“So, on to round two after dinner, eh? The real McCoy’s going to be up to it?” I asked.
“Who?”
“McCoy. It’s the name I’ve given your . . . well you
know . . .”
“My penis?” he choked on the beer he had just put to his mouth.
“Mmm, yeah.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“As in the real McCoy.”
“As opposed to?”
“The fake McCoy. Bob.”
“Bob? Who’s Bob?” I could hear anger in his voice.
“B-O-B. Battery Operated Boyfriend. My nightstand handyman.”
“Oh. The standby. Or in this case, the stand-in.”
I laughed. “Well actually the stand-on. He just needs to be touching certain places.”
“Mmmm. Let me guess which places . . . baby toe?”
“No, not even warm.”
“Elbow?”
“Umm. Nope.”
“Nose?”
“Unnhuh.”
“Belly button?”
“Closer.”
“Ahh. Your vagina, maybe?”
“No, but you’re very, very close. When you use a Bob where do you put it?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, Bob or otherwise.”
“But if you did?”
“I guess if I had a toy that would do anything I wanted, I’d want it to suck the head of my penis. I don’t think they make anything like that.”
“Well actually they kind of do. It’s sort of a suctiony thing, you fit it over and sort of tug and it feels like . . . well sucking, I suppose. I’ve never seen it in person, just online.”
“Really? Where can I get one of those? And where have I been that I missed this amazing invention?”
I pouted my lips and feigned indignation. “I thought I did an admirable job a few days ago.”
He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me close. I could smell his aftershave and the essence of him that was all-man on his neck. I breathed deeply trying to absorb it, to settle it into my core. “You’re not always handy, but I definitely prefer you to anything manufactured. How about you?”
“How about me what?”
“Do you prefer me to Bob?”
I leaned up and kissed him on the chin. “Oh I do, I most definitely do.”
He growled and nuzzled my neck. “Food woman! I must have sustenance and then we’ll go for round two, three, and possibly even four. I will show you what the real Robert Burns meant when he said, ‘by passion driven . . .’”
His lips found mine and he kissed me hungrily. After a few moments, his thumb pressed on the corner of my mouth and he slid it in and used it to rim the soft inside flesh of my lower lip while his tongue explored my upper lip. He held my mouth open while his tongue darted boldly and thrillingly over every part of my lips, tongue and teeth. This was a wild and adventurous side I’d yet to see.
When we broke apart he stared into my face and I gazed back into his. The wonder I saw there was reflected in my eyes. We had just acknowledged that we wanted to be wicked together and the knowledge that we would soon be back in his bed satisfying our curiosity about each other, flared between us. But there was something else, something intrinsic and especially wonderful. Neither of us was ready to talk about that yet—randy, no holds barred sex was one thing, feelings were another.
He patted my ass and grabbed the plate of steaks off the counter. “And I noticed you already took care of dessert.”
“Yes . . . I put it in the freezer for later.”
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
When I looked at him with a puzzled expression he cupped my mound. “You didn’t think your Brazilian would entice me to nibble? I have a full jar of fudge sauce that’s going to be put to very good use tonight.”
My eyes went wide and I gasped as his meaning sunk home, but by then Brick had turned and headed out the door.
We were both quiet over dinner, lost in thoughts of the day and enjoying a meal we were both famished for. Seriously, we were like two pigs at a trough.
I finished first, my eyes clearly bigger than my stomach as I was only able to eat half my dinner. Brick finally pushed his empty plate away and patted his tummy saying, “I’d better stop now so I have room for dessert. I love chocolate. On anything . . .”
His eyes met mine, silently communicating his intent by waggling his eyebrows.
I blushed at the thought and wondered if I should tell him that oral sex from my perspective hadn’t been a big favorite for me before. But he seemed so happy with the prospect that I let it go for now. He’d find out soon enough. Unless what had happened earlier hadn’t been a fluke. Jared had done me no favors in that department—with his threats and then attempts to install body jewelry, I had not been able to truly relax and get into the pleasure of a man’s lips and tongue exploring me down there. Maybe now it would be different.
I washed the dishes while Brick cleaned the grill and then I had to listen to him lecture me on how I was doing it all wrong. I’m sure in his mind he was just enlightening me on the “finer” skills of camping. But really, men have a totally different concept when it comes to conserving water. Passably clean is okay with them, while women like lots of suds and therefore dishes require more rinsing. He was really serious about this as he’d been RVing for quite some time and had been in situations where anything other than bottled water was pretty much non-existent. So I listened, nodded and said I’d do better next time. Mentally, I put a post-it in my head, “Next dinner with Brick, use paper plates.”
I was so tempted to ask how the search for Robert Brynes was going; he was the man we believed had his sister. But I knew if I did, I’d end up spilling the beans and telling him all about my plans to find her and snatch her back if necessary at The Rally, where I was heading to next. But I had no chance to even broach the subject as I found myself hoisted by my elbows and carried as if I was weightless, backwards, toward the bedroom.
He leaned me against the wall and touched me with such gentleness, such genuine affection that I shuddered from the sheer pleasure of it. With the barest tips of his fingers he traced every part of my face, ending with my lips that he butterfly kissed until I thought I would melt and slide down the wall. Every nerve in my body was responding to his touch and craving more.
I’d only been with one man until tonight, in the truly intimate way, and that man had been my ex, whose lovemaking had never been particularly tender or loving, but more along the lines of self-serving. And for the last years of our marriage he was rough and demeaning if not downright brutal. Jared’s latest attempts at trying to keep me his, and his alone, had been the farthest thing from lovemaking one could imagine. So to have this wonderful unsettling feeling rocking me to my core was heady indeed. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have this feeling again. I’d never had it to this extent. Brick overwhelmed my senses, then reeled me back and started all over again. It was like having a fever go in and go out, a tide that enticed and then abated. It made you want more.
His sure fingers flicked open the buttons on my shirt, and tremors, one right after another erupted and jolted through me as his fingertips ran over the tops of my breasts. I felt myself arch and actually willed my breasts to spill out of the cups of my bra and push into his hands. They were not obedient. I looked up into his face and our eyes met. I saw the humor in his as I acknowledged the power he had over my body.
Brick’s skill and the cocky confidence he displayed by knowing my body so well excited me to no end. I was overwhelmed by him and the passion he had for me. In those quiet moments when the only thing I could hear was our mingled breath, he gave me something I’d never had . . . affection and a sense of worth as a woman.
I could feel his need and it wasn’t just for sex, it was for sex with me. My deepest fantasies came true with each feather-light touch, each brushing caress, each moan of pleasure that escaped his lips and mine as he found something new to revel in as he
explored my body.
When he had removed every stitch I was wearing, his fingers found me wet and ready and he groaned his pleasure with the discovery. It was enough to burst my galloping heart. Then he lifted me, placed me in the center of the bed and gave me the gift I so desperately needed—pleasure . . . my own selfish, one-way pleasure, given freely it depended on nothing, promised nothing—it was just mine to take. And I relished each kiss, each foray, each swipe and dab of his tongue as my body coiled, sprung and then released. If this was lovemaking, I wanted more of it. As my body throbbed and I listened to my heartbeat begin to settle, I realized all the ways I craved this man—his scent, his touch, the heat of his skin, the very way he breathed. As he climbed over me and entered me with something considerably more substantial than his fingers I realized I was becoming addicted to his lovemaking. I now knew why people did anything, sold anything, paid anything to have this feeling come over them again, and again, and again. I was lost, and at this moment, I was damned sure I did not want to be found.
I was too much in my own little world to get involved with his need to thrust and retreat. But he was determined I wasn’t going to be left out and those very talented fingers moved between our bodies as he ground into me making sure all my special places were aroused. Then with a strangled groan, I felt his passion shift. His large hands caged the sides of my face and his mouth took mine. Like a man with a raging fever his tongue delved and thrust trying to capture something elusive, yet I knew not what. At the same time his hips thrust hard against mine, burying his cock deep inside my body. A few frantic pumps and some very crude curse words were the prelude to his body convulsing like a jackhammer against my womb. His fingers, still between us, playing like a maestro on my clit, tugged and with warp speed I joined him in bliss. We were separate yet one, enjoying our passion interlocked in each other’s.
It was many minutes, perhaps as many as five before either of us shifted or spoke.
“Kill me now,” he murmured against my neck. “I’ve got nothing more to live for. This is the pinnacle.”
“Oh yeah, right. I finally get a man who knows how to ring my bell and I’m going to do him in? Not likely. Although there is a possibility that I might die if you don’t get off of me.” I pushed against his chest and drew a much-needed breath. He raised himself to his elbows then flopped over on the bed beside me.
I wanted to thank him, praise him, beg for fealty. But instead I felt moisture fill my eyes and run down my face. Horrified, I looked over at him. What would he think? I truly wasn’t unhappy. I had no idea why I was crying and I didn’t want him to think I was at all displeased about anything. I needn’t have worried. One look at his totally relaxed face and the regular lift of his massive chest told me he was asleep. And if ever there was a man who deserved it, it was he. I quietly got out of bed, gathered my clothes and went back to my RV to take a shower. I didn’t want to take a chance on waking him, and I didn’t need another lecture on water conservation. Afterward, aware of his finely honed reflexes, I decided not to chance going back to join him in his bed. We both needed the sleep. Besides, the little experience I’d had with men so satiated, was that they tended to snore most astoundingly.
Chapter Fourteen
I was sitting at my picnic table eating Shredded Mini-Wheats when Brick stumbled out the door of his RV looking anything but well rested.
“Oh, there y’are. Thought you’d run out on me again.”
I couldn’t blame him; I had done that in the past. “Nope, here I am, just having some cereal and waitin’ for you, you sleepyhead.”
He walked over dragging his hand through tousled curls. The stubble of his beard was very prominent, stark black against his light tan. Very virile, very sexy, I thought. Then I remembered all the places those erstwhile smooth-shaven cheeks, chin, and jaw had been last night. I felt a blush creep up my face as he rubbed both hands against the stubble trying to wake up.
“Time’s it?”
“Ten.”
“Shit. You should’ve woke me. I have to git goin’. Gotta be back on the road by eleven.”
“I thought you’d needed the sleep more than anything else.”
He sat beside me and patted my thigh. “Well lass, that’s where you’re wrong. I needed to wake and find you in my bed. McCoy felt the very same way, I can tell ya.”
I laughed. “Would have thought you’d worn him out last night.”
He chuckled and reached an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “Not a chance, he’s from hardy stock, McCoy being Scottish you know. We forgot the chocolate . . . thought about maybe having some for breakfast.”
He reached over with his other hand and snagged a Mini-Wheat and popped it into his mouth. I watched him chew it, listening to the crunch as his teeth pulverized it, then I continued to watch as he lifted my bowl, put it to his lips and drank some of the milk. His tanned throat worked as he swallowed and for the life of me, I did not know why, that gave me a heady feeling. Did everything about this man turn me on now?
“Hey, I was thinking . . . you want to try something more permanent between us?” He’d said it so causally, as if it had no weight, that my answer mattered not at all to him.
I was flabbergasted. What did he mean by that? Coming out of nowhere, I was totally unprepared. “Uh . . . what exactly do you mean?”
“Shacking up was something that came to mind, but I don’t really know how we’d do that with all the traveling I do, and this here being a state-owned vehicle,” he waved his hand to indicate his rig.
He was undercover most of the time and used his fifth-wheel and toy hauler pick-up truck to catch the bad guys who were terrorizing little kids in cities all over the country, not just in RV parks, which had more than their fair share of the unsavory type, but in trailer parks and rural communities. The big cities had whole departments devoted full-time to pedophiles and molesters, but the little burgs and travel parks often needed more specialized help. The state provided men like Brick and women like Vanessa who were experts at tracking society’s most despicable villains. I knew that it was professionally and personally devastating to Brick that his sister was one of their victims and that he had yet to bring her abductors to justice.
As we both had jobs to do, and I dared not tip my hand about my next mission, I decided to stem this, or more accurately, to stall for now. “Well the logistics of us ‘shacking up’ might be easier a bit down the road. Right now you have a prisoner to deliver. I have a divorce I have to see to and hopefully a wedding reception for Connor and Diana when he gets back from overseas in six months. Why don’t we hook up after The Rally and see what can be worked out? I honestly would not mind having you as a roomie,” I said with a knowing smile. “Someone to share the expenses . . .”
“Someone to share my bed . . .”
“I think we’ve already established that technically you don’t own a bed.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Someone to share your bed . . .”
“That’s better.”
“So where are you going? You going to stay here for a few days?” He knew I wanted to get the full RV experience, that I wanted to go to some Samborees, RV expos, and rallies. We’d talked about the seminars and how helpful they’d be to a fledgling like me. I was looking forward to taking cooking classes, caravan classes, even the best-ways-to-clean-your-RV classes.
“No, I’ll be leaving later today. I’m going to The Rally in Redmond. I was heading that way when you called. I had just gotten back to Austin to get my RV out of storage and I was heading west when I had to backtrack to meet you.”
He scrubbed the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. But I really needed you. I knew you could help me get Junior and redeem me after my major screw-up. When I came up with the plan, Vanessa was the only female agent available. I thought of you right away. But had I known he was going to latch onto you instead . . .” he sighed and shook his head.
“Don’t go there. I was glad I could help. I got a taste of the sa
tisfaction you feel when one of these sleezeballs is off the streets. But let that be a lesson to you.”
“What?”
“Next time you need me to role play it better not be as somebody’s mother!”
“Oh, I have some role playing in mind, and it’s not of the motherly type at all.”
“Oh yeah? French maid, naughty nurse, teacher’s pet?”
“Mmmm. There’s merit in all of them, but I was thinking . . . since you’ll already be out west, how about meeting me in Sturgis for the Bike rally this year? A Biker Babe in leathers for me to display on my sleeve might be just the reward we both need for a job well done.”
“That sounds doable.” I knew he kept his Harley in the garage of his fifth wheel and that riding it was his passion. One that I hoped was being usurped by me.
“Great, I’ll arrange it. We’ll park the Dolphin and take my rig since that’s where the bike lives.”
“Okay. That’s a plan.” I was hopeful he’d be reunited with his sister by then and that all this would be moot, as he’d want to spend time with her, not me.
He patted my leg and got up, “I’d better get showered and dressed.” He was almost to his door when he turned and looked at me. “By the way, just why are you going to The Rally?”
I praised the heavens that I had planned for just this contingency otherwise I would have stammered and hedged and he would have known I was lying. At least I had rehearsed, I had a chance he wouldn’t trap me in a lie.
“It’s billed as the Greatest RV Event in the World. They have 150 seminars, I figure, being so new to all this, I may learn more about the camping lifestyle. There’s one on how to use your microwave, Crock pot cooking on the road, Cleaning the Micro fiber way, Walking yourself to a better you . . .” He’d already turned and made his way into his RV. Whew! That was close. The man had a sixth sense for prevarication. It would be good to remember that.
Chapter Fifteen
I waited until he had washed, dressed, torn down, packed up, and headed out before attending to my own RV. I didn’t have to rush, I had over a week to get to Oregon but I was antsy to get on the road and on my way. An opportunity like this might never come again.
Running Into A Brick Wall Page 7