The P.U.R.E.

by Claire Gillian

  “Go ahead. Your wish is my command.” I was willing to bet the first thing he’d want would be some type of sexual favor—an easy enough test to ace. I squirmed on his lap to make a subtle suggestion and waited. Little bubbles of anticipation percolated through me.

  “Take off my T-shirt,” he said.

  Boy, could I read him. I scrambled off of his lap and moved back a couple of paces from him as I complied with his request and tossed him his shirt. To my surprise he pulled it on.

  Oh well, I’ll rip it off him later.

  “Take off your bra, and toss it to me.”

  I did as he commanded and covered my breasts to at least try to appear demure. I would play the wholesome girl next door—at least at first. The virginal cotton undies I wore completed the look. With only the Jockeys to go, he’d be whisking me off to his bedroom to ravish me.

  Or maybe we’d do it on the floor, or on the couch, or on the kitchen counter, or even up against the wall.

  Ooh, all delicious ideas.

  “Now the panties, but take them off slowly, and toss them to me.”

  I peeled my last scrap of clothing off, inch by maddening inch, watching him the entire time before throwing them to him.

  He got up and walked toward me, the huge bulge in his pants too obvious to miss. I didn’t try to hide my interest. Once he stood mere inches away, he grabbed me about my waist with one arm and snatched me up against him.

  “The vacuum cleaner is in the hall closet.” His voice was low and sexy. “I want you to vacuum, do the dishes and change the sheets on my bed, all as you are now … buck naked.” He pulled my hips against his, the hard ridge of his erection pressed against my abdomen. A soft sigh fanned my cheek.

  I could play along because he wouldn’t be able to hold out that long—not the way I planned on vacuuming. He’d be putty in my hands before I finished the living room.

  “I’ll be taking a shower while you work—a very long one—to get ready for my date. Clean sheets will be on the bed for you.” He chuckled evilly as he strolled toward his bedroom, twirling my bra and panties about his fingers like New Year’s Eve noisemakers.

  38

  After avoiding me for a solid hour, he emerged. I’d wrapped myself in a blanket and lounged on his couch, the vacuuming, dishes and linens all done. I had been dozing on and off for the past fifteen minutes.

  “Give me the keys to your apartment.” He sat down next to me and held out his hand.

  I breathed deeply, enjoying the mingled scents of sandalwood and pine and Jon.

  His dark hair was damp and slicked back, and he wore black trousers with a grey silk shirt. The top three buttons, he’d left undone. A few of his chest hairs peeked out to wave hello. On his arm he carried a black leather jacket, capping off his Italian GQ cover look.

  My lust kicked into overdrive, and I opened my mouth to ask why he wanted my keys.

  He cut me off. “Ah, ah. No arguing or questioning me; you agreed.”

  I got up from the sofa, as God made me, and retrieved my keys. I sat astride his lap to hand them over. The hungry glint in his eyes hinted of cracks in his reserve. I moved in to claim my prize and kissed him senseless.

  The keys sailed onto the coffee table. He slipped a hand between us, watching me the entire time. Leather moved through metal and the slow tick, tick of a zipper sent an erotic thrill to my southern latitudes.

  I went down on my knees and gave him his second birthday present of the day. Judging from the way he carried on, I’m pretty sure he enjoyed it.

  By six, he left his apartment with my keys in hand. I covered up with the blanket and turned on his television.

  Forty-five minutes later, he returned with several plastic grocery bags full of stuff. “You have an ungodly amount of clothes.”

  “I have multiple wardrobes for different purposes,” I said and rose to meet him.

  I couldn’t wait to inspect what he’d chosen for me to wear. I hoped he hadn’t dipped into my skinny clothes. Rubbing my hands together, I dove in.

  The first items I pulled out were a lacy red thong and matching bra. I raised a single eyebrow that said, ‘Shame on you.’

  He shrugged.

  A pair of skyscraper-high black heels my Austin girlfriends and I dubbed my CFM’s—“come fuck me” pumps. Every girl I knew, plus most strippers, had a pair, though they were usually red. Jon had probably made a beeline for them. Typical guy. As long as we didn’t do too much walking, I’d survive.

  A silver necklace and matching earrings and bracelets came out next. I hadn’t worn those particular pieces in eons. Interesting choices; he had good taste.

  In the third bag, I found a slinky black halter dress, the swankiest, sexiest dress I owned. It had been a frontrunner back when I thought I would be dressing myself for our date, though I thought it might be a bit over the top. The red bra wouldn’t work with a halter, so if I couldn’t wear the bra, the matching thong was a no-go too. To break up the set would be wrong.

  In the last bag was my cosmetics case.

  “You have forty-five minutes to get ready. The bathroom and my bedroom are all yours. Go!” He mimicked shooting a starter’s gun into the air.

  I giggled, rushed into his bathroom and took a quick shower. I used every minute of my time, plus an extra five because the zipper of my dress got stuck and Jon had to rescue me.

  When I was ready, he whistled. “Wow. You, Gayle, are a very beautiful and sexy woman. You take my breath away.”

  “Why thank you,” I said, blushing under his intense, wolf-like scrutiny.

  “This is so much nicer than your suits and jeans. “He circled round and gathered me to him singing, “Happy Birthday to me.”

  • • •

  We dined at the Cattleman’s Club. Despite the best efforts of the waiter to stretch out our dining experience, the whole thing felt rushed. I wasn’t so naive as to miss the yearning or the hunger that wasn’t going to be satisfied solely by consuming high-priced calories. I’d provoked him all through dinner—a suggestive bite of my bottom lip, a well-placed wiggly toe, accidental grazes of my breast against his arm. Jon gobbled up whatever bait I threw out. He barely finished signing his name to the credit card receipt before he tossed the pen, dragged me to his car and sped us back to his apartment.

  • • •

  He opened Christine’s door for me, but instead of taking my hand to help me out, he scooped me up in his arms. With his foot, he kicked the car door shut and carried me to his apartment.

  “I feel like Scarlett O’Hara being whisked up the staircase by Rhett for some ravishing.” I nuzzled my head against his chest. “Why the knight-in-shining-armor treatment? Not that I mind, of course.”

  “You’re gonna need your strength for what’s to come.” He shifted me into a one-armed hold as he worked the key and knob.

  I laughed. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

  “Some chances aren’t worth taking.”

  Once inside, he locked us away from the rest of the world.

  We didn’t stop in the living room but blew past the kitchen and straight into his bedroom. A trail made up of my purse and high heels marked our path—in case my birthday gift giving would rob me of the ability to find my way home later … much later.

  I placed a daisy chain of kisses on his neck before we fell on his bed, me still in his arms. A small nightstand lamp burned, casting just enough light to see Jon’s face—his hooded eyelids, the planes of his high cheekbones, the curl of a wicked smile on his lips.

  He reached out a hand to touch my cheek while his eyes ignited a path down my face, into my cleavage, and below before returning to meet my gaze. “Alone at last,” he said.

  “So, Birthday Boy, what do ya wanna do now?” I wiggled my eyebrows at him and traced a finger down the bridge of his nose to his lips. “You wanna talk about current events or play cards or—”

  He gave me a kiss that curled my toes. His lips separated mine, and our
tongues entwined. Why did he always taste so good? Like mocha with extra whipped cream.

  He trailed the backs of his fingers up my side, ending at a breast he held possessively. A low groan infused with steamy sensuality vibrated through me—from mouth to breasts to navel to secret spots whimpering for attention.

  Lips sipped at mine before tucking beneath my jaw and moving to my neck. He slipped a hand inside the bodice of my dress, warm, eager flesh straining into his palm.

  His weight lifted as he rolled us back to our sides.

  “Lie on your stomach.” He gave me a little push.

  I did as he asked, slipping off and dropping my bracelet and earrings to the floor. He straddled the backs of my thighs as he attended to my zipper.

  “Leave the necklace on.” Breath skimmed the back of my neck as he slipped each of the buttons at the neckline through their holes. The soft sweep of cloth against skin, the metallic click of a watchband clasp, the thud of one shoe and another alerted me to his own undressing.

  When he shifted off me, I rolled to my back, holding the loose section of my dress in place while he stripped off the remnants of his clothing.

  He smiled as he climbed back on the bed and walked on his knees toward me, his erection bobbing with each step. Our gazes locked as he reached beneath the skirt of my dress.

  Protecting my secret all night had proved nearly Herculean. At one point, I’d considered coaxing him upstairs to the empty mezzanine dining area to have my way with him but aborted the idea when a large party claimed the space. All through dinner, I thrummed in anticipation of the moment finally at hand.

  His fingers slid higher up my thighs, up my hips, no doubt searching for the lacy red thong that lay in a shopping bag in his bathroom. At first, his brow furrowed. His eyes widened. He flashed his teeth in a broad grin.

  “You little minx. When did you take your underwear off?”

  “I never had any on to begin with.” I bit my lower lip.

  “You don’t know how close I came to dragging you into a secluded storeroom at the Cattleman’s. If I’d known this …” He shook his head, and I had to laugh. “I blew that opportunity, I guess.”

  I peeled back the top of my dress, baring myself to him.

  He made a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a cough. “Beautiful,” he said, drawing the slippery fabric down and over my hips before letting it fall to the floor. Jon reached to my shoulder and drew my necklace into the valley between my breasts. The silver cooled my superheated skin.

  I didn’t know what I wanted to say—something, but words wouldn’t come.

  “God, I’ve never wanted a woman so much in my life.” He said what needed to be said for the both of us.

  I swallowed hard, trying to move the lump in my throat while every fiber of awareness in me did handstands and flips like the center ring show of the circus. I pushed up and gave Jon a gentle nudge to flip him on his back. He followed my lead, his gaze locked with mine, eyelids at half mast, lips parted slightly.

  Those warm brown eyes tracked my movement as I threw a leg over his hips and straddled him. The urge to take him inside me, to flirt with recklessness, grew stronger as our bodies sought to align, heat to heat.

  “Open the drawer of my nightstand.” Jon skimmed a hand along my thighs and up my ass, tracing concentric circles before gliding back down to help leverage me up and off of him.

  I followed his line of sight and reached inside to withdraw what we both needed.

  Before I could retake the best seat in the house, he took the package from my hands. A smile, equal parts earnest little boy and aroused adult male, stretched across his face. He sat cross-legged and sheathed himself. I straddled his lap, taking him inside me with a long exhale that said ‘at last’ as I descended.

  We rocked and kissed, our limbs hooked possessively around each other. He smelled deliciously spicy, enticing me to nibble on his ear and neck before returning to his lips.

  “Wonderful,” he said on a sigh as our lips separated, our foreheads pressed together. Jon reached a hand out, pushing an errant strand of hair off my face. A finger traced the arch of my brow, over my cheekbones and under my jaw. In the wake of his path, I trembled. Warmth of skin against skin flowed down along the lines of my throat.

  I leaned into his touch, and he into my shoulder, where he placed soft kisses along my collarbone, groaning as I cradled and rocked him inside my body. Yes.

  I let everything go and succumbed to wanderlust fingers dancing over my back and down to my hips. Our movements hastened as I scooted in closer, pressing our most intimate parts together more fiercely than before. Yes.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered. Warm hands directed and encouraged my hips in their undulation.

  “Mm-hm.”

  Behind my eyelids, I heard his whispered pants of “yes, oh yes,” and my own echoed murmurings. I relaxed even further into his touch, into the scent of our mingled desire, and when I kissed his lips, I tasted bliss, a flavor I never knew existed before. Yes.

  I swallowed him inside my body. My captive. The gyrations of hips, he met with increasingly frantic thrusts, fingertips digging into flesh as we clung together.

  The man in my arms fell back on the bed, taking me with him, still astride his body. While he lay on his back, his long legs stretched out, I rose up on my knees and braced my hands against his chest. Jon closed his eyes and parted his mouth. Soft moans and sighs formed the soundtrack to our regained momentum. My necklace swayed and thumped between my breasts, catching on to our rhythm. Yes.

  The flickering play of Jon’s responses across his face captivated me as we made love. All was raw and wild and unguarded. No secrets, not anymore.

  My eyelids drifted shut, and I gave in to the sensations sparking to life. Faster, I moved, taking what I needed with Jon’s accelerated breathing to urge me on. My release teased by advancing and retreating until I finally gained purchase and held on for the free fall just around the corner.

  Jon cried out beneath me, his thrusts paused as his body pulsed inside mine, offering the last push I needed to join him. An explosion of rapture overtook and showered me in a fallout of rich, indolent satiety, finer than any chocolate or wine or champagne. And yes.

  • • •

  Sometime around midnight, Jon leaned over on one elbow. “Thank you for the best birthday ever.”

  “I feel like I should thank you.” Both my brain and body were languorous heaps of goo but still craving Jon’s closeness and his warmth. I scooted a little closer until our legs touched.

  Silence cloaked us as we lay side by side on our backs. I wasn’t sleepy—tired and sore—but full of amazement at the man I once foolishly thought lacking in passion.

  Jon cleared his throat. “Maybe we could both … uh … get tested at the—”

  “Yes! I mean, that sounds like a good idea.” Had we just expressed a commitment to each other? Was that what he was saying, what I was saying? “Testing would take care of one issue anyway. I’d still need to fortify against your invading hordes.”

  I chuckled, and the last of my uncertainty faded. Talk of STD and pregnancy prevention was a mood killer normally, but with Jon, the deeper meaning, once embraced, relaxed me. I was glad for the ability to speak so freely with him about sex and contraception, grateful we’d been friends before we became lovers. Nothing was awkward; everything flowed and was as necessary as breathing.

  He clicked out the light and tucked me snugly against him, my back to his chest, an arm draped over my side, cradling one breast. “I love you, Gayle,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too.”

  I fell asleep before I could ponder why I’d just said what I had.

  39

  I woke the next morning as Jon jiggled the bed getting dressed. He’d already taken a shower, judging from his wet hair, and put on pants but not yet a shirt. The man had vast reserves of energy.

  “What time is it?” I croaked.

  “Almost nine. Today�
�s a busy day. I have some surveillance to do, but first I need to check out your apartment to see how Bob’s guy got in, then write up the report for Charlie. I also have to meet and move Marilyn at six. You can either put your dress back on or slip on some of my sweats for the trip home.”

  “Wow, and on a Sunday too. Where are you going to take Marilyn?” I gathered the sheets to me and scooted behind him to touch his bare back.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?” I pressed my lips to his neck in a trail of kisses to his jaw. He smelled spicy and clean. I let the sheet slip down and slid my arms around him to feel the warmth of his skin.

  He growled deep in his throat, twisted around and pushed me down on the bed. Pinned beneath him, I rocked my hips against his, hoping to tempt him back between the sheets.

  He kissed my neck and collarbone. “Because I can’t, we can’t. I’m out of condoms, so get your cute little ass up, and get dressed … unless you’re ready to marry me and have my baby. Are you?” He rolled us to our sides and placed a hand on my abdomen. He smiled and kissed my lips.

  “Hoo boy.” I pushed away from him.

  If he’d been using reverse psychology, he’d succeeded because I folded.

  I jumped out of the bed and slipped my dress on as he shook with barely concealed laughter at my haste.

  Barefoot, I gathered my meager belongs. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Where are your shoes?” He pulled on the clean shirt he had laid out.

  “In the bag.” I held up one of the grocery bags. “You know my neighbors are totally going to think I’m a ho gallivanting around half naked, then coming home in a slinky black cocktail dress. I hope you’re happy about ruining my reputation.”

  “I had nothing to do with the first part, so you can’t blame me for that. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone how lucky I am. I’m also not an idiot, but I can be a jealous fool, and I don’t need any more rivals, thank you very much. So, please take pity on me and ax the running around in your underwear for all the world to see.”

  I let out a snort. His possessiveness and appreciation of my feminine wiles thrilled me. Though I loved being a wise-assed, ferociously independent ballbuster, I also wanted to be taken care of and cherished. I needed a man who could make me laugh and who would laugh at my jokes, a strong, intelligent, loving man who was brave enough to be vulnerable. Jon possessed all those traits, and for the first time, I wondered if his inner matchmaker might not be so crazy after all.