by BETH KERY
She hated him for making her feel this much.
She turned her face into the mattress, hiding her anguished longing.
The mattress shifted beneath her as Everett moved. She held her breath, hearing the subtle sounds of him disrobing—the rustle of fabric, the metallic sound of the buttons on his fly being tugged through the holes. The mattress sank again as he came back onto the bed.
“I’m going to fuck you here,” he said, gently palming her ass, his fingertips just beneath the cheeks, the heel of his palm just below her tailbone. She held her breath, waiting for his next gruffly spoken words like her life depended on them. “I know how raw that is. I know how intimate it is—at least it will be for me, Joy. I want you to know that. If you don’t want it, just say the word right now.”
She inhaled raggedly.
“Joy?” he asked, concern edging his tone. “Say something if you want me to stop.”
She bit her lip. She couldn’t swallow. Nothing would go down. No words could come out the other direction. It shocked her to the core, to realize her need was bigger than her fear. His hand cradled the back of her head. Funny, how perfectly it fit his palm. She turned her chin and looked up at him reluctantly with one eye. He was on his hands and knees over her, his gaze hot but compassionate.
“Go on,” she whispered, and she herself didn’t know if it was a plea or a defiant dare.
His expression hardened. He loosened her wrist restraints, giving her some slack, and grabbed two of the unused pillows. She said nothing when he propped them beneath her hips, raising her ass. She waited for several agonizing seconds. Nothing happened. Then he was spreading one ass cheek and pressing something flexible but hard next to her anus. It wasn’t warm like the little finger vibrators, but cool and slippery. He applied pressure and it slid into her body. She gasped softly and pressed her forehead into the mattress.
“Okay?” he asked, pushing the dildo back into her ass when her muscles resisted the invasion and expelled it.
“Yes,” she said quickly.
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
It was on the edge of her tongue to tell him it was none of his business—why must she reveal such private things when he was doing something so personal to her? She didn’t want to make this whole ordeal bigger than it deserved to be, though.
“What you’re doing now—yes. Once,” she managed. He was pushing the dildo deeper now. “Not . . . not with a man, though. I mean, it was with a man, but—”
“Not with a man’s cock,” he finished for her, his voice sounding rough, edgy.
“Yes. Is that what you’re going to do?”
“Yes.” He withdrew the slippery dildo, and her eyes sprang wide. Apparently, he meant yes as in yes, right now. He shifted again behind her. The anticipation of not knowing what he was doing was killing her. She tried to peer over her shoulder, but only caught a glimpse of his right arm, leg and a bit of his golden torso as he knelt between her thighs. He edged forward on his knees. She felt his lower thighs nudge her legs and spread them a tad wider. The cool air licked and tickled her wet, warm outer sex.
“Oh,” she mumbled, dropping her forehead back to the bed. He’d just spread her buttocks and pressed the tapered head of his cock against her asshole. It was considerably larger than the dildo.
“I’m going to go slowly. Just tell me if the pressure is too much.”
She nodded.
“Press back against me,” Everett said tightly.
She did, groaning when his cock slid into her ass. It felt odd. Joy wasn’t sure she liked it, but it didn’t hurt as much as she’d thought it would.
“Press again.”
She tightened her muscles and pushed up on his cock. He slid farther into her, and this time, sharp pain did spike through her.
“Ouch,” she said before she could stop herself. He paused, and the pain almost immediately faded. She felt his cock throb in that overly sensitive channel. So strange to have something so vibrant there, so teeming with life. Suddenly, the nerves began to burn. Her clit pinched in excitement. What Everett was doing to her struck her as not only highly intimate, but lewd. Raunchy.
Dirty.
She pushed up on his cock. He was the one to groan loudly this time.
“Aw, God, you’re so tight. Your ass is on fire,” he muttered. For the first time, he thrust. She felt his balls and pelvis press against her ass. She hissed and he gave a low, animalistic growl that made her a little crazy. He was completely submersed in her. He grasped her hips, his thumbs sinking into the soft flesh of her buttocks, and began to fuck her.
Joy bit her bottom lip to prevent herself from crying out. There was pleasure in it, but she couldn’t compare it to vaginal sex. It was a dark, primitive, elemental thing. Her arousal mounted with every downstroke, her discomfort fading. Everett’s grunts and growls of pleasure rang in her ears. He’d fucked her harder before—she had the impression he was being careful of her—but even so, she also had the impression he’d abandoned himself to the rich eroticism of the moment.
As he took his pleasure, the burn in her clit grew, spreading to her belly and making her nipples prickle with arousal. The soles of her feet grew hot, as if the nerves Everett agitated with his plunging cock were somehow connected to them. She moaned feverishly, writhing slightly on the mattress, trying to get friction on her aching nipples and clit. Everett grunted gutturally and gave her a slap on the bottom.
“Don’t wiggle around,” he said in a strained tone. “Does this feel good? Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” she moaned, her voice sounding muffled since her forehead was pressed to the mattress. He withdrew his cock and thrust it back into her, his pelvis striking her ass with a whapping sound. She cried out. He continued to fuck her with small, controlled, rapid strokes.
“You like having your ass fucked,” he said as he flexed his hips in rapid, firm movements.
“Yes,” she admitted, gritting her teeth. The pressure was both nearly unbearable and delicious at once. She twisted her torso slightly, rubbing her nipples against the sheets, desperate.
“It’s all right,” he muttered. “I’ve got you.”
He paused, his cock high and throbbing in her ass. She felt him work his hand between her hip and the pillow. Then he was rubbing her clit in that masterful, Everett way, and she was keening and bucking her hips against his spearing cock. He gave a wild growl and began to pump his hips in short, hard movements, fucking her even as he was making her come.
“Oh, God,” she cried as orgasm shuddered through her. She ground down against his hand and then bobbed her ass, stroking him, lost in a crazed blur of pounding pleasure and release. After a moment, he firmed his hold on her ass and began to fuck her with long, thorough strokes, holding nothing back, slamming into her again and again. Joy screamed and gripped the wrist restraints like she was flailing for her survival. Her brain seemed to short-circuit. She couldn’t hold on to reason, or fear, or anxiety. Instead, she hung on to the vibrant energy pulsing and pounding in her flesh. It was the only thing that was real.
The only thing that mattered.
* * *
Afterward, Everett released her from the restraints and took her hand. Joy followed him into the bathroom, where he turned on the shower. This time, she entered the large stall with him, all of her awkwardness and discomfort about doing the same thing the previous night having vanished. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need to. Everett’s bluish green eyes gleamed with emotion as he gently washed her body, taking his time. While he was busy lathering her belly, Joy slipped her hand into his. He looked up, moisture beading on his lips and brow. She took the soap from him, and he returned her small smile.
She smoothed the lather over dense muscle and soft skin, wondering at his beauty, the differences between her body and his own. Men really were a different race—not just a different sex. How could his biceps be so steely, his chest so wide, the oblique muscles like a plate of ridged armor?<
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She recalled how Everett had been so lackadaisical about shaving, seeming to consider his appearance almost as a tool of his trade, nothing more, nothing less. He took care of his body as a carpenter might keep his tools well maintained. As Joy washed him, however, she sensed the nerves just beneath the surface, felt the patches of skin that sent ripples of pleasure through him, knew on some deep level that her touch moved him—Everett, the man beneath the body and face of a careless god.
Is that what he’d been trying to tell her all this time? That she held this power over him, and that it wasn’t a common, everyday thing?
She looked up at him, awe tingeing her expression. He watched her with a tight focus, and then leaned down, covering her mouth with his. Joy stood there beneath the steaming, jetting water, surrounded by all his heat and hardness, and experienced his kiss like an affirmation . . .
. . . a benediction.
The bedroom felt blessedly cool when they walked back into it. They lay down on the bed, both of them on their sides, her back to his front. Everett spooned her and stroked her body with long, languorous caresses. Desire mingled with drowsy comfort. There was no moment of clear delineation between cuddling and making love.
When he lifted her leg and entered her, Joy closed her eyes, inundated with the sweet sublimity of the moment.
* * *
“That’s my cell phone. It’s probably Katie, wondering if we’re coming for supper.”
She opened her eyes. Much to her surprise, she’d drifted into a warm cocoon of sleep after they’d finished making love. Everett stroked her hip. She turned and looked at him. His smile made something flutter in her chest.
“Did you fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
His smile faded as his gaze ran over her face. “You’re tired. I’ll call Katie and tell her not to expect us. I’d rather stay here with you anyway.”
“No,” Joy said, swiping her hand over her face as if she could remove the cobwebby tendrils of sleepiness that draped her consciousness. “Seth will worry about me. More than he probably already is, I mean. He seemed concerned when I left the house so abruptly earlier.”
“I’m sorry again about that.”
She blinked and brought him into focus. It seemed like weeks ago instead of hours that she’d grown so discombobulated by Everett’s talking to Jennifer for so long.
“No,” she said softly. She cupped his jaw and stroked his newly shaven chin. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t even imagine all the stunning women you interact with on your job, day in and day out.”
He grunted. “It couldn’t have helped that you probably were aware that I’d dated Jennifer before. You knew that?”
She nodded.
He sighed and sprawled back on the pillows. Joy turned on her other side to face him. “Jennifer’s one in a million when it comes to the Hollywood crowd. She’s genuinely a nice lady—a class act.” Joy stilled. He met her stare. “But she and I both knew our relationship was doomed to go only so far. That’s just the kind of thing you know in your bones. It was sad to break things off with her, but I know it was the right thing to do. Now I know it for a fact. So does she,” Everett murmured. “She’s met the love of her life—a guy by the name of John Corcoran. That’s what she was telling me about on the front porch this afternoon.”
“Oh. I see,” Joy said, glancing away abashedly.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Everett murmured, stroking her arm. He really could read her mind. “I’d rather inspire a little jealousy than nothing at all. Are you sure you want to go up to the big house for dinner?”
Joy nodded earnestly. She really wanted to make sure Seth knew she was all right after she’d behaved so erratically earlier.
“Okay,” Everett said, popping up out of bed. She blinked heavy eyelids and smiled.
“Do you have to be quite so energetic?” she asked, moving much more slowly.
He hesitated at the side of the bed. “You really are tired. Let’s skip it.”
“No,” she said resolutely, willing her fatigue to fade. She stood, letting the sheet slip off her nude body. “I want to go.”
Fifteen
Katie and Rill outdid themselves for dinner. Katie prepared several salads from fresh ingredients she’d purchased at the Vulture’s Canyon communal farm and co-op, and Rill made juicy, flavorful ribs on the grill. Everett could hardly keep his eyes off Joy for the entire meal, so much so that Katie, who was sitting on his right, kept having to bump the dishes she was passing against his arm to get his attention.
He’d sensed the shift earlier in Joy, felt her rigid defenses soften and bend during their tumultuous, challenging lovemaking, and later, during their quiet, soulful communion. Her face had always struck him as sublime—peaceful, mysterious, achingly lovely. Tonight, however, she looked even more compelling to him. Her lips and cheeks were flushed. A soft sort of luminosity seemed to cling to her.
As dinner and energetic conversation drew to a close, however, and Everett noticed how little she’d actually eaten off her plate, he started to wonder if her enigmatic glow wasn’t more from her being unwell versus being the result of any blossoming attachment to him.
Daisy started to get fussy, so Rill took her for a little stroll. Seth stood to help Katie clear. Everett and Joy were the only ones left at the table.
“Are you all right?” he asked her quietly.
“Yes,” she said, giving him a brilliant smile. Her striking, large eyes looked glassy, even though she’d barely drunk half a glass of wine with dinner. Everett’s gaze dropped to her mostly filled plate. She noticed. “I just don’t have an appetite, for some reason.”
“I think we should go,” he said, wiping his mouth off with his napkin. “You might be coming down with something.”
“Everett.” He met her stare. She gave him a warm, amused look that felt somehow personal to him, familiar and fond. “I’m fine,” she said succinctly.
“If you say so,” he replied doubtfully.
“I do.”
They all went onto the front porch after the dishes were in the dishwasher, each of them sipping lemonade and observing night’s silent creep into the forest. The tree frogs’ cacophony slowly muted to a low, lulling buzz.
“It’s nice, seeing all those stars,” Seth said quietly as he rocked back and forth contentedly in a chaise lounge. “Reminds me of where I grew up.”
“Where was that?” Rill asked in a mellow tone. Daisy had fallen asleep in his arms, and so everyone’s voice had grown hushed.
“Albuquerque. The Isleta Indian reservation.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have, Seth?” Katie asked.
“Just Joy’s dad, Jake,” Seth said shortly.
“He must be older than you. You and Joy aren’t that far apart in age, are you?” Everett asked.
“Jake’s older, by quite a bit. Not that you’d ever guess it.” Everett tightened his hand around Joy’s when he heard the subtle hint of bitterness in Seth’s voice.
“Where does your father live?” Katie asked Joy.
“He has a mailbox in Italy, but he travels all over Europe. He manages the European Formula 1 racing team,” Joy replied.
“Oh my gosh, did you tell Errol that?” Katie asked, wide-eyed.
Joy shook her head.
“If you do, you will have an adoring friend for life,” Katie assured her.
Joy laughed. “He’s a very sweet man, Errol,” Joy said.
“He’s so comfortable in his own skin,” Katie mused, staring out into the dark night. “More so than anyone I know. Besides Everett.”
“Where’d that come from?” Everett mumbled, scowling.
Rill chuckled. Everett glanced at Joy and saw her looking at him with a knowing smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Seth watching his niece.
After a while, Rill and Katie went inside to put Daisy to bed. Joy collected their glasses and went inside to clean them. Barnyard must have had enough o
f the humid night, because he trotted after Joy. Seth watched the front door close behind the basset hound’s waddling rear and turned to address Everett.
“Joy told me that you visited her classroom earlier in the week.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Did she seem to like it? The new job?” Seth asked.
Everett nodded. “Yeah. I actually went into class for a while, saw her work. The kids really like her . . . respect her. She’s very comfortable teaching.”
Seth nodded, seeming to consider.
“Are you worried about her moving to Chicago?” Everett asked after a pause.
“A little. She doesn’t know anyone there.”
“I met two of her friends—the Weismans. They’re a couple. Joy teaches with them.”
Seth gave a doubtful grunt. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then said abruptly, “I’m going to ask her to be a partner in Hightower Special Effects.”
“You are?” Everett asked, leaning forward. “Do you think she’ll accept?”
“I don’t know. Joy’s a law unto herself. To call her independent is an understatement.”
“Yeah. I’ve noticed,” Everett said dryly.
Seth speared him with his stare. “You’re not just stringing her along, are you,” he stated more than asked.
“No. I’m not. Joy is . . . special.”
Seth turned his gaze back to the black night, his profile unreadable.
“I’m glad to hear you think so. Because Joy isn’t weak, by any means. But she’s vulnerable. She didn’t just watch her mother go through five years of hell; Joy walked with her. Every step of the way. And then her father—my stupid-ass brother—abandoned both Alice and Joy when they needed him most.” He paused. Everett sat there, trying to absorb the idea of a teenage girl enduring all of that grief and pain and fear. Not any girl—Joy—the stunning, gifted woman he strongly suspected he was falling in love with.