HotText

by Cari Quinn

  Falling for her. So hard he still hadn’t picked his ass all the way up off the ground.

  He’d never been prone to introspection. But alone, stretched out on a deck chair in the miserable space that passed for his balcony, a glass of Shiraz in hand and his phone in his lap, he could admit he’d changed. Not outwardly. But parts of him had altered irrevocably.

  Whether that was good or bad, he didn’t know. He’d just save that question for the day he finally bought that six-pack of sessions with a shrink he’d always wanted.

  His cell buzzed and he grabbed it, smiling as he saw the caller. If he felt a moment’s hesitation, a moment’s hope, it didn’t linger. His response to the phone was instinctive. And annoying. “What’s shaking, Daze?”

  “You know what’s shaking. Have you made up your mind to help me with Trick’s Treats yet?”

  “Halloween’s not for three weeks.”

  “It’s not on Halloween. It’s the weekend before. C’mon, Jeffy. You’ll get your very own striped suspenders.”

  He snorted and tipped back his bottle of wine. The more he drank, the better the stuff tasted. “Dressing up as a clown isn’t my idea of fun.”

  “But you’ve been volunteering so much lately.”

  He’d decided to volunteer at the senior center on a whim, much as he’d decided to sext Karyn. One day he would learn. He hoped. But he’d had too much time to think, and the center needed help.

  Somewhere along the way, he’d grown to enjoy going there a couple of times a week. Much to his surprise, he’d discovered sometimes he liked people. Emphasis on sometimes.

  He sighed. “So you think that means I’ve got my sucker card already punched?”

  She ignored him as she usually did. “You don’t want to help little kids?”

  “You said they were high school students.”

  “Junior high. It’s career day. They come to the shops on the block, check out the different businesses, participate in a typical day. Then they get candy at each stop.”

  “So what the hell’s the thing with the clown?”

  “Well, duh, there have to be people in costume. You’ll be wearing the most rockingest wig ever and I’ll do your hair. Live demonstrations. Come on. The kids will love you. You’ll be the meanest clown these kids have seen since the Stephen King movie.”

  “Thanks. I think.”

  “Jeffy—”

  “If you call me Jeffy one more time, you’re going to find your clown wig in a very unpleasant location.”

  Her giggle made him grin. “Threats of violence won’t deter me. Now what do you say?”

  There could be only one answer, and they both knew it. Even if he wanted to say no, he couldn’t have. She’d made such progress in the last year. Transferring into a diploma program at the cosmetology school, sticking with her new job, booting Karyn’s sloppy seconds to the curb—though it had supposedly been mutual.

  It had also occurred shortly after he and Karyn had spent the night together.

  As tempted as he’d been to do some investigating to see if Lon had left his sister to reunite with his wife, he hadn’t. If they’d gotten back together, he was happy for them. Ecstatic. He wished them the mother-effing best.

  “I’ll do it,” he said under his breath, hoping she couldn’t hear him.

  “Yay, thank you. You’re the most awesome brother ever.” She puffed out a giant breath. “So what size clown suit should I get you?”

  A few minutes later, clown suit sizes squared away, Jeff propped his bare feet on the railing of his balcony and picked up the bottle on his side table. He was working his way to drunk—slowly, steadily and with little enthusiasm. The wine had yet to give him the slightest buzz. But with the fall breeze carrying the aroma of some lucky jerk’s bonfire and his body comfortably slumped in his chair, it tasted mighty fine.

  He closed his eyes, let his head fall back. Gorgeous night. Warm, windy, ripe with possibilities. Would be perfect if he—

  His cell went off and his eyes shot open to the sounds of All My Ex’s Live in Texas. But it wasn’t a phone call, as evidenced by the abbreviated tone. He stared at the readout, his heartbeat slamming against his ribs in damn near manic joy.

  What r u wring?

  His thumbs moved of their own accord. Just as well because he couldn’t think. He was reasonably certain he wasn’t asleep, but this felt like a dream.

  A loincloth and body oil. U?

  The pause lasted just long enough that he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. Then came more bars of the song that would make him smile for the rest of his life.

  Plastic wrap.

  His eyebrows shot up.

  A full roll or partial?

  Another pause.

  U r easy, aren’t you?

  When it comes to u, yes. Vry. Where are u?

  Every second that passed made him ache for George Strait. When the ringtone sounded and he read her text—look over the railing—he leaped to his feet and braced his forearms on the cool metal. In the advancing twilight she stood next to a sleek coupe in the small parking lot, face tilted upward. And she was grinning.

  Like an angel. Like every fantasy he’d ever had, with or without optional whipped cream. She waved and he waved back, feeling vaguely stupid but unable to keep a dopey grin from forming.

  I’m looking. U coming up?

  R u up?

  U know it. R u wet?

  Oh yeah. And I brought condoms.

  His grin threatened to split his cheeks.

  Genius. Apt. 301.

  He watched her until she disappeared under the small awning that shaded the back entrance, awed by the long, dark hair swinging down her back. Distracted by it, he almost missed the sway of her butt in what looked like dark denim and the click of her heels—

  Heels. Dark denim. Dear God.

  He practically ran to the door just to watch her ascend the stairs. She reached the top step, transforming the ripped stair runner and dingy, paint-chipped walls just by virtue of her sexy smile.

  It wasn’t even Christmas yet and his gift had just arrived.

  Loose hair, tight jeans that clung to her butt, a scanty little shirt that left a slice of her belly bare and showed off her freckled shoulders. And her nipples. She hadn’t worn a bra, as requested.

  Holy fuck.

  She’d swept her eyelids with smoky makeup and her dark-pink lips looked plump enough to suck. His cock jumped against his fly with such urgency he had to brace a hand on the doorjamb to keep from tackling her.

  “What do you think?” She turned, modeling for him. “I went for three-inch heels instead of four because I didn’t want to trip. And this isn’t exactly a tube top—”

  Close enough. “Get in here.”

  Instead of doing as he asked, she shook the plastic drugstore bag she carried. Friggin’ tease. “Uh uh. If I go in there, we’ll be staying.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Yes.” She nodded solemnly. “I have things to show you.”

  He didn’t doubt it. “Like what?”

  “Like my cottage.” At his prolonged look, she added, “And my studio. Just in case you forgot them.”

  He grinned. She’d fought for the house? And won it, apparently? He wanted to hug her but he managed to restrain himself. Giving her a hug in the state he was in might mean a whole lot of getting naked right here in the hallway. “Your cottage, hmm?”

  “Yes.” Her smile lit up her face. “All mine. Decorated just the way I want it. No coloring within the lines. I changed the bedroom completely too. Now nothing matches.”

  The glee in her voice triggered a laugh. He loved seeing her like this. Sexy and happy and most of all, free.

  He hoped to God she was free.

  “I can’t wait to see it. All of it. But why don’t you come in? Since you’re here already and all. Promise, my apartment’s not quite as bad as I made it seem,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to ensure he hadn’t left any old takeout car
tons on the coffee table. Nope. No dirty clothes on the sofa either. He was golden. “It’s small and I’m not the best housekeeper but—”

  She eased around him, wiggling that taut butt over parts of him that greatly appreciated the attention. “So give me a tour.”

  He shut the door and stared as she strode across his living room. Hot damn, had she spray-painted on those jeans?

  “You convinced me. I want to see your place before we go.”

  “Go?” Why couldn’t he just come? The way she looked, it wouldn’t take more than a minute or two.

  “Yes.” She swiveled on her heels and planted her hands on her hips. “What did you think? That I’d just stroll in here, we’d have sex and that’s that?”

  “I didn’t think it so much as not see any other option.” He glanced down at the front of his jeans. His weren’t nearly as noteworthy as Karyn’s, if one somehow missed the painfully obvious erection poking through them. “Get my drift?”

  “Another booty call, huh?” She glided across his threadbare carpeting as if were a priceless rug, her expression intense.

  Shit, had he pissed her off? No matter. He would beg. Without shame. Anything she asked for would be hers for the taking.

  As she reached him, he glimpsed the light in her eyes. The challenge. “I tried to make it a full year since we met,” she said before he could speak. “So we could celebrate our anniversary.”

  “But you caved, huh? Which I’m very glad about, by the way.” He smiled and dropped his gaze, unable to help himself.

  Correctly deciphering his quick glance at her hand, she held it up. Four silver rings gleamed on her fingers. “I’ve been divorced for three months and sixteen days, just so you know.”

  He gave a brisk, businesslike nod as she set aside the drugstore bag. From where she stood she couldn’t hear the wild thumping of his heart. He hoped. “Know the hours too?”

  “Hmm.” She tapped one lavender nail against her lips. “I’d say ei—” The word ended under his mouth, right before he swept his tongue between her lips and got to work showing her how much he’d missed her.

  She met him kiss for kiss, her hunger every bit as palpable as his own, winding her fingers through his hair while she used her other hand to start opening buttons. Too many buttons. By the time she’d stripped him to his thin undershirt he’d cursed his tendency to dress in layers.

  “What about you?” she asked between gasping breaths. She tugged his shirt out of his jeans and shoved her hands beneath, exploring his abdomen with rapid, grasping strokes.

  What about him what? She didn’t really think he could process questions right now, did she? Especially when she stepped back and tugged her tiny top over her head and revealed all she wasn’t wearing underneath. Taut rosy nipples crowned her glorious breasts, twin cherries on the sundae he wasn’t eating. Yet. Soon she’d be his goddamn dinner, dessert and midnight snack all in one.

  She grasped her thin leather belt, pausing. “You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” A year’s worth of doubts hung in the question.

  Annoyed she’d somehow slipped out of his arms, he drew her right back and trailed openmouthed kisses down the side of her neck. She smelled of soap and crisp cotton, hanging fresh on the line. No fancy perfumes. No floral shampoos. Just pure, sexy woman.

  “Not seeing. Not dating. Definitely not fucking. Any other questions?”

  Without hesitation, she flipped open his button fly and yanked down the zipper, her nails scraping his rigid cock through his boxers. “Just one,” she breathed, falling to her knees and drawing him free of the worn denim. Whatever that question was soon became unimportant, at least for the time being.

  She tugged his jeans and boxers down his thighs and lowered her head to take him in her mouth. He hissed at the contact, hissing again as she flicked her tongue over his slit. Soft noises left her throat when she sucked him in deep. Then deeper still.

  His legs locked and his mind went beautifully, blissfully blank. He couldn’t overthink when he was with her. She took him to a whole new place, one he’d missed for three hundred and fifty-seven interminable days.

  He couldn’t stop watching her. This wasn’t just an act to her, something she had to do to get where she wanted to go. She got off on it. Her intent expression and her rhythmic sucking proved it.

  That and her low, desperate moans.

  She didn’t swallow him or try anything crazy, merely pleasured him. Giving herself the same unselfish way she’d opened up to a virtual stranger in a coffee shop on a snowy night. Her excitement fed his own. Multiplied it. Made him shake and yes, beg. He couldn’t have held back if he tried.

  He dropped his head against the wall and reached down for a handful of her hair. So soft. It poured through his fingers yet offered a sturdy rope when he needed to hold on. She moaned when he pushed deeper, testing her limits. But she only opened farther and took more.

  Her entrancing eyes riveted him in the advancing twilight. Smoky, sensual. Almost as arousing as her mouth. They offered a wordless urge for him to fall and let her catch him. To believe she would.

  A flash of silver caught his attention and he saw her thumb moving against the seam of denim between her legs. Pressing. Digging the fabric against her center, building the friction just like she increased the pressure on his dick, sucking so hard he didn’t jump so much as lurch over the edge.

  His shout reverberated through the room, followed by the sound of her swallowing. So damn sexy. He shuddered and gripped her hair, anchoring himself to reality while his system spun out of control.

  Her low murmurs continued while she gave him her own version of a sponge bath, licking and nuzzling until he no longer thought his weak legs could support him. Then she rose and wrapped her arm around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers for a long, erotically wet kiss. She slid her tongue around his, pulling it between her lips and reminding him exactly where she’d had her mouth last.

  As if he could ever forget.

  Though it pained him, he made himself put some distance between them as he cupped her face. “So what was that you said about not rocking a man’s world?” He asked hoarsely.

  Not surprising he was hoarse. She’d just given him the best blowjob of his damn life.

  “Technically that counted as foreplay.” She licked her lips and smiled at his groan. “The rocking portion of the evening will have to wait.”

  “You’re telling me. My fucking knees are still shaking.”

  When she grinned, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around, settling her back in his arms where she belonged. She gasped as he undid her jeans and pushed his hand into them, expecting to encounter her panties. What he found was the scorching heat of her wet pussy.

  “Shit, Karyn.” He bit her earlobe and savored the jolt that shot through her body. “You like giving blowjobs, don’t you?”

  “I like…” She moaned at the insistent press of his index finger against her clit. He palmed her breast with his other hand, squeezing gently. He plucked at her nipples, first one then the other, her soft cries goading him. God, he loved her breasts. Full and perfect and meant for him to suck. His. All his.

  Now he wouldn’t have to share her.

  “You like?” he prompted, biting her again, this time lightly on the soft skin behind her ear. She whimpered and jerked against him with enough force to rouse his cock from dozing to fully awake.

  He smothered a chuckle. “Once more. You like…?”

  She turned her head and leaned forward to capture his mouth. “I like giving them to you. Just you.”

  He thrust his tongue inside to war with hers while he tormented the tight bundle of nerves. He flicked the eager flesh, rubbed it, ground his palm against her mound. She moaned and arched into every stroke.

  Jeff slipped his leg between hers, widening her stance until he could slide his finger inside her. Her inner walls clutched at him when he moved in and out. Slowly. Teasing her the same way she’d teased him. Sensing she could take no mo
re, he worked her jeans down her legs. “Take them off. Now.”

  She did as he asked. Then she stepped back into her heels and turned to face him, a tempting smile on her lips. “What new experiences are you going to give me tonight?”

  Her breathless question made him cut off an oath. He grabbed her waist and shifted their positions until her shoulders met the wall. Watching her, he removed his jeans and yanked off his shirt, throwing the clothes aside with the haste of a year apart.

  The longest year of his life.

  She handed him the drugstore bag and he lifted a brow at the jumbo box—make that boxes—of condoms. “Ambitious. I like it.”

  “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

  “Not arguing there. We’ll get more creative later, but sometimes the oldies but goodies suffice. Like good old-fashioned wall sex.” He suited up as fast as his tense fingers allowed and gripped her thigh. “Heels off,” he said.

  Once she’d done as he asked, he dragged the handy end table beside the door closer. Without waiting for direction, she propped her foot on the edge of the low surface. “Easy launch,” she said with a grin.

  His gaze lingered between her legs. Shadows dipped and caressed her sex, a whole new kind of torment. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he’d start begging again, and that wouldn’t be pretty.

  “Make that hard launch, doll face.” He gave up trying for style points and inched into her snug pussy. She released a long sigh as he sank inside—dammit, she’d gotten even slicker, even hotter—and rocked her hips to invite him deeper.

  “Jeff,” she moaned his name, almost making him come on the spot. “Please.”

  Her foot flexed on the table as he rocketed all the way in with one forceful thrust, simultaneously swallowing her whimper with his mouth. Her heat wrapped around him, dragging him from the threshold of lust to blind, pulsing need in a heartbeat. “Gonna be rough,” he warned, already battering her with short, merciless strokes.