Sound Effects

by L. J. Greene

  “Sit,” he said softly, and entangled one of his hands in mine. The familiar roughness of his palm was a comfort. I was so nervous. Gently, he urged me to sit down on the edge of the bed.

  My heart was beating wildly in my chest, almost painfully, as he stepped in closer between my bent knees.

  He touched his fingertip to the column of my neck and traced the lines down and across my collarbone. I could not tear my eyes from his face, nor the working of his throat muscles as he swallowed.

  “When I was a boy, I made up words for things,” he said quietly, watching the drag of his finger over the swell of my breast.

  “What kinds of words?”

  His expression turned to fascination at the sight of my nipples tightening under his touch.

  “Mostly relating to food and girls and comic books. And some other things,” he added, smiling faintly, but he didn’t name them. His eyes stayed trained on my body, focused on the way he could stretch his hand wide enough to envelop my entire breast. He seemed to like the way my nipple felt between his fingers, and he rolled it and pinched it gently between his knuckles, and then moved his hand down lower to broadly stroke my ribs from side to side.

  I could not fathom what made him recall that memory at that particular moment. It seemed like such a disconnected thought. But it wasn’t distraction; his eyes were alive and ardent as he memorized every curve.

  When he reached my belly with his hand, he kneeled down on the floor in front of me, sat back on his heels and continued his journey over the rise of my hip and the inside of my thigh. I gripped the bedspread tightly on both sides, my body now burning with need.

  “Jamie,” I gasped, as he hooked my lacy waistband with his index finger and tugged it downward and off. I was naked, and would have felt totally exposed, except that the sight of his body interrupted any such thoughts. He was an absolute masterpiece. I’d never seen anything like it–every firm ridge of muscle looked as if it had been shaped from clay, sleek and elegant with strength. And he was so deliciously masculine smelling, with the mingled scent of perspiration and arousal. I could not catch my breath.

  “I think if I could have ever imagined this–” he whispered, brows creasing slightly as he ran his hands up my calves, between my knees, and then to my trembling inner thighs–“could have known at a young age that a woman’s body could be as breathtakingly lovely as yours,” he tilted his head and spread me a little wider, “I might have dedicated my life to coming up with a word that was fit to describe it.”

  His eyes lifted to mine and he smiled softly.

  Words escaped me.

  Thought escaped me.

  Only the feel of his fingertips drifting higher occupied my consciousness. In the dim light of my bedroom, the moment was almost unreal.

  “I cannot be around you and not want you.”

  Then, he bent and planted a soft kiss on my hip, letting his tongue linger on my skin.

  Everything that followed was a blur. A crazy, scattered, mind-blowing blur.

  I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, opening myself to his insistent mouth. My chest heaved with huge lungfuls of air, audibly and tellingly. I pulled at the covers on my bed, and fought against my own colossal craving.

  “Look at me when I do this,” he commanded.

  I tried. I really did. I opened my eyes, but they were unseeing. Too many sensations. Even more fragmented thoughts. How much I wanted this man. Desperately. How much at a disadvantage he had me with just the flat of his tongue. How everything in my world had come to a crashing halt. How, in that moment, he owned me.

  A thin sheen of perspiration formed on the back of my neck. I was fighting to control a fire that was quickly becoming an inferno. I realized I was holding my breath, bearing down against an orgasm that was likely to wreck me. He knew it, too, and he pressed me harder, burying his head deeper and pushing inside me with rough fingers.

  So desperate, I grabbed his hair with two fists and let out a cry of need, loud enough to surprise myself. It was strangled and garbled and utterly incomprehensible.

  And then I broke. The orgasm that followed was powerful enough to pull my hips from the bed, ripping through me with vicious intensity and leaving me so completely empty and so very full, all at the same time. An explosion, followed by unearthly quiet. I didn’t think the pieces of me would ever go back together quite the same way again.

  I felt soft kisses on my thighs, the drag of his teeth over sensitive skin. His fingers left me, and there was both relief and emptiness. My body craved the feeling of some part of him inside of some part of me.

  “Please kiss me,” I whimpered, sounding hoarse to my own ears.

  And in no more than a fraction of a second, he did. He quickly shed his remaining clothing and blanketed me with his gloriously naked body. His mouth slanted over mine, tasting distinctly of my own orgasm. I kissed him back with a ferocity that took us both unaware.

  I could feel my kiss excite him, and he reached for my hand, pulling it down between our bodies. He wrapped it around his length, and with a groan of sheer relief, he began guiding me to stroke him just exactly how he needed.

  He was heavy and thick, powerfully built–silken, and pulsing with heat. Soft hair brushed against my knuckles, and his testicles were massive in my palm. Over and over, I stroked him, and as I did, watched him begin to come undone.

  “Ah, God, Mel,” he said in a tight voice, “keep touching me like that.”

  In my hands, I held his manhood, a vigorous, forceful presence. He closed his eyes, causing a crease to form between them, and pressed himself into my firm hold. I could smell the musk of sweat on his body, his face pained in pleasure and restraint.

  “Fuck,” he said softly by my ear, expelling tight breaths. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rocked back and forth, as though he were struggling to stop himself from rutting, but couldn’t quite hold back his brutal instinct. It was heady and overwhelmingly arousing to witness. It made me ache to have him inside me.

  “Jamie, please,” I gasped. I could not wait any longer. I was desperate for him.

  “Since I first saw you standing there in my yard, I haven’t been able to think of anything but feeling your hands on me. I’ve nearly lost my mind with it.”

  His head slumped down to my shoulder as he regained command of himself. He pulled away from me like it pained him to do so.

  When he met my gaze, there was fire burning in his hazel eyes.

  “Do you want this?” he asked softly, as though there was only one answer he thought he could survive.

  “Yes.” And in my voice I heard a hunger as big as his.

  Then, with startling efficiency, he rolled the condom on that he had left by the nightstand, and was settled back over me.

  He braced himself tenuously at my entrance–a dangerous combination of powerful and primal. I could not tear my eyes from his ardent face, or from the thoughts that he made no attempt to hide–those focused on one singular goal. I could see a pulse raging in his neck and his mouth was open just slightly, his tongue ready to seek mine. That heart-stopping look alone nearly took my breath away.

  Evening was falling quickly into night. And with the last of the light, I ran my hands greedily over the vast expanse of smooth muscle of his chest and arms, and admired the shadows cast across his body by the deep cuts of his torso. His back felt so strong and unbreakable; his firm, round ass clenched with each movement.

  I raised my head to lick his nipple and found his skin faintly salty and smelling of pungent maleness.

  My own breasts ached with a desire to be touched. And when he lowered his mouth to one hardened peak, it was the sweetest of all torture.

  “Okay?” he whispered, as though his throat were as tight as mine. I nodded, unable to say more.

  Then, he reached down, and lifted my bent knee high between us, leaning his shoulder into it and opening me in a shockingly vulnerable way.

  Suddenly, I was struck with a feeling both terri
fying and exhilarating. It was as if I had somehow managed to harness a stallion, only to realize quite abruptly that when it came to handling him, I was in way over my head.

  This man could fuck me into oblivion.

  I knew it. Could feel it. Whatever reins he bore were flimsy at best.

  I closed my eyes, sunk my fingertips deeply into the flesh of his ripped shoulders, and braced myself for whatever may come.

  With one hard thrust, he plunged half way inside, causing me to cry out at the shock of it. He was big and I was small, and if there was ever any question about that fact, it ended right there.

  “Relax for me,” he gasped, but gave almost no time to adjust. He opened me further with his shoulder and pushed inside with a guttural grunt.

  I felt winded. The lower half of my body did not feel like my own. He was not only inside me; it felt like he had possessed me. And I wondered if I would ever feel whole again without his body in mine.

  I reached down his thigh to the indentation where his quadriceps was flexed, and pulled him still deeper inside.

  His answering groan was that of sheer bliss. And in that moment, I knew with unmistakable clarity, I had possessed him, too.

  His breath was now coming in soft puffs on my skin as he began to move. He felt so tight at first, but soon my body gave way, taking him; demanding him.

  He pounded into me, relentlessly, and moisture began springing up on his skin wherever my fingertips trailed–up his strong neck, and into the damp roots of his hair.

  I pulled his mouth to mine, holding him, consuming him. Our breath was urgent and tangled.

  Finally, I couldn’t hold on any longer. I threw my head back against the pillow and shattered. Magnificently–in what felt like a dazzling spectacular of heat and light.

  Warm tingles flooded my spine as my body closed around his like a vice. I was too far gone to see him clearly, but I heard him groan in pleasured agony as my body adamantly urged him to join me.

  He thrust deeply, over and over. I lost count, in fact, merely gripping his body for support, until at last, he buried his head in my neck and came hard with a strangled sound and a rush of heat inside me.

  §

  We were both still breathing heavily when I finally opened my eyes into the stunningly handsome face that hovered directly over mine. He was absolutely breathtaking.

  “How’s the craic?” he whispered with a cheeky smile, so close to my lips I could almost taste him. I was buried in his arms, in the protection and warmth of muscle and flesh.

  “Is that double entendre all part of your Irish charm?” I grinned back. He laughed and bent to kiss me sweetly. His lips felt soft and inviting, as did the velvety texture of his tongue.

  When he broke the kiss, I hated letting him go, but he shifted his body, glancing down between us, and I watched him very carefully remove the condom and dispose of it in the can by my bed.

  “I’m on birth control, just so you know.”

  Truthfully, I have absolutely no idea why I told him that–it just seemed like a valuable point to make. But there was no way in hell we were having sex without a condom.

  His surprise was obvious, too; he seemed to quickly size up the implications.

  “And I’m not seeing anyone else,” he said carefully. “I…made my intentions clear.”

  Jamie told me that he would never apologize for things he did before he knew me. But he looked a little contrite as he came back and settled himself between my thighs. “And I get tested regularly. Just so you know. Though I couldn’t fault you for wanting proof.”

  I studied him for a long moment–his open face and painfully honest eyes. I had been right about women being drawn to him by his soulful vulnerability. How could they not be? He was devastatingly gorgeous. I reached up to stroke his face and he leaned into my touch with a small sigh of contentment. Then I pulled his mouth close to mine so that I could feel just the hint of his beautifully sculpted lips.

  “I will definitely…need proof,” I whispered.

  And in the space of a breath, the intensity of the moment transformed. Jamie burst out laughing in exactly the reaction I’d hoped for. I loved his laugh; and I loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement.

  “Just like a lawyer,” he said, shaking his head affectionately. Then he bent low and his mouth grazed mine, brushing softly at first, and then pressing and warm.

  His kiss was intoxicating, as always. Deep and seductive, and so full of promise and pleasure to come. In my arms, he felt–

  “Oh, my God,” I gasped in astonishment. “How is that even possible?”

  “What?” he responded, pulling back to assess my face.

  I pushed the covers away and glanced between us to Jamie’s now substantial erection.

  He grinned widely. Proudly, even.

  “I told you, I cannot be around you without wanting you.” He looked down his body at the impressive presence straining between us. Then he shook his head ruefully. “But I’m afraid wanting is all it’s going to be because we used all the protection I brought.”

  For a laughable moment, I think we were both just watching his lonely, superfluous erection lying heavily against my thigh. Then I remembered–

  “I bought condoms,” I said hastily. “They’re in the drawer.”

  “Yeah?” he said, with unconcealed relief.

  I nodded, motioning to the nightstand.

  Jamie leaned to one side, and with some effort stretched his long torso to pull the top drawer open. A rush of cool air washed over my skin in the absence of the heat he radiated.

  I expected him back over me in a heartbeat, but he stopped, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “Good Christ, woman! I don’t know whether to be flattered or intimidated! What must you think of me?” He laughed again, still blinking in amazement.

  It was true; the drawer was filled to capacity with large boxes of condoms. Well, not just any condoms–magnums. I was guessing, of course, when I bought them after the barbecue, but, let’s be honest here, it was a fairly educated guess. Still, I realized in a flash of embarrassment how that must look. Like either I was planning on screwing him to death or I was planning to entertain an unusually well-hung marching band.

  “There was a sale,” I squeaked. Damn my practical nature. But in my defense, it was a good sale. And I had no idea how often condoms went on sale. Maybe this was one of those can’t miss deals. At the time, it had seemed like a prudent decision. Now, not so much.

  Jamie’s whole body began to shake, but his head was down on the bed so I couldn’t see his face. All of the sudden he sucked in an audible breath and threw his head back, practically crying with laughter. A deep flush crawled up his neck and face, and those dimples looked as though they might actually punch holes in his face. He was adorable.

  I smacked him, anyway.

  “It’s not funny!” I insisted unconvincingly.

  He very clearly thought it was. His whole body convulsed over me, causing the bed to shake as if we’d put a quarter in it. Finally, Jamie wiped his eyes with his free hand and let out a huge sigh of relief.

  “Ah, God, my sides hurt. But I thank you for the compliment. And I’ll endeavor not to disappoint.”

  “Well, you seemed magnum-sized at the barbecue.”

  “Did I?” Jamie’s eyes glistened as they moved over my face, and I knew he was looking back in our history together. A look of adoration lingered. Then he grinned suddenly at me, teeth flashing white in the dimness of the room.

  “For all you knew, love, it could have been a leek.”

  Chapter 8

  Mel

  I DON’T KNOW LONG I drifted off before the world came creeping back into my consciousness–people talking on the street below my window, the sound of a car alarm down the street, and the jingling of an animal collar next to my bed.

  It felt like a rude disruption when the muscular pillow beneath my cheek twisted out from under me to scoop up an eager and curi
ous Atticus, and sit him on the bed between us.

  “Well, hello there,” Jamie said, scratching Atticus behind both ears with a hand that easily dwarfed little Atticus’s head. “Where did you come from?”

  Atticus sagged contentedly into the lavish attention, neck drooping, eyes half-mast. Randomly, I wondered if the effect of Jamie’s touch was as pronounced in me. Judging by the way I felt at that moment, I suspected it was.

  “Hi, sweet boy,” I cooed to my little ball of brown and white, furry sunshine. “Were you scared of the fire alarm?” I asked rhetorically. “I’m sorry.” Atticus licked my hand as if I was forgiven for nearly burning down his principal residence, then he leaned heavily into Jamie’s chest.

  “He’s magic.”

  Jamie nuzzled Atticus with his nose and stroked a large palm down his back, over and over. Atticus returned the favor with lavish kisses on Jamie’s face and neck until Jamie, laughing, had to physically move him out of range.

  “How long have you had him?”

  “A few months now, huh, Atticus?” I found his special spot and scratched it until he began thumping his back leg on the mattress. “I saw him running down Van Ness and I was worried he’d get hit. He didn’t have a collar or a chip, so I just had to keep him. Plus, he’s very cute.”

  “Naturally,” Jamie grinned.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “You’re very…” He hesitated, assessing me critically. And I will fully admit to hanging on each passing second to find out what he thought I was very.

  “Nurturing,” he finally said, pleased with his choice.

  “Nurturing, am I?” Could he hear the disappointment? “That sounds very matronly.”

  “What would you have preferred?”

  “Oh, I don’t know–sexy, devastatingly beautiful, utterly charming. Just the first things to come to mind.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, reaching out to cup my breast with his hand. “Well, you’re all of those things, of course. Perhaps I should have focused my compliment on your tits.”

  I smacked him and he laughed, prompting Atticus to leap at him with more kisses. I loved to watch Jamie laugh. I loved the crooked front tooth that showed when he wasn’t conscious of covering it. I loved the way his dimples would linger on his face for a time after, and how his hazel eyes would shine with humor. Jamie was capable of honest emotion. His laugh always felt genuine.