by Louisa Trent
Taking the hint, Lou began to rock, gently rock, slowly rock, carefully rock, and the discomfort gradually receded.
He did some thrusting. Not deep, and it was still almost too much. He was larger than Jeremy. And it had been a year...
The tempo was slow and easy. Not at all what she'd had in mind, but in the end, she was grateful for Lou's restraint. She'd never have walked again if he drove and pushed and THRUST, like she'd initially wanted him to do.
She was a little more delicate than she'd realized.
But he realized it, damn him! Lou knew her body wasn't ready for his. She was wet as she could get, he'd done all the right things, she was very aroused, and still her body was protesting. He knew he could hurt her, and so he held back, put her needs ahead of his own. How many men would have done the same?
“Blue, Blue, Blue,” he whispered, caressing her face, making the extra effort to kiss her bulls-eye on the lips, ecstasy quickly-and thankfully-approaching.
Despite the first time awkwardness, despite his formidable size, despite everything, she was about to climax. The achievement didn't speak so much to Lou's by-the-numbers skill, but to his nearly superhuman gentleness.
She came first—a man of the old school like Lou would always ensure that. He followed. But while her climax was loud and harsh, a free-for-all bellow that bounced off the walls, his orgasm was muffled, confined, tight. And that just so annoyed her.
Shattered and resentful, she flopped inelegantly onto her belly, face down on the nearest pillow.
“I'm sorry,” Lou said.
At the apology, she turned to face her gentle lover in the dark. “Sorry? What for?”
Did Lou realize she was secretly nursing a grudge against his control? Was he that intuitive?
She certainly hoped not. A woman liked to keep some things to herself!
“I'm sorry for letting that get out of hand.”
Out of hand? She raged. That mild joining was his idea of out of hand?
“We never should've done this tonight, Blue. We should have taken our time, gotten to know one another first. Sex is too serious to rush. I know you're leaving town but we could have done the email route. And then, sometime later, in the future, at a mutually convenient time, maybe then we could have made love.”
In the dark, her mouth flapped open, then snapped shut. The guy next to her in bed needed to learn how to enjoy himself, live in the moment. Life was short. Didn't he realize that there may not be a future, that there's only the right now?
She did. She realized that the only guarantee in life is that there are no guarantees of life. The truth was impressed upon her in the saddest of ways. Gillian's passing had taught her that it isn't always wise to wait ‘til tomorrow.
Digging deep, she pasted a grin on her face just in case he could read her expression in the dark. “Lou, lighten up, would ya! I'll still respect you when the sun comes up, especially if you get me off again like you just did then.”
Despite a lingering resentment over his high-handed control, necessary though it might have been, and some negligible achiness in her female parts, she was not about to forgo another one of those splendid orgasms. For all that Lou was tightly wound, he had the makings of an outstanding lover. If he wasn't always so gentle. So sweet and gentle and restrained. She wanted him to go wild for her, to lose control because of her, to forget everything but her.
Flipping over onto her back, she pressed his big hand onto her pussy. “I'm into immediate gratification here. Let's go another round.”
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blue swung a leg over so that she was positioned above him.
Two hands at her waist, Lou picked her right back up and put her right back down. “Not like that, sweetheart.”
Her pointed chin stuck out. “Then how?”
“You know how.”
Cursing him out under her breath, she went to all fours. “Arrogant ass.”
“Speaking of which,” he said, smoothing his palm over the silky flesh of her rump, “you've got a nice one back here.”
She did too. Her bottom, like all the rest of her, was just about perfect.
Because he couldn't help himself, he got a little frisky and began loving her with his mouth. The outside of her buttocks first, light kisses placed on that petal soft skin, followed by some more adventurous tonguing into the crevice.
Then, he started to lose it, began to get carried away. Perspective and reason dimmed by lust, he opened her up in back and licked his way inside, thrusting his tongue toward the dainty puckered dimple, spearing the seductive opening with the tip.
“Oh, yes, Lou, yes,” she said, excitedly. “Beside the bed. The lube is in the top drawer.”
He reached for the generic hotel nightstand, opened the drawer, felt around inside.
Damn! The drawer was so crowded with gadgets he couldn't find the lube.
He had above average night vision and a quick check of the contents told him she had everything but a blow up dolly in there. He might've been a poster boy for sexual discretion, but he worked in the Adult Entertainment industry and he knew his way around sex toys. There was some stuff inside the drawer that even he didn't recognize.
What was going on with Blue?
If she were hot for some randy sex, he could live with that, deal with that. He had a hard-on the size of Texas; he could easily handle a bout of non-stop sex. She wouldn't find a more enthusiastic joystick for a fun-filled video arcade weekend. He'd do all sorts of fancy combos to make her smile ... if that's all this was about.
Lou wasn't convinced that this was about sex at all, and that's what made him uneasy
He wasn't taken in by Blue's free and easy attitude. It was an act, as bogus as a faux burger. Behind her big talk, sunny smile, and truckload of sex toys, lurked a sad story. He felt it in his gut.
He was right for her. He knew he could make her happy. If he could just figure out what was going on with her, they might just have a future together...
Grabbing what he needed, Lou closed the drawer.
Blue's body was humming.
He opened the top of the tube, smeared lube on his finger, and ministered to his lady.
The humming came to a screeching end.
“What! I thought we were doing anal.”
His sexy pervert! “Didn't I tell you?” he asked, anointing her vagina. “I don't do anal on the second date.”
With his limited sex life, he was grateful when he got to do missionary.
Who was he kidding? Missionary! He was grateful when he kissed a woman goodnight at the door. And here was Blue, expecting soup to nuts. The fantasy alone was enough to kill him.
“I think we should save anal for later on, Blue. You know, after we learn a few things about each other, like addresses, phone numbers, maybe even which side of the bed we sleep on. Or is stuff like that too personal to talk about? By the way, how does this lube feel?”
“Cool and refreshing, like a fuckin’ mountain spring.”
“Good. Cool and refreshing is what I was going for. I'm not so sure about the mountain spring part but I guess I'll take your word for it,” he said evenly, his mouth trembling with an urge to laugh.
After placing the cover back on the tube of lube, he set it carefully aside.
“May I?” he asked politely, while nibbling on her ear.
She was some upset, so he didn't want to push it.
Only when she said, “Yes, fuck you,” did he ease his way in, not pushing it at all.
He didn't have to. His sweet tempered lady came on the first shallow stroke.
* * * *
It was two in the morning, Lou was lying on his back, awake in the dark room, listening to the sounds Blue made as she slept beside him, wanting more than anything to stay right where he was, and knowing he would have to leave soon
The frustrating thing was he knew he could spend the whole night with her in bed. Blue hadn't asked him to leave,
and there was no need to hurry home; only the memory of a little boy's laughter waited for him in his apartment. But it just wasn't right to stay, to pretend they were something they were not.
While he put off getting up, he took a lot of deep inhales. Of Blue's shampooed hair. Of her soap-fresh skin. Of the slight salty scent of her perspiration. Of the musky scent a woman wears after sex.
He also listened. To Blue's in and out breathing, the sweep of her hair on the pillow, the crunch the sheets made when she rolled from her left to her right side.
She was a restless sleeper. That she didn't stay in one place for very long was a small thing to know about a person, but even sleep habits meant a lot when you don't much else. He was gathering all the personal information he could on Blue, collecting both big and little details, learning what made her tick.
Learning what made her tick was why he placed his ear on her chest. Only for a minute or so, just long enough to file away in his memory the even beating of her heart.
It was all good stuff, and he didn't want to miss out on any of it by falling asleep.
Except maybe the guilt. That, he could've done without.
Twice, he'd had mind-blowing sex with a woman who would despise him for sure when she learned what he did for a living. And it was too late now to own up to his career path. No matter what he said, she'd think he had duped her, made a fool out of her ... taken advantage of her to get what he wanted.
He hadn't planned on making love to Blue. He'd arrived at the hotel meaning to tell her all about The Pink Flamingo. But then he'd unlocked the door with the key card she'd given him, saw her getting naked into bed, and something had torn inside him. He couldn't let Blue get in that bed alone.
And so, he hadn't told her.
Instead, he had made loved to her. And now that the damage was done, he intended to make love to her again. Blue was The One for him, he was The One for her, and he had only a very brief time to prove it.
He had his work cut out.
Hotel curtains never seem to close tight. By a narrow band of moon, he memorized what made Blue beautiful and unique, beautifully and uniquely Blue. There wasn't another woman like her.
While Blue slept on, warm and boneless, he rolled the sheet down over the tips of her small breasts to the sharp indentation at her narrow waist. Then, because he couldn't help himself, he dragged it all the way down her long legs.
How many nights alone in his bed had he dreamt about having legs as long as Blue's legs wrapped around his waist?
Too many nights to count. He was a man and he needed sex, and there were some nights when, balls aching, he thought he'd go to any lengths to get it. But he'd never hit on any of his female employees, and until Blue, he had never lied, or even stretched the truth, to get laid. That said, he'd always been damn happy for the opportunity when it presented itself. A couch, the back seat of a car, even that one disastrous time against a wall, he'd gone along, done anything to oblige his partner's preference-there were his aching balls to consider. Even so, the doggie-position was not one of his personal favorites.
Tonight, he'd missed out on gazing into Blue's startling blue eyes while they made love. He hadn't felt her small woman's breasts against his chest, her belly against his belly, the cradle of her loins against the protrusion of his.
Taking her from the rear had felt so cold. But knowing it was necessary, knowing someone had to show some common sense, someone had to take this seriously, someone had to make sure a certain sexy pervert didn't get hurt, he'd used that less intimate approach.
Serious isn't glamorous; sensible is downright boring. But with love comes responsibility, and so when a woman who's already had sex one time too many asks, her voice going from drowsy to interested, “You always wake up like that?” the serious and sensible man gets the hell away from that woman quick.
Lou's foot was already on to the floor when he answered, “Yep, but I wasn't asleep.”
“So it was like that...?”
“Yep, the whole time.”
She checked the clock on the hotel nightstand. “Two hours?”
He sighed. No use hiding it. Best to tell her the awful truth. “I can keep it up for as long as I'm interested. As you can see, I'm interested.”
“Well, hell, what's a girl to do?”
Grabbing onto his shoulders, she hoisted herself up into the saddle, bottom up in the air like a jockey at the Kentucky Derby.
“Careful, Blue! That's a spike, not a thumbtack, you're about to sit on.”
Thinking to divert her attention, he grabbed her around the waist and started in with some foreplay.
Her pert little breasts made for a tempting sight, the undersides jiggling as she made herself comfortable. Scooting his neck up off the pillow, he licked one of the raspberry-tipped ends.
The tip didn't stay soft for long. In his mouth, the nipple hardened to an excited point. He pretended to bite it, like it really was a luscious raspberry and he was about to gobble it up whole.
A flush heated Blue's skin. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Mmm. Oh, yes. Do it like that. Only harder.”
Her bottom wiggled in frustration when he kept his mouthing playful, the round cheeks skimming the flat tip of his cock, and in his head, he started naming the capitals of every state, starting at the eastern seaboard, going in alphabetical order.
And her bottom kept right on with the fidgets.
Just the head, just the pre-come moistened head of his cock, investigated her buttocks.
“That's right, Lou. That's right. Come on inside.”
He wanted to. Man, did he want to. There wasn't a man alive who didn't want to at least try anal. And Blue was not only willing, she was encouraging him, willfully shimmying her butt, and trying to press down so that he could enter.
He started to sweat. “No Blue. Not this time, sweety.”
“But soon?”
“Yeah, real soon.”
With a roll of her hips, she brought him to her front, to those hot pink lips, then to the opening, that wet, hot opening. It was pretty clear she was going for a quick and hurtful impaling.
Confrontation time.
“No Blue,” he said, holding her above him, one hand on her butt so she couldn't drop down on top of him thereby thrilling him and causing herself untold agony.
She was moist, and he wanted her wet.
He mouthed his way down her belly, his tongue sinking into her navel.
“You can't always call the shots,” she groused.
He lapped at her open legs, lengthy tongue licks at the opening of her body.
“Y-you cannot ... you simply cannot ... always be the one in charge,” she raged, squirming.
He poked his head up from between her legs. “You taste so good, Blue. And you're about to come. You want me in or out when it happens?”
“In, but-”
“You want it? Fine. But you're only getting half.” There, the limit was set. Again.
“But Loooou-”
“Easy, Blue,” he ordered, loosening up his hold on her bottom so she'd have some room to negotiate the descent. “And open your legs right up so it won't be so tight.”
When she did, he saw that she was dripping for him, hot and creamy for him, but he also saw that her flesh was inflamed, the tender passage almost purple in tone.
He made a decision. “I'll give you ten minutes.”
“And all ten inches?” she negotiated.
He snapped on a condom. “No, woman! You're already sore.”
“Then ten minutes is not long enough,” she protested.
“You're swollen.”
“So my pussy's swollen. Big fuckin’ deal.”
“That's my condition, Blue. It's either this way or no way. And don't try to cheat. I'll have my eye on the clock behind you the whole time.”
“Jeez, Lou,” she gasped, lowering herself onto his cock, and not cautiously either, which is how she would've done it had she any sense. “Eyes on the clock, huh? I wouldn't
want you getting too carried away by passion or anything.”
For her sake, he did not intend to let that happen. She was getting only half and only ten minutes of him.
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CHAPTER TWELVE
Blue briskly toweled off after her cold shower.
Hot showers were usually her way to start the day, as she never required the icy sting of the spray to wakeup, but this morning, after the night before, she'd needed the frigid water temperature to lower her spiking fever.
Her fever wasn't due only to excessive sexual desire. If Lou hadn't left when he had, she would've laid him out good, told him where to get off, chopped him off right at the knees. She'd never met a more infuriating man!
Or one so considerate.
Or one with so much control.
In the dominant position, she'd yelped out three climaxes in embarrassingly quick succession, while dour Lou, the damn stiff-necked puritan, had withheld his own. And then, when she'd pleaded for another go ‘round, just one more time for the road, he'd said in that clipped, aloof, militaristic voice of his, “Can't. Saving it up for later.”
The nerve of him! Who said there'd even be a later?
She wasn't so sure about it. There was only one certainty: she'd bitten off more than she could chew with Lou.
The second certainty was-okay, so she said there was only one certainty, but this was an addendum to the first certainty-she was falling hard for Lou Franco.
That was the more she'd bitten off, the part she didn't know if she could chew.
She didn't want to fall in love with anyone. She was looking for fun, a good time, some sexual adventuring. If there was ever a man so not a barrel of monkeys, it was Lou. He wasn't even one monkey. He wasn't even the barrel. A barrel was cylindrical and if need be—say the contents were heavy, for example-the container could be tipped over and pushed.
No one pushed Lou Franco. The man didn't budge.
Neither did he laugh. Did the guy even know how?
She didn't think so.
Lou was just so incredibly serious.
Though, in all seriousness, his kisses took the top of her head off.