by Crowe, Liz
“Cut it out, seriously, I’m blushing.”
“Good.” He shifted to allow room in his scrubs for his rapidly hardening cock. “It’s a date then. What time?”
“Um, I have a meeting at three….”
“Cancel it. I’ll be there at two-thirty. Eat your Wheaties.”
He rushed through his Friday morning therapy patients, his mind only half on the tasks. By the time it hit one-thirty he was nearly leaping out of his skin in anticipation of the weekend ahead.
“Hey, Rafe,” his office mate and one time fuck-buddy Melanie caught his eye as he finished some paperwork.
“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t regret the time they’d spent messing around. She’d been trying to get over a boyfriend, and he’d been bored and horny. “Sorry, distracted.”
“Uh-huh.” She wheeled her chair around to his cubicle and spun him around to face her. “Listen, babe, you are obviously smitten, and I get it but don’t go overboard.”
“Um, what?” He stared at her. “Overboard?”
“Yeah, remember you claimed to love me once, too?” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t believe you. But, don’t come on too strong. You can be a little…overbearing.”
“Oh.” He tried to listen and take on what his friend was saying. “It’s a Latino thing I think. I can’t help it. And this woman is, well, I do love her.”
“Good. You deserve some happiness. But, if what you told me about her kids is true she has a lot to sort through and you up in her face being all…macho on her may not help. It might push her away. You know?” She patted his knee. “I’m good. Jeff and I are back together so I’m not trying to sabotage you.”
“Okay.” He let her words sink in. “Maybe you’re right.” He started to doubt himself. Perhaps he should give her more space, but she’d been scarce for nearly three weeks now. They’d talked every night, but he had not actually seen her since that evening at his place. He shuddered at the memory, his need for her nearly making him wince. Why he felt so compelled to be with her was a total mystery that he simply didn’t feel like exploring. He’d waited for her, they’d been together. What the hell was she being so standoffish about?
Why are you being such a whining wimp, Inez? Jesus, you are acting like some loser with a crush. Chalking it up to Latin emotion—maybe you should take a step back.
“Just trying to be helpful.” Melanie rolled back around to her desk, but poked her head around the cubicle divider. “Do whatever you want, but I’m just sort of filtering it for you, you know, as a female.”
“Thanks,” he shook his head to clear it. He punched in her number, prepared to “back off” even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do.
“Hey,” Maureen answered, her voice low and intimate.
Rafe put his head in his hands. “Um, something’s come up. I…ah, I won’t make it until, I guess, Saturday?” He groaned inwardly at the silence on the other end of the line.
“That’s fine, Rafe. I’ll see you then.” She hung up before he could sputter out “just kidding, see in you a few hours.”
“I fucking hope you are right,” he growled to Melanie as he tossed his reports into the receiving basket and headed out cursing her and himself for listening to her.
Even after a punishing ten-mile run to distract himself and a shower he was no calmer. He even felt worse, if that were possible, more revved up and horny and pissed off than before. He leapt up, and got in the car, pointed it towards Maureen’s house and prayed to all he held holy that she’d be home.
He pulled into her driveway, climbed out, and tapped on the front door, his nerves zinging with energy he refused to contain. He wanted her. And he would have her. It was a pure, simple equation, and he was not being a wimp admitting it. American “go slow” bullshit be damned. He would not dance around this another minute. It went against everything in him and the effort to be something else was making him insane.
He knocked again, and the door creaked open as if it were not completely closed. The detritus of a busy household met him in the foyer—backpacks, trainers, soccer cleats, shin guards, and various schoolbooks lay in piles. He crept in, hoping not to startle her. “Maureen?” The kitchen was spread out along the back of the house. It showed signs of recent use with half-empty cereal bowls and juice glasses piled in the sink. He put his hand on the cool black granite counter. Surely, she would not have left the door half open and the house empty. But then again, this was Ann Arbor. Crime was limited at worst to opportunists around the campus housing areas.
He stood, listening, but mostly soaking up the atmosphere of her space. Somewhere in the recesses of the house he heard it—a sniffle, hiccup, then a soft sob. He walked through the family room, stepped over a sleeping cat and opened the French doors to the deck. Maureen was huddled on a large chaise lounge, sobbing her heart out into the sleeve of a ratty sweatshirt. Rafe’s throat constricted and his inner protector rose nearly too fast for him to tamp down. He gulped and just stood, watching her for a few seconds. The sleek, coal-black curtain of hair covered the side of her face. Her legs were bare, bent at the knee as she hugged them close to her chest as if trying to make herself smaller. She sucked in a huge breath and kept staring out over the lawn.
“Mi amor,” he whispered. She turned her head and the deep blue of her eyes shot straight to his gut, but she didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. He hesitated, Melanie’s warnings about being “overbearingly overboard” passing across his consciousness for about a half second before he took the four steps between them in two long strides. He pulled her to her feet, sat, then tugged her into his lap. He made soothing noises, kissed her hair, then her face and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“Stop it,” she squirmed half-heartedly. “You don’t want to be here. Why the hell did you come over?”
“To prove that I know I was being an idiot. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. To seem too, I don’t know, um, overwhelming?” He laid back and she stretched out beside him, their bodies fitting perfectly side-by-side in the large lounge chair. “Am I, mi amor?” He stroked her arm, put her hand to his lips.
The crisp autumn evening darkened, and they watched the lightning bugs peter out and the bats start swooping around the giant silver maple tree in her backyard. “No,” she said, finally. He tilted her chin up, brushed his lips over hers while his brain screamed at him to do more.
“No, but…,” he said, around kissing her. She completed him in ways he never thought possible, her strengths his weaknesses, her personality a soothing balm to his soul.
“No but, you are…I mean, I’m…shit, Rafe, I’m older than you. I feel like a sad sack old lady leeching on the mmmph….”
He shut that nonsense off with a serious kiss, parting her delicious lips with his tongue, sweeping into her mouth and pressing her back into the cushions.“Te amo,” he murmured as he lifted the sweatshirt up to reveal her bare, luscious breasts. He sucked a hard, pink nipple between his lips and put his palm against her sex, loving the way it rose and filled as she reacted to him. A soft breeze ruffled the ends of his hair when she tugged it loose and ran her fingers through it. He teased her, lapping around the hard peaks of her flesh as she arched up and moaned softly. The smell of her, all that was Maureen—cologne and lust—swirled around him, making his brain fuzz over as he kissed her again and slid a finger between the wet, velvety lips of her pussy, keeping pressure on her clit, knowing her hot buttons already.
She bent one leg, angled her hips as he adjusted his touch, stroking and penetrating at once, as he nipped and sucked at her breasts. He honestly believed he would never be happy unless he could be with this woman forever. She gripped his arm as he guided her towards the first of many orgasms, reaching high inside her, deep behind her pubic bone and groaning when she shuddered around him, pulsed and contracted on his hand. She shook as she released him. He kissed his way up her neck, put his fingers to his lips and tasted the amazing
essence of her, then slanted his lips over hers as she shifted and tugged him on top of her.
“Rafe,” she exhaled into his skin as she yanked his shorts down and fisted his aching flesh. “My Rafe.”
“Sí, oh si mi amor,” he whispered. “Maureen,” he shoved her shorts aside as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want to…Jesu,” he exhaled when her legs went around his waist and he had no choice but to slide into her, groaning as she held him tight, moving her hips just enough.
He braced himself, propped his arms up and stared into her eyes as the gloom on the deck deepened around them. Something shot through him then. Something stronger than lust and deeper than the physical need to fuck her—although that was very compelling. He thrust into her, making her gasp and clutch at him, her body pressed to his, arms and legs wrapped all around him. He closed his eyes and let it take him, this compulsion to mark her, make her his forever. Something about her—her scent, taste, sound, it all made him want something much, much, more, but it remained just out of his reach, hovering, like the monster orgasm that was gathering strength along his spine.
Their bodies moved as one. She met him thrust for thrust, sweat slickening their skin. She put her hands on either side of his face, stared deep into his eyes as her hips angled again, taking him ever deeper. He kissed her, needing that connection to match the other, wanting it so badly he could feel emotion clogging his throat. She arched up, giving him access to the sexy line of her neck. He licked the moisture beaded there, and then bit softly drawing the orgasm from her with the thrust of his hips.
“Ah, yes,” she cried out as she held him, pressed her clit against his pubic bone and came so hard he grunted at the strength of it and let him pull him right over the abyss, as the climax exploded though him.
“Aye Dios,” he cried into the night as they rocked in unison, then stilled. He smiled down at her. “I am no boy, Maureen. I’m a man. And I would be your man if you would have me.”
She threaded her fingers in his hair, making him shiver. “I would have you Rafe. Truly, I would.” He slid out of her, stood on wobbly legs and helped her to her feet after tugging up his shorts.
“Shit, I’m a little quick on the draw.” He ran a hand down his face.
She burst out laughing and put her hand over his softening cock. “No, you are perfect,” she insisted, biting his lower lip. “I on the other hand, am a bit on the insatiable side. A few years with no sex will do that to a woman.”
He grinned and draped his arm around her. “Wow. Then we are meant to be. Because I am just the man to help you out,” He slapped her ass as she walked inside. He bit back the urge to say more, to claim her, to tell her about the powerful sensation that had come over him as they made love. She brought them some water, and he dropped onto the large leather sofa. “Come here, Maureen, sit beside me. Tell me why you were crying.”
“I just miss him sometimes. So much, it’s like he died yesterday. I’m sorry.” She sucked in a shuddering breath.
He put his arm around her. “It’s okay mi amor. You feel deeply for the man you loved. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“Are you from this planet?” she snuggled into him. “I mean, you could be just some hot young sex robot designed to get me off over and over again, to make me feel special?”
He laughed, and held her close. “Well, if so, they made a mistake with my programming because I am falling for the woman I’m tasked with fucking silly.”
He watched as she fell asleep in his arms, then must have dropped off himself, waking when the cat jumped on his lap and started kneading at his shorts. He rubbed the animal’s ears a moment, then put it on the floor, picked up his woman and carried her to the bedroom, kissing her the entire way.
Rafe rolled over and draped an arm over Maureen’s waist. She sighed in her sleep and arched into him. He tried not to grind his fresh erection into her too much, but it was as if he had taken some kind of sex drug that made him nearly constantly hard, needing to fuck her around the clock. He kissed her neck, smiling when she reached back to touch his face. “What time do the kids get back,” he gasped when her hand moved and slipped between them to grab his shaft. “Aye, woman. You are asking for it.”
“I know,” she adjusted her hips and angled into him. “Fuck me again, Rafe.”
“If you insist.” He reached around to finger her clit, loving the hard nub of engorged flesh he’d teased, tasted, sucked just last night until she’d screamed out his name and gripped his head so tight between her thighs he’d been momentarily deafened. She was so wet, no surprise after their rigorous activity of Friday night…and all day Saturday…and last night. They’d showered together last night, after making dinner, and half watching a movie. He’d been dozing when she slid to the floor and sucked his cock so hard he saw stars. He’d fisted her hair, fucked her mouth until he couldn’t hold back and came enough to make her sputter and gag before licking her way up his torso.
“Sí,” she whispered, making him chuckle as he, kept his finger work going up front. She rolled, taking him with her, forcing him up to his knees behind her, the glorious pink of her ass presented to him. He watched his cock thrusting in and out, saw it get wetter from her body. He slid his fingers into the long black silk of her hair and held on tight, slamming into her again and again, until she yelled his name.
“Jesu, I love it when you do that,” He let go of her hair and held her hips, fucking her, loving her and draping himself over the porcelain beauty of her skin as he filled her, wanting to hold her tight as he came. They dropped to their sides, gasping for breath, legs and arms entwined. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, cupped her full breasts. “I love everything about you.” He said, surprised when she stiffened and rolled away from him. He watched her stretch, loving the play of her skin, the pink of her nipples and the blue of her eyes when she stared at him.
“Would you make coffee?” She called as she pulled the covers up over herself.
“Sí,” he said heading downstairs without bothering with clothing or pursuing the broken moment when he used the “l” word. He would bide his time on that. One thing Rafe had was extreme self-awareness. He knew what he wanted out of this, and was determined to get it even if it meant fighting his very basic instincts to lay claim, to demand things of her she wasn’t ready to give. Something told him patience would be worth it.
The cool air caressed his flesh, including the now raw skin of his cock. He sucked back two glasses of water, and turned to come face to face with her daughter, the sixteen-year-old Ella. Her dark eyes narrowed as she stared at him. He grabbed the nearest thing he could find to cover his crotch, walking sideways with a potholder over his dick, his skin flushed with embarrassment.
“You’re home early.” He said finally as she leaned back and glared at him. Her teenage attitude pissed him off but he was hardly in a position to say much. He adjusted the Michigan mitten shaped holder
“Yeah, I can see that. Mom!” She yelled and brushed past him and pounded up the steps leaving him staring after her, breathing hard and wondering how badly this would screw up his chances of getting a “yes” when he asked the girl’s mother to marry him. He found a pair of what must be Adam’s shorts and a T-shirt in the laundry room, then went upstairs determined to be a part of the discussion. It did not go well at all.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rob sat on the balcony of the rental house, letting the warm breeze lift the ends of his hair. He’d let it grow out at Lila’s request. Shit he’d do anything she wanted at this point. But, no matter what he did, she wouldn’t move back in with him. He let his head drop, exhausted from the day spent with kids at a water park, after two days of a full-on Walt Disney assault with two toddlers, grumpy tweens, and a couple of bored teenagers. All on the heels of the most stressful plane ride in the known universe because who knew both Gabe and Brandis would get airsick.
He could hear the hullabaloo behind him. They’d been in Orlando for a week and had already
spent a small fortune. He’d let Jack convince him to go along as a Christmas present to Gabe and the boy had been at turns wide-eyed with terror and chattering with excitement and sugar overload. He turned and saw her, Lila, her dark head bent over Gabe’s light one, singing to him as he drank from a tiny box of chocolate milk. As if sensing his gaze she looked up, and he nearly froze with panic at the thought that she would never truly come back to him.
But he’d promised not to pressure her, and they had eased into a very comfortable work, dinner, family time, serious mom and dad quality time before she would go back to her place. They’d agreed, though, that Gabe would stay in his house to reduce the kid’s stress, and for that he was eternally grateful. Maddie stayed with her mother and seemed perfectly content as long as she got to see her little brother on a regular basis.
After checking his email on his smart phone, ever worried that shit was falling apart back at The Local—which it wasn’t thanks to the manager Lila had hired as her assistant—he stepped inside, put kisses on the boy’s and Lila’s cheeks, then wandered into the fray. The two families had rented an eight-bedroom house with a pool for two weeks, and had been joined by Sara’s parents, and Mo and her twins. Matthew had proven to be invaluable with the kids, especially his granddaughter who was still unpredictably moody. Rob flopped onto the couch and grabbed a controller. “Care for a rematch,” he asked Adam. The boy nodded and they got deep into a soccer game on the Xbox before a loud, distinctive howl of anger rang through the first floor.
“It’s a draw,” he said, jumping up and heading for the kitchen. Adam groaned.
For what had to be the millionth time he bit back a quick surge of need for Blake. He’d give anything, including returning the lungs he’d received, just for one more glimpse of the man he’d loved for so long. To have his bright green eyes, wicked sense of humor here on vacation with the rest of his family. But the squalling continued, so he joined the group in the kitchen watching Brandis have a foot stomping, red-faced tantrum surrounded by his mother, grandmother and sister.