Dirty Thoughts

by Megan Erickson

  “With my tongue?”

  She swallowed. “With your tongue.”

  “Wish granted.” He dove back in, attacking her clit, sucking it, swirling it. Her hips rocked into his mouth and with one more painful twist of his hair, she was coming, pulsating against his face, crying out, her entire body shaking so that he had to sit back on his heels and catch her as her legs gave out.

  Her entire body vibrated in his arms, the aftershocks of her orgasm rocking her. He ran his fingers through her hair, amazed he could still feel the softness through his thick skin and calluses.

  He buried his nose in her hair, smelled Jenna, and closed his eyes, because nothing took him back like the scent of her as she lay in his arms.

  Chapter Nine

  JENNA SQUEEZED HER eyes shut, face shoved into Cal’s neck. She needed a moment to get herself under control because Cal had completely taken her apart, limb by limb.

  She’d let him. And she loved it.

  This. Them. Together. It was the same as it was a decade ago, yet different. Their bodies had changed. There was a new learning curve, but this magnetic connection that had always existed still crashed them together. Cal’s pull still tugged at her gut. Her heart ached, like it wanted to crawl out of her chest and into his.

  He still smelled like Cal, clean with an underlying metallic tang. She nuzzled between the collar of his shirt and his neck, opening her mouth against his skin to sneak a taste.

  He shifted beneath her, the rough fabric of his pants brushing the overly sensitive flesh between her legs. She sucked on his skin, adding some teeth, and he groaned, one hand sliding up to fist her hair, the other palming a bare ass cheek.

  With a grunt, he pulled on her hair so she was forced to tilt her head back and look at him. His eyes, normally a light blue-gray, were dark and intense. “Jenna.”

  She licked her lips. “You promised me nudity.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Hold on, then.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, and in one fluid motion, he gathered his feet under him and stood up, taking her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, loving the strength it took him to stand up—with her clinging to him—without even a wobble. He began to walk toward the stairs. “Bedroom,” he said against her lips.

  She didn’t answer and instead focused on kissing him back.

  He lost his footing on the stairs a couple of times, probably because she was attacking his face and throat with a million kisses. When they reached the top, she pointed to her bedroom, and they lumbered inside, crashing against a wall as she sucked on his tongue.

  Despite her grip on him, he easily dislodged her and tossed her onto her back on the bed. She hit the mattress on a bounce, then raised up on her elbows as he undid a couple of buttons on his shirt¸ and then fisted it between his shoulder blades and pulled it off.

  The room was dark, the only light supplied by the moon filtering in through her curtains. It set all the hard muscles and ridges on his abdomen in stark relief. God, he was fucking gorgeous. Bigger than he’d been at eighteen, bulkier. He had more hair now, a light dusting over his pecs and down his abs. Her fingers itched to grip it and pull until he grunted.

  Cal pulled his belt through his pants and threw it to the side, the buckle clacking across the hardwood floor. One flick of a button and the lowering of a zipper, and then Cal dropped his pants.

  He was commando.

  Her robe was off now, pooled below her on the bed. She rose up on her hands to get a better look at Cal. She saw now why he could lift her so easily. His thighs were huge, veins coursing under the skin.

  His cock was big and hard, jutting out from a thatch of dark hair. If she’d been standing, her legs would have buckled. She’d give anything to have that glistening tip in her mouth.

  Cal stared at her, stroking his cock. His fist moved lazily over his shaft. He took a step toward the end of the bed. “Sit up.”

  His command sent a pulse of arousal through her belly. She scooted to the end of the bed, letting her legs dangle over the ledge. She fisted her hands on her thighs and looked up as Cal stepped between her legs.

  He continued to stroke his cock with one hand while the other cupped her neck, his thumb rubbing her jaw. His tip glistened with pre-come and she would have leaned in to lick, but she waited for Cal’s next instruction. She needed it. Cal had always been able to get her to shut off her mind and just feel.

  “Open up for me,” he whispered as he rubbed the head on her bottom lip.

  Her eyes fell shut as she opened her mouth and took him in. She started with just the head, sucking on it, flicking her tongue over that sensitive vein on the underside. She could hear him breathing heavily and when she opened her eyes, he was holding his shaft tightly.

  She gently brushed his hand away and replaced it with her own and then began to earnestly suck, bobbing her head with the same rhythm she pumped with her hand. He was thick, and long, and there was no way she could take him in all the way without gagging.

  She lifted her gaze to his face as she ran her fingers up the back of his thighs to grab his firm ass. He was watching his spit-slick cock go in and out of her mouth. His eyes were slits, his teeth gritted. She closed her eyes again and worked harder, wanting to get him off, wanting to taste him.

  He pulled his hips back, so his cock slipped from her mouth. She made a sound of protest, but then she was thrown up higher on the bed, and Cal’s body was on top of hers, pressing her into the mattress while his tongue devoured her mouth. She moaned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his hips, and dug her heels into the back of his thighs.

  He rocked against her, and that thick, hard heat rubbed through her wetness. She was empty. So incredibly empty. Her inner walls contracted against nothing, and she needed him before she lost her mind.

  He tore his mouth from hers. “Want inside you.”

  “Then get inside me,” she said, panting against the damp skin of his throat.

  “Condom,” he grunted.

  Just like Cal to use as few words as possible. She reached over to her nightstand, pulled open the drawer, and rummaged blindly until a foil packet made its way under her fingers.

  She held it up to him. “Might want to check the expiration date.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he kneeled between her legs to put on the condom. “That your way of telling me it’s been a while?”

  She bit her lip. “Maybe.”

  He didn’t talk again until the condom was on and the heat of his body was back on top of her. His lips ghosted over her earlobe. “It’d be the same at my place.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut at the words.

  And then with one smooth thrust, he was inside of her. She bit down on his shoulder, hard, and Cal shoved his face into her neck, his body stilled between her legs.

  “Fuck. Jesus.” He grunted like he was in pain.

  She breathed hard, because she’d never been this full, never in her life. Not even the last time she’d been with Cal. Her heart beat against her rib cage, and Cal’s echoed against the sensitive skin of her breast.

  She didn’t want him to move. Because when he moved, this would be one moment closer to being over. And that would be one step closer to the heartbreak that she knew was unavoidable, as it always was with Cal.

  The tears threatened, and she clamped her teeth on him harder, sucking now, wanting to break skin, mark him, so he never forgot how good this could be, how much this mattered.

  She squeezed him with her inner walls, and he moaned. “Killing me.”

  Jenna pulled away from his skin, admiring the mark she’d made. “Don’t want to kill you. Want to finish you.”

  “Fuck,” he growled into her neck. Then his hips snapped back, and he slammed into her. They both cried out, and then Cal was moving, thrusting into her like he was punishing her. Punishing himself. Punishing them for being apart for the last ten years.

  He rose above her, one hand braced on the bed beside her head,
the other gripping her face. His eyes didn’t stop moving, roaming above her head, where her hair was spread out on her pillow, her eyes, and lips, her neck, and then to watch her breasts as they jolted with every thrust.

  Another orgasm threatened, the sensation racing through her body. She reached down between them, where Cal’s cock slammed into her again and again. He grunted a low rumble each time, and the vibration echoed in her own body. Jenna touched her clit, swirling, searching for it, needing Cal for just a moment longer.

  And then, like a tidal wave, it crashed into her. Her legs clamped around his hips, she reared her head back and came. Her eyes slammed shut as it swept through her out to every limb.

  Cal was still moving, and then his hips stuttered. With his face shoved into her neck, he came on a long moan, ending in her name, a whisper that was like a prayer.

  He didn’t move from inside of her. He rolled them gently onto their sides and hitched her leg over his hip. He kissed her softly, just a brush of his lips on hers, and the tenderness squeezed her heart. Then he slowly pulled his hips back and rolled off the bed on his way to the bathroom, which was attached to her room.

  She watched the way his back muscles rippled under his skin, the way his thigh muscles flexed. He turned on the bathroom light and closed the door behind him. She watched his shadow in the light creeping out below the door as he flushed the toilet and ran the water in the faucet.

  He hadn’t said a word but that kiss . . . how a kiss like that could mean so much, she didn’t know. But everything he couldn’t say in words, Cal always said physically.

  His shadow stopped moving. And she imagined him standing in front of the sink, his mind racing as hard as hers was right now. They were both naked, with only a thin, hollow door between them, but it felt like an insurmountable barrier.

  She wondered if he’d come out, get dressed, and leave. It was what he’d done after they’d made out in his tow truck. He’d placed distance between them.

  But last time, they hadn’t gone this far. Maybe because Jenna was almost thirty, she was at the point where she knew emotions were rarely separate from sex. And especially with two people who had as much baggage in their past.

  Like, enough to fill a Boeing 747.

  The light shut off inside the bathroom, and then the door opened slowly. Cal leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. The moonlight glinted off of his pale eyes.

  He was gorgeous, all hard muscle developed from years of physical work. He was a perfect picture, like in a magazine or calendar. Of course, if she told him that, he’d roll his eyes. Cal was the opposite of vain, even completely naked.

  “Want me to stay?” He didn’t look away to give her time to think or to cut down on the awkwardness. That wasn’t Cal. He watched her face the whole time, squinting as if to see her in the dim light.

  Jenna was on her side, and she reached out and ran a hand over the bare sheet beside her. “Stay is kind of a vague word, isn’t it?”

  The muscle in his jaw ticked. “Do you want me to sleep in that bed with you tonight?”

  She swallowed. “What about after that?”

  “I’m not talking about ‘after that’ yet.”

  He was so stubborn. “What if I want to talk about that?”

  “Then talk. Doesn’t mean I gotta talk too.”

  “Sometimes, you can be a real pain in the ass, Cal Payton.”

  His lips quirked up. “Sometimes?”

  She rolled her eyes. “All the time. Now get in this bed and sleep with me.”

  He grinned and walked over to the bed. Once he lay on his back, he pulled the covers over them and tucked her into his side. She’d always fit there, just like a puzzle, and it surprised her how they slotted right together again.

  She laid her hand on his chest, flexing her fingers into the short hair. “I like this.”

  “Chest hair?”

  “Yeah, I like it.”

  His body rumbled with a short laugh. “Max makes a chili that my dad says puts hair on your chest.”

  “What do you do? Bathe in it?”

  He laughed again, louder this time, and the hand curled around her shoulders tugged on a lock of hair. “Real men wash with chili.”

  “This is getting gross.”

  “You started it.”

  She tweaked his nipple, and he reached down and smacked her ass. Jenna turned her head and nuzzled into the skin of his chest, breathing him in. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed these silly conversations with Cal. They could slip from mature lovers to teenage teasing so easily. She wished she could enjoy the moment, but at the back of her mind, she knew this was going to end.

  “This’ll be it, right?” she said softly. “You’ll leave again, and we’ll chalk this up as a relapse?”

  His body tensed under hers, and she raised her head to see his eyes narrowed on her. “That how you see me? Like a drug that’s bad for you but you can’t quit?”

  Jenna reached up to cup his face. “Cal—”

  “Why you think I stopped this that night in the tow truck? I was trying to save us this conversation.”

  She’d screwed this up. Not that he wouldn’t have left in the morning anyway, but now he’d leave pissed. “Wait—”

  He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and lowered her hand to rest on his chest again. “Go to bed, Jenna.”

  She blew out an irritated breath. “Will you quit interrupting me?”

  His chest hitched as he inhaled. “I’m sorry. But I meant what I said earlier. Not talking about this. Not now.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re dictating the conversation just like that?”

  “Guess I am.”

  She dropped back onto his chest with a thud. She was too tired to argue. “Fine.”

  His body relaxed once again, his fingers making small circles on her shoulders. “Night, Sunshine.”

  “Night, Cal.”

  Chapter Ten

  CAL EXHALED THE smoke out the window he’d opened in Jenna’s screened-in back porch.

  It was a nice room, small, although the only furniture she had in there was a small table in the corner with some droopy-looking plant. He’d had to drag a chair out from the kitchen so he had a place to sit.

  He’d woken up at two in the morning with Jenna’s hot little body wrapped around him. He hadn’t wanted to move. Lying there forever had sounded pretty damn nice, which was why he freaked out and hauled ass.

  He’d found a pair of jeans in the saddlebags on his bike when he’d gone out to get his cigarettes and pulled those on rather than those god-awful pants he’d had on earlier. Although, he had caught Jenna looking at his ass, so they’d been worth the chafing.

  He braced his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, his cigarette still burning between his first and second finger in his right hand.

  Relapse.

  Fuck, that word had killed him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought the same thing a time or two, that Jenna was like a drug, but the way she said it made his stomach churn. He didn’t want to be her bad addiction.

  If she made him feel like the sun was shining on him, how did he make her feel? Like he was dragging her into the shadows?

  “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck me.”

  He should leave, and he probably would, as soon as he’d sucked all the fucking carcinogens out of this damn cigarette that he could. His nerves were a mess. This was what happened around Jenna. He lost his damn mind. Had he really changed all that much from when he was eighteen? Maybe he’d just avoided all situations that mattered, that made him care.

  Situations that caused feelings.

  He didn’t hear her until the wooden step leading down to the porch creaked. He closed his eyes briefly, then peered over his shoulder.

  Jenna stood in front of the door as it fell shut behind her. She wore that blue robe again. The one he’d peeled off her body. He wanted to do it all over again. At the first spike of his returned arou
sal, he regretted not zipping up his jeans. He turned away from her, taking another drag on his cigarette and flicking the ash into a small bowl he’d placed beside his chair.

  This wasn’t her fault. It was his. He didn’t trust himself to keep a cool head around her, to be the man he’d spent ten years trying to be. Around her, all he felt like was that head-over-heels-in-love kid.

  And that kid had been a fuck-up.

  He waited, listening to the rustle of her robe as she moved. A hand fluttered on his bare shoulder, and then she gasped.

  He turned his head quickly, unsure why she’d made that sound. Her eyes were glued to his shoulder, her eyes wide, a hand covering her open mouth.

  Shit.

  He turned back around so he didn’t have to see her face. He’d forgotten about the tattoo. He’d gotten it years ago, when he was a heartsick twenty-one-year-old who drank too much. He didn’t hate it; in fact, he loved it. But he’d never intended for Jenna to see it.

  Ever.

  Her fingers reached out again, tracing the black-inked rays of the sun that extended down his bicep. The sun itself, on the cap of his shoulder, wasn’t inked, but the black rays around it showed the circular outline.

  He held his breath until those fingers left his skin.

  “Cal,” she whispered.

  He inhaled the last of his cigarette, blew out the smoke, and stubbed out the butt into the bowl. “Got it a long time ago.”

  “It’s a sun.” Her voice shook.

  “Yep.”

  She walked around and stood in front of him. He clasped his hands between his knees and stared at his bare feet.

  “You tattooed a sun on your shoulder, Cal.”

  “Told you it was a long time ago, Jenna.”

  Her voice was quiet. “Are we allowed to talk about what’s next now?”

  He tensed his shoulders so they rose up around his ears. “Don’t think there is a ‘what’s next.’ ”

  She made a sound of protest in her throat, but before she could get a word in, he stood up, towering over her. “You said yourself you didn’t mind coming back here to start a family. And that’s great. I hope you get that white house and three-point-two kids or whatever the fuck, but that’s not gonna happen with me. I don’t want it.”