by BETH KERY
* * *
Everett took a sip of his ginger ale—Katie had taken to making it herself. Much to his amusement, his cheeseburger-loving little sister had been converted by the hippy community of Vulture’s Canyon into a health food nut. His attention veered for the twentieth time from Rill and Seth’s discussion about setting, costume and makeup for Razor Pass to the hallway, where Joy had disappeared ten minutes ago with Katie. Dinner was over, and Everett sat with Rill and Seth at the enormous antique oak table in the kitchen. Seth’s concept drawings for body art and makeup were sprawled out before them. Everett figured he’d hung out long enough at the big house to be polite. Seth and Rill clearly didn’t need him.
He wanted to get Joy alone.
He’d wanted that ever since he’d reluctantly left her in her classroom earlier in the week. His desire to touch her had only grown exponentially since she had shown up earlier, looking fresh and sexy in a turquoise cotton skirt, a leather belt, a simple white tank top, a jacket and sandals. She’d taken off the jacket before dinner. The vision of the smooth, glowing skin of her shoulders and arms and the shape of her breasts in the snug top had left him distracted and vaguely irritable by the end of dinner. Not irritable at her or anyone in particular; he was agitated like a chained dog.
His cock twitched slightly and he sat up straighter when he heard female voices in the hallway. Rill did a double take, noticing his fractured attention. He glanced over his shoulder toward the hallway and gave Everett a patronizing, droll look. Everett scowled at his best friend.
Don’t get all high-and-mighty with me, mate, when you turn to mush whenever my sister walks into the room.
Everett and Rill had been friends since they’d been eighteen and nineteen respectively. They’d worked with each other on several films. They were pretty good at reading each other, as witnessed by Rill’s slightly sheepish expression, as if Everett had spoken his thought out loud.
Everett had been dubious when Rill and Katie had gotten together a year and a half ago. They’d all been good friends before then, even if Katie’d had a silent, unrequited crush on Rill since she was a girl. Rill had been too busy building his career and marrying another woman to notice Katie’s love for him, but when he’d discovered his wife’s infidelity and ran wounded to the hills of Vulture’s Canyon following her untimely death, it’d been Katie who had pulled him out from his dark hole and taught him the true meaning of loyalty and love. Now, like Rill, Everett couldn’t imagine why he’d never noticed his closest friend and sister were perfect for each other. She was the light to his shadow. He was the depth and intensity that Katie craved to make her whole.
Rill leaned back when Katie came up behind him and put her arms around his neck. He leaned his head against her breasts and tilted his head up. Katie kissed his mouth.
“She’s down,” she murmured next to his lips, referring to their daughter. “If you all are okay out here, I think I’ll try to get some sleep before she wakes up again.”
“We’re fine. I’ll get Daisy the next time she wakes up. You get some sleep,” Rill murmured.
“Wake me up when you come to bed,” Everett heard his sister say softly.
Everett hadn’t meant to overhear Rill and Katie’s intimate exchange; it’d just filtered in like hushed background noise. He’d been staring at Joy. She smiled at him as she approached the head of the table.
“How are things going out here?” Joy asked.
“Great. Seth has come up with some terrific designs. He’s really got a grasp of the look I’m going for,” Rill said.
“Joy helped me out. I worked in her studio this week,” Seth said, rolling up one of the drawings. “She’d taken her students to an exhibit on Genghis Khan at the Art Institute. She showed me the program, and it was the inspiration for some of these helmets I drew, the hairstyles and the body art.”
“Mongol-chic. Brilliant,” Rill muttered.
“Where’s your studio?” Everett asked Joy, his chin resting in his palm as he studied her. The light from the chandelier hanging over the table made her skin the color of a golden peach.
“It’s in my apartment—the room across from the bathroom,” she explained. “It’s small, but it gets good sunlight.” She directed her attention toward Rill. “Seth and I brought our kits. If you’d like us to demonstrate any of the makeup or body art, we can do that.”
“Thanks. What do you think? Up for a paint job?” Rill asked Everett.
Joy glanced at Everett and immediately dropped her gaze. He saw the subtle stain of pink on her cheeks. He hid a smile.
“Always,” he murmured.
Apparently, Rill’s word choice had brought the memory of the studio center stage to Joy as well. He stood. Everyone glanced around, startled, at the loud scraping of his chair on the tile.
“We’ll be going to bed now.” It took him a second to realize how abrupt he’d sounded. “I mean, if you’re ready, Joy.”
Rill smirked, Seth looked like he was considering beating him up, and Joy’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. He wondered if there was something he could say to disguise his overeagerness, but hell—that ship had sailed.
“Good night,” Joy said to everyone when Everett took her hand and stalked to the front door.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled as they walked down the front porch steps, hand in hand.
“It’s okay,” she replied, her low voice tickling his nerves.
He cut into the yard, leading her through the still, pitch-black summer night. Clouds must have rolled in, because usually Everett never saw so many stars as he did on the top of this hill.
“I can’t see a thing,” she said when they cut around the corner of the big house.
“I’ve got you.” He tightened his hand and she returned the gesture. His cock quickened like she’d squeezed it instead of his hand.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
“So am I,” she replied.
Had that been excitement vibrating in her voice? God, he hoped so. He hated the occasional uncertainty, the somberness he occasionally caught in her soulful eyes.
She rubbed her thumb between his knuckles. He felt the innocent caress along the root of his cock. “I left the light on in the guesthouse so that we could make it out when we came out tonight. There it is,” he said, pointing to the golden glow of a lamp in the window, even though he knew Joy couldn’t see his hand.
“Do you always stay in the guesthouse when you visit?” she asked.
“No. They just finished it last spring. I usually stay in the house, but Seth is staying in that room. Besides, I’d rather have some privacy, with you here.”
She didn’t reply, but he felt her warm hand in his, felt the brush of her hip against his thigh.
The guesthouse backed against the forest. The locusts and crickets had quieted their typical early evening cacophony to a low, lulling hum. He dropped Joy’s hand to open the front door.
“It still smells new,” Joy said when they’d entered the guesthouse and he’d shut and locked the door.
He turned in the small foyer and saw her standing there, the dim light from the living room showing him that small, mysterious smile. Was she so lovely to everyone as she was to him? What did it matter?
They remained standing like that for a moment, several feet separating them.
“Joy.”
A shudder went through him when he stepped forward and took her into his arms, feeling the taut lines of her back and her firm breasts pressing against him. It hurt how much he wanted her. Her mouth tasted so good, like the very fount of sex. He dipped his tongue into it again and again, drinking from her, so thirsty for her sweetness. He felt desperate, like he thought she’d be inexplicably swept away from him at any moment and he’d be left empty-handed, the shock of hollow loss expanding in his gut.
She moaned softly when he backed her into the hallway and against the wall. He put his hands on her ass and lifted, needing to feel her pussy against hi
s cock, requiring friction now, needing to press himself against her . . . into her. Her legs surrounded his hips, her thighs squeezing him tight.
Their tongues tangled in an almost angry dual. Apparently, he’d been wrong to think he was the only one who had suffered tonight, being forced to be staid and polite when all he’d wanted to do was climb all over her. She ripped at the opening of his shirt, sending a few buttons skittering across the wooden floor. Her hands made a frantic search of his shoulders, neck and head, her fingernails scratching his scalp. The evidence that she was just as wild with arousal as he was gave him tunnel vision . . . tunnel sensation.
The only thing he knew was Joy and a raging, howling need.
He rocked her against his cock. Lust slammed through him like a fist. It took him a moment to recognize that the rhythmic beating he heard wasn’t just his heart. He’d been thrusting Joy against the wall as he flexed his hips. He broke their torrid kiss with a hissing sound, gritting his teeth at the abrupt absence of her taste. He was going to hurt her, rocking her against the wall like that. Her lips were immediately back on his, though, soft, warm, feverish, coaxing him back to her depths.
He kissed her like he wanted to fuck her, deep, demanding . . . like he wanted to leave a permanent, indelible mark on her.
He bent his knee and partially took her weight. His hand swept along her thigh, tugging up her skirt. Her skin flowed against his palm like silk. She shifted her hips, accommodating him. He shoved the fabric up around her waist and immediately went for her panties. If he didn’t bury himself in her—and fast—he was going to spontaneously combust. He slid his hand beneath her underwear, his cock jerking at the sensation of the sweet curve of her ass. She reached between them, sinking her hands between the remaining buttons of his shirt. More buttons clattered and rolled on the floor. He growled like the chained animal he’d been all evening when he felt her anxious fingers at his groin.
He heard a ripping sound and the fabric between his clutching fingers melted away. It hadn’t been his intention to tear her panties, but the caveman in him was rearing his head, apparently. He gave an anguished groan into her mouth when his hand brushed against wet, satin-soft flesh.
Later, he had no idea how he’d managed it. He got his cock out of his boxer-briefs by some miracle. His jeans were shoved just beneath his ass. He located a condom in his wallet in what must have been world-record-breaking time. He arrowed his cock into her, all of his desire and need made manifest into hard, swollen flesh.
She gasped and her head hit the wall with a thud. He flexed his hips, made savage by the feeling of carving into tight, warm, juicy flesh. His eyes sprang wide. Joy’s breath struck his cheek in ragged gasps.
It felt like fucking nirvana.
Her fingernails bit into the naked skin of his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. He answered by tightening his grip on her ass and thrusting his hips, jerking her against the wall. She cried out sharply. He was buried in her to the root of his pulsing cock.
He groaned gutturally and began to fuck her. He knew he was probably bruising her, smashing her between the wall and his frantically bucking body. But this was a frenzy, and Joy seemed just as lost in the cyclone of it as he was. She was so small, but so soft, so giving. He put his face into the hollow between her neck and shoulder and let her intoxicating scent send him further into a sexual berserk. He pounded into her, wondering distantly what excuse he’d make to Rill if they cracked the drywall in the brand-new guesthouse. His arm muscles screamed in pain when he lifted her slightly higher and spread her buttocks, but the sharp pleasure trumped the discomfort. He used his pelvis to give her clit a tight little jab on every downstroke of his cock, loving the surprised, gratified little yelp she made when he did.
“Evvverrreett,” she keened a moment later, the vibrations from her call emanating into his lips.
He felt heat rush around him. His cock was so erect, so sensitive, so ready to explode, he could perfectly feel her vaginal muscles constricting around him as she started to come. She squeezed him, fisting him in an uncompromising grip. He didn’t think he’d survive another minute of this torture.
“Fuck me,” he said, his eyes crossing. Unfortunately, she took his muttered curse at face value. She started pumping her hips while she came, grinding her pussy against him. He growled in pleasure, felt that inevitable tingle deep in his balls. He roared in an agony of bliss as he erupted in orgasm.
“Aw, Jesus,” he grated out. His face clenched tight as wave after wave of orgasm tightened his body.
They panted in ragged union. Joy slowly sagged down the wall like she was melting, her legs loosening around his hips. His muscles went lax as well, exhausted from the prolonged contraction he’d forced them to endure while he’d raced Joy to climax. Her feet finally touched the floor. It hurt to withdraw from her warm depths. He pulled her closer, his lips sliding in the smooth sheen of sweat on her fragrant neck. The scent of sex and her perfume filled his nose.
“Well . . . that was something else,” he muttered.
She made a choking sound. He smiled when he heard her laughter and felt it vibrating next to his mouth. He lifted his head and kissed her curving lips. He caught her eye.
“I’m sorry. That was nuts.”
“Yes,” she whispered. He saw her throat contract. “But don’t be. Sorry.”
He swallowed and touched his mouth to hers. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”
He took her hand and led her into the bedroom suite. After disposing of the condom, he turned on the large, luxurious shower and closed the glass door.
“You go ahead and get in,” she said. “I’m just going to go and get a couple things from my suitcase.”
Everett nodded. He had brought her suitcase out to the guesthouse earlier. He got into the shower and lathered up. His body felt good after that explosive release. Really good. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been . . . how anxious he’d been to see Joy . . .
How desperate, apparently.
The only thing that would be nicer after that mind-blowing quickie would be to have his hands running all over Joy’s smooth, soft skin along with all the hot water from the shower, to show her he could savor as well as devour her. After a few minutes of her absence, however, he got out and toweled off, leaving the shower going.
“Joy?” he called, scraping his fingers through his wet hair. He tucked the towel around his hips and padded toward the closed bathroom door. It opened and Joy stepped in, still wearing her skirt and tank top.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I hadn’t packed one of my vitamins.”
“Did you find them?” he asked, glancing down at the transparent bag she carried containing several bottles.
She nodded and walked over to the counter to set down the items.
“You must be a health nut, like Katie,” he said, nodding toward her bag of vitamins. Her smile in the reflection of the mirror struck him as strained.
Whoa . . . What just happened? he wondered. He felt it again—that wall that seemed to fly up between them at times. She kept her face averted as she extricated her toothbrush and a few items from her bag. He opened his mouth to ask her what was the matter, but stopped himself.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said.
She glanced up. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror, but then she looked away.
He closed the door behind him, feeling a sense of defeat, not to mention confusion. She gave of herself so completely during sex. Why did she retreat into herself following physical intimacy?
He could tolerate many things when it came to new relationships, but something about the idea of Joy withdrawing the way she did spoke of loneliness . . . of suffering. And that was one thing, he thought as he dropped the towel to the floor, he wouldn’t accept easily.
Ten
Joy felt awkward when she came out of the bathroom a short while later wearing her new lemon-colored silk nightgown, but Everett wasn’t in the bedroom. Guilt washed thro
ugh her. He’d obviously wanted to take a shower with her after they’d had sex. He’d known she’d avoided him. She’d seen it in the sober glance they’d exchanged in the mirror.
What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so raw every time he made love to her? She couldn’t put the feeling into words. It felt almost unbearably good to give in to the elemental lust he inspired in her, but afterward she felt like a walking exposed nerve. For some stupid, inexplicable reason, it reminded her of making eye contact with other cancer patients she randomly encountered during her chemo. Usually, they dropped their gazes. Joy understood. She’d learned to do the same.
It was all she could take to manage her own survival. It was too painful to consider another’s struggle . . . another’s mortality.
She couldn’t imagine why a similar feeling occurred with Everett following their electric sexual encounters. She promised herself she’d stop being so weak, so idiotic. She set her clothes on top of her suitcase and started to go in search of him. The partially opened door widened before she got there.
Everett stepped into the bedroom carrying a champagne bucket. Two flutes were laced between his long fingers. His hair was a sexy mess of waves and wet spikes. He wore a pair of light blue cotton pajama pants that fell low on his narrow hips and nothing else.
He did a double take when he saw her standing there. “Hey. You look pretty,” he said, his gaze running over her warmly.
“Thanks,” she said. Bless his heart. He wasn’t irritated at her for her momentary stupidity. She walked toward him as he set the glasses on the table and poured the sparkling fluid into them. “I bought it for this trip,” she said, forcing herself to admit the little vulnerability as a lame apology for her earlier foolishness. When she saw his pleased expression, she was amply rewarded.
“You did?”
“Yes.” She could smell the fresh scent of soap on his skin. She wanted to kiss the smooth, golden skin covering his pectoral muscle.
Then do it, idiot.
She stepped forward. His skin felt firm beneath her lips and still felt moist from his shower. He made a rough sound in his throat. She looked up when he touched the back of her head. His gaze on her was soft.