His, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  Still holding me to his mouth, he eased off, releasing my clit and going back to licking me, at first in gentle, barely there touches. Then, more firmly, and as one climax faded away I felt another begin to build.

  “Oh, Mark,” I moaned, fisting the sheet below me as I pressed myself against his face.

  His tongue probed me, a finger slid inside, then another finger joined it and he pumped them into me, circling, exploring. The pad of his finger brushed my G-spot and I gasped.

  He tapped it again, and his mouth was back on my clit. Pleasure surged through me from both spots, sparking another explosion.

  My body was still quivering in release when his fingers slid out of me, and only moments later he was sheathed and thrusting into me, hard.

  His body rose above mine and I grabbed onto his shoulders, then his butt, as he drove into me relentlessly.

  Arousal gathered in me again as I tightened my internal muscles to alternately grip and release his shaft.

  “Jenna,” he muttered, the first word he’d spoken since he’d begun to explore my body.

  His head lowered, then his lips took mine before I could think whether this was wise. Before I could stop him.

  Once our mouths fused, no way could I pull away, I had to kiss him back. Gasping for breath, we kissed, licked, and I tasted myself on him.

  I tasted me, him, sex, something dark and sweet and intense. Powerful.

  Some shred of sanity told me it was dangerous, I needed to pull away. But I wasn’t me anymore; I didn’t have control over my body. I was part of something bigger, something all-consuming, as if Mark and I weren’t two separate beings but an us that fused in a world of passion and pleasure to form something entirely new.

  Mouths still glued together, I heard his primal shout inside my head, felt his orgasm as if it was my own. Except, it was mine. I, too, was bursting apart in stunning waves of pleasure.

  Shuddering, we clung to each other, mouths falling apart as we sucked in air in great, wrenching breaths. Feeling boneless, my legs and arms flopped against the bed. Mark collapsed down on me, barely managing to take some of his weight on his arms.

  As the after tremors rippled away, I began to feel panicky. Imprisoned. By his weight, his body, and whatever it was that had happened between us. When he shifted off me to deal with the condom, I quickly rolled onto my side, my back to him, as far to one side of the bed as I could get.

  He lay down again and touched my shoulder. “Jenna?”

  “That was great. Now I want to go to sleep.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Stop asking me that,” I snapped. “Of course I’m all right. It’s sex, just sex. I like sex.”

  There was a heavy silence, as if he were debating whether to say something more. Then he sighed, took his hand off my shoulder, and rolled so his back was to me.

  I lay in the dark, tense, knowing sleep was a long way off. But that was all right, because I needed to figure this thing out. That in itself was weird. Normally, I wasn’t the least bit analytical. I took life as it came and enjoyed it. But Dr. Mark Chambers threw me off balance.

  Bottom line: sex with Mark was incredible. The best I’d ever had. Why should that scare me? Yeah, it rocked my world, and I lost myself in it in a way that had never happened before, but afterwards I was me again. I should be thrilled to bits to have hooked up with him and be having such amazing sex. And beyond that, he was smart, interesting, and a good man. It was fun to rattle his scientific cage, fun to tease him away from being so conservative and rule-bound.

  So, why was I shaken?

  Oh man, did this have something to do with turning thirty soon? Was I getting all middle-aged, analyzing stuff to death and getting wary about new experiences?

  Not good, Jenna. Definitely not good.

  Oh for God’s sake, I was obsessing. I should do what I always did: live in the moment and do what felt right at the time. If the thought of kissing Mark bothered me, for whatever crazy reason, then I wouldn’t do it. But if I did feel like it, then I’d go for it. Simple, just the way I liked things.

  Resolved, I breathed deeply, inhaling cool air scented with the tang of green trees and ocean, and let myself drift toward sleep.

  *  *  *

  When he was a kid, Mark had developed the knack of sleeping whenever and wherever he needed to. Getting a good night’s sleep was no surprise. Waking with his arms wrapped around a warm female body, a morning erection nudging her soft butt, was much more rare.

  As for yesterday, rare wasn’t the word. Unique, special, incredible were the more appropriate terms. At least for him. She’d classified it as “just sex.”

  Jenna was more experienced and presumably knew what she was talking about, but as far as he was concerned, the evidence pointed in a different direction. He’d had just sex in the past. He’d had good sex, even great sex. With him and Jenna, it was a whole different category of experience. What he didn’t know was what it meant, or why she wanted to deny it.

  Maybe he could slip away and call Adrienne, get some female advice.

  He studied the quality of the light slanting through the windows of the Westfalia. Around six o’clock, he figured. Too early to phone on a Saturday morning. Besides, if he got up, he’d likely wake Jenna.

  This was the first time he’d seen her utterly still. Awake, she was animated, full of life. Stimulating to be around, yet he’d felt an ease with her that was unusual for him. Now, curled around her relaxed body, he realized how small she was, and felt almost protective.

  A ridiculous sentiment. She’d be the first to tell him she could look after herself.

  She stirred, sighed, then he felt her body tense as if she’d woken and was getting her bearings.

  “Morning,” he whispered against a tangle of soft curls.

  “Mmm. Is it morning already?” She wiggled her butt against his swollen penis. “Someone’s up, I see.”

  “You can ignore that.” He didn’t want to push her just because he’d woken up erect.

  “What if I don’t want to ignore it?” Another wiggle. Delicious pressure.

  He pumped once. “Won’t hear me complain.” His arm had been lying across hers, and now he moved to cup a soft breast and squeeze her nipple gently, feeling it tighten under his touch.

  She curled her body tighter and reached down between her legs to find and grip him. He tilted his hips, helping her as she guided him until his shaft was lodged against her pussy, where her flesh was growing damp.

  He slid back and forth slowly as more moisture slipped from her body, coating his cock and making it slick. Pressing a kiss into her bare shoulder, he squeezed her nipple harder. “Want to roll over?”

  “No, let’s do it like this. Feels so good.” She tapped his shaft gently, a motion like drumming her fingers on a table, sending pulses of arousal through him. “Got a condom?”

  “Right here.” He’d put the box by the bed last night and now eased away briefly to find one and sheath himself. Then he slid back between her legs as she tilted her hips, changing the angle so that this time he could slip inside the welcoming heat of her channel.

  He groaned with pleasure at the same time she said, “Oh, yeah.”

  Pumping slowly in and out, he played with her breast then stroked down her flat belly and cupped her mound.

  She thrust back against him, matching his timing then speeding it a little.

  This felt great, but something was missing. They hadn’t kissed, and he couldn’t see her face. This morning, she’d yet to even say his name. He kissed her shoulder again, the only part of her his lips could reach, wanting to make this more personal. Wishing that, as she gave soft whimpers of pleasure, she’d call his name.

  He’d never been one for talking during sex. But now he murmured, “Jenna, this feels great. Sure you don’t want to roll over?”

  Her head shook. “Like this. I want it like this.”

  It. An impersonal word. Damn, he shouldn’t have asked he
r, he should have just taken charge and rolled her onto her back so he could kiss her. But now that he’d asked, he felt bound to respect her wishes.

  Huh. He was being analytical, the way he normally was during sex. Rather than swept away, like he’d been yesterday. The sexual pleasure was intense, but he didn’t feel that same sense of merging and getting lost.

  Maybe it had been a fluke. Or maybe it only happened when they kissed.

  Maybe, despite the intimacy of this act, she was shutting him out.

  All the same, his body was fully engaged, a climax building. He rubbed his finger lightly over her clit, and she bucked. Her moan of pleasure urged him to keep doing it.

  When he heard her gasp, and her body clutched, he let go, pumping his own release deep inside her.

  After, he held her until their breathing slowed, then eased out of her. He rested his hand on her hip and tugged lightly. “Give me a good morning kiss.”

  Her body jerked. Then, “Morning breath,” she said lightly, scrambling out of bed and tossing him a quick, superficial smile. “I need to brush my teeth, shower.” As she spoke, she threw on clothes haphazardly, moving awkwardly in the cramped space.

  He could have reached out and grabbed her, but held back. Though he was no expert at reading female behavior, her signals pretty clearly said she wanted space.

  She was dressed in a flash, then grabbed her tote bag, said, “See you in a bit,” and was gone.

  He frowned at the door she’d flicked shut behind her, then got up, pulled on a pair of boxers, and found his cell. Too bad if it was early. He needed help.

  First, he put water on to boil for coffee, then he dialed.

  Adrienne picked up after the third ring. “Mark? It’s seven on Saturday.”

  “Sorry, were you in bed? I need to talk to you.”

  “No, we’re up. Just deciding what to do for breakfast.” Indulgently, she said, “Okay, let me guess. You were reading some obscure journal, stayed up all night, and discovered some fascinating connection between … No, I can’t even guess.”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s, uh, a woman.”

  “Oh, yeah? Do tell.” He heard her say, sotto voce, “He’s met a woman.”

  “Say hi to Laura,” he said belatedly. “And how are you feeling anyway? Are you over the morning sickness?”

  “Yeah, thank God. I’m feeling terrific. Now tell me about this woman.”

  Using his free hand, he got the coffee opened and spooned some into the French press. “Her name’s Jenna. She’s bright, beautiful, fun.”

  “You wouldn’t be calling if there wasn’t a problem.”

  “The sex is weird.”

  A pause. Then, cautiously, “Weird? As in kinky? I’m not sure I want to hear this. Innocent ears and all.”

  A hoot told him Laura disagreed.

  “No, not kinky.” Then he thought of having sex on the beach in the log shelter, and Jenna going down on him in the campsite. “Well, maybe a little kinky, but that’s not the problem.”

  The rich aroma of brewing coffee made him impatient. “The more, uh, personal it gets—like, if we kiss—it’s like … Well, it’s great, really intense, but uh …” He was analytical; he could find a way of describing this. “It’s like being struck by lightning. No, more like a tornado effect. I get whirled up in the funnel, and we’re both carried away. I have no control and can’t even think. Does that make any sense?”

  She let out a low whistle. “My buddy Mark’s finally fallen in love.”

  He almost dropped the mug he was taking from the cupboard. “Love?” No, that was impossible. He’d just met Jenna, and they were such different people.

  “Was she working at Long Marine Lab with you? She’s a marine biologist, too?”

  “No, she’s … Wait a minute.” He depressed the plunger in the press, poured carefully into the mug, and took that first, delicious sip. “She’s not a scientist. I guess right now she doesn’t have a job at all. She was volunteering on a peregrine falcon survey”—he wouldn’t mention waitressing—“and now she’s taking a break for her sister’s wedding. After that I’ve no idea what she intends to do.” In all likelihood, nor did Jenna.

  “Really? She doesn’t exactly sound like your type.”

  “No, she isn’t, actually.” He sat on the side of the bed.

  “Okay, um … She isn’t your type but you have this incredible sex. Hmm. How long have you known her?”

  “I met her yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?!” Her voice was so loud he jerked the phone away from his ear, almost spilling his coffee.

  “Yeah. I’m driving back to Vancouver for the symposium and met her in a diner. She needed a ride, so I gave her one.”

  “She’s a hitchhiker?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Good God, Mark, what are you thinking?”

  “I, uh … Jenna has a way about her.”

  “So I gather.” She was quiet for a long moment, and he drank coffee, waiting. Finally, she said, “She seduced you. So what does she want from you?”

  He’d like to think he’d had a hand in the seduction, but maybe that was wishful male thinking. “Just a ride. Her car broke down, and she needs to get home. She’s insistent about paying her share of the gas and food.” He shrugged. “What else could she want? It’s not like I’m some rich guy with a fancy car and expensive clothes.”

  “No, you’re sure not.” Another long pause. “Tell me more about her. Not the sex part,” she added quickly. “Do you like her?”

  “In a lot of ways. She’s easy to talk to.”

  A snort. “Mark, your idea of conversation is talking science. She isn’t a scientist so let me just take a wild guess and say she’s faking interest.”

  He had lectured more than once. She’d seemed attentive. Besides … “We talk about other things than science.”

  “As in, she talks and your eyes glaze over, though you pretend to listen?”

  “My eyes do not glaze over,” he snapped. “I’m interested in other things than science.”

  She gave a soft chuckle. “Okay, it’s true. Maybe just not as interested.”

  “Anyhow, I don’t just listen. Jenna makes me talk.”

  “Aha! She’s trying to pry information out of you, like how much you make?”

  “Not that kind of talk.” Man, Adrienne really was cynical about Jenna. “More about personal stuff. The commune, Alicia, what it was like being raised by my grandparents.”

  “Alicia?”

  “My biological mother.”

  After a long pause, she said, “I don’t think you ever told me her name. Because you don’t talk about this stuff, not even with me, your best friend. What did this woman do to you?”

  Bewitched me. “She’s interested in me.”

  “So am I, damn it.”

  “Sorry. But you and I have other things to talk about. We’re colleagues. And when I’ve dated, they’ve always been colleagues, too.”

  “True.”

  “Anyhow, Jenna asks questions and makes it easy to answer. We’re sitting there in the camper, side by side, the road ahead of us. It feels almost natural to talk to her.”

  When she didn’t say anything for a long time, he said, “Adrienne? Still there?”

  “You know, that’s as special as the merging together sex. Somehow this Jenna, in one day, broke through a barrier no other woman’s managed to disturb. Maybe you really are in love,” she said in a marveling tone.

  Feeling an odd throb in his heart, he frowned into his now-empty mug. It would be completely illogical to fall in love—with a woman like Jenna especially, who wasn’t even a scientist much less a marine biologist—in a single day. “I was wondering if it could have to do with MHC codes.”

  “That could explain immediate attraction and good sex,” she mused. “Are you in an endorphin haze, seeing only her good qualities and thinking she’s perfect?”

  “No, she’s not perfect. She’s a drifter. For her, life’
s about having fun.”

  Another whistle. “That’s so not you. Okay, no rosy haze, and she sure doesn’t sound like the right match for you.”

  “No.” How ridiculous to feel a pang of sadness. He rose and poured the rest of the coffee before it got bitter from sitting on the grounds. “She keeps saying it’s just sex, and sometimes I think she’s avoiding kissing me. But when we do kiss, I feel like she’s right there with me. That it’s as powerful for her as it is for me.”

  “Hmm. Don’t some prostitutes avoid kissing? Because they find it more intimate than sex?”

  “Jenna is not a prostitute!” Of course, he didn’t know that for a fact, but every instinct told him that high-spirited, carefree Jenna treated sex as a fun act to share, not a source of income. “Jesus, Adrienne.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Just that, if she doesn’t want to kiss, might she be resisting intimacy? Intimacy’s kind of like commitment, and from what you said, she’s not big into commitment.”

  “She’s not. She doesn’t believe in monogamy.”

  “Hmm. Maybe she’s never been in love, so she’s never felt the desire for monogamy. Or maybe love scares her.”

  “Why would it scare her?”

  “There could be a hundred reasons. What does love symbolize to her?”

  “Uh …” How was he expected to know that?

  Out the window, movement caught his eye. Jenna, returning.

  “Have to go now,” he said. “See you in Vancouver.” Then he closed the phone. Man, this love stuff was complicated.

  When the door opened, he was rinsing his mug. “I made extra coffee,” he said casually.

  “Thanks.” She stood outside, watching him almost warily. This morning she wore the same shorts as yesterday and a green tee. “Are you going to shower?”

  “Yeah, right now.” Used to the small amount of space inside the camper, he efficiently dressed, grabbed a few things, then jumped out. Leaving the bed down.

  Deep in thought, he walked to the facilities and went through his morning routine by rote. Could Jenna be afraid of love? Could she be falling for him, and resisting? Could he be falling for her? How on earth did a person know these things?