Who You Least Expect

by Lydia Rowan

  Though she might have been in a bit of a haze, Cody most assuredly was not and with one sure stride, he closed the distance between them and captured her lips in a kiss. His first kiss had been gentle, soft, but this time he kissed her with a fierce passion that left her speechless, that made her, for the first time in her life, want to yield to him, to let go of the reins of her control and let him take her to the heights that she believed with every fiber of her being only he could.

  That thought, one that left her light-headed, giddy with the possibility of doing so, spurred desire unlike any she’d ever felt, and almost unconsciously, she moved closer to him, the heat of his strong body bleeding into hers, and let her hand rest against the sculpted muscle of his chest. And when she opened her mouth on a sigh, he deepened their kiss. But unlike before, she didn’t press the issue, content, more than content, to let Cody set the pace.

  And he did, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, the faint flavor of beer and a taste that she knew was uniquely him filling her mouth. As they kissed, he moved his hands up her sides, the lazy strokes completely at odds with the passion of his kiss. Without breaking their embrace, he worked at the buttons of her shirt—she gave a silent thank-you that she’d worn a button-down, the thought of breaking this touch for something as mundane as removing clothing almost unfathomable—and when he reached the final button, he pulled apart the material and slid it down her arms, the rasp of linen, now wrinkled from wear, against her skin leaving goose bumps in its wake. But that was no surprise; all of her senses were heightened, and the arousal that surged in her blood was more intense than she’d ever felt.

  The shirt hit the floor with a soft wisp and though the material was light, a necessity given the late spring temperatures, a chill ran through her now that her skin was exposed. But it was quickly chased away by the heat of Cody’s hands as he reversed the path the shirt had just taken, lightly tracing up her arms, over her shoulders, and down her chest. He kept his hands there, thumbs stirring a tornado inside her as he rubbed them over the slope of her collarbones.

  And then he broke the kiss, and she cried out at his absence. As she peeled open eyes that she hadn’t even realized she’d closed, she was met with the sight of Cody, standing strong, chest heaving with panted-out breaths that were as heavy as her own. He looked rugged, handsome, and so desirable that she had to squeeze her thighs tight to try to contain the need that filled her. He also looked like someone she had to touch if only to prove to herself that he was real, to prove that finally, after all of the teases, imaginings, and fever dreams, she was here with Cody in the flesh, about to fulfill a desire that had been with her for far too long.

  She curled her fingers against his chest briefly before she stroked down the plane of his chest and then grasped at the hem of his shirt, pulling the soft cotton up. The play of passion in his eyes was riveting, but she needed to see him, so she broke his gaze and watched as he was revealed, first his tight six-pack lightly dusted with brown hair, then the perfection of his pectoral muscles, then his bunched shoulders that she couldn’t wait to grip as he pounded into her. He took over and quickly finished removing the shirt and then tossed it away in a smooth, fluid motion.

  That ferocious hunger still in his eyes, he cupped a hand to her ass and rocked against her, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her soft stomach. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she’d soon have him inside her, and that awareness had her hands, moving with an eagerness she’d never had with other lovers, roving over his body, taking in the strong plane of his back, the firmness of his ass and then, finally, the warm thickness of his shaft. She squeezed lightly, and he blew out a breath against her neck.

  When she did it again, he exhaled hard again and then trailed his hand down to rest between her thighs. It was her turn to breathe hard when he cupped her sex with his big hand, the pressure against her clit too faint to give any real satisfaction, something that the wicked smile on his face told her he well knew. He pressed the heel of his hand against her, slightly increasing the pressure against her clit, and her womb clenched, reminding her of how wet she was and how empty, something she would soon fix.

  Brain fuzzy with the heady sexual energy flowing between them, she fumbled in his pockets, almost exhilarated enough to scream when she found a condom there. Maybe she should have been offended he’d been so certain about the outcome of this visit, but she definitely wasn’t. No, she was relieved that he’d saved the precious seconds it would take to find it, seconds that she planned to put to good use. That thought spurring her, she squeezed him one final time before she opened his fly and pushed his pants down, freeing his cock.

  His cock bobbed in front of him, hard and strong, his long, thick shaft heavily veined and capped with a bulbous, mushroom-shaped head that was red and slick with his own arousal. Unable to stop herself, she gripped him, steel under satin skin, and he let out a strangled-sounding half moan at her touch. The feel of him in her hand, the fact that his desire for her had him in this state, was her undoing. She released him and began fumbling with her own pants, relieving herself of them.

  Cody’s eyes widened when he saw her, and he smoothed his thumb across her mound.

  “Bare,” he said on a husky whisper and then he gave her a wolfish smile before he cupped her again, using two fingers to stroke her outer lips and then slipping them inside to trace the inner.

  “Ahh,” she moaned, the feel of his fingers and the muted sound of them swirling in her wetness making her cry out.

  She bucked against him, his cock brushing her hip when he buried one finger inside her, a tantalizing glimpse of what was to come. He didn’t move the finger and she clenched around it, trying to suck him in deeper. And she was rewarded when he added a second and then a third, stretching her walls in the most delicious way.

  He pumped his fingers inside her, sending concussions of pleasure through her body that had her flying closer and closer to climax. Her eyes flew open when he abruptly pulled his fingers out and with that cocky grin on his face, he grabbed her hand and pried the condom, which she held in a death grip, out of her fingers. She watched avidly as he opened the packet and rolled the thin material down his shaft, and all the while he stared at her, cocky and self-satisfied by what she knew was her lustful stare.

  Well, two could play that game. She lowered herself to the couch and spread her legs as wide as she could, releasing her own self-satisfied smile when Cody’s dropped and was replaced with scorching desire. And then, moving with grace and restrained power, he sprang toward her, looping an arm around her back and lifting her.

  When his cock brushed against her hole, she grasped his shoulders and tightened the hold as he pushed himself inside her. Inch by glorious inch, he brought them together, and she let her eyes drift shut and gritted her teeth, letting the maelstrom wash over her. And when he pulled back and then plunged in so hard that the couch shifted, she was gone.

  “Cody!” she cried as he moved inside her, his arm tight around her, his shoulders strong under her hands.

  His lips found hers, and all sound was lost as he kissed her feverishly, the stroke of his tongue in and out of her mouth mirroring the stroke of his cock in and out of her pussy. She pulsed around him, his shaft rubbing her clit on each thrust, until the sizzle of electricity that had been building bolted through her and she came apart in his arms, screaming her pleasure into his kiss.

  Yet he continued, moving inside her at a furious pace. Given the precarious balance of the couch, she marveled at the strength and control of his body. She’d found the energy to open her eyes and she watched as he moved, biceps bulging as he braced himself against the couch with one arm and held her with the other, the outline of his thigh muscles stark as he pushed into her, his ass flexing against her calves with his exertion.

  He broke their kiss and, with one final stroke, cried out and spilled himself into the condom, the throb of his cock inside her and the tremors that racked his body making her cl
amp her walls down tight around him. He bent his arm, and they went down, half on, half off the couch, bodies still intimately connected.

  As he lay against her, she stroked him, arms, shoulders, back, loving the contented little sighs he released. And when he softened and slipped from her, she ignored the stab of loss that hit her, instead focusing on how good it had felt to have him inside her, how good it felt to touch him now.

  His harsh breaths brushed her shoulder until he pulled back and smiled at her.

  “Not bad for round one,” he said.

  ••••

  He was awake when the first hints of morning sun broke over the horizon. And so was she. Cody didn’t think she’d slept at all, but then again, he hadn’t either. The frantic coupling on his couch had been an appetizer, and in the hours after, he’d taken his time, taking her over and over again. He was tempted to again, but as he reached for her, she stood and headed to the bathroom, Cody enjoying the view as she retreated.

  He went to the other bathroom and then back to the living room. In the five minutes they’d been apart, Blakely had dressed, and if he hadn’t been a participant, he almost wouldn’t have believed that she’d just ridden his cock so expertly that they’d both reached screaming orgasm. She was entirely put together, her blouse neatly tucked, not a hair out of place. But her eyes gave her away, that soft, nearly dreamy look that was so different from her usual expression. And so did her lips, full before, but now ripe, swollen with his kisses.

  Seeing her like that, so neat and put together but unable to hide the fact that she was a woman freshly fucked, just made him want to do it all over again. That thought in mind, he walked toward her, feeling a hum of satisfaction at the glint of anticipation that lit her eyes. She reached up, for what he didn’t know, for she stopped halfway, frowning as she caught sight of her fingers.

  “It’s okay. Stop worrying about it,” he said when he reached her.

  “You noticed? I should have gotten it fixed today, but I didn’t have time,” she said, her brow furrowing as she worriedly looked at the offending nail.

  He grabbed her hand and swiped a finger over the polish, which was pristine as far as he could tell, save the tiny chip that Blakely fussed over.

  “I only noticed because you haven’t stopped touching it all night. All during the party, you kept looking at it, smoothing it over. I thought you’d hurt your finger or something at first.”

  When she turned her eyes from her finger to his face, he noted that the edge of worry had receded and was replaced with a combination of surprise and a faint tinge of embarrassment.

  “Oh no. Did everyone notice?” she asked.

  “Probably not. I was just paying special attention.”

  He smiled, and after a beat, she returned the expression and then, in a move that surprised him, glided her lips over his. He returned the kiss, enjoying the leisurely caress. He silenced the protest that sprang up before it could come out.

  “This was nice,” she said.

  He nodded his response and then waited, not quite sure where she was headed.

  “I’d like to do it again.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  She smiled faintly and then her eyes turned somber. “But this is fun, Cody. Casual. Nothing more,” she said, her voice firm, unwavering, making her dead seriousness on the subject undeniable.

  Casual was exactly how he liked things but something, probably that stubborn streak that not even a decade in the military had managed to correct, made him object. Yeah, it was his stubborn streak, he reassured himself. Of course, that didn’t explain why the idea of Blakely shutting down the idea of something deeper rankled as much as it did. But he’d chalk that up to pride. After all, more than a few women had tried to get him to settle down, tried to convince him that he wanted something more than casual fun, so Blakely insisting on it before he even had a chance to was just a little role reversal, an unanticipated development, nothing more. Still, his nature compelled him to push the issue.

  “And, for the sake of argument, what if I want something more?”

  Her eyes went hard, and then she shrugged, the easy gesture at odds with her unyielding expression. “Your feelings, your business. But I’m telling you what I can offer. And what I can’t.”

  She tilted her head up with a defiant little turn, probably expecting him to argue. He wouldn’t, not even to prove a point, but the temptation was strong.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “And don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ I don’t need any more reminders of how much older than you I am.”

  “Does the vast gulf of years between us bother you?” he asked as he walked to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water and then closed the door after she shook her head to decline his offer.

  “It’s only nine years, not that vast of a gulf, especially not for people who are both over twenty-five, so no, not especially. But I already know that every tongue in town will be passing the story of how I was here last night. Our age difference and our color difference only makes it that much more salacious.”

  “And does that bother you?” he asked.

  “I don’t suppose I would have let my naked ass touch your couch if it did, now would I?” she said sarcastically.

  He chuckled. “Suppose not. It’s not an issue for me either. And so far, the town doesn’t strike me as one too hung up on race stuff,” he said.

  “No, you have a few exceptions, but the town’s pretty tolerant. At least when it comes to that.”

  “Good to know,” he said. He’d dated and been with women of all ages and races, and didn’t have hang-ups about any of it. And Blakely Bishop was so damn intriguing, so different, he’d have pursued her no matter what. “So if age doesn’t matter and race doesn’t matter, why the concern?”

  “I just hate being gossiped about,” she said, a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice.

  “But big city or small town, that’s just a fact a life. You shouldn’t take it to heart.” He took a swallow of water.

  “Oh, I don’t. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I let gossip get to me. But I still don’t like it and try not to add fuel to the fire. It’s silly but for some reason, you calling me ‘ma’am’ makes me picture the Ladies’ Council sitting around in their sewing circle being positively scandalized by that Bishop girl gallivanting around with a boy half her age.”

  He laughed. “I don’t know if what we did qualifies as ‘gallivanting,’ but no matter what you choose to call it, I’m less than ten years younger than you, which is far less than half. And I haven’t been a boy for a very long time,” he said, placing his hands on her hips and tugging her until their bodies touched.

  The warmth and weight of her body against his stirred tendrils of arousal, a feeling that only increased when he moved closer and trailed her hands up his back.

  “You look like you want to go. Sure I can’t convince you to stay?” he asked, letting his voice drop to a low tone.

  “You could,” she said, “but I should probably go.”

  Through a feat of will, he stepped back, breaking the contact between them and watching as she walked to the door.

  “See you around, Ms. Bishop,” he said as he turned the lock.

  “Make it soon,” she replied.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The sound of her laughter was cut short by the closing of the door.

  Chapter Eight

  Being in Cody’s bed, in his arms, had been the best night of her life, and as she walked home, she was refreshed, relaxed, ready to move mountains, so relaxed that she didn’t care who saw her walking home in the same clothes she’d worn yesterday. Cody, supremely talented man that he was, had left her so charged, so invigorated, she doubted anything could bring her down. Well, almost anything, as was proved when she saw that ramshackle minivan sitting silent, a menacing sentinel in her driveway. Her lips tightened, and she turned her face down in a frown. She loved her mother, but these impromptu visits wer
e a little much.

  “Hey, Mama,” she said after she’d walked up the porch steps.

  Blakely’s mother watched her, a knowing little smile playing on the other woman’s lips. “Late night, dear?” she asked.

  She was old enough not to be embarrassed by her nocturnal activities—not too embarrassed anyway—but not so old she was completely okay with her mother knowing about them.

  “Why are you here?” Blakely asked, desirous of talking about anything else.

  If her mother found anything untoward about the question, she didn’t show it. Blakely stood next to the bench and for a moment, she reflected on how glad she was that the bench didn’t have cushions. Those would have been hell to clean but the wood could be wiped down fairly easily—

  She cut the thought off as soon as she realized where her mind had taken her. And a heartbeat later, the guilt came, familiar and painful. She shouldn’t judge, was in no position to and knew the sting of condemnation so well herself that she couldn’t justify doing it herself. But the thoughts came all the same.

  “No reason. Daddy’s out in the yard again, so I thought we should visit. He couldn’t get away though.”

  Thank God.

  Blakely shook her head, hoping to shake loose the thoughts, but to no avail. She jumped up but gestured at her mother to stay seated when the other woman went to follow suit.

  “It’s such a nice morning. Want to sit out here and catch up?” Blake asked, trying to ignore the terrible thought from before, the shame that nearly stole her breath.

  “Sure,” her mother said as she glanced around the tidy porch and lush green grass.

  Blakely left her and entered the house, pushing up the front door but not closing it completely. She quickly retrieved two sodas from the refrigerator, trying to ignore the fact that if it were anyone else, she would have put the beverage in a glass. Pulling the door closed behind her, she stepped on the porch, considered where she should sit and finally decided to stand at the railing across from her mother. After passing the soda, she leaned against the rail and watched her mother.