A smile burrowed its way into her face and made itself comfortable. No dislodging that puppy anytime soon. With a quick nod, she hot-footed off to the ladies’ changing room. Blake turned off the lights behind them.
“Move fast because I’ll be shutting off the water to prevent frozen pipes,” he added from where he paused at the men’s changing room door.
“I guess you wouldn’t want hell to freeze over now, would you?” she teased, making air quotes on the word hell.
Either he didn’t get her joke or his mind had taken a different path than hers, because his smile slackened. He said nothing more and disappeared inside the men’s. She immediately felt silly and a little embarrassed. Maybe they were still too different; maybe he was still that same high school boy who for a brief period made her doubt her pre-conceived notions only to cruelly throw them back in her face by standing her up.
Chapter Five
Kristy, 16 years earlier—
Kristy debated whether he had really asked her to meet him during the game. She normally hung out with and supported the cheerleaders, but it wasn't a hard and fast rule. The halftime show was a must, of course. The rest was her choice, so long as she moved around and interacted while in costume.
She strolled through the visitor end of the stadium three times. Just passing through, taunting the opposition, nothing serious, not meeting a bad boy, no siree.
By eight fifteen she began to think she'd misunderstood. Their conversation went on a continuous loop as she looked for clues she'd missed or twisted somehow. She really thought he'd be in the visitor section like he said.
Only he wasn't. He'd been messing with her, testing to see just how delusional she was. They had nothing in common. Dangerous boys wanted dangerous girls who lived life on the edge, who took chances, not a scared little mouse.
At eight thirty she had to hustle back to her side of the stadium. She passed through concessions on her way. He had said something about getting a drink, but that would have been after they met up in the visitor end of the stadium. Otherwise he would have just said that's where he'd be.
Gah! She was way overthinking the situation and BJ. But still.... No. Best to shake it—him—off before she made an even bigger fool of herself than she already had. She was not one of those girls who took the BJ types of chances in life.
****
Safe. That word stuck in her head. That's how Blake made her feel. She never could have bench pressed sixty pounds for eight reps with anyone else, certainly not if she had known how much weight was on that bar. That was all due to him, his faith in her abilities, and her trust in his. Why couldn't she have been this confident at seventeen? So much she might have done differently.
Carpe Diem! Seize the day. What if she'd seized the day back then? What if she'd marched right up to him in school the next day and said, "Where were you? I waited for you, hoped you'd show up. Why didn't you?" Instead she'd limped off to lick her wounds and avoided him for the rest of the school year. He'd done the same and that was that ... until sixteen years later when their paths crossed by chance.
Maybe tonight was her second chance.
She quickly dressed and fixed up as best she could with her meager gym bag contents—a little blush, some eyeliner and mascara and a swipe of lipstick. The last few minutes she saved for blow-drying her hair as best she could.
Time to go. Time to put on her big girl panties and live on the edge. She was a grown ass woman now, not a frightened seventeen year old. Blake was still scary, but in a different way. The fear wasn't so much of rejection—he was certainly attracted to her and she definitely was to him—but of being vulnerable, of opening herself up to trusting another person.
Safe. He made her feel that way under that sixty-pound bar that could have killed her if it had fallen on her. She had trusted him with her life, but could she do the same with her heart?
The woman in the mirror gave her a thumbs up.
"Carpe diem!" she whispered back.
Blake waited for her in the hall, lazily propped against the wall, his ankles crossed, thumbs in his front jeans pockets. No jury would convict her for glancing down to where his fingers pointed. He'd practically demanded it of her and the contours of what she saw did not disappoint. Or maybe her imagination only made her see what she wanted to see.
"Ready?" he asked, pushing off the wall.
No words came. She gazed at him, longing pouring from every cell in her body and reaching for him. She could cross the tiny space between them and slide her hands up his chest and pull his mouth to hers.
Blake took a step toward her and stopped. He took in her appearance, his gaze making a seductively slow perusal of her figure, her mouth, her eyes. "You know...." He rubbed a hand over his scalp. "I waited for you ... back then ... at Homecoming. I waited for you to show up at the concessions stand, but you never came. In most ways I'm not that cocky boy I was then, except for one." He took another step. "Wanna know the one thing about me that has never changed?"
Kristy swallowed hard and whispered, "What?"
"Whether I'm seventeen or thirty-three, I have always been the biggest fool who ever lived where you've been concerned, Kristy LaRose."
"Oh, thank God and finally!" she said on a loud exhale.
One more step and he was on her. He reached out and drew her into his arms and kissed her. Long. Hard. Masterfully. Enough to make her breathless and shaky, because he was no teenaged boy anymore. A man held her in his arms.
She reached with one hand to skim his shaved scalp, reveling in the virile power of him. His head was almost phallic. Was that why some women, herself among them, found bald men so sexually arousing? Her other arm slid up his back, hard with muscles honed from hours of working out. He felt big and powerful in her arms, engulfing her in his embrace. Safe.
She popped him on the butt with her open palm. "You idiot! I waited and waited for you in the visitors' section of the stadium. You stood me up!"
"Did not!"
"Did too! You were the—"
He silenced her with another kiss. What she had to say no longer mattered. Too much time had passed to rehash a stupid teenager misunderstanding. Even if they had connected then, they were different people now.
The kiss ratcheted up in intensity. Heat grew in her belly, where his cock pressed insistently against her. She had always suspected there was a fire generating all that smoky, sexual mystique he exuded. Her curiosity compelled her to discover the truth. Fingers with minds of their own left his back and meandered front and south.
"Touch me," he murmured against her lips. Both of his hands cupped her ass, lifting and pressing her more tightly against him. The friction of male against female produced a kind of drug-like effect, like sexual crack for her animal brain, compelling her to take all that he offered.
His kiss grew deeper and more luxurious, more commanding. Kristy trembled, her panties dampening with anticipation. Jeans that had grown looser over the past few months of rigorous workouts allowed easy access to five wandering scouts. The touch of his fingers ghosting against the skin of her lower back ripped through her like electricity.
"More! I need more," she cried. He removed one of his hands to fumble with her button and zipper. With her clothing loosened, he slipped inside her panties and dipped into the slit of her sex. Her pulse roared in her ears as he spread her honeyed arousal up and over her clit, circling the pad of a fingertip against the surface.
"Oh, yes. Don't stop." The words burst out of her.
"I'll give you eight more reps then we're moving on," he teased into her ear, all the while his finger kept moving. "One. Two—I think you like this."
"Mmm, hmm...."
"Five, Six...."
"You skipped three and four. Go back and give 'em to me."
"Greedy girl. Seven. Eight." He pulled his hand out and slipped that magical finger into his mouth. His eyes drifted shut as he tasted her. "Better than a donut."
She gave him a playful slap. Summo
ning up her courage, she flipped open the snap of his pants and pulled down the zipper, the suggestive tick-tick-tick riling her up even more. His cock strained to be released. She moved her hand to grasp it through his underwear, and he groaned.
"Impressive." She kissed him and massaged his thick, hard length through the cloth. Sounds of pleasure passed from her mouth to his and back while his nimble fingers went to work again, flicking open her bra beneath her sweater.
He had maneuvered them into his office, she realized with a start when her knees bumped up against something.
"Sit on my lap," Blake rasped in her ear. He spun them around and sat in a chair, pulling her into a straddle atop him.
They kissed and ground against each other, rough and hot and greedy. The temperature outside might have been dropping rapidly with the oncoming snowstorm, but in Blake's gym, the heat was blistering.
"God, I can't remember ever wanting a woman so much."
Kristy pushed off his lap and stood in front of him. She stripped off her sweater and tossed it on his desk, scattering his paperwork. Her bra fluttered to somewhere near his desk chair. Blake's eyes widened and darkened in a most gratifying manner, adding strength to her resolve to seduce him.
Blake fished out his wallet and extracted a foil pouch. "I really hope I need this and am not making a total ass of myself." His lifted his brows in question.
Her jeans and panties she peeled off as a single unit. So much for her slow and seductive striptease. To make matters worse, she'd forgotten she wore her workout shoes, tied and double knotted out of habit. Of course she remembered them after attempting to pull a leg up and out of the pants until they caught on her shoe. The unexpected resistance compromised her balance and, to her horror, she fell on her ass. Her sexy routine was tanking fast.
"So far so good! I don't think you have to worry about who's making the bigger spectacle of herself," she said.
Blake was laughing, but he was also stripping off his jeans and underwear. He deftly toed the heel of each of his shoes off without bothering to untie them. His jeans slipped gracefully to the floor. He stripped off his shirt while she watched, her mouth hanging open at the sight of him, all of him, all six feet plus of aroused male. Only he wasn't scary. He was fucking magnificent.
"Need some help?" he asked, laughing. He didn't wait for her answer but reached down and removed the shoes she'd just finished untying, her pants and panties. The next thing he picked up was her, by scooping his hands under her ass. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a sack of groceries.
Kristy clung to him while he backed up and sat upon the chair again. So good. Molten desire coursed through her, all in a mad rush to the best spot in the world, where their bodies had met and begun tormenting the other.
Blake's hands skimmed up and down her body, cupping her breasts as he kissed the sensitive skin before taking a nipple into his mouth. His shaft rubbed against her, tantalizing her clit. Her pussy flooded with arousal, the musky scent perfuming the tiny office. Liquid heat bathed her entrance and coated him, lubricating the slide of their pelvises together. Gentle rocks and rolls grew more urgent. Their breathing sped up, twin cyclones against the hush of the empty facility. He released one nipple and took the other one in his mouth. His groans created delicious vibrations.
Sensations of skin against skin, mouth and tongue paying hot wet homage to her body—the driving need to take him inside her—turned her into a panting, moaning female in heat.
"If I'm not inside you in the next five seconds, I'm going to revert back to a teenager, and not the way you probably want."
"Go, go," she urged. "Do it. I can't wait any longer either."
After a bit of fumbling, which she couldn't see because her tongue had found that fascinating divet at the base of his throat, he finally lifted her hips. Positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he slowly began to ease her down onto him.
Each time Kristy tried to take him in deeper, he held her ass in check. "Give it all to me, you stingy bastard," she cried in frustration.
"Shh, shh, slow down, Kristy. I want to discover your hot pussy, inch by blessed inch until I'm buried balls deep inside you. Then I'm gonna fuck you until you're borderline brain-damaged. And if we're lucky, we'll repeat until I've made you a cripple."
"Charming."
"Believe it."
"Less talk, more cock."
He gave a soft snort of laughter, but allowed her to take in all of him, but only for a second before he raised her back up. Slowly he began to move, his breathing timed to each stroke of their bodies coming together and sliding apart.
"So hot and tight, so damned wet. You feel fucking amazing." He groaned and picked up the pace, gripping her by the hips to raise and lower her to meet his thrusts. His strength always impressed her.
"Oh yes!" She braced her hands on his shoulders. "Just like that." Her hips rocked in a counter rhythm to his driving cock. "Don't stop!"
"Kiss me," he demanded.
She melded her lips to his for a deep, soulful kiss. Blake's tongue slipped between her lips, an intimate invasion of wet heat and wild desire. He plundered her mouth and body like he owned her. She told herself to slow down, to take the edge off their frantic coupling, but her body would have none of it.
Kristy neared her breaking point as the man beneath her took her with loud slapping thrusts. When he gave her the final shove she needed, she soared with ecstasy as her muscles clenched and twitched around his cock in blessed release.
Blake continued to drive in and out of her, her cream creating a beautiful mess where they joined. He lifted his hips to thrust into her a final time, shuddering and groaning as his orgasm seized control.
They stayed locked that way, in a tight embrace, until their racing hearts finally began to slow.
"Wow. Better than every one of my fantasies." Blake brushed away the hair that had fallen in her face and kissed her. "Next time I tell you to meet me at the concession stand, you better fucking meet me at the damn concession stand."
"Next time you want me at the concession stand, how about, maybe, you just, oh, I don't know, come right out and say, 'Meet me at the concession stand'!"
He shook his head. "I don't want to meet you at the concession stand."
She shook hers too, smiling.
"Come on. We're going to eat before the snow gets bad. Then we're going to hunker down in my bed and do a very special partner workout I designed for you and only you—high endurance, high reps, alternating aerobic and anaerobic intervals." He grinned and wiggled his brows. "Was that clear enough for you?"
"You're kind of a bully."
"Only when I want something, and especially when that something is you."
"Well then...." She kissed him. "In that case, I am yours to command."
The End
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A WHISPER OF SILK
Copyright© 2013
London Saint James
Prologue
The story of how I ended up in an unknown back street, wearing a thin, pitch-black wisp of a dress while the drumming sounds of Samba music and the aroma of food from all the street vendors danced around me, is one I never thought would be mine to tell.
When his hand skimmed up my bare thigh, I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. The night was hot. The masculine, hard body snuggled up against mine—even hotter. I felt a bead of perspiration as it rolled down the curve of my spine. The shuffling of shoes echoed on the pavement somewhere not too far away. Honking horns mixed into the shouts of celebration. Behind my closed eyelids, I still recalled seeing the vibrant colors of the carnival that was going on without us.
Strong fingers looped through my long hair, accompanied by an insistent tug, and the warmth of his breath kissed along the cord of my exposed neck. I trembled as the large palm claiming my thigh slid up to my hip, taking the material of my skimpy dr
ess with it. I swiped my tongue over my thirsty lips. He sampled them before softly biting the bottom rim of my lower one.
“Mmm…you still taste like candy,” he said with that titillating accent.
I tilted my head, and searched for him, needing the extraordinary feel of his mouth slanted over mine. He laughed, and the sound sent a flashpoint of a chill over the balmy canvas of my flesh.
“I hate to cut things short, but I must go.”
I opened my eyes and stared at him. He stepped back. Disappointment at his leaving raged through me, but at least he was blowing me off without being too horrible about it. “Um, okay.”
“I want to see you again. Will you have dinner with me, tomorrow?”
“Where?” I asked, and hoped I didn’t sound too desperate.
“Siri Mole & Cia Restaurante, at six-thirty.”
The whole evening had been unexpected, and the sort of thing that happens to other women. Not to someone like me. I’m the kind of woman with the “riveting” job of crunching numbers. I’m what you call, “sensible.” Not given to impulse. The conscientious type. Reliable. Predictable. Boring. So why had I acted so out of character earlier, and continued to do so? I’m the lady you see driving the eco-friendly electric hybrid car, who doesn’t eat meat or drink in dive bars. I’m a member of the Young Republicans for Pete’s sake, and volunteer my spare time on the weekends at a halfway house for drug addicts. I shouldn’t be in a back alley with questionable activities happening around us, but I was.
When the warm night air blew across my knees, I felt the material of my dress flutter over my thighs in a whisper of silk. But even though I had on a sexy dress, my chubby love-handles, rounded hips, and small tits were nothing to write home about. However, this man seemed to love them. Furthermore, I’m not one of those mysterious gals who ooze sophistication, and have that certain je ne sais quoi of a world traveler. I only un-boarded the plane and entered this astonishing new world because I was volunteered to do an in-depth audit of the Copacabana Palace in Rio de Janeiro, yet this stranger looked at me as if he were intrigued.
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