by Desiree Holt
“Oh? And what about you, Miss Pixie? Seems to me you’ve been lapping up the sauce with barely enough body mass to tolerate one drink.”
She actually winked at him. “Takes practice. Something I’ve had a lot of.”
“I’ll give you one more, Jack,” Hank said, “on one condition.”
“Yeah?” He glared at the man. “What’s that?”
“You give me your keys and catch a ride home.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m good to go.” Jack shook his head and dizziness suddenly swamped him.
“There he goes,” he heard a little fairy voice laugh as he folded neatly on to the floor.
Chapter Two
Someone was tugging at his arm. He swatted at whoever it was, wishing they’d leave him alone to finish his nap.
“Come on,” a musical voice said. “I can’t carry your drunken ass into the house myself. You gotta give me some help here.”
Help? Whose voice was that? And what was jingling in his ear?
Jack forced his eyes open and looked into a pair of startling blue ones. He blinked and images came back to him, ones he’d rather not remember. Now the damn pixie was bending over him in the car, pulling at him with her small hands. Small, but strong. And just like that a hint of sobriety kicked him into fast forward.
“You drove me home,” he said accusingly.
“Well, Hank couldn’t leave the bar, we couldn’t get a cab for an hour, and leaving you on the floor seemed to bother the other customers. Can’t figure out why.”
He stared at her with curiosity. “How’d you get me in the car?”
“Hank obliged, while he was telling me where to take the body.” She stood up and put her hands on her hips, indignation written all over her face. “And it was a damn pain in the ass.” She raked her eyes over his SUV. “Why do you drive a truck like this? Why don’t you have a normal car?”
“Normal car?” He was trying to focus, trying to keep up with the conversation.
“Never mind. Now you have to do your part. Or should I just roll you on to the sidewalk and leave you there for the night?”
With an immense effort Jack managed to heave himself out of the car and on to his feet, only a little unsteady and bracing himself against the car frame for support. Finding Darcy Whateverhernameis as his rescuer was enough to cut through the alcoholic fog. How the fuck had this happened? While he was still trying to sort that out, very matter-of-factly she draped his arm over her shoulders and slowly began walking him to his porch. It occurred to him she was damn strong for someone her size.
Two things sliced into his brain at once—the soft feel of her petite body next to his was far from unpleasant, and he had the mother of all boners. Well, fuck, wasn’t that just great. He angled his body a little so it wouldn’t be obvious to her, but the little minx just laughed as she guided him up the steps.
“If you think I didn’t notice that your cock decided to stand up and salute, you must think I’m blind.” She pulled a key ring from the pocket of her jeans, jingled the keys around until she found the one she wanted and opened the door. “In case you’re wondering, Hank fished your keys out of your pocket and we figured out which one was for the house. Now, come on. I definitely think a cold shower could handle your little problem.”
Unbelievably he heard himself say, “You could handle it a lot better, little pixie. I’ll bet that mouth of yours would feel real sweet right there.”
Jesus, was that him? Someone else’s personality must have evolved in his body.
Darcy dug a sharp elbow into him. “I’ll ignore that but watch your remarks. You only get so much of a pass for being drunk.”
They were in the house now and a sharp meow cut through the air. Darcy jerked around. “What the hell is that?”
“That’s Mr Big,” he mumbled. The large grey and white cat strolled out from the kitchen and wound his way around their legs.
“You have a cat?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?” he asked defensively. “You got something against cats?”
“You’re forty years old and you live with a cat? How much of a cliché can you be?”
“Mr Big and I are very happy together.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound. “Mr Big. Why am I not surprised at the name. Does it have Freudian implications?”
Without waiting for him to answer she urged him down the hall until she found his bedroom.
“I should just dump your ass on the floor,” she said, “but I guess the humanitarian in me is coming out. It’s your birthday so I don’t want to leave you half out of it, stinking of booze and probably throwing up all over yourself.”
She tugged on him some more, guiding him to the master bath where she pushed him down on the closed lid of the toilet.
“I’m good from here,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Efficiently she stripped off his shirt and jacket. For a moment her small hands stilled on his bare chest and he heard a soft sigh whisper from her mouth.
Her touch seared him instantly, sending heat straight to his groin. He caught her wrists, closing his fingers around them. The more she touched him, the more he became aware of her. “Are you sure you want to do this, little girl?”
She yanked her hands free. “I’m just getting you in the shower and into bed. The rest is up to you.”
Oh, yeah, if she touched him any more it would definitely be up to him.
With a grin he sat there while she removed his shoes and socks then let her urge him to his feet. Her nimble fingers undid button and zipper and the next thing he knew his slacks and boxers had been shoved down to his ankles.
“Up, up, up,” she urged.
He was twice her weight and towered over her, but he was willingly allowing her to handle him like a rag doll. If he’d been in his right mind he would have shoved her away, told her to get the hell out and thrown himself on the bed. Instead he was standing in his bathroom, naked, grinning like a damn fool. But suddenly he didn’t want to spend the rest of his birthday alone and this idiotic female was looking better and better. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to pull his shit together.
Okay, it’s all that bourbon. What else could it be? I don’t even have coffee with weird women like this.
Impulsively he grabbed one of her hands and plastered it to his cock.
Big mistake.
If he was hard before he was like well-set concrete now. Darcy’s soft hand against his throbbing erection sent shards of electricity zapping through him. There was so much electrical tension in the room Jack was amazed it didn’t fry them both. He kept waiting for Darcy to finally remove her hand, slap his face, something, anything, since he didn’t seem capable of reacting sensibly himself. Despite the drinks, despite passing out, despite his still somewhat shaky condition, he was so aroused his balls hurt.
Reaching out a hand that shook just slightly, he cupped her chin and tilted up her heart-shaped face. Heat flared like a bonfire in her eyes as she tried to pull her hand away.
“You are so not my type, Jack Manning.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Yeah?” He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re not exactly mine, either.”
“So what are we doing here?” She was almost whispering now.
“I’m going to take a shower and you’re going to share it with me.”
“Share?” she squeaked. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I do think so. Besides, I might fall down in the shower, hit my head and get a concussion. It would be all your fault.”
“Mine?” Now she was irritated. “I’m not the one who got drunk and made a jackass out of himself.”
“But you’re the Good Samaritan who brought me home. Your work’s not done yet.”
Teetering a little, he bent his head and placed a kiss at the tender spot where her neck and shoulder joined. He clutched her shoulders then slid his hands down her arms and as he moved the heat of his mouth against her skin he could feel h
er soften. Feel the resistance seeping from her.
Before she had time to think about what he was doing he steadied himself as best he could and grabbed the hem of her sweater with his fingers. He waited only for the length of one heartbeat for her to stop him. When she didn’t he pulled the garment up and over her head. He nearly swallowed his tongue when he got his first look at her high, round breasts in the flimsy satin bra she wore. Creamy swells rose above the insubstantial fabric just begging for him to touch them. He reached out a finger and traced the line of them, the contact jolting them. Someone sucked in their breath and he couldn’t tell which of them it was.
As if they had a mind of their own, his thumb and forefinger captured one nipple and pinched and rolled it, tugging it through the satin covering. The pulse at the hollow of Darcy’s throat hammered against the delicate skin.
“I want to see all of you.” His voice was deep and gravelly. “I’m naked here. Fair’s fair.”
With her eyes still glued to his and a volatile mixture of emotions chancing across her face, Darcy kicked off her ridiculous boots. Shaking slightly she shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in only a tiny thong and that bra that cradled her breasts.
“All of it,” he said, clenching his hands into fists to keep from doing it himself. “And slowly.”
She reached behind herself to unclasp the bra then let the straps slide down her arms until the garment fell to the floor. Hooking her thumbs in the material of the thong at her hips, she dragged it slowly down her body. One at a time she lifted each foot to free it and kicked the thong to the side. She stood there with her feet slightly apart, almost daring him to make the next move.
The curls at her pussy, as glossy and black as the hair on her head, were trimmed to a thin line that barely covered her slit. Jack touched them, tracing them, before probing between pink lips to find her wet heat And oh, god, was she wet. He was barely touching her inner lips, barely grazing the flesh, and his fingers were coated with her juices.
“I’m not the only one turned on here,” he pointed out.
She didn’t answer him, just stood there almost defiantly, waiting for whatever he did next. He slid open the shower door, turned on the spray and when it reached the right temperature stepped inside, holding out a hand to her. For a moment she just stared at him while his eyes ate up the sight of her. Then she stepped daintily into the enclosure and slid the glass door in place behind her.
The water was warm, not hot, enough to steam out his pores without burning them. Jack wished he had some kind of scented soap to use, but then he decided it didn’t matter. He lathered up his hands and began to stroke them over her body, tracing the line of her collarbone then down the slope of her breasts to the rosy nipples that were peaked and pointing at him so temptingly. When he squeezed them with his fingers he was rewarded with the sound of her indrawn breath and the widening of her eyes. He rubbed their pebbled surface, feeling them swell even more beneath his touch.
She lifted her hands to his chest, lathering the hair-dusted surface and reaching his own nipples, giving them the same treatment. The muscles in his groin tightened and his cock flexed. They stared at each other, gazes locked, as they teased and toyed with each other.
When he moved his hands lower across the soft skin of her tummy to her pussy she followed a similar path on his body, lathering the hair surrounding his shaft then closing her fingers around the erection itself. Jack slid one finger between her folds and traced the line of her slit. She was so much tinier than he was that he had to bend at the waist to touch her without disturbing her grip on him.
For long seconds they teased each other, his fingers probing the length of her cunt, up and down, rubbing the tip of her clit again and again, while she stroked his cock from root to tip and back again. Her breasts rose and fell with the increased pace of her breathing and his own breath seesawed in and out of his lungs.
Abruptly he stopped, brushed her hands away and turned her so she faced away from him. She tried to turn back but he put one hand on her shoulder, pressing firmly.
“Don’t move,” he ordered. “Just stay this way.”
He soaped his hands again and moved them down her back, kneading the delicate muscles. God, she was such a tiny thing. And with her short spiky hair slicked down on her head she looked so young he wanted to ask her if she was even of legal age. For anything. He swept down the length of her spine to the curve of her ass, cupped the firm globes and squeezed them. Her muscles flexed back against his hands, a delicate movement that shot up his testosterone level. He trailed his fingers through the warm crevice, finding the tight puckered ring of her hole and just barely scraping his fingernail over it.
Darcy shuddered and he heard a soft moan bubble up from her. Jesus, the thought of his cock penetrating her there was almost more than he could bear. He turned her to face him again, urged her legs apart with his foot and knelt beneath the stinging spray of the shower. Opening her labia with his fingers, he allowed the water to rinse away the remnants of lather before placing his mouth on her clit and pulling on it hard.
Darcy clamped her hands on his shoulders, her fingernails digging into him as he sucked and tugged on the bundle of nerves. Probing for her opening he slid one finger into the tight sheath of her pussy, feeling her muscles clench down on him at once. He curved the finger, pressing upward until he found the base of her clit from the inside. He slid a second finger inside her, then a third, working them slowly into her very tight channel. Then he worked his mouth and his fingers, stroking and sucking until he felt her body convulse, the walls of her pussy grip down on him and her entire body shake with the force of her climax.
The hot water had cleared away a substantial layer of the fog shrouding his brain. Now he barely gave her time to catch her breath before turning off the shower, lifting her out and drying them both very quickly. He carried her into the bedroom, yanked back the covers and deposited her on the sheet. Opening the drawer of the nightstand, he dug into the box of condoms he kept there and pulled one out, nearly tearing it in his haste to sheath himself.
Then he was between her thighs, sliding his hands under her ass, lifting her up towards him. He was shaking with need so badly he had to move one hand to grip his cock and guide himself into the hot well of her cunt. The moment the head was inside a surge of heat washed through him so strong he had to grit his teeth for control. He paused, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and slowly, slowly inched his way fully into her tight, hot grasp.
It was better than he imagined it could be. She was hot and wet, and her tender walls gripped him like an iron fist. Beneath him she was arching up to him and making delicious little sounds at the back of her throat.
“Look at me.” His voice was so hoarse he barely recognised it. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
She did, the oh-so thick lashes framing irises that had darkened almost to navy. Oh, yeah. She was as turned on as he was. Hoping he didn’t pass out again he lowered his head to take one stiff nipple into his mouth. Immediately she let her head fall back, exposing the sexy line of her neck, and the teasing sounds became full-throated moans.
Jack sucked and pulled and nipped gently until the nipple hardened even more. Then he turned his attention to the other one. But his control was beginning to erode, the electric feel of her pussy around him shredding the last of his self-discipline. If indeed he had any left tonight.
Sucking in a deep breath he gave in to the need and jackhammered into her. Again, again, again. She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into the small of his back and pulling herself more tightly against him.
He managed somehow to slide a hand between them without losing his balance, reached for her clit and stroked it hard and fast. Because he was so ready. So very ready. And some shred of his brain told him not to leave her behind.
“Come, baby,” he gritted. “Now, now, now.”
Then he felt it, the tightening of her body, spasms fluttering through her cunt, buildin
g in intensity. And he let go, pouring himself in hot spurts into the latex reservoir, shuddering until he thought his body would come apart at the joints.
Chapter Three
Jack realised he’d forgotten to close the blinds when hot, bright sunlight slammed into his bedroom. He flung an arm across his face, covering his eyes. He shifted on the mattress and when he did he came in contact with another warm body.
A warm body?
Shock slapped at him like an ice bath. Had he brought someone home last night? He never brought women to his place. Always theirs. So when he discovered it was yet another mistake he could walk away and not have to worry about a messy morning-after. So what was a body doing in his bed? Who the hell was it? Just how drunk had he got last night?
Prising one eye open with great reluctance he panicked at what he saw. The head on the pillow next to him was covered with very short, black spiky hair. He saw a delicate ear and the smooth curve of a cheek. The graceful line of a naked shoulder and arm and—
Naked? Naked?
Apprehensively he drew back the sheet a little. Yup. There was a whole naked body lying next to him. And not one of the full-breasted long-legged women he usually fucked. This one was almost pint-sized, although perfectly formed. He couldn’t help but admire the curve of her ass and the sweep of thigh.
He dropped the sheet as if it was fire burning his fingers. What the hell was he doing, admiring some woman in his bed? He didn’t even know who the fuck she was. And he suddenly realised he was just as naked as she was. His stomach cramped and his head throbbed. What had he got himself into? As carefully as he could he tried to manoeuvre himself out of the bed. But just as he’d moved over far enough to ease his feet to the floor the little pixie turned over, sighed and opened her eyes.
“Oh my god!” she screamed, sat up and yanked the covers up to her chin.
Jack was so startled he fell off the mattress to the floor, painfully bumping his hip against the nightstand.
“Fuck,” he grunted as he heaved himself to his feet.