by Megan Hart
“It’s not the sex. Well, yes, the sex,” she amended. “But not the fact we did it. Just...how it was.”
He smiled at her. “You mean fantastic?”
Color rose in her cheeks, and her eyes glittered. “I mean how I was. With you. Telling you what to do and... Well, I’m not really that controlling, I’m really not like that. I don’t have to have it all my way.”
Her voice cracked. She picked up her mug and sipped, grimacing. She must’ve burned her tongue. The cocoa spilled over her fingers, and she yelped. Jesse grabbed up a paper napkin and pressed it to her hand, blotting the spill and taking the mug from her at the same time with his other hand. He set it down.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine!” She was clearly anything but fine as she got up to pace in front of the fireplace. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not like that. That’s all.”
“Like what? Powerful? Strong? Sexy as hell?” Jesse watched her without getting up.
She whirled to look at him. “Uptight and controlling and demanding and...needy! You think I needed you to fix my fireplace? That I couldn’t do it on my own?”
“You didn’t do it on your own,” he pointed out.
“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t!”
Jesse bit back his defensive response, which left nothing but silence between them. She was breathing hard, her color high. Snow from earlier had melted in her hair, making it gleam. Like starlight. And damn him, he still wanted to bury his face in it and let her do whatever she wanted with him.
“I didn’t think you were uptight or too controlling,” he told her finally. “If you want to know the truth, I liked it when you took charge.”
For a moment longer, she said nothing. Then she scoffed, “Sure you did.”
“Colleen, do you really think I didn’t have a good time last night?” Jesse got up to approach her, but she took a step back and he stopped. “It was amazing, being with you. When you told me to keep still. The way you moved. I don’t have to tell you how sexy you are.”
“I’m not begging for a compliment, Jesse.”
“It’s not a compliment. It’s an opinion.”
Colleen’s eyes narrowed, and she bit her lower lip. “You liked being bossed around?”
“Well. I can’t say I love being bossed around in regular life, no. But in the bedroom, yeah. A little bit.” He took a deep breath, thinking about it. “Okay, a lot.”
“I’m not a dominatrix,” she said flatly. “If you’re expecting me to pull out the whips and chains and leather, you’re going to be disappointed.”
The idea of that, no lie, did get his cock a little thick, but he kept his expression neutral. “I’m not disappointed.”
Colleen put her hands on her hips. “I just didn’t want you to think that’s how I am.”
“But that is how you are,” Jesse said.
“You think I like telling you what to do?” Her eyes blazed, but she didn’t look angry. Not quite.
“Yeah.” He took a step closer, waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t. “I think you do. I think you get off on it, the way I get off on you doing it.”
“Bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit is you trying to act like being in charge sexually makes you a controlling bitch, when one has nothing to do with the other.” Jesse took another step toward her. Close enough now to grab her, though he made no move to do so.
“My ex said—”
“Maybe,” Jesse told her, “you should think about letting go of what your asshole ex-husband said and just do what makes you feel good.”
She stifled a gasp. “You think fucking you made me feel good?”
“I know it did. And I’d like to do it again. And again, until you come so hard you can’t stand up.”
He’d blown it. Gone too far. He could see it in her eyes and the twist of her mouth and the way her shoulders squared. But Colleen surprised him.
“Take off your clothes,” she said. “Now.”
His hand went to his belt at once. Unbuckled. Unbuttoned. Unzipped. He shoved his jeans down his hips, past his thighs, and stepped out of them. She glanced at them when he kicked them away, but only for a second or so before her gaze fixed on his face. Jesse held Colleen’s stare with his as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that, too. Standing in only his socks and boxer briefs, his cock already straining the soft fabric, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and waited. Heart pounding.
“Everything,” she told him. “I want you naked.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d tried to sound light, but failed. His voice was as thick with need as his hardening dick.
Colleen groaned softly, drawing out her reply, spoken so softly he barely heard it. “Fffffffuck.”
Naked in front of her, cock bobbing, he should’ve felt ridiculous. But when she circled him, admiring, letting one hand reach to trail along his shoulder blades and then down the line of his spine, all he could do was close his eyes and enjoy the caress. When she slid a hand to cup his balls, then stroke him, his knees buckled.
“Get on your knees,” Colleen whispered. There was nothing of whips or chains in that command, nothing harsh. She said it as though she expected his worship, but did not yet believe she deserved it.
He didn’t so much get on his knees as much as he melted onto them. His hands went naturally behind his back, wrists crossed at the base of his spine. He didn’t think about why. She hadn’t asked him for that. It just seemed right.
At the soft touch of her hand on his hair, he shuddered. Gooseflesh broke out all over him, though he was anything but chilled. Her hand passed over his head and then cupped his chin. She tilted his face to look up at her.
“You can go,” she told him. “I can’t make you stay. Or do this.”
In reply, he turned his face to kiss her palm. He spoke against her skin. “Tell me what you want, Colleen. And I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know what to ask.” Her voice rasped. “I’m not sure how.”
He leaned to press his face to her belly. She wore leggings. When he pushed his mouth between her legs he could feel the heat of her through them. He breathed out, adding the heat of his breath. Then the pressure of his mouth and chin.
“Do you want me to kiss you,” he murmured, “here?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
“I want you to undress me,” she said in a syrupy, dreamy voice. “Take off my clothes and eat my pussy until I come.”
He was already tugging down her leggings to get at her bare skin beneath. The lacy scrap of her panties tickled his lips when he kissed her there. The smell of her filled his senses, making his head whirl. She moved, and he moved, turning so that she ended up sitting on the chair next to him. Still on his knees, he moved between her legs and covered her mound with his mouth. Breathing, sucking gently through the lace. He wanted his mouth on her bare skin so bad it hurt, but he was waiting.
“Panties off,” Colleen said. “I want your mouth on me.”
At the first taste of her, his cock throbbed. His balls ached. His hands slid up her thighs to open her to his questing tongue, then his fingers. He found her clit and flicked his tongue along it, then the seam of her, dipping briefly inside to taste her honey before finding her sweet spot again. He pushed a finger inside her, then another, moving them in time to the stroking of his tongue.
She tasted like heaven, but the sounds she made when he licked and sucked her were making him lose his mind. Right then there was nothing Jesse wanted more than to make this woman explode. He eased off, teasing her a little.
“Don’t stop.” Her hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer. Her hips rolled, pushing that sweet pussy against his mouth.
It was all he could do to keep up with her now. Jesse lost himself in making Colleen climax, teasing her swollen folds and the tight, hard knot of her clit until she cried out his name. Shit, he almost came just from the flood of sweetness she released
on his tongue and the grip of her inner walls on his stroking fingers.
She shook, pulling his hair hard enough to make him groan. Then she eased off, relaxing back into the chair. Going limp.
“Oh, my God,” Colleen said. “Do you think you could do that again?”
Chapter Six
The best part of making mistakes was learning from them. Colleen’s dad had said that often, always when she’d blundered in some way or another, although he’d always been good about never making her feel like an idiot for messing up. He would’ve said it about her marriage to Steve, she knew that much, if he’d been alive to see it happen. There were times when she’d wished the heart attack that had taken her father too young had spared him long enough to have said it. Other times, she was glad he’d never had to see her mess up so terribly in something so important.
What would he have said about Jesse?
She simply didn’t know. It hadn’t felt like a mistake at the time. Taking him home, spending the weekend with him. Fucking him until they were both weak-kneed and faint and aching in places she didn’t know she had muscles. But on Monday morning, when he’d insisted on shoveling out her car for her before heading back to his own, it had begun to feel like she’d screwed up. Big-time.
He’d kissed her on her front porch, and she’d let him because it would’ve been impossible to refuse after the weekend they’d shared. Not unless she wanted to come across as, well, cold and frigid. Or rude. So she’d let him kiss her, even though it had felt too much like a promise she knew she couldn’t keep.
He was too young. Too handsome. Too eager to please her. He made her feel too much in too short a time. She was ripe to be swept off her feet, seeing as how it had been a damn long time since she’d so much as kissed a man, much less had wild, passionate, unfettered sex with one.
This could only lead to misery and heartbreak. Hers. She felt the stirrings of it already, that yearning to see him again though it had only been a day since that last kiss. The constant checking of her phone to look for a text that couldn’t possibly be there, since she hadn’t given him her number. Yet still hoping he’d magically found it. Worse, the urge to saunter on down to The Fallen Angel all casual-like, even though it was not a Thursday and he might not be working. Or he might be, which wouldn’t be any better, because then he’d know for sure she was there to see him, and he would know that she liked him. All of this was a giant platter of nope with a side order of hell no.
If Jesse had been a mistake, Colleen thought as she settled into work and tried without luck to stop thinking about him, what had she learned? That was the question. The problem was, she didn’t know the answer.
* * *
When Colleen didn’t show at The Fallen Angel for the second Thursday in a row, Jesse knew for sure it was because of him. She hadn’t missed a week in the six months he’d been working there, and suddenly, after spending the weekend with him, she vanished? Definitely his fault. Which, shit, made him feel worse about being the reason for her giving up what had obviously been an important habit than he did about the fact she was doing it to avoid him.
The trouble was he honestly couldn’t tell if she were giving him the brush-off because other than those Thursday nights and that one random time in the grocery store, he’d never had any contact with her. So on Monday morning, when the plows finally came and she’d looked out the window with a neutral expression and told him it was probably time for him to get home, all he’d been able to do was go. He hadn’t asked for her number, something he was regretting now on Tuesday, because it had been a hella long day thinking about the next time he’d see her and having no idea if he would.
The weekend had been amazing. Not just the sex, though that had blown his mind. Just hanging out with her, watching old movies and playing cards had been incredible, too. He knew it was because of the snow, that they’d never have spent the weekend together that way so soon if they hadn’t been snowed in. But that didn’t stop it from feeling really, really right.
“John, I need to get out early.” Jesse tossed his bar towel into the bin and started punching out of his shift without waiting for John’s reply. He paused to stare at the other man when no answer came.
“Something wrong?” John asked at last, both eyebrows raised. “You sick? Tell me you didn’t eat those nachos that were in the fridge, I know Rick said it was okay to eat what we found in the fridge, but those’ve been in there since September.”
Jesse frowned. “No. And why doesn’t anyone throw that shit away?”
“Why doesn’t anyone do anything?” John gave him a blank look. “So where’s the fire?”
Jesse finished clocking out and shrugged. “Got some things to take care of. Anyway, you owe me, man. I stayed late the night of the snow.”
“Whatever.” John waved a hand and turned to a new customer asking for a draft. “It’s your paycheck.”
Jesse didn’t care about that. He’d be able to pick up more hours next week if he wanted, because Rick hadn’t yet hired anyone to take over during the day after that girl with the spiked hair, whose name Jesse had never been able to remember, quit. Sure, he’d be exhausted after working until three and getting up with Laila, but it was okay. He had something he had to do.
It might not be worth it, but he had to try.
Armed with a six-pack of hard cider, Jesse trudged through the still snowy sidewalks to Colleen’s street. He hadn’t paid attention to the house number, but Colleen’s town house was easy to pick out because it was the nicest in the row. On the small concrete front porch, he raised a hand to ring the bell. Then stopped himself.
Shit, it was nine o’clock on a Thursday night, and she hadn’t come into the bar for a reason. She was going to think he was some kind of crazy stalker for showing up here. And he was, kind of. Wasn’t he?
Just before he could convince himself to turn around and walk away, her front door opened. Startled, Colleen let out a small shout and took two steps back. Jesse did, too, grabbing himself at the last second to keep himself from falling down the steps.
“What the hell?” she cried, a hand over her heart. She wore a pair of comfy-looking pajamas, the thin material showcasing her magnificent and clearly unconstrained breasts.
Jesse forced his eyes to meet hers as fast as he could, but he was sure she’d caught him staring. “Hey. Sorry. I just was passing and I thought...well, you didn’t come in tonight. Again. You didn’t come in last week, either. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
As soon as he said it, he knew that was the truth. Sure his pride was stung that she seemed to be avoiding him, but he’d been a little worried, too. He watched her expression go from startled to suspicious.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you?” he asked, one hand on the freezing metal railing, one foot on the step. He could turn around and leave in a second if he had to. He hoped he didn’t have to.
“I’m fine.” She looked at the cider in his hand, then his bare fingers curled around the railing. “You’re insane, it’s twenty degrees out here. No gloves? No hat?”
“I run warm,” he told her, although he was freezing. He hadn’t planned for any kind of walk tonight.
“Get inside,” Colleen commanded.
The tone of her voice heated him up, no question about that. Jesse inched past her, trying not to be a total creep and rub against her, though she was holding the door open for him and there wasn’t much room for him to pass. In her living room, he made sure to stand carefully on the throw rug just inside the door to keep his messy boots from dirtying the hardwood floors. He held out the cider.
Colleen didn’t take it. She closed the door, then crossed her arms to stare at him. “Why are you here, really?”
“I wanted to see you,” he said. There wasn’t any point in lying. Not now. “And since you obviously weren’t going to come in and see me...”
She flinched a little, looking embarrassed for a second or so before her chin lifted. “You do
n’t know that. Maybe I was busy. Or sick.”
“That’s why I came to see if you were all right.” He grinned.
After a moment, she returned his smile, though not as brightly. “You brought... What is that? Hard cider? Not chicken soup. What if I really was sick?”
“But you’re not.”
“No,” she said after a second. “But I like soup.”
“So you were just avoiding me, then.” The bottles clinked lightly as he shifted the six-pack to his other hand. “You know, I could go get you some soup. If you wanted some.”
“You don’t have to,” she began, then stopped. “You know what? Yeah. I like soup, and I’m actually hungry. Go get me some soup, Jesse.”
Her voice dipped on the syllables of his name. The sound of it sent a tickle of arousal up his spine, no good reason why. Just that his name from her mouth sounded thick and sensual and full of longing, and the sudden gleam in her eyes, the way she shifted from foot to foot, the puckering of her nipples so clear through her shirt, all told him that something in what she was asking of him was turning her on. At the thought of that, the crotch of his jeans grew tight.
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her, and watched in aroused fascination as her lips parted.
Colleen swiped her lower lip with her tongue and stepped aside so he could move past her to the front door. “Leave the cider. It will be here when you get back.”
* * *
He wasn’t going to come back. Colleen had been stupid to send him out into the frigid night to buy what, soup? She let out a groan. Soup, for God’s sake. First of all, where was Jesse even going to find soup at this time of night? Second, why hadn’t she just told him to go and not come back? Hadn’t she decided she wasn’t going to see him again? She didn’t need the aggravation.
That might be what her overactive mind told her, but it wasn’t what her body wanted. The second she’d figured out the shadowy figure on her front steps was Jesse and not some random stranger getting ready to bludgeon her to death and steal her grandma’s silver—or worse, Steve, stopping by “just to check in” on her—her hormones had gone into overdrive. She’d tossed out the comment about soup without thinking, but the second he’d offered to do what she’d asked, time had seemed to slow. Even to stand still for a second or so while her breath caught up to the hammer of her heartbeat in her ears.