthew reached out two fingers and stroked the dog’s head. “You doing okay, pal? You scared us.” His gaze flicked to Zaney and a smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. “How are you doing?”
“Scared. He’s not a young pup anymore.” She kissed Frito between his pointy ears. “I don’t want to think of life without him.”
“He’ll be okay.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “He acts better already.”
She nodded and snuggled Frito closer to her, giving him another kiss. “He’s been so healthy. Never had anything wrong with him.”
The veterinarian and technician entered the exam room again. Together, they took the samples they needed with only a little whining and growling from Frito that tugged at Zaney’s heart.
“I think you can take him home tonight and call us tomorrow afternoon. I’ll have more information for you by then. We’re open all the time, so if he has another episode, bring him in,” the doctor said, stroking Frito’s head and smiling at him. “He’s adorable. Part Brussels, right?”
“Yes. Chihuahua and Brussels Griffon.”
“He’s one of a kind,” Dr. Gayle said with a soft laugh as she handed Frito Pie to Zaney. “Hopefully, the seizure was a reaction to something environmental and it won’t occur again. Like I said, I’ll know more when I can examine those test results.”
“Thank you.” Zaney and Matthew went out front and settled the vet bill. Matthew whipped out his wallet, but Zaney refused to allow him to pay. “Frito is mine,” she said, patting Matt’s arm in gratitude. “Thanks for offering, but this is on me.”
Zaney cuddled Frito, keeping a close eye on him, but he showed no after-effects. He snuggled in her lap and began to snore. She glanced at Matt and saw his teeth flash in the dark interior of the car. “Back to normal,” she said with a grin. “I think I’ll be more comfortable tonight sleeping at my place with Frito in bed with me.”
“I understand. I’m jealous. But I understand.”
“Thanks. For everything.”
He reached out and rested his hand on her knee. “I’m glad I could be there for you.”
She thought about that, realizing that he’d made this emergency so much easier for her. “So am I,” she said, glancing at him. “I like having you around.”
He chuckled. “Good to know, since I’m not going anywhere. If anything happens during the night, call me. Understand?” He let her off in front of the building, giving her a kiss on the cheek before she slid out of the car with Frito bundled in her arms.
Zaney unlocked her apartment and gently placed Frito on her bed. “It’s you and me tonight, buster.” She stared for a few moments at what had become Matt’s side of the bed when he stayed at her place. A book he was reading was on the bedside table. He liked to read a chapter or two before he went to sleep and so did she. They’d already slipped into a few routines like that. It surprised her that she could be comfortable with him around so quickly. But, then, it wasn’t sudden. As friends, they’d spent a good deal of time together. They’d taken in movies, plays, art exhibits, flea markets, and long walks with Frito when they had di
scussed and debated every current issue. While they agreed on most things, they sometimes disagreed on how to solve problems or who had the best solutions. It made for some spirited and occasionally fiery conversations.
She released a wistful sigh as she picked up the book she was reading and joined Frito in bed. He scrambled into her lap, happy to curl up in his favorite place.
“You’re feeling okay, huh?” She stroked his little head and rubbed his ears between her fingers.
Matt had been a pillar for her tonight and she’d leaned on him in a way that wasn’t natural or easy for her. Growing up with only a mother, she’d not experienced what it felt like to be protected and supported by a man. It had taken her a few years to discard those feelings of wanting to “go Dutch” on everything. When Barry had moved in with her, she’d insisted that they half the rent and other expenses, although he’d offered to pay all of the rent because the move would save him money since her place was closer to his work and her rent was less expensive. To be honest, she’d never felt that their relationship was equal. It tipped in Barry’s favor. They mostly did what he liked to do, listened to music he preferred, watched television shows he enjoyed, and mixed with his friends.
One of the first things she noticed when she and Matt grew closer was that he asked her what she wanted to do, where she wanted to go, where she’d like to eat. If she hedged or shrugged off his questions, he persisted by giving her choices – here or there, this or that, come on, choose one! He also asked if she was enjoying herself, if she liked the food she’d ordered or needed to send something back, and always asked her opinion of movies, books, art, people, everything! What’s more, he listened when she voiced her views. Not like with Barry, who smiled indulgently when she commented about something. If he disagreed, he simply changed the subject as if he didn’t want to waste his breath discussing it with her. That used to infuriate her and she’d let him know it. But it didn’t alter his behavior. Her complaints just pushed him away from her, inch by inch, disagreement by disagreement.