by M. Q. Barber
“I wish. At least then we might’ve seen the end coming. But no.” Her breaths lifted her arms in a rolling sine rhythm. “I was twelve, and their marriage seemed like a fairy tale. The heaps of flowers, the yards of fabric on Erin’s dress—so extravagant it had to be true love, right? He was her perfect husband for three years. And on his twenty-first birthday, he walked out and never came back.”
She didn’t deviate from her cynical tone as the wave crashed in his head. The blue of her wrist brace, the slip in the mud, the anger that had driven her to swear at him and run. He’d cracked a fucking joke about wedding rings. About guaranteeing faithfulness and forever.
“My sister had a one-year-old and a nine-week-old. She and the girls moved back home. My nieces don’t remember having a father.”
He’d been half-right, at least. A guy had broken her trust. He just hadn’t been her guy. “You know you’re judging every man for one asshat who couldn’t hack responsibilities, don’t you?”
Huffing, she rolled her eyes, as rebellious as any teen. “You know not every woman’s dying for a big wedding and a bunch of babies, right?”
“Good. I don’t want a houseful of babies, either.” Just her. They’d rewrite her fairy tale with a woman who didn’t wait to be rescued and a man who wanted commitment, in whatever form it took. “And a piece of paper wouldn’t change how I feel about you. Signing on the dotted line just tells the state where my assets go and who gets to visit me in the hospital.”
* * * *
Holy—marriage.
In his casual, offhand way, he’d yanked happily-ever-after from the scrap heap and set to tinkering. He seemed to think he’d stick out a commitment without a ring and a legal obligation. As if he believed in keeping promises, too.
Heart racing, she turned liquid. Flooded with heat for a man who might stand by what he said, and—“Do you mean that? About not wanting kids?”
She prayed to God his answer would stay yes.
Propped on his elbow beside her, he squinted beneath lowered brows. “Do you?”
Ah. He hadn’t been serious. He wanted one or two, the same as most guys, enough to keep up with his married friends. He’d fallen behind on the life track. Not the future she wanted for herself. Thanks for playing, folks.
Still. Fucking him once without keeping him remained a solid option. With her good hand, she gave his shirt a teasing tug. So formal in his tucked-in button-down. The tails ought to be out. “You know how babies are made, don’t you?”
He clasped her wrist and curled her fingers away from his stomach. “Yeah, but I don’t want one.”
“Seriously?” Some kind of thing between them might just work. Without kids, without commitment, but more than a backseat fuck in a deserted parking lot.
“I’m thirty-seven.” He rocked forward and back. “I like my space.” Dragging her arm along for the ride, he gestured in wide swings as his voice picked up speed. “I like not having kiddie shit all over the place and demanding munchkins deciding what I can do and when I can do it.”
A quick shove would roll him on his back. His belt might take two hands to unfasten, but she’d be nimble despite the brace. Her jeans, though. She’d need to shimmy out of them for the main event. Lying down or stand up and give him the full ass-wiggling show?
As he caught his breath, he clamped his mouth shut and watched her with wide eyes. He peeled strong, gentle fingers from her wrist. “Sorry, I—”
“God, that’s hot.” Fuck, too much daydreaming and she’d left him wondering.
“It is?”
Yikes, he must’ve met way too many baby-hungry women. She should take him off the market, make him hers on her terms. And when he someday changed his mind and wanted a settle-down gal, she’d cut him loose.
“Nice guys always want babies.” She sneaked back to his shirt and restarted the undressing effort. “They’re all, ‘Oh, boo-hoo, I’m missing my chance at fatherhood.’” Spreading beyond the bottom button, his shirt slid out of his dress pants in a vee. A sexy patch of pale curls filled the gap. “I half-raised my sister’s kids. I don’t need my own.”
“Being Geezer Dad at graduation isn’t a dream of mine.” He ran his knuckles across her shoulder and down her bare arm to the edge of the wrist brace. “Besides, Rob and Nora plan to fill their farmhouse to the rafters. If I get a yen for fatherhood, I’ll borrow one of theirs for a day, and that’ll cure me.” On the return trip, he kept going, tickling her neck and ruffling the hair above her ear. “I didn’t look at you and say, ‘Wow, what a baby factory.’”
“Yeah? What did you say?” With a tug and a push, she freed his shirt button. Peek-a-boo, solid wall of abs.
“At first sight?” He arched toward her, resettling his hips.
She dared a hand inside. “Uh-huh.” Closed buttons above and below gave her enough wiggle room. She scraped her nails beneath the edge of his ribs. “Tell the truth.”
“You were bending over to look at your tire.” The front of his pants rippled around his cock.
Too hard to hide himself now. His inner bad boy wanted what it wanted. Convincing him to take it would be her job.
“Uh-huh.” Fuck, his outline deserved a mouth around it. In a minute, she’d toss good-girl restraint aside and go after him right through the fabric.
As redness tip-toed through his cheeks, he ducked his head. “‘Wow, I’d like to get my dick in that’?”
Perfect. Bottling up her moan, she gave in to laughter. Underneath Brian’s nice-guy surface lay the darker instincts she needed from him. The desire to fuck for no other reason than incredible pleasure.
“But then we talked, and it was more than—”
“Nope.” She shushed him with a finger against his lips. “I asked for honesty and you gave it to me. Don’t go backpedaling now.”
Not when she had plans for him. She owed him the blowjob she hadn’t been able to give him last week. No customers would interrupt them this time. All closed up tight, the two of them in secluded bliss. She owed not only him but herself. Her mouth had been watering for the taste of him. She’d given him his five minutes to play with her body. Tonight, she’d take hers.
Fingers spread, she caressed down his neck and across his stiff collar to his breastbone. Her firm push sent him onto his back, a move impossible without his complicit cooperation. Good boy. This would be her show, not his.
He breathed harder, his chest rising and falling beneath his half-open shirt. As he tracked her movements, his gaze followed her, and his hand clenched at his side.
With a roll and a wriggle, she knelt between his thighs. Too bad she didn’t have a pillow to stuff under his head. Fuck, she wanted him watching her. Desperate to see her going down on him. Palming him through his pants, she savored the satisfying flex in his hips as he rose to meet her. “I don’t think I’ve ever sucked an honest guy’s dick. This’ll be a first.”
He blocked her reach for his belt. “What?”
Had he misunderstood her? Hard to believe he’d missed her intent. She snagged the black leather and pulled the tail through the buckle. “Blowjob time. Let’s go, Prince Charming.”
Hoisting himself on an elbow, he held her off with his other hand. “I’m not some sex-crazed beast, Katherine. I’m a man.”
A man with a cock tenting his pants. She worked her fingers under the waistband and teased the top open. The zipper slid. As he moaned, she smirked. “Same difference.”
“No, it’s not.” He poured an insistent edge into his voice. The blushing comedian had vanished. “My dick doesn’t make decisions for me. Not with you.”
Sonovabitch. She rarely offered blowjobs to the guys she fucked. Aside from the power struggle, putting her mouth on them would’ve been more…intimate. Not that she wanted intimacy with Brian. The blowjob was a thing for a thing, her mouth for his fingers, that’s all. What guy wouldn’t be happy to take that trade?
Unless he—
S
he yanked her arm back. If he didn’t want her, fuck him and his dating runaround. “Look, if you aren’t interested in me, say so. I don’t need to waste my time chasing a man into bed.”
Brian growled through tight-pressed lips. “I am interested. In you.” Sliding his knees high around her, he squeezed her sides. “Not how warm and wet your mouth is, but you, Katherine, the damn stubborn woman who’s making me argue against my own blowjob.” He chased her gaze until he pinned her down with pale green persistence. “Jesus, who does that?”
A guy who wasn’t truly interested, obviously. One who didn’t fully desire her. She didn’t entice him enough to make him lose control. But she aroused him. His hard cock proved that much. She rubbed the ridge thrusting out of his open fly, covered now only by blue-gray cotton boxer-briefs.
Watching her without argument, he arched into her hold.
“I’m not making you.” A gentle stroke, two fingers along one side and her thumb against the other. Light enough to tease, hard enough to feel him pulse. “You could just agree.” She circled his tip. Plucked the elastic waistband of his undershorts. Why wouldn’t he let her give him the lone tie they had in common? Nothing but lust bound them together. “We both know you want this.”
* * * *
Of course he wanted to. In no world was his interest questionable.
But grabbing what he wanted would be going back on his word to take things slow and show her she meant more to him than sex. Yeah, he’d be the only one who knew, but that would be one too many.
“I could agree.” He curled his hand around hers, and her forearm tensed. Slender strength wrapped in a dotted layer of freckled skin. Her hand felt more than good enough through his shorts. Imagining her mouth—Christ save him from temptation. “And maybe I do want this. But if I said to you I knew what you wanted and told you to lie back and take it, we’d be drifting into pretty dark corners.”
Losing her sexy smile, she ripped her hand free and sat back on her heels. “You think I’m trying to rape you?”
“No.” Fuck. His vigorous headshake failed at erasing her open-mouthed horror. He tapped his knees against her sides and tried a soft smile. “I think I’ve said slow down, and you aren’t listening, because you want our connection to be only about sex.”
She angled her head like old-fashioned rabbit ears picking up a fuzzy signal. Receptive to his message, if he stopped shoving his feet in his mouth.
“Seems like so far, that’s worked for you, because you pick guys who’ll happily walk away after. Nothing wrong with that.” Shit, he’d been the easy and available one day, gone the next day kind of guy for years.
Those surface games wouldn’t fly with her. Hadn’t since he’d first watched her stride to his car with the same no-nonsense purpose the handful of women in basic training had worn like armored jumpsuits. Katherine would make a hell of a commander. Strong and capable, she’d muscled through her own tire change and delegated jobs as if he’d been her hop-to right-hand man for years. She was chock-full of get-the-job-done grit. The two of them together, they worked.
She hadn’t seen the truth yet. He needed more days and nights together before she’d trust him to keep his word.
“But I’m not that guy.” Not with her. Not ever again, because from now on he’d be the steady man she deserved. And still put his foot in his mouth half the damn time. “If that means I don’t get blown but I do get to take you out, I’ll take that trade.”
Leaning against his upraised leg, she wrapped her injured arm around his knee. Her speculative gaze, darting between his face and his gaping pants, pumped him harder. “But you’d rather have both, right?”
“Fuck yes.” As if he’d been hiding his unrelenting desire for her. Fine, she hadn’t seen him jerking off to fantasies of her every night. Arching his hips, he grabbed his pants and shorts and shoved them to his thighs. His cock sprang free. “Does this look uninterested to you?”
She gasped, a mewling half-moan, and her arm tightened around his leg. Her tongue, pink and pointed, flicked her lips.
Between her stare and the air flowing across his tip, he might come quick as a kid with his hand on his dick for the first time. Clamping the base of his shaft, he wagged. “Soon as I walk outta here, I’m gonna end up jerking off in my car. Again. Am I only a man if I jam my dick in you every chance I get?”
Sparks flew in the fiery orange centers of her eyes. “Maybe it’s the only way I’m a woman, damn you.”
What? No, impossible for her to believe—
“Maybe I want to be desired.” Her voice loaded with righteous fury, she shook beneath a blazing halo of auburn hair. “Maybe I don’t want more baggage and expectations. Maybe I want guys to be available and uncomplicated.”
Her breasts heaved with her breath. Her muscles ran in taut lines from her neck down. She knelt trembling between his legs, her face an angry mask demanding he let her fuck him.
His delays, fucking hell, his delays read like rejections in her book. The signals he meant as “I value you most” came through on her end as “I don’t value you at all.” A blanket no now to all fooling around would do him more harm than good.
He stroked her fingers, trying to uncurl her clenched fists. “Katherine, if you’re determined to keep believing a man can’t be worth more than one night of meaningless sex, nothing I say will stop you.” Swallowing, he picked through the minefield in his head. A safe route with her existed, and he’d damn well find the thing. “But I won’t be your proof.” Please, God, don’t let her call his bluff. He couldn’t give her up any more than he could give up breathing. “You want to fool around? I want another day out. It doesn’t have to be a date.”
Every moment he spent with her was a date. God would forgive him those white lies.
Resettling her hips, she rocked sideways between his thighs. The tension in her shoulders eased. She narrowed her eyes, drilling him with laser precision. “If I say yes, are you gonna shut up and let me suck your cock?”
His dick jumped. Eager bastard had been leaping toward her for days now, but never while naked in her presence. “Yes, ma’am.”
Hell yes. Dropping his head to the blanket, he let his arms fall. He knew an order when he heard one.
* * * *
Heat danced through her as she scrunched her toes tight, a hidden outlet for the exhilaration of his surrender. Every day, she fulfilled a dozen roles—dutiful daughter, understanding sister, doting aunt—but the days when she fit all the pieces together into a woman with needs and desires of her own arrived few and far between.
But Brian would let her be that woman tonight. Flawed and hungry, aching to own all of him her way.
“Fine.” She surveyed her territory. Hints of solid chest flashed in the gaps of his tangled dress shirt. His pants spread across his upper thighs. In between, a masterpiece waited for her mouth. “I’ll take you out Saturday.”
Bending over his bunched-up pants, she puckered her lips and blew across him. The twitch in his cock echoed inside her. Pure power hummed louder than the radio playing its low serenade from her worktable. Her fingers had rebuilt those connections. They’d configure these wires, too. “You sure make a girl work for your dick.”
His eyes glowed, soft and grounded. He shoved one hand beneath his head in a makeshift cradle, his elbow out. “Watching you work gets me hard. Fuck, thinking about you working gets me hard. You.” He swayed from head to hips. “You get me hard, Katherine. Morning, noon, and night.”
Lowering herself over him, she braced on her right hand. Her left wrist wouldn’t stand the backbend and support her weight, but her fingers held enough agility to deal with his pesky buttons. Her jeans rasped against his pants. She laid her hand in the gap at the top of his shirt.
Adam’s apple bobbing, he otherwise stayed still. His collar stood stiff, buttoned down tight. As she teased the vee between the two buttons he’d left open, he hissed in a breath. His outfit screamed professionalism
. Office-serious, minus one crucial element.
“Did you wear a tie today?” She nestled her knees against his ass.
His chuckle dipped into a moan. “It’s, uh, in the car.” He grazed her good wrist in a fingertip caress. “Seemed a little formal for a picnic.”
He’d loosened up for her. Ditched the tie. Opened his shirt. Tingles spread up her arms as she slipped the rest of the buttons free. “You’re still kind of overdressed. A good picnic offers a nice view.”
Fuck, he qualified. With his shirt pushed wide, he showed off the toned layout of a man who worked for a living. Maybe he came by his in the gym, but he put his time in. Firm flesh under the hood as she laid into him, dragging her fingers in furrows that rose again in her wake.
Catlike, he stretched and pushed into her heavy caresses. Owning a Brian-cat wouldn’t be too much work. A sleek, independent fuck-buddy who came around when he needed help scratching an itch. Flashing his coiled muscles as he paraded in front of her until she pounced.
Bending low, she flicked her tongue against his nipples. Back and forth. Building a line of teasing bites between. Not kisses. None of that soft romantic bullshit.
He hissed and groaned as he rippled beneath her and the blanket backing scratched against the bare concrete floor. Their rough symphony rivaled the radio still going strong, a testament to her skills.
Well—and their teamwork. He deserved a smidgen of credit.
Thick muscle wrapped his abdomen, curving in from sides she squeezed and nipped. No patch of flesh left untouched.
And he chased her attention, Jesus, begged for her hands and mouth with his rocking. His low swearing rose like pleas to his god for mercy.
But she was his god tonight. She’d choose when to offer mercy.
The heat in his cock warmed her neck, his stiff erection tucked beneath her chin while she built anticipation nuzzling his stomach. As his legs closed in around her, she pushed them back. Spreading his thighs, she ignored the twitch in her left wrist. Leaning into him, forcing him to stay open for her, filled her with fire. Her nipples, hard points under her tank top, ached for his mouth.