Muscling In

by Lily Harlem

  “Hey,” I called as I heard the front door close. “TGI Friday.” I put down the spoon I’d been using to stir chili and looked from the kitchen door into the hallway.

  “Hi…” he said, hanging his suit jacket on a hook. He still had that grumpy vibe.

  “I’m making your favorite. Come and have a beer while I cook.”

  “Yeah, in a minute.” He toed off his shoes, slid his tie from his neck and draped it over his jacket.

  I scowled. A thank you would have been nice. “Why? What else have you got to do?”

  “Check my e-mails.” He undid the top button of his shirt.

  “But you’ve just come in.” Surely he’d spent all day at his office doing that. “Come on, sit in here with me.”

  He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as though annoyed by my insistence that he spend time with me.

  Heat boiled in my veins, my ears rang and my heart rate sped up. “Okay, mister.” I strutted up to him and poked my finger against his chest. “I’ve just about had enough of you.”

  His eyes widened and he leaned backward to avoid my jabbing fingernail. “Sian, babe…?”

  “Don’t Sian babe me. What’s with the misery and the long face? You’ve been like this since Wednesday evening.” I wanted to add that we hadn’t made love since then either, even though he’d seemed pretty up for stripping off my sexy underwear before we’d gone to Harold and Mable’s.

  “No I haven’t.”

  “You bloody well have.” I put my hands on my hips.

  “No…I…haven’t.” He stepped around me and into the kitchen.

  I followed and watched as he pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and popped the lid. He sat at the pine table with his elbows on the surface.

  “Coben?” I held out my hands. “What is it? Talk to me.” I’d never had to ask him to do that before.

  “Is it work?”

  “Yeah, lots on.” He took a slug of beer. It left a line of foam on his top lip and he swiped his tongue out to retrieve it.

  “But that’s not unusual.” I stepped up to him, rested my buttocks on the table and stared down at the top of his head. His hair was getting ready for a trim. “And surely it’s good to be busy.”

  “Yes, it is good to have the business. Just means my mind is…”

  “What?”

  “All over the place.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “It’s just all over the place.”

  I flattened down several strands he’d left sticking up. “But you’ll cope. You’ve got systems organized, a good team.” Damn it. I hated seeing work get to him like this.

  “I know.”

  “And you have to remember this is down time. The evenings and weekends are not work time. It’s you time…” I slipped my hand down his temple and stroked my finger over his bristly cheek. “Us time.”

  “Us time.” He looked up at me. His eyeline dropped to the small pink vest top I was wearing and the line of my cleavage. His pupils dilated a little and he pushed his beer to one side, the base of the bottle scraping on the surface of the wood.

  My belly clenched. I knew that look well enough. It didn’t usually happen quite so fast but I wasn’t about to complain. I cupped his chin and he stood, fast, the chair grating on the floor tiles.

  “Sian,” he said, gripping the back of my neck with one hand, his fingers tightening in my hair. “Fuck.”

  “Okay.” I grinned and slid my hand down the column of his neck to the undone collar of his white shirt.

  He loomed over me and pressed close.

  I could feel his body heat blasting onto my skin and smell his faded cologne. He was breathing fast.

  His mouth caught mine. He cradled the back of my skull. His tongue was insistent and urgent.

  Lust shot through my body and I clung to his shoulders. I was whisked into the moment and into his desire.

  “Up,” he murmured, hoisting me onto the table as he’d spoken. He stepped between my legs, bunching my short skirt up around my thighs. “I need you. Now.”

  “Yes, now.” I reached for the button on his trousers, released it and his zipper. God, he was so hot. Like this, in his work clothes, smart and businesslike yet overcome with longing…for me. His cock was straining against the material of his boxers.

  He shoved my skirt up around my waist and yanked my knickers down. I kicked my left leg and he helped them slip so they dangled from my foot.

  “I’m so hard for you. Feel.” He pushed his trousers to his thighs, reached for my hand and pressed it over his boxer-clad dick.

  I gave it a firm squeeze.

  “So you are, soldier.” I grinned, eager to get him buried deep.

  He groaned and pressed me back onto the table. The pine was cool on my butt, and his body was so hot over me. I hooked my legs around his hips and slid my hand up the inside of his shirt, spreading my fingers on the warm skin of his back.

  “Give me your pussy,” he said, pushing his boxers away, then aiming his cock at my entrance.

  “It’s yours. Take it.” I tilted my hips, braced, preparing for his thrust. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a slow ride.

  “Are you wet?” he asked, his cockhead parting my first folds and easing in.

  “For you.” My pussy was quivering, my clit swelling. “Give it to me.”

  He slid a hand beneath the arch of my spine and gripped me. The other held the back of my head. I was pinned to him. He kissed me with a ravenous hunger I hadn’t known before and pushed in.

  I tensed, held my breath, struggled to be involved in the kiss as he shoved balls deep. The dense filling, the stitch of discomfort and the absolute passion behind his force was mind-blowing.

  Almost immediately he withdrew, barged in again, his balls slapping up against my ass.

  I crossed my ankles at the base of his back and hung on to him. He seemed so lost in me, so consumed.

  He set up a wild pace, not letting me shift as he plundered on and on. His need for me, his almost violent want, was hugely erotic. He was grunting, groaning, and his dick, so thick and hungry, dragged deliciously over my G-spot.

  “Oh, God.” I gasped, breaking the kiss. His body was rubbing against my clit. “I’m going to…” It was building. The pressure of an orgasm growing.

  “Yes. Come on my dick. My dick that’s just for you now…hard just for you now.”

  “Now, yes now, forever.” I shut my eyes, the fire inside me raging with need for release.

  “I fucking love your pussy,” he said, his voice strained. He too was close. “I fucking love my cock in cunt.”

  “Coben…” I gasped. Orgasm swept through me as his words echoed in my ears.

  His thrusts grew even wilder. The kitchen table creaked. He squeezed me closer still, trapping me to him.

  “Ahhh…” He came, spurting into me. “Ahhh, yeah, fucking hell…”

  My pussy contracted around him. Blissful spasms of release and tingles of pleasure swept through my body.

  “You’re so perfect,” he murmured against my ear, his breaths loud and hot.

  “Ditto,” I said, opening my eyes and staring at the white ceiling. My chest was heaving against his as I tried to catch my breath.

  “I don’t want anything to change us.” He raised his head and looked down at me.

  “Why would it?” I pushed my hands through his hair and relaxed my toes, which had curled without me realizing.

  He frowned slightly. “Just that…”

  “What?”

  “You know, since we’ve been together I’ve been so happy. I don’t want that to change.”

  “Me too. Happy, that is. And it won’t change.” I swept my lips over his. “Why would it?”

  Chapter Four

  Coben and I peeled ourselves apart. The bottle of beer had been knocked over and was dripping on the tiled floor, creating a sticky amber puddle.

  Coben tucked his softening cock away and set about cleaning up the mess.

 
I scooped up my knickers, gave the meal a quick stir, then went to the bathroom to freshen up.

  His words rattled in my brain and sent a thrill through me.

  I fucking love your pussy. I fucking love my cock in cunt.

  He’d never said that before as he’d been in the final throes. It was new and exciting. But I wondered why it had tumbled out of his mouth. What had been going through his mind and why was he worried things might change? I didn’t know the answer to that but I would probe a little more, let my inquisitive side out to play.

  Feeling a little less like I had the just-fucked look, I headed back into the kitchen. The spicy scent of chili flooded my nostrils and made my mouth water.

  Coben was sitting at the table again with a fresh bottle of beer. He glanced up as I walked in, his cheeks still flushed from the exertion.

  “You okay?” he asked, smiling.

  “Of course.” I set knives and forks on the table. “You?”

  He rested his hand over mine. “Absolutely. I just…”

  “What?”

  “Had to have you. It just came over me.” He studied me. “I hope I wasn’t rough.”

  “Not at all, it was amazing. The perfect appetizer.”

  He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles.

  “And now I hope you’re hungry for food,” I said.

  “I am.”

  I turned and served. I could almost feel his gaze on me as he watched my every move. I set his meal in front of him before adding a bowl of salad to the table, enjoying the simmering sexy atmosphere between us. I hoped it would be a theme for the weekend after his low mood.

  “Are we still going to the beach? Sunday maybe?” I reached for a glass of wine, then sat next to him.

  “Sounds like a plan.” He started eating.

  “Weather is still looking good. It will be nice to laze on a sun lounger, listen to the waves, eat ice cream.”

  “We’ll head to Brighton, shall we?”

  “Yes, I love it there.” I helped myself to salad.

  Coben was quiet. He stared at the window.

  Suddenly I felt like he was drifting again. I’d reeled him back in but now where was he going? “So,” I said. “Are you going to tell me about these ‘places’ your mind has been these last few days?”

  He set his attention on me. “It’s nothing.”

  “Of course it’s something.” I held his gaze. “Tell me.”

  He let out a small sigh. “The other night.” He paused. “At the Sterns’.”

  “It was a lovely evening.” I thought of our conversation in the cab on the way home. “But you missed having a proper catch-up with your old military friend?”

  “Edward?”

  “Ed, Edward…yes.”

  He poked at his chili. “I guess.”

  “I know you’ve found it hard to talk about the tours in Afghanistan in the past. Maybe it would have done you good to hash through some memories.”

  He said nothing.

  “It’s not the same talking to me, is it?” I went on. “I wasn’t there. But maybe if you and Ed got together and—”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  I often worried that he hadn’t kept in touch with any military friends. It was as if leaving the forces had been a completely new start for him, not just career but in every aspect of his life. Now his only male companions were either work colleagues or family. “Why not?” I asked. “I think it would be a great idea.”

  He shoveled in a mouthful of food as though knowing it would buy him time before he answered.

  I waited patiently.

  “It just wouldn’t,” he said eventually.

  “But you said you’d been friends.”

  “We were.”

  “Good friends?”

  He nodded. “Yes, good friends.”

  “No one would have guessed the other evening. You barely said five words to each other.”

  “It was…awkward.” He took a slug of beer.

  “Why?” I frowned. “Tell me, I don’t get it.”

  “I suppose there were just things we would have liked to say to each other, talk about, but couldn’t because there were other people there who shouldn’t hear those things.”

  “Including me?”

  He reached out and covered my hand, the one holding my fork. “No, not including you. I think…maybe it’s things I should have told you, long ago.”

  “Like what?” Were there horrors of the war that lurked in his psyche that he still hadn’t allowed to surface?

  “Not now,” he said, resuming eating and piling up his fork with the last of his dinner. “But I will…soon.”

  “Deal.” A sudden idea popped into my mind. “You know I have Ed’s phone number, right?”

  “What? Why?” He looked shocked.

  “Standard procedure at Dragon’s Ink. He put it on the form when he came in for his tat.”

  Coben’s shoulders relaxed a fraction but his expression was still riddled with confusion.

  “Everyone leaves a number in case we have to follow up on anything.”

  “I see…so it’s at work.”

  “Yes. You want me to get it next week?”

  He finished his beer. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

  “Okay, well if you change your mind let me know.”

  Coben stood and began to load the dishwasher.

  That was the deal. Whoever hadn’t cooked, tidied away. I finished up the last of my salad and twisted to watch him, content to sip my wine and study his cute ass as he bent over.

  “I might go shopping tomorrow afternoon with Stella,” I said. “I haven’t seen her for ages. Do you mind?”

  “No, not at all. I’ve got a few admin jobs I want to catch up on.”

  “Great. I’ll only be a few hours. And we’ll have all day Sunday together at the beach.”

  He straightened and turned to me. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.” I smiled and reached for my handbag. “I’ll drop Stella a text, then.” I rummaged through the contents, pushed my purse out of the way, removed my makeup bag and pulled out a packet of tissues and a hairbrush. “Bugger, I’ve left my phone at work.”

  “You sure?” He looked worried.

  I thought back and groaned. “Yes, I remember now. I was getting ready to leave and Drake called me back about something. I remember putting it on my workstation and then going over a few designs with him. It must still be sitting there. I’ll have to go in tomorrow morning and get it. Drake was shutting up early tonight. He was going out.”

  “That’s a pain, to have to traipse all the way there on your day off.”

  “It won’t take long, and I can’t go a long weekend without my phone. My mother will freak. You know she always calls me on a Saturday lunchtime.”

  He laughed. “Yes, you’re right, Margaret has her routine. Come on, let’s go and cuddle up and watch TV for a bit.” He held out his hand.

  I took it, pleased that he seemed more relaxed. It just went to show what a bit of pre-dinner fun and a good meal could do to a man’s mood.

  ****

  The next morning I got up early, having left Coben sleeping in bed, and headed into work, wanting to get the job of collecting my phone done and out of the way.

  Drake looked up from a tat he was working on as I went in. “Sian, what are you doing here?”

  “My phone.” I pointed to my workstation and clicked my tongue on the top of my mouth. “I left it.”

  He glanced over. “Sorry, I didn’t notice.”

  “No worries.” I scooped it up and checked the screen. No missed calls but one text from Stella.

  Fancy a mooch down King’s Road Saturday pm?

  I quickly replied. Exactly what I was thinking. Knock for you at 1? XOXO

  I slipped the phone into my purse. The file that held the details of all my clients caught my attention. Ed’s contact number was in there. I bit my bottom
lip. I probably shouldn’t take it because it hadn’t been given for social reasons. But still, something inside told me it was the right thing to do, for my husband.

  I flicked through the leaves of documentation and quickly found Ed Mooreland. I added his number into my phone, then put the form away again neatly.

  “I’ll see you on Tuesday,” I called to Drake.

  “Yep, have a good one.” He didn’t look up.

  ****

  I arrived home to the heavenly smell of coffee. Coben was in the kitchen, freshly showered, his hair still damp, and pouring a fresh pot.

  “Good timing.” He reached for another mug when he saw me. “You get your phone?”

  “Yes, it was exactly where I left it.”

  “Busy in the shop?”

  “Not too bad this early. Walkins tend to be later in the day.” I reached for a piece of paper and a pen and pulled my phone from my handbag. I scrolled until I found Ed’s number, then scribbled it down.

  “Here.” I placed the square of notepaper on the table next to where Coben was now sitting.

  “What’s that?” He picked it up.

  “Ed’s number. In case you change your mind and decide to call for a catch-up.”

  Coben didn’t reply. He just stared at the numbers.

  “You should,” I said. “Call him, that is. Sooner rather than later if you’re going to. He’ll be off leave soon.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just…”

  “What?”

  He set the paper down and rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “Lots of memories.”

  I sat next to him and rested my hand on his shoulder. “Memories you two share…so share them.”

  He looked at me. “I do love you, you know.”

  “And I love you.”

  He leaned forward and set a firm kiss on my lips.

  My phone trilled to life.

  “You know who that will be.”

  “Your mother.” He reached for his coffee, smiling. “Go give her the weekly update of your life.”

  I picked up my phone and hit answer.

  “Hi, Mum.”

  “Sian, dearest, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, are you?”

  “Yes, busy, busy, you know with the village garden club. We’ve got the fete this afternoon.”