by Isabel Morin
Cutter stopped, his expression sheepish.
“Actually I do know. My mother thinks I’m working at one of them. But you’re right,” Emily said, feeling foolish. “It’s arrogant to think I know a place when I haven’t taken the trouble to see anything.”
“Maybe we can see some of the sights while you’re here. It’s too hot now for most of the outdoor stuff, but in the next couple of weeks or so it’ll start to cool down. Maybe we could even go camping in Red Rock Canyon.”
“Camping? As in sleeping in tents?”
Cutter laughed. “As in sleeping in tents. But you don’t sound too psyched.”
“I’ve just never done it is all. I can’t decide if it would be fun or miserable.”
“Maybe a little of both,” he said, coming toward her. He put his hands on her hips and whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky, as if he were trying to seduce her. “I’ll set up the tent, stomping around and swearing because I’m missing a crucial part. We’ll eat a dinner of canned hash and then crawl into the tent and snuggle together inside, where it’ll be roughly a hundred and twenty degrees. You’ll sleep fitfully and hate me by morning. What do you say?”
“You are seriously turning me on,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.
She meant it as a joke, but actually, she was turned on. She’d been turned on since she walked through the door. Since she met him.
Cutter pressed her back against the island until she felt him fully against her. He was already hard, his breath quickening as those deft hands of his skimmed beneath her skirt to the back of her thighs. Everywhere he touched heated until she was burning for him.
Her hands dug into his hair and she urged him closer, her tongue sliding into his mouth to taste his heat and spice.
Without warning he lifted her onto the counter and stepped between her spread thighs, his restless hands pushing her skirt up around her waist until she was bared to him, nothing between them but the scrap of her pink lace underwear. Panting now, her hands worked at the snap of his shorts until she held his huge cock in her hand. With her other hand she pulled him toward her.
“Please. I need you now,” she whimpered.
“Hang on. I need to get a condom. I can’t –”
“It’s okay. We don’t need one anymore,” she said, wrapping her legs around his hips.
He looked at her blankly, as if I afraid to believe what he was hearing. She was so crazed with lust it took great effort to focus and explain.
“Remember that talk we had about how we’re both healthy? I made an appointment at the health clinic the day after and now I have an IUD.”
Cutter’s eyes narrowed, sharpening with fierce intent as he yanked her underwear aside and slid into her with one firm stroke, the friction of his shorts rubbing against her inner thighs only adding to her sensory overload.
“Christ you feel good,” he groaned, red flags of color high on his cheeks. “So hot and wet for me.”
Falling back onto the counter, she took him as far into her as he could go, her knees drawn up to feel every inch of him. This wasn’t gentle or controlled, not romantic or practiced. It was three days of need built up until neither of them knew anything but the striving together of their bodies.
Cutter leaned over her and took her nipple in his mouth, rolling it as he stroked into her again and again, his thumb sliding over her clit so that every part of her was taken over by him.
“That’s it, baby, come for me,” he urged, and the sound of his voice, his warm breath on her skin, sent her over.
Her body arched off the counter, pulsing on and on as she sobbed with release. She held him through his peak, his whole body shuddering over her as he gave an ecstatic groan and collapsed onto her, his head resting on her breast.
They lay there like that, sweaty and sated, and it was several minutes before either of them spoke. Finally Cutter raised his head and looked at her.
“The dishes can wait. You’re going to get into my bed and we’re going to screw until neither of us can see straight.”
“Whatever you say.”
***
By the time Cutter got out of the shower the next morning, Emily was standing in the kitchen in his old Lallapalooza t-shirt, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sliced onions. A carton of eggs sat on the counter and the toaster ticked and emitted a cheery red glow.
Her head bobbed lightly to the Stones’ “Let it Bleed” and he watched, mesmerized, as her hips moved and she instinctively, thoughtlessly, swung her hips around in a manner more subtle but no less erotic than her stage show. Jesus, the woman could move.
She didn’t even realize he was there until he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She started in surprise and then laughed lightly, relaxing instantly into his arms. “You Got the Silver” started to play, Keith Richards singing, and Cutter held Emily close and swayed with her.
Turning around she smiled up at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she leaned her cheek on his chest. It was the first time he’d danced with her, but it felt perfect, natural, like making love.
She yelped in shock when he grabbed her waist and swung her around, her head falling back as she squealed in delight. When he finally put her back on her feet they kept moving, and all at once he understood why the human race danced.
Sometimes you just had to move, there were no words for what you felt.
They spun around the kitchen floor, a current flowing between them until he felt her heartbeat in his, the thrum of her blood as if it flowed though his own veins. They were laughing and breathless when the song ended, clinging to each other for several more moments.
They both sniffed the air at the same time, frowning.
“Something’s burning!” Emily squealed, pulling away to turn to the stove.
Fortunately, it was just the toast, and soon they were sitting down to breakfast. They chatted about the club, making fun of Steve as usual, but mostly Cutter just tried not to stare at her like a crushed-out kid. He didn’t want her to leave and was afraid that any minute she’d announce it was time to go.
“What do you think about staying here?” he asked, finally voicing an idea he’d been turning over in his head for the last week.
Emily looked up from her paper, the piece of toast she’d been about to bite into arrested in mid-air.
“You mean move in with you?”
His heart rate, already faster than usual from nerves, kicked into high gear.
“You said yourself you’re sick to death of living in a hotel. Besides, this wouldn’t cost you anything. There’s more than enough room here for two people, and you could take one of the extra rooms if you like so you’d have your own space.”
He watched as surprise and uncertainty passed over her face. He held his breath, his mind racing with other benefits to convince her. But he didn’t want to push her too hard. She either liked the idea or she didn’t.
Maybe he was hoping that it would be so great while she was living with him, she’d change her mind about leaving. But that motivation was so pathetic he pushed it down and hoped it never saw the light of day again. He didn’t have anything to offer her. He worked too much for too little money, and was just barely keeping himself above water when it came to the house. Besides, she came from a whole other world, one she’d be returning to soon. They were better off a temporary thing.
She was biting her lip. “I am sick of the Strip. Lately I’ve been feeling like I’d jump out the hotel window if it weren’t hermetically sealed.”
Cautious hope rose in his chest, but he didn’t want to let it loose until she fully agreed. It would be better, in fact, if he didn’t set it loose at all. This was going to be the most casual of arrangements. Nothing to get all worked up about. Maybe something had happened out in the garden last night, but that didn’t mean there’d be a happily ever after. What it guaranteed, in fact, was more pain all around. But it was worth it.
Emily folded and refolded her napk
in as she worked it all out. Cutter got up and poured himself another cup of coffee and tried to act like he wasn’t anxious as hell for her decision.
He moved around the kitchen, feigning nonchalance, but finally Emily looked up at him with a shy smile. “Okay. If you really want me here, I’d love to stay.”
He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He only hoped it didn’t reveal too much.
***
Emily stood on Cutter’s doorstep the next morning, a suitcase and two duffel bags at her feet, her stomach fluttering with a combination of nerves and excitement as she knocked.
The door opened a few seconds later and Cutter stood there grinning in a pair of brown cargo shorts and snug-fitting black tee shirt. Emily’s mouth went dry.
“Hey, gorgeous. Come on in,” he said, grabbing all three bags before standing back for her to enter.
Together they walked down the hall until they stood between the two spare rooms.
“Which room would you like?” he asked.
“I’ll take this one,” she said, pointing to the room that hadn’t made her think about little Cutter offspring.
Cutter set her bags down and looked around, frowning.
“I hope this is okay. If I’d had more time I would have made it a little more comfortable –”
“This is perfect. Besides, unless you turn into the world’s loudest snorer, I’m not planning on spending all that much time in here. I’m looking forward to having that gorgeous body of yours to myself every night.”
Cutter’s eyes glinted wickedly. “Just at night?” he asked, walking toward her until she was backed up against the bed.
Emily was instantly breathless, her limbs softening with surrender. As if in slow motion she fell back onto the neatly made blue bedspread, Cutter following her down. The raw male heat he emanated saturated her senses, leaving her instantly ready. He must have felt the same urgency, for his mouth covered hers in a deep, full-blooded kiss that left her ears ringing and her body taut with need. A work-roughened hand skimmed up her thigh beneath her skirt, settling over her underwear before slipping beneath the thin material.
Deftly he parted her, discovering her readiness with a deep groan into her mouth. Emily’s body arched upward and her head fell back, her head spinning with lust. Then his finger began to move and she went from ready to frenzied in a heartbeat.
Her hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, desperate to have him inside her. Cutter drew back, looking at her with dark intensity, his breath hissing out as her hands found him, huge and hard and as ready as she was.
She gasped as he pulled her underwear off and entered her, driving her up the bed. Each stroke brought her closer to the brink without sending her over. Her arms and legs were wrapped around him as she called him name, urging him on.
“I know what you need,” he whispered in her ear.
Pulling out of her, he turned her over until she was flat on her belly. Then he slid into her, taking her deep and hard.
“Is that good, baby?” he crooned, but she was beyond words.
His body covered hers so that they were still skin to skin, heat on heat. Then his hand reached around and found her again, slick and wet. She cried out as his fingers slid over her in time with his thrusts and her thoughts narrowed until all she knew were pleasure and need. Higher and higher he took her until her orgasm rushed up to meet her and she cried out with a release that shook through her. Cutter thrust into her to the hilt, his hands clasping hers as he pulsed inside her.
Together they collapsed onto the bed, and it was many minutes before either of them moved. Finally Emily heaved herself up on an elbow to look at Cutter.
“I think this is going to work out just fine,” she said.
They didn’t have long to indulge themselves, however, as Cutter had a roofing job to finish up before going to the club that night. She was in the middle of unpacking when he came into the room dressed in his jeans, work boots, and a white tee shirt. He pulled her in for a quick kiss.
“I’ll be back by four-thirty so we can drive in together. Will you be all right here?”
“Of course. I still have to practice my dances, plus ransack your drawers for old love letters and sexual paraphernalia.”
Cutter grinned, momentarily stopping her heart.
“Knock yourself out, babe.”
Emily was still smiling when the door closed behind him. He made everything so easy. Unlike with other men she’d dated, she could be herself and let down her guard. Nothing seemed to faze him.
She’d never lived with a man before, not romantically anyway, but the way her past relationships had gone, she’d assumed it would be awkward, with an initial period where they worked out rules and set limits. She soon realized it wouldn’t be like that at all with him. Of course, she no longer had a grueling career that made ridiculous demands on her, but it was a pleasant surprise to discover that she wasn’t so bad at being with someone, even if he was a temporary someone.
Whereas before she always felt pulled between what her boyfriends wanted and what she wanted, now she found the two things most often being the same. Not that Cutter was her boyfriend, as she sometimes had to remind herself. Still, she wanted to make him happy, and went out of her way to cook meals around his crazy schedule. She wanted to make his days easier when he came home tired from his first job and had to go to the second one. There was no doubt he appreciated all her efforts, but he wasn’t taking it for granted.
This became crystal clear when he called her at four o’clock in the afternoon, a week after she’d moved in, to tell her his truck had broken down.
“You head to the club without me. The tow won’t be here for another forty-five minutes, and then I’ll still need to get a ride home. If I’m lucky I’ll only be an hour late to work.”
Emily could hear the sounds of traffic on his end.
“Where are you?”
“About a half hour north of Vegas. It looks like it’s the radiator, so I’m not going anywhere.”
“In other words, you’re stranded on the side of the highway, sweating your balls off,” Emily said.
Cutter laughed. “That about sums it up.”
“Then I’m coming to get you. Tell me where you are.”
“You don’t need to do that. You’ll be late and it’s way out of your way.”
“Would you let me bake in the desert sun if it was me stuck out there?” she asked, somewhat irritated now. It was actually kind of a bummer that he expected so little of her.
There was a hesitation. “Uh, no. Of course I’d come get you.”
“Exactly. So tell me where you are.”
By the time she pulled into the breakdown lane behind his truck he looked pretty wilted. Wearily, he climbed into the car and they sat in the cool of her air conditioning, waiting for the tow truck to come.
“You must be exhausted,” she said, taking in his dusty work pants and sweat soaked hair. “Maybe someone can fill in for you tonight so you can go home and rest.”
“Nah, it’s too last-minute. Besides, I could use the money.”
This depressed them both and they were silent for a minute.
“Good thing you’re not a stark white cracker like me,” she said, trying to inject some humor. “I’d have burnt to a crisp out there.”
Cutter cackled and pulled her to him, planting a solid kiss on her mouth.
“You’re not just any cracker, sweetheart. You’re a high-class table wafer, the kind people eat with caviar.”
“Oh, speaking of food, I brought dinner. If we eat in the car we won’t be quite so late.”
She pulled a little cooler from the back seat and set it between them.
“There’s pasta salad with artichoke hearts, chipotle chicken wings and brownies. Oh, and a seltzer water for you.”
She looked up to find Cutter staring at her.
“What’s wrong? Are you not hungry? You don’t have to eat now if you don’t want to. I just f
igured…”
Cutter shook his head, looking for a second as if he were too overcome to speak. He cleared his throat.
“This is amazing, that’s all. You’re amazing. And I’m starving.”
They drove home from the club that night without saying much, both of them tired. But it felt like they were in it together, whatever “it” was. Life, maybe?
As exhausted as he was, Cutter still turned to her in bed, taking her with a sleepy enthusiasm she couldn’t help but match. No matter how tired she was, she never tired of him.
***
Cutter didn’t know what to expect after Emily moved in. Mostly he’d thought about how good it would be to have her with him every night and know he’d never go long without seeing her.
He figured it would be the same as before, just more fun, more Emily. But he’d under-estimated the effect she’d have on his life, how her laughter and soft curses, her distant humming and close murmuring would fill every corner.
Nor did he expect the incredible meals that started appearing regularly. The day after she moved in he came home from a carpentry job, tired and hungry and wishing he didn’t have to work at the club that night, and was greeted by the sight of Emily in shorts and a tank top, her hair in a messy knot on her head as she peered down at a cookbook while simultaneously cutting vegetables.
She looked up at him and grinned sheepishly.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen. I’m just so excited to have a real kitchen. I figured we could have a nice meal before work.”
“Mind? This is incredible. But you know you don’t have to cook for me, right? There are no strings attached to this deal.”
“But I want to cook for you. And I’ll be enjoying it to, don’t you worry.”
He came up behind her and put his hands at her waist as he nuzzled her neck. “What can I do to help?”
“I’ve got it all under control. Just relax. You must be exhausted.”