Going the Distance (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Cara Addison

  “Help me,” he whispered.

  Her mind was swimming, trying to comprehend the change in tempo and urgency to all of their previous encounters. She reached down and slowly rolled the latex into place, gently massaging him as he moved between her legs. He kissed her as he lowered his hips to hers, slowing sinking into her. She moaned as he slowly and gradually sunk deeper and deeper with each tender push of his hips.

  “That feels incredible.” Her voice quivered as he leaned his entire body against hers, kissing her neck and then her cheek and then her lips as he pressed his hips against hers. “Brett,” she moaned, realizing in the back of her mind that she hadn’t ever uttered his name.

  “You are lovely,” he murmured in between kisses.

  She gasped, the early tension of a climax beginning to build. She slowly moaned as he thrust into her, pressing deep and hard in response to her moans. “Come,” he begged.

  “I…a-a-am…” she moaned, gasping for air under the weight of his chest on hers. “My God, Brett.” She kissed him, savoring the intense ripples that pulsed from her core to her toes.

  He ran his hand down her arm, clutching her fingers in between his, squeezing tight as he came. They lay at peace. He delivered more kisses as he softened and slipped from her.

  She whimpered. “That didn’t feel anything like fucking,” she whispered, running her fingers through the soft hair on his chest.

  “It wasn’t supposed to.”

  She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting that…you would…” She kissed his chest, not certain how to finish her thought.

  He pulled her in close, curling up under the covers, their limbs tangled together. She lay wide awake, listening to his breathing, knowing that he was drifting to sleep. He shifted slightly and whispered into her hair, “I think I’m falling in like with you, Austin.” She lay perfectly still, holding her breath, not sure how to respond. Her mind raced over the events of the past few days as she weighed her blossoming feelings. She hadn’t anticipated meeting anyone on this trip, let alone fall for someone so perfectly suited for her. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and determined she would enjoy the moment, rather than dwell on what might be. As she began to relax in Brett’s arms, his breathing deepened, and she knew that he was fast asleep.

  * * * *

  It was the final day of the convention, and she was anxious for it to be over. She was looking forward to a few days of vacation. She was even more interested to see what five days of uninterrupted time with Brett might be like.

  She stepped out of the shower, and walked into the bedroom. He was typing on her smartphone. “What are you doing?”

  He looked up. “I was going to take a look at your playlist. Why is your phone password protected?”

  “Yours isn’t?”

  “No. What kind of national secrets are you keeping on there?”

  “First, I’m Canadian. Our secrets are pretty vanilla. Second, I have confidential work e-mails, personal contacts, book ideas…all kinds of information that I’m not interested in leaking to someone who starts out scrolling through my playlist, and keeps on browsing.” She paused, picking up his phone. “You wouldn’t want me scrolling through your contacts and recent text messages to see whom you’ve dated and what private conversations you’ve had with them, would you?” she asked, opening up a recent text and showing it to him.

  He reached out and took his phone from her hands. “How do I add a password?”

  “That’s what I thought,” she added, taking her phone back.

  “Hey, do you have Skype on your laptop?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “I need to check in with a friend at the office. Can I use your computer?”

  “Sure.” She walked to the living room and opened the computer, punching in her password. “You’re not going to get dressed?”

  “Dale won’t care.” He shrugged, sitting down at the desk, wearing just a pair of shorts. He logged in and placed the call. She was only wearing a towel, and stepped back from the screen. She walked across the room to the minibar for a bottle of water when the call connected. She heard them chat for a few minutes about business.

  “How’s San Diego?”

  “Full of surprises,” he responded cryptically.

  “Really? Do tell,” his friend urged, reading his friend’s expression. Her phone rang, and she realized she had left it sitting beside the laptop. Without thinking, she walked to the desk to silence the ringer. “Well, hell-o,” she heard Dale exclaim through the computer speakers.

  Brett rolled the chair back a foot from the desk and pulled her into his lap. She smiled shyly at the stranger on the screen as Brett planted a dozen kisses on her neck and cheek. “Meet Austin.”

  She gave a tiny wave at the screen.

  “Nice,” he exclaimed, sitting back in his chair.

  “You have no idea,” Brett murmured, running his hand down her arm. His other hand gently tugged at the towel, causing it to fall to her waist. She could see in the preview image at the bottom of the screen, that Dale had a complete view of Brett’s hands on her breasts. She bit her lip, suppressing a moan.

  “Holy fuck,” Dale cursed, leaning forward to look at the screen. His eyes were wide, his fist in his teeth. “You fucking bastard.”

  Austin laughed, gently pushing his hands away. “Yes. He. Is.” She stood up and bent over to kiss him. She waved good-bye to the camera and walked away, leaving the fluffy white towel on the floor by the chair.

  She heard Dale utter a long list of curse words, some of which she hadn’t even heard before. She watched Brett lean back into the chair, his fingers intertwined behind his head. She could tell from the movement of his shoulders that he was quietly laughing at his friend’s response. He swiveled the chair to look at her. “Well done.”

  She gave him a crooked smile and left the room to get dressed.

  * * * *

  The crowds attending the final day at the convention weren’t as busy, but her schedule was just as demanding. She sat through four more interviews with the media and met with three separate organizers of similar events, each inviting her to be a part of their upcoming conventions. She was humbled, knowing that only the most popular authors at this event were invited to showcase at other events.

  At one o’clock, she returned to an empty hotel room, her responsibilities at the convention wrapped for the week. She heard a key in the door, and arrived in the living room to see Brett pulling a suitcase. “You checked out of your room?” she asked, walking over to him.

  “I did.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Great. You can have that bedroom,” she joked, pointing to the second bedroom he had walked past.

  “Not likely.” He laughed at her. “Are you ready for the ball game?”

  “Not yet. Give me a minute.”

  She moved to the bedroom and pulled off her business attire. She applied a generous layer of sunscreen to her shoulders, arms, and legs before pulling on a lavender halter-top and a pair of white shorts. She pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, and pulled a ball cap out of her suitcase.

  She breezed into the living room a moment later, picking up her sunglasses, phone, and room key off the table. She pulled some cash from her wallet, stuffing it into her front pocket. “I’m ready.”

  He looked up at her from the sofa. “That was fast.” He sat for a moment, looking at her. He glanced at his watch. The game would start in twenty minutes. “Do we have time for a quickie?”

  She leaned over the back of the sofa and kissed him. “Always.”

  He pulled her onto the sofa, quickly pulling off her shorts.

  Twenty minutes later, they were walking toward Petco Park, most of the crowds already inside the stadium. The national anthem played as they arrived at their gate. They stopped in the concrete hall until the anthem was over. “You’re Canadian. That isn’t even your anthem,” he said, leading her to their seats along
the third base line.

  “Maybe not.” She chuckled, holding his hand down the stairs, “but I still know all the words.”

  Heads turned as they took their seats. He assumed it was to catch a glimpse of Austin. She assumed it was the Yankees cap Brett was wearing.

  “Do you go to a lot of games in New York?”

  He nodded, answering her without taking his eyes off the field. “Dale and I have season tickets.”

  It was an action-packed game with a number of plays that were destined to make the highlight reel on the sports news. During a pause in the play, Austin pulled out her phone, checking her e-mail messages. She started typing out a response.

  “What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

  She looked at him. “I’m checking my e-mail. Why?”

  “You’re not watching the game?”

  She looked at the field. “It’s a television time-out. The stations have gone to commercial break. Even the viewers at home have left the room to do something other than watch the game.”

  His phone beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at it. He smirked. “Dale is still swearing at me.”

  “Don’t take your eyes of the field,” she said in a playfully mocking tone.

  Throughout the game, he stood and cheered with each play the Yankees made, drawing the attention of the Padres fans in their section. He didn’t care. Three hours later, the Yankees clinched the game with a three-run homer, ending the game with a score of seven to two.

  It was only a block away, but it took a half hour to make their way back to the hotel. “What do you want to do now?” she asked.

  The expression on his face gave away his answer before he could say, “You.”

  He pulled her close when the elevator doors closed, kissing her until they reached the twenty-fourth floor.

  He led her straight to the bedroom and pulled back the fresh sheets. He stood for a moment, deciding what fantastic adventure they would have next. “Let’s have a tub.”

  She walked into the bathroom and turned on the taps, adding a squeeze of liquid that instantly began forming bubbles under the hot water while he retrieved a bottle of wine from the minibar.

  He walked into the bathroom, handing her a glass. She took a sip of the pinot grigio before setting her glass on the wide ledge of the tub. He watched her pull off her clothes before sinking into the water. His clothes fell to the floor. He stepped into the water behind her, sinking into the spacious tub and slipping his legs around her. He leaned back, pulling her back against his chest.

  “I read chapter eleven this morning while you were working.”

  She reviewed the novel in her mind, sifting through the scenes she had written. She smiled and turned her head slightly as she recalled the content of chapter eleven. “Did you?”

  He handed a glass of wine to her, taking a drink from his own before responding. “I did.” He leaned forward and kissed her, letting his hand explore her body under the bubbles. “Dare I ask if that one is from personal experience?” His hand was resting between her legs.

  She squirmed a little, knowing that he was asking her if she had ever squirted during an orgasm. “Not with anyone other than myself.” She took a sip of wine, letting that revelation sink in.

  “You…you can make yourself squirt?”

  She nodded, taking another sip of wine. “It’s not that difficult, when you know where to find what you’re looking for.” She felt him harden against her back. She laughed lightly. “I guess I know how you feel about that.”

  He leaned forward, kissing her neck. “Will you show me…let me?”

  She turned in the tub to face him. “Here?” she asked.

  He licked his lips and took another drink of wine. “The bed,” he suggested. “I want to see the results of my effort.”

  She blushed.

  “Whoa.” He smiled, leaning back against the tub. “Have I finally found something that makes you blush?”

  The pink in her cheeks deepened, drawing a wide grin to his face. He stood, stepped out of the water, and toweled off. He held out his hand, helping her from the tub. He grabbed two fresh towels and made his way to the bed as she dried off. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her walk toward him.

  “Two towels might be a little ambitious,” she cautioned.

  He ran his hands up her body, across her breasts, and to her neck, gently pulling her toward him. He pulled her into bed, kissing her. “What position works best?”

  She kissed him, thinking through a few options. “You want to be able to see what you’re doing?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  That eliminated a number of options. “On my back.” Her response was a question as much as it was a statement.

  He laid her down, pulling the towels closer. She lifted her hips, slipping a pillow under her back and a folded towel under her hips.

  He kissed her, running his hands over her body. Her hands were on his chest and then his abs, caressing his damp skin. He took his time, kissing her lips and then spending more time kissing and playing with each breast. She was moaning and writhing when he descended between her legs. He pressed a finger into her, causing her back to arch. Her lips continued to swell as he licked one and then the other.

  She reached down to expose her clit, which he circled with his tongue before kissing her fingers. “You’re so wet,” he whispered, his finger gently probing. He kissed her thigh. “Where’s your G-spot?” he asked, knowing it was the secret to making her squirt. “Show me.”

  She reached down with her other hand and slipped her finger against his, slowly sliding inside her own pussy. “Oh fuck,” he groaned, taking in the sight.

  She easily located the spongy tissue that had swollen with fluid. “Here,” she gasped, triggering a small spasm as her finger brushed against the erogenous area.

  He slid his finger along hers until his fingertip was beside hers. She winced in delight as he gently pressed her G-spot. He curled his fingertip, gently brushing his fingers against the hot and wet piece of flesh. She dropped her hand to the sheet, raising her hips off the pillow. “That is the spot,” she whispered through a long low moan.

  “Damn,” he whispered, watching her writhe against him. He leaned in, kissing her clit, running his tongue against her, pressing firmly. His fingers moved constantly against her G-spot, matching the motion of his tongue.

  She squealed. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, looking down at him.

  “You’re going to squirt?” he whispered, looking up at her.

  “Yes-s-s,” she exclaimed, clutching the sheets. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, a spasm ripping through her body, causing her abs to crunch and her body to curl up, pushing out a gush of fluid.

  “Holy shit,” he moaned, slipping his finger from her, spreading the slippery fluid around her pussy.

  She collapsed against the sheets.

  “You’re exhausted?”

  She leaned up on one elbow. “I am,” she confessed as she grabbed a condom and handed it to him, “but I’m horny as hell.”

  He wiped her off, rolled up the towel and threw it onto the floor. She sat up, bent forward, and pulled his cock into her mouth before he rolled the latex into place. He pushed her back and plunged into her and fucked her for hours.

  Chapter 3

  Tuesday morning they slept in. It was almost noon before they were dressed and ready to leave the hotel. They were planning to take the water taxi across the bay to head for Coronado Island.

  She wore a bikini with a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt over the tiny bits of pale pink fabric. She put on a pair of flip-flops, added some essentials to a beach bag, and was ready to head out the door a few moments later. He was wearing a pair of aviator-navy Ralph Lauren shorts with a custom-fit ranch-red T-shirt from the same designer.

  They caught the water taxi. She watched as two Blackhawk helicopters flew overhead, headed toward the Naval Air Station on the north end of Coronado Island. She sat l
etting the wind blow through her hair as they cruised across the bay. Two dolphins propelled themselves through the water at the bow of the small boat, jumping in the waves. “That’s not something you’ll see in Lake Ontario off Toronto!” she exclaimed.

  “Toronto’s on a lake?”

  She looked at him. “How is it that as a Canadian, I can name the five boroughs of New York and each island in the Hudson River and as an American, you don’t even know that Toronto is on the shore of Lake Ontario?”

  “Because it’s New York. Everyone in the world knows about New York.”

  She shook her head at him.

  When they disembarked, he handed her a bottle of water. “Let’s walk over to the other side of the island. The beach there is fantastic.” They walked slowly up Orange Avenue, admiring the unique architecture and manicured boulevards with mammoth palm trees. They eventually reached Ocean Boulevard. They walked past a handful of oceanfront homes. Austin noticed the stunning and varied real estate. She pointed to one that was for sale. “That’s just a bonus check for you, isn’t it?”

  He smiled. “A few checks, I suspect.”

  They crossed the street and walked along the Coronado sand dunes toward the historic Hotel del Coronado. “Want to sit on the beach?” she asked, stepping off the sidewalk and onto the sand. She took his hand to navigate the sunbathers that dotted the sand, selecting a quiet spot a hundred feet in front of the hotel.

  She pulled a beach towel from her bag, and draped it over the sand. He sat down as she pulled off her T-shirt and shimmied out of her shorts, revealing the tiny suit. “Holy shit,” he whispered, gently pulling her down to sit with him on the towel. She sat between his legs, facing the ocean. She leaned back, feeling the warmth of his chest against her back.