by JC Szot
“Yes, but—” His lips hit hers again, not waiting for an answer, pressing hard on her mouth then easing off with a light pass of his tongue. Zane’s hand wandered down her body, slipping between her legs. This is so much more for me.
“Am I allowed in your bed? I won’t disappoint.” His lips trailed down her neck, adding a scraping of teeth. Maybe Zane needed confirmation that he was a healthy man and able to perform. Should she give him an ego boost, too? Temptation overruled her reasoning yet again.
She turned them with her body, steering them down the hall. Maybe she was a fool, but she couldn’t refuse him. Their mouths feasted off one another as their bodies plowed through the curtain of beads that hung over her door. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, lifting it from his body. His chest was still tight and outlined like the tantalizing bad boy that he was. Her hands slid over his warm skin. His nipples pebbled at her touch. His cock was stiff, bowing against his zipper, grinding into her belly. Her legs hit the edge of the mattress. She sat, clutching his head, the new growth on his scalp soft as a peach.
Meg breathed in Zane’s new, fresh scent. Renewed health, soap, and his personal fragrance filled her senses. He clawed at her shirt, peeling it from her body.
“No bra,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face between her breasts. “I like it.”
“Bras are bad for the lymphatic system.” She sucked in her breath as Zane’s lips drew in on her nipple, his tongue swirling and licking. “Sounds good to me. Better yet, start a campaign. Set the tits free.” His muffled reply had her giggling. He gorged on her, pulling, sucking. His other hand squeezed and molded her to his palm. Zane’s actions were hungrier and harder than their last encounter. He pushed her back, smoothing his hand down the expanse of her belly. His fingers were swift and skilled, popping the button and tugging on the zipper, working her jeans and panties down over her hips. It was a wild technique of hands, tongues, and matching desire. He pulled her shoes and socks off. Meg shifted her weight. Material swooshed off her legs. Cool air hit her body.
She was naked, at his mercy. The air moved around her. She heard the clinking of his belt and the teeth of his zipper opening. She shut her eyes, afraid of him right at this moment, not wanting any awkwardness to break the flow. His hands were back on her, gently easing her legs open. Her anxieties spilled.
“Oh no,” she murmured.
“It’s all good, Meg.” His voice was thick. He spread her open, anchoring her heels on the edge of the mattress. Her pussy throbbed, her folds blooming and wet just for him. “I was a gentleman the first time, but not tonight. I want to spend a bit more time preparing you.” His hands slid down her inner thighs, his touch lethal. “Ms. All-Natural is gonna engage in some good, healthy, vigorous fucking.”
He touched her with his fingers first. Meg squeezed her eyes shut, knowing she was wide open and exposed. They hadn’t turned the bedroom lamp on. A wide bar of white light from the hallway fixture poured into the room, blazing a path across her body. Zane’s finger touched her clit. Her hips jolted off the bed.
“Easy.” Zane’s voice was a hoarsened whisper as it drifted over her skin. He slipped a finger inside her, then another. His breaths gusted against her thighs. When his mouth settled on her pussy, the dam of anticipation burst.
“Oh my,” Meg sighed. He dragged his tongue up and down the creases of her pussy. His mouth was gentle, his tongue lightly flicking at her clit. His fingers slid in and out of her with a light ebb and flow that had her drifting away at sea.
“Fuck, you’re so wet and warm.” His tongue glided. His teeth nibbled. He was tender and maybe a bit hesitant. Meg arched into him, wanting to give herself to him, her apprehension quickly dissolving, overtaken by the pleasure he was providing.
“You feel good?” Zane’s voice was low and rough. It vibrated into her flesh, his tongue feathering between the folds of her pussy, licking her clean.
“Yes,” she gasped, clutching the quilt in her hands.
“Now that’s the way it should be. You taste so good.”
Her soft sighs drifted through the air. Her pussy cooled. Zane leaned over her, his arms corded on either side of her head.
“Okay?” He licked his lips.
She nodded, unable to speak. His eyes widened. Her mind was bombarded with questions she couldn’t answer, in awe over the effect his body had on her. She knew Zane would stay with her after this was over. After their night of cards, he’d been unforgettable.
“What a treat you are. I think I just tasted my first organic woman.” His eyes lowered, flaming with need, burning into her, tunneling a hole she wasn’t sure she could fill once he went away again.
Zane stood up, fumbling through his pockets. Meg watched his shadowed movements as he put on the condom. She knew he was doing this for her protection because the Chemotherapy was still in his body. He turned and scaled her body with his.
“Let me have you now.” His mouth landed on hers, his kiss raw and hard just like he was. Zane entered her in one swift motion, pressing through the neglected channel of her body. He dove into her, blazing his trail. His hips moved, thrusting into hers. Their bones met, crushing with a desperate urgency, one they both owned but with different labels, his an illness, hers an emptiness.
“Christ.” Zane’s head tipped back, his lips parting. Meg watched his desire mount, his face set. His eyes rolled beneath their lids. His chest pulled in rushes of air. Meg gripped his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his hips. She felt him burrow deeper, hitting that internal switch. Her body was singing, soaring through the air like a bird riding on a breeze. The idea that she was pleasing him thrilled her.
“You’re so tight and hot, Meg. This is so good.” He was skinning her, peeling away all her layers. This was so risky but so delicious. She’d worry later, like a dieter who ingested too much cake and ice cream. Dewy sweat had their bodies slithering against the skin of the other. They were gliding now, riding the swell of a wave that never seemed to end.
Meg reached for him, cupping his abrasive cheek. His teeth gritted, trying to hold out. His rasping words set her free.
“Meg,” he groaned. “Come with me.” His balmy breaths puffed on her skin. Her body twisted, her hips hammering into his, bringing on his orgasm. His body tensed, pulsating inside hers, pressing in deep. Her breath hitched, her pulse jumped, her orgasm taking her to a destination unknown, but one that she hoped would be wickedly delightful.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m gonna head out, Meg.” Zane kissed her warm cheek. She whimpered softly. He slipped out of the warm confines of her bed. Her fruity fragrance lingered on his skin, her honeyed taste still on his tongue.
Zane tugged on his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head, his boots in his hand. He turned in the doorway. Her hand rested under her cheek, her hair tousled. Everything about her was so sensual and natural, from the curvature of her shoulder to the slight slope of her tiny, cute ass.
Zane’s vision blurred. Something was spinning out of control, sending him spiraling down into the dark unknown. He shook it off, trying to breathe. Air had congealed in his lungs. He was drowning.
She was too good for him, too nice and sensitive, but most of all, too fucking caring. The sheet pulled over her creamy skin as she rolled over, outlining the curve of her waist and the sloping line of her hip. His mouth dried in panic, but the longer he gawked at her, the faster the lust returned, devouring him. Fuck! Meg deserved a white-collar guy, Mr. Suit-and-Tie, a lawyer or engineer type, maybe. Not some dude in remission with no education and a bunch of tattoos.
Zane closed the door quietly and crept down the hall. Once in his apartment he dropped his boots near the door and headed into the kitchen. Daybreak bled through the horizon, the window panes painted in purples, pinks, and grays. He’d fix a protein shake, take his vitamins, and chill a bit before going down to the shop. He was going to start work today whether Sean liked it or not. Zane wanted to rotate some of his sketches and hang the ne
w drawings he’d done while being stuck at home.
Last night with Meg kept edging into his thoughts, her legs wrapped around his hips, her eyes wide. He loved watching her absorb him with sexual wonder, but that was about all he’d ever be able to impress her with. He swallowed three supplements, forgetting what he had taken. He stared at the six jars, now unsure of what to ingest next. He pushed the rest of the jars away and went to sit in the living room.
His body was a little sore, but it’d been awhile since he’d engaged in any sexual acrobatics. He leaned back in the recliner, his eyes popping when they landed on the clock. He leapt from the recliner and moved closer to the wall. His eyes then darted to the kitchen stove. The digital numbers matched the clock’s face. What the hell? The clock had stopped at 4:52 on the day of his diagnosis. Joe’s words blared in his ears. “The obvious is right in front of you.”
Zane downed the rest of his protein shake and tugged his boots on. Something weird was going on. The walls were closing in, and his head was damp with sweat. Was he getting sick again? His stomach twisted at the thought. He grabbed his keys and left. He’d hang out at the shop until Sean showed up. Things here were just too freaky.
* * * *
“Hey.” Sean dropped his backpack on the counter. “Early bird gets the fucking worm, eh?”
“That’s right.” Zane smirked. “Your solo days are over, pal.” His lips pulled into a grin. “What’s on the roster today?” Zane drank in the dark-blue walls that were trimmed with glittering silver paint. An immense yellow sun and smiling moon decorated the wall, displaying all of Sean’s zodiac signs. He’d missed the shop, the customers, and the general fellowship among the other store owners on their block.
“We have a few appointments, but we gotta get our act together if we plan on having a booth on Saturday.”
They discussed the street festival and how they should set up their booth.
“We need a tent this year to do the tats. Last year it was brutal trying to distinguish colors under a glaring sun. Hey, I like these.” Sean leafed through the designs Zane had spread across the counter. “Guess you had plenty of time to work, huh?”
“Yeah.” Zane frowned. “I just hope I can ink soon. I’m getting fucking restless.”
“Do what the doc says.” Sean playfully shoved his shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, man.” Sean’s voice dipped. “Can’t do it without you.” His dark eyes reached Zane’s, his forehead creased. He was growing in a goatee, his straw-colored stubble neatly shaped and trimmed.
“Thanks, man.” Zane pressed his lips together, feeling a sting of emotion he wasn’t prepared for. “Think I should display these all around the tent?”
“Shit yeah.” Sean laughed. “They’re all great. You have lot of chick designs there, I noticed.” Sean picked up one of the drawings, turning it in his hand.
“Well, we have to target that side of the market, too.”
“Speaking of chicks?” Sean grinned, turning on the stereo. Soundgarden blared through the speakers.
“Leave it alone, Sean,” Zane said through gritted teeth. He walked in the back, knowing Sean was going to ask about Meg again. He turned around and walked back out. Sean was laying out his equipment for his first appointment. Zane tossed his offer right out into the arena like an impulsive pass, needing to see how eager the receiver was.
“Hey.” Zane raised his hands. “If you want to take Meg for a spin, by all means.” His proposal had him stuttering. Sean set his color tubes aside, wiping his hands on a towel. Sean closed the distance between them. Zane suddenly felt tired and trapped.
“What’s your deal, man?” Sean cocked his head, waiting. “Is there something there that’s not to your liking?”
“Ah, no, that’s not it.” Zane looked away, relieved that Sean’s first appointment was outside putting coins in the meter. Zane couldn’t tell him they’d already fucked twice and it was beyond hot. If Sean knew that, he’d never leave him alone.
“She’s gorgeous, Zane. That wild hair and those intense green eyes.” Sean whistled. “And such a lithe body.” His breaths echoed off the walls. “In fact”—Sean rubbed his chin—“I thought I saw her eyes amongst some of these drawings of yours.” He chuckled, pointing to the counter littered with his designs.
“Well, aren’t you perceptive.” Zane’s tone was sharp. “Looks like your appointment is here.” Zane jerked his head toward the front door.
“Lucky for you,” Sean grumbled.
Zane spent the day choosing designs for their booth. He also went down to the town hall and filled out all the forms for the street festival, securing their location on the street. He searched through the roster, noticing that Nora was going to have a booth this year. Leave it to Meg and her sparkling enthusiasm. She probably talked Nora into it. It looked like he and Sean would be directly across the street from them.
* * * *
Zane sprawled out on the couch, the evening news filling the desolate air. A smoke detector blared from down the hall. Zane got up and opened the door. The hallway smelled of burnt bread. Gray smoke hung in the air, burning his eyes. It was coming from Meg’s apartment. He jogged down the hall and knocked on her door.
“Hey, Meg.” Zane pounded his fist again. The door unbolted. Her reddened face appeared behind the engaged chain.
“What the hell’s going on?” Zane stifled his laughter. He didn’t mean to laugh at her. He really wanted to laugh with her. Her bashful face and flushed cheeks had him thawing. Christ, she is cute!
“I burned my wheat rounds.” She frowned, those two adorable wrinkles in her forehead deepening.
“Well”—Zane shrugged—“I can’t say I have any of that on hand. I’d help you out, but I must confess that I’m out of wheat and bran.” Zane’s tone was dripping with sarcasm.
Meg wiggled her nose. “Shut the hell up, will you.” Her wide smile broke through her pursed lips. Zane could see that she couldn’t help laughing. At least his humor entertained her. Now he had two elements to offer her, some sexual fulfillment and a few decent jokes.
“Aren’t you gonna invite me in for some tofu?” Zane tried to look over her shoulder into her apartment, thinking that Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead might be lurking behind her bright floral curtains. Meg released the chain and stepped back, waving him in. She began slapping him with a dishtowel. Zane ducked, avoiding the blows. She then came after him, her fingers digging into his gut. Laughter howled out of his lethargic body.
“Okay, okay, please,” Zane panted, breaking out into a coughing jag. He regained his composure. “I’m sorry. You leave yourself wide open. What’s a guy to do?” Zane lifted his hands in defeat. “What are you going to eat now? How about some sardines? I think I got a can in my cabinet.”
“Ew,” Meg squealed.
* * * *
“This isn’t bad.” Zane bit into the melba round. The smooth cheese melted on his tongue. “What kind of cheese is this?” He eyed the assorted cubes on the tray, stabbing another with a toothpick.
“It’s smoked Gouda. Isn’t it tasty?”
They were sitting on her pea-green sofa eating cheese, crackers, and grapes. Zane took a sip of ice water. She must’ve done her yoga routine prior to her cooking catastrophe. Meg had on a pair of black Lycra pants and a light-blue tank top. Her pert breasts pushed through the fabric, her nipples peaked. Zane’s mouth pooled. Whether she knew it or not, she was provoking him. His body began to rage. He just couldn’t look away. It was thrilling yet scary. Fear and longing tormented, tightening around him like a body noose.
“Want some tapioca for dessert?”
Zane nodded. “Nah. I’m wanting something else, though.” His words were hushed and somewhat suggestive. They oozed from his mouth before he could stop them, unable to think clearly. “I’m sorry,” he added hastily. Meg’s lips curled into a meek smile. Her cheeks flamed with a blush he wanted to eat. She stood and took the leftovers into the kitchen. Zane leaned over and turned off th
e small, fringed lamp. He could hint without words. That’d be better.
Her footsteps moved down the hall. The pink beads that draped over her bedroom door clinked against the wall. Silence reigned in the air. Zane picked up the remote and turned on her small stereo. It was some sort of relaxation CD. The soft sound of a babbling brook sounded from the speakers. The beads jangled again. She rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of him sitting on the sofa in the dark.
Twinkling lights from the world outside lit her face. Zane patted the seat next to him. She sat, brushing that wild hair away from her eyes. Zane’s hands twitched. He wanted her. His head was screaming, Take her rough, fast, and hard, but something else was fighting to push through, like a weed striving to grow through concrete. He could take her nice and slow, feel every contortion of her body, and watch her reactive expressions to his administered pleasure. Slow gave emotions a chance to lead. Fast and hard left no room for them. Was that safer?
“How’ve you been feeling?” Meg asked, her stare soft. “Did your first day back go well?”
“It was nice to be back in the shop. It did go well. I feel good. Must’ve been all that protein in the cheese I got from you and Nora. Sure as hell beats those plastic-wrapped singles.” He chuckled.
Her face scowled, her candy-coated lips pouting. “That’s processed junk.” She waved her hand at him. Zane reached for her as her hand passed through the air, tugging her into him. She tipped her chin, those killer lime-green eyes working him over. Zane quickly pulled her limber body onto his lap. He wasn’t sure he could backtrack now. They’d already crossed the line. Is this what he wanted? Did he have enough of what she wanted? What did she want?