by Lydia Rowan
And why did he care?
••••
They trudged along in silence the rest of the way, and as they finally approached their street, Joe could see that the cold and exertion were getting to her. The entire block was dark, and as they got closer to their houses, he decided she was staying with him. She likely didn’t have electricity either, which meant no heat and no hot water, two things she needed a lot of.
“Verna, you’re staying with me tonight,” he said as he turned down his driveway, taking her hand to help her maneuver over the thick ice.
That she didn’t protest either his help or his statement only underscored how tired she must be. When they got to the porch, he kicked the excess ice and snow off his boots and she did the same, and soon they were inside the toasty-warm house. He removed his gloves and then hers, taking Verna’s hands in his. They were cold, especially her fingertips, so he held first one hand and then the other between his palms, rubbing them vigorously. Satisfied with their temperature, he unzipped his coat and pulled it and the hood off her.
Her hair was slightly damp and matted on one side, and her cheeks were deep red, almost maroon with the cold. For some reason, he found her adorable.
“Okay, boots and socks off now and then you’ll get out of those wet clothes. You can take a hot shower to warm up, and I’ll loan you something to wear.”
She mumbled something, then bent and started to remove the boots, her motions jerky and uncoordinated.
“Here, let me help,” Joe said as he knelt in front of her and began unlacing the laces on the boots.
When she teetered, he placed her hand on his shoulder. “You can lean on me, Verna,” he said, though he didn’t look up.
“Thanks, Joe. For everything,” she said.
He nodded. “You know where to find the guest bathroom?”
His house and hers were quite similar inside, so she should have been familiar with the layout.
“Yes,” she said.
“You’ll find everything you need in there,” he said.
She trudged up the stairs, her movements still not coordinated, and once he heard her reach the bathroom, he started the process of trying to get warm himself.
••••
Verna stood under the showerhead, basking in the hot water as it flowed over her. She’d tried to be stoic during the difficult walk, but at some point she’d become convinced that they’d never make it and she’d never be warm again. Only looking at Joe, walking like he was on a fuckin’ Sunday afternoon stroll, had kept her going. Well, she didn’t necessarily want to die of exposure, so that had also helped, but seeing him walking with such ease, looking like he could start whistling at any moment, had pushed her. Her sheer patheticness had been sealed with him long ago, but if nothing else, she had pride, and she wouldn’t give it up without a fight.
Of course now her legs burned with the exertion, and would probably be screaming with pain tomorrow, but the aches were minor and well worth the price if they kept her from showing herself as more of a loser than she already had.
“Verna?” Joe called, and she jumped.
“I’m too tired to yell, Joe, but if you…”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said around a laugh, though the steam that filled the room and the rush of the water muffled his voice, “I won’t scare you anymore, but you shouldn’t be so skittish anyway. I left some clothes on the counter.”
Then he closed the door, and when she heard the click, it occurred to her that Joe had just been in the bathroom with her, while she was naked. That this fact both thrilled and terrified her was something she wasn’t up to examining at the moment, so she finished her shower, sad that there wouldn’t be time to wash her hair—it’d be poor form to hog the hot water he was so graciously sharing—and got out. There was still a faint chill in her bones, but it started to fade and she dried off and then repaired her hair as best she could.
Which left dressing as her last item of business.
Her bra and underwear were soaking wet; it gave her a chill to even think about them against her skin. And besides, she thought it a little…unsavory to put on dirty underwear after a shower.
I’ll just have to go commando.
She laughed at the silly thought and then examined the clothes Joe had left for her. Sweatpants and a sweatshirt with some kind of military insignia. Not fashionable, not that such a thing was a concern for her. She pulled the shirt on and then the pants, rolling the cuffs over once. The slight chill in the hardwood floor made her curl her toes against the cold, and then she stepped out of the bathroom.
And right into the solid wall of Joe’s chest.
On instinct, she gripped his rigid biceps, her hands tightening at the sensation of his sculpted flesh beneath her palms. She inhaled sharply, his scent, the warmth rolling off his body making her want to draw closer to him. It was a ridiculous notion, but she found it hard to ignore. Her gaze flicked up to his, and she inhaled again, the sizzling heat she saw there making her heart stutter and setting off a flutter in her stomach.
They stood still and silent, but when he lowered his head toward her, the movement slight but unmistakable, she sighed and stretched up, her lips meeting his in a kiss. The first swipe of his lips against hers was soft, seeking, but on an exhaled sigh, he increased the pressure of his mouth against hers and intensified the kiss.
A shiver stole through her at the feel of his lips against hers, simultaneously rough and seeking and gentle and coaxing. The mix of sensations left her off balance and from the little sound that was the combination of a moan and a growl that emerged from Joe’s throat as his lips held hers, he felt the same. But that was probably for the best. A moment of insight might make him realize what he was doing, or, God forbid, make him stop, and she didn’t know if she’d survive if he didn’t keep touching her.
Joe slid his hands down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist before settling on her hips. The weight of his palms against her hips was startlingly intimate; it was a lover’s caress, one she wanted more of. So she took it, moving her own hands down his arms and lightly resting them on top of his, pressing just slightly, hoping that he’d read her desire.
She’d often teased Joe about his mental acuity, but he proved himself a genius in the next moment when he pulled hard, slamming her hips into his at the same time as he speared his tongue between her lips. The feel of his hips against hers, the hardness of his cock pressing against her belly as his tongue, strong and commanding, explored the cavern of her mouth, was too much. And not enough. A part of her wanted to pull back, put space between them so that she could think. Another part had thrown thought to the wind and only wanted to feel.
Feeling won.
With a boldness that sprang from need, she pressed herself closer to him, smashing her unrestrained breasts against the hard wall of his pecs, her soft midsection against the rippled ridge of his. And then she linked her arms around his broad back, letting her hands move of their own will up and down his sculpted shoulders, molding the muscles there and down his back.
He tightened his hold in response and intensified the seeking movement of his tongue, moaning when she swiped hers against his, mimicking his own actions. The hardness pressed against her intensified, and he moved even closer, leaving not a millimeter between them. When she shifted, sliding her abdomen against that prominent bulge, he moaned again and then, to her extreme sadness, broke their kiss and stepped away from her, pressing himself against the hallway wall.
Her first thought was that he’d come to his senses, her second that she couldn’t imagine how she’d get out of here without looking at him. She was frozen, the warring horror and arousal that coursed through her making movement impossible.
“Verna,” he said, and the thick, garbled word along with the hard, panted exhales that had his chest rising and falling in a rough rhythm made her look up.
The desire she saw in his eyes was breathtaking. Even she, lack of experience and all, couldn’t deny th
e primal need that lit his gaze. Without further thought, she lifted a hand and rested it on his chest, the hot skin, hard muscle and underneath, his booming heart, its beat pulsing through it in a wave.
“Are you sure?”
Sure? She’d never wanted anything more in her entire life. She nodded her response.
“I need to hear it. I need you to say the words.”
If that was what he needed, she’d gladly give it. “Yes, Joe. I’m sure. I want you. Right now.”
Her voice was as thick as his, the passion-roughened tone one she’d never heard come from her own mouth. For a moment, he stayed still, leaning against the wall, the rise and fall of his chest his only movement. And then he narrowed his eyes, and in a flash he reached for her and recaptured her in his embrace. But this time, his passion had a purpose, and as he kissed her, alternating between soft pecks and rougher, breath-stealing kisses, he moved them both toward his bedroom.
The world around them was a blur to her, Joe and the things he was doing to her with his lips and hands seeming the only thing that mattered, and before she could even form a thought, she felt herself falling, the fall broken by his soft mattress. And then his heavy weight was on her, and Verna’s mind and body struggled to process the feelings that raced through her. She was sure she’d never felt anything as wonderful as Joe’s beautiful body against hers, but then he snaked his hands under her sweatshirt, and she knew she’d been wrong.
His hands, hot and rough and soft all at the same time, brushed up her midsection, so distracting that she forgot to be embarrassed. She couldn’t be, not when Joe was touching her like this, making it impossible for her to think of anything but him and what he’d do next. When he reached her breasts, she exhaled, the scrape of his fingers against her flesh practically wringing the air from her lungs. And when he rasped those fingers against her nipples, she arched, nearly bucking him off.
He huffed a breath of air, and she lifted her heavy-lidded eyes to look up at him, a bit startled by the fierce, unrelenting intensity that was reflected back at her. Without breaking her gaze, he repeated the motion and again her body jerked at the sensation. When she leaned into his touch, undulating her body so that her nipples moved against his hands, his eyes darkened and his face went hard, as did the rest of his body.
With one rough final peck of his lips against hers, he left her, sliding his body down hers, the sensation of him powerful even through the layers that separated them. When he reached her waist, he tucked two fingers in both sides of her waistband and then continued down, pulling the fabric with him. Down her legs he went, peppering her rounded thighs, her knees, her calves with kisses until he pulled the pants off. Then he stood, staring down at her, his face still a mask of determination and intensity.
What little moisture was left in her throat dried when he grabbed the hem of his own shirt and lifted it over his head, the muscles in his abdomen and sides pulling tight with his efforts. Verna drank him in with her eyes, her gaze floating off the slabs of his pectorals, the defined ridges of his abs, the dark dusting of hair that covered his chest and stomach. He watched her as she watched, his face still intense.
“Open,” he said, and his gaze flitted down to her legs, resting on the curve of her mound before he lifted it back to her eyes.
His voice was firm, his intention clear, but Verna felt her nerves flare to life. It was one thing to have him stroke her breasts, kiss her, but could she expose herself to his scrutiny this way? The set of his jaw, so handsome, so Joe, told her he wouldn’t move a muscle until she complied, and the thought of him not touching her again, of him leaving her on this ragged edge, was far worse than the alternative.
Slowly, she lifted her legs until her feet rested on the mattress. Then, even more slowly, she opened, moving first her knees, then her thighs apart until she felt the first rush of cold air hit her now exposed pussy lips. But the cold faded with the heat of Joe’s gaze as he took her in, his features set in rigid concentration but the faintest ghost of a smile now hovering over his lips. Then he returned his gaze to hers, and she bit her lip when he hooked his fingers in his own waistband. Her eyes were riveted to the motion as he pulled his sweatpants down his flat stomach and then lower, first exposing a dark thatch of hair and then the sun-kissed pink of his shaft.
He maneuvered the pants down lower, allowing his cock to spring free and giving her first sight of him, his long, thick shaft capped by a rounded head that glistened with moisture in the semidarkness of the room, his heavy sac hanging beneath it. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, wanted to trace every vein and ridge, every centimeter of that beautiful, powerful flesh, with her gaze. But he wasn’t content to stand under her gaze, for he retraced his earlier path, alternating legs and kissing at her calves, then her knees, then her thighs.
When he rested his head at the juncture of her thighs and stared up at her, his warm breath rasping over her sensitive skin, it was all she could do to hold back a scream, of desire or frustration, she couldn’t decide. She wasn’t able to suppress her squirm as his breaths tickled over her lips, the moisture that had gathered there joined by fresh issue as the moment stretched and her desire intensified to overwhelming.
And then he kissed her, one simple peck at the crease between her thigh and her lower lips, and the sensation ricocheted through her, her legs opening even wider in a desperate plea for more. She hadn’t come, but the pleasure she felt now was more intense than any she’d ever brought herself with her own hands. If he’d managed this with a word and a kiss, she shivered with anticipation of what he’d be able to accomplish with his hands, with his cock.
“Later,” he whispered, his breathed word across her pussy making her moan.
Then he slid up her body, his hardness against her softness, a contrast that she wanted more of. When he’d lined them up so that his hips were pressed against hers, the insistent throb of his cock against her thigh driving her to further distraction, he stared down at her, his eyes a combustible mix of heat and intensity, and she couldn’t help but rock against him, seeking further contact. The weight of his body made it hard to move, but she could tell he understood her need, and that he felt the same.
“Touch me.”
His whispered words unleashed her, and in a frenzy, she touched every inch of his exposed skin, tracing his arms, his back, the hard muscles of his ass. And then she moved her hands over his abdomen and then finally brushed them against his cock. His hitched breath emboldened her, and, her gaze still connected to his, she touched him again, tracing the tips of her fingers across the velvet skin of his shaft, across his crown slick with precum, the newness of the action and of the sensation not dissuading her. She let her instincts and his reactions guide her, and after a few swipes, she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft, gripping him tight in one hand while she gingerly grasped his balls in the other. He hitched another breath, the sounds only intensifying as she worked him faster and faster, precum spilling out of him and onto her hands.
“Enough,” he said on a panted groan as he pulled her hands away. “This will be over before it starts if you keep that up.”
Verna had thought they were pretty well started, but she didn’t contradict him and didn’t have the voice to anyway, especially not when he trailed a hand down her belly and rested it between her thighs. He swiped his thumb against her clit and used two fingers to spread her lips. Then he pressed one inside her, pushing it in and then pulling it out in a slow, steady motion that had her squirming beneath him, desperate for more.
“More, Joe!” she barked out, the harshness of her voice surprising her.
But he just chuckled. “There’s my girl.”
She huffed out a grunt that was half pleading and half warning, and he was finally kind enough to oblige her by adding another finger to the first and pumping harder, the slight burn and fullness she now felt in no way distracting from the mind-blowing pleasure. Somewhere off in the distance, she heard what sounded like a drawer openin
g, but she paid it no heed, Joe and his fingers the sole focus of her attention. When he pushed into her one last time and then retreated, she grabbed at his hand, futilely trying to move it back to where it had been. He chuckled again, and after a few deft movements, he lowered his hand between their bodies.
Realization dawned, and Verna stilled, a little flare of anticipation laced heavily with nerves sparking in her chest. But all that fled when Joe, gripping his cock in his right hand, traced it against her wet lips and then began gently probing at her opening. Then he pushed against her, the broad head of his cock piercing her. She didn’t know whether to push back against him or retreat, so she stayed as she was, trusting Joe and being rewarded for that wise decision.
The feel of his hardness spearing her was beyond anything she had imagined. As she gripped his shoulders, he pushed inside her with a steady, unrelenting thrust, and as her walls opened to receive him, she sighed out. When she glanced up at him, he stared at her intently, his restraint clear in the straining muscles of his arms, which stood stark and tight. They both cried out when he was buried deep inside her, and at the pulsing throb of his cock inside her, she grasped at his arms, desperate to move, have him move, to do something.
When he pulled back and pushed inside her again, a shock of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain shot through her, and the feeling was only compounded as he continued to move. She slammed her eyes shut, sad that she could no longer see him but needing some defense against the sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. The lack of sight gave her a different perspective and made her other senses more acute, the sound of his breath as he grunted his pleasure, his warm, slick skin against her palms, the hardness of his lean hips against her thighs as she cradled him, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist to pull him closer.