by M. Q. Barber
* * * *
She gave him the kiss he wanted. Then she took the kiss she wanted, pushing her tongue into his mouth and reveling in his guttural moan.
As she pulled away, he chased her, raising his head from the floor. A firm grip on his shoulders set him straight. She broke free.
“My turn to play.” A whole new ballgame. “You gotta let a girl lead sometimes, right?”
David never had, but then David’d never left her limp and shaking with his face buried between her legs. Maybe his other criticisms had been as off-target as his mouth.
“I one-hundred-percent-for-sure do.” Rob brushed her back and shoulders on his way to her face. Cupping her cheeks, he held her mesmerized. “I’m your prisoner, Nora.” He wiggled, thick and hard behind the teasing scratch of denim. He let his hands fall. “Conquer me.”
She ground her weight against him. Against his cock. The outline kept drawing her back to his jean shorts and the need to ditch them. Courage would carry her through. Courage and Rob’s faith in her. And maybe a teensy bit of curiosity and passion. A smidge.
Gripping his waistband, she pushed the metal rivet through the buttonhole. “What if I wanna set you free instead?”
“Free me, and I promise I’ll stay right here.” His zipper ticked open a few teeth on its own. Pushing into the gap came cotton shorts molded around the obvious ridge of his cock. “No place I’d rather be just now.”
She inched free her promised prize. The zipper’s ticking descent echoed in her spine with jangling anticipation. She’d won a carnival game. Only Rob wouldn’t be the substandard stitched-in-a-developing-nation junk she’d claimed her first time around.
Her grand prize revealed itself under tight-stretched navy cotton.
“Must hurt to be all tied up.” The zipper hit the end of the line. “No room to breathe.”
He rocked his hips and thrust upward. Muscles rippled in his abdomen. His shorts rubbed her thighs and lips. The band at the top of his underwear rolled and flipped, exposing his cock. Smooth and round, his head peeked out the top.
God, for as hard as he was, skin so smooth had to be soft. The urge to find out goaded her. She stroked the tip.
He sucked in air through his teeth. “Sweet Christ, honey girl. I’d say I was breathing just fine, but you make me catch my breath.”
Warmth grew and filled her chest. Soft skin twitched beneath her. “You made me lose mine.” The temptation rose to return the favor. She curled her fingers around his shorts and boxer-briefs together and lowered them while he shimmied free. Abandoned them at his knees. Too busy. His cock stood waiting.
The second cock to be bare in her presence. The illicit thrill beaded in her blood, a twin to the dot of fluid at the end of his erection. Thicker, taller, with a wider flare and the slightest upward curve at the tip. “You’re so beautiful.”
“First time I’ve been called that.” His smile promised he’d taken no offense, held no stinging words to deliver.
“You should hear praise all the time.” She cupped him lengthwise. Even with her fingers extended, he overflowed at top and bottom.
“So should you.” He squeezed her knees in his palms. “Beautiful inside and out, Nora, and don’t you believe anyone tells you different.”
Tough trick to master. The minute she started anything, he’d recognize her lousy man-handling skills. How her grip and pacing never turned out good enough.
Rob moaned.
She froze. She’d only pressed the heel of her hand up his shaft from the base to the tip a few times. Maybe he’d show her how he wanted it done.
“Mmm, don’t stop on my account.” He flexed his cock. “The pressure feels fantastic.”
Her hand jerked, a rough squeeze as surprise bounced through her. He liked what she’d done. And he didn’t mind saying so. She tried again, a slow slide, his heat burning her palm. He thrummed with life in her hand.
“Yeah, just like that,” he whispered. “Makes me wanna be bigger for you. Harder for you.”
He wanted to be more?
“You pulling and pressing at me.” He shuffled beneath her, arching into her touch. The gold flecks in his eyes shone. “So damned hot.”
Careful not to catch his hair, she lifted his cock away from his stomach. The bead had grown into a dime-sized pool left behind. She squeezed, and new pre-come leaked out. Dripped. Dangled in a shimmering line from his cockhead to the lowest curve of his abs.
“See how eager I am for your sexy fingers?” He rubbed the heels of his hands up her bare legs, knees to thighs, same as she’d done on his cock. “Feels good, doesn’t it? I’m flowing fast as a high schooler on prom night, and I’ve got an unbelievably gorgeous naked woman straddling me and playing like I’m her favorite toy.”
Carnival prize.
“Carnival prize?”
Shit. Thoughts escaping without permission. “Nothing, I mean—” She stroked him. Rhythmic, soothing action. Hypnotic, the way his cock swayed. “I feel like I won the grand prize. Winner’s choice, the biggest prize at the whole fair.”
He rocked his hips, thrusting his cock higher and faster, popping the head in and out of her hand. “Hell, might come from hearing you talk, if you keep saying such sweet things.”
“I have that kind of power?” She slid easier, slicked with pre-come.
“So much, honey girl.” He groaned.
Must’ve been caused by her rubbing. Best be sure. She passed her palm over the top of his cock again.
He barked out a laugh. “Was gonna say you didn’t know how much, but maybe you do. You’re so fucking good at this, Nora.”
Nothing but honesty in his face, a pleasure-strained smile and his eyes focused on hers. David’s dirty talk had catalogued where she’d gone wrong. He’d made touching him a chore. Rob made foreplay a delight, an exciting exploration and surprise to see how she affected him, how each act she chose made him move or moan.
No fear, Nora. Not of her desires and not of his criticism. She closed her mouth around his cock.
“Fuck, oh honey, Jesus.” His garbled praise flowed in a stream feeding a river of confidence rushing through her.
She let him thrust through her hand and sucked when his cockhead popped beyond the edge of her fingers. Testing her tongue on him, she rolled around the ridge.
Groaning and shudders greeted her.
“Nora, fuck, I’m—” He tugged her hair, his hand fisted tight by her ear.
Same as David. In a second, he’d force her deeper, ’til her breath ran out and she gagged on him.
“Lift your head, honey girl. Christ, so fucking good. Let go beautiful, I’m gonna come.”
His first splash of salt touched her tongue before he covered her hand and redirected his cock. They stroked together, fingers interlaced and slipping, as he coated his stomach.
She savored the tang in the back of her mouth. Nothing bitter about Rob. Hot and salty and with more evidence of her prowess spilling across his skin.
Peeling her hand from his cock, he levered himself up and slapped a hard kiss in her palm. “My bold, beautiful Nora. You amaze me.”
“You amazed me first.” She crawled alongside him, lying down and stretching her legs.
He kissed her with a sweet thoroughness.
She nestled her head on his shoulder and breathed in his earthy musk. Maybe he’d stay the night.
On the floor?
She’d have to let him into her bed. An invisible line she hadn’t crossed. Only one man had shared her bed, and he’d trashed their trust, and she’d burned the damned mattress to ashes.
A nap. A living room floor nap. Why not?
* * * *
Heaven. He lay in heaven with a naked angel curled at his side, her curvy hip under his hand and her slender fingers grazing his chest. Sleepy contentment stole over him, a thief cutting short his time with Nora. Hell, he didn’t know how she’d feel about him staying the night. He hadn’t asked, and she didn’t seem inclined to move just now.<
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He wanted to stay. Carry her to bed, wrap his arms around her, and sleep. Wake her in the middle of the night and make love to her the way she deserved, sweet and slow. If her ex’s demands formed the be-all and end-all of her sexual experience, he’d show her different.
Except she hadn’t asked, and a gentleman didn’t invite himself into a woman’s bed. Even a woman sliding her hand across his chest in a super-slow-mo game of air hockey. She skirted the patches of come cooling on his stomach. Itchy when it dried.
Have to let her go to get up, though. Not yet. He squeezed her tighter and dropped a kiss on her honey-brown hair.
“Rob?”
“Hmm?”
She stopped her skittering back-and-forth and flattened her hand over his chest, dead center. “You didn’t make me swallow.”
Caught him flatfooted with that one, she did. He fumbled for a response. “I wanted to see your face.” Truth, but not the whole of it. He’d been guessing. Trying to lay down new pathways in her head for shared pleasure. “This fun’s about both of us. You’re the woman I’m sharing myself with.”
“Sharing.” Quiet, as if she’d sampled the word.
If her ex was as big an ass as he figured him for, he’d have demanded blowjobs, and the asshole probably got off on making her swallow or take a facial. Either way, his own stomach had seemed the safest bet. “Gorgeous as the top of your head is, I prefer your smile.”
She resettled her shoulders. “You’re full of—”
Lord, don’t let her think him some smooth-talking bullshitter.
“—compliments.”
Miles better than plenty of words she could’ve picked.
“I’m not used to—” She rubbed her face in his side and inhaled. “I mean, I don’t know what to make of you, Robin Vanderhoff.”
Him. A man who wouldn’t breathe a hint of the mental calculus behind the split-second instinct to pull her off his cock. Hardest move he’d ever made. “A’course, I made a mess of myself.” He patted his chest above the splash zone. “Typical guy.”
She snorted, a laughing burst of air warming his ribs. “You’re anything but typical.”
“Oh-ho, I’m special, am I?” He tickled the swell of her hip.
Squirming closer, she launched her hand south so fast he almost tossed up a reflexive forearm block. She cupped his balls and tugged. Light enough to love it, hard enough to feel it. She’d have him redefining threat if she kept on. “You know what they say, Rob.”
Christ, he didn’t know a thing when her hand formed a strong cradle for his balls. Even left his name in doubt. He grunted in question.
“Go big or go home.”
He rolled her over and pushed into tight, wet heat in a single motion.
No.
But the urge ripped through him so hard his dick tried in vain to stand up for her. Too soon, but hope sprung eternal. “I hope you aren’t saying you wanna send me home just yet.”
She shook her head, her hair flowing across his arm. “I’m saying I know you can go big.” She squeezed, and he mock growled for her giggle in return. “And maybe I want you to stay. For awhile. If you want.”
Her short-term request looked a damned sight better than not at all.
“I got nothing but you on my mind. My whole calendar’s full up with Nora Howard.” He nudged her with a teasing elbow. “You point me toward your bathroom, and I’ll make myself presentable again. Less sticky, at least.”
She rolled out of his embrace, her cuddly warmth abandoning him, and pushed herself to her feet. Naked, standing beside him like a goddess, and him a sacrifice for her pleasure. Give it time. An hour, and he’d worship her in new ways.
“Out to the hall, first door on the left.” Her grin and cascading hair softened her face into relaxed lines. “Come find me in the kitchen when you’re done. All that exercise must’ve made you thirsty. I’ll get you that drink I offered.”
He dragged his shorts to his hips and left them hanging open as he stood. Leaning in, he kissed her with unhurried appreciation. “I’d rather have another shot of the first drink you gave me.” See if he could get those clenching muscles rippling around his tongue more than once. He nipped her ear. “If that’s on the table.”
Her breath rushed past his neck. “On the table?”
Not what he’d meant, but her adorable, arousing, hope-to-God insatiable curiosity had him building a mental picture file. A towel or two for his knees might come in handy, as much time as he intended to spend on them. “Anywhere you want. We’re playing by your rules.”
She pushed his chest. “Go clean up and meet me in the kitchen in five, then. I want to see these table skills of yours.”
“We’ll make a pool player out of you yet.” He kissed her forehead and sneaked one more breath of her honeyed scent. “I’ll show you how I run the table.”
She swayed as she walked away, the sultry swing women seemed to naturally possess. One of God’s bountiful gifts to the men who loved them. He’d happily keep eyes on her lift-and-wiggle all day long. Smooth and plump. His dick twitched closer to that encore.
He hustled down the hall. Four doors. Two left, one right, one at the far end. Brief glances, not a full recon, and he slipped into the bathroom. Piss first, cleanup second. Dried come wouldn’t be making a break for it down his abdomen.
Door on the right had been a bedroom. A lived-in one with rumpled sheets and a dresser with women’s things and a set of dress clothes tossed at the end of the bed, probably what she’d worn to work today.
He flushed and dropped the seat back in place for her. The little niceties of married life. Washed up at her sink with its vanilla-scented pump soap and cream-colored hand towels.
Second left, a spare room matching the empty spaces at his place. Did she long to fill hers with children, too? Soon?
He worked a solid job with negotiable hours. Saved money in the bank. He made a fine candidate for fatherhood. Plenty of folk he’d grown up with hadn’t been so ready and boasted two or three rugrats by now.
Yet here he stood, a childless bachelor wiping semen off his stomach at thirty-six. He hitched up his shorts and zipped. Her doing the undressing made for half the fun. Well, not half. But a nice chunk.
Flipping the light off, he stepped into the hall. The closed door nagged his instincts. Had to be the master suite. Nothing else the room could be with this layout, a basic three-bedroom rancher. But she didn’t sleep inside.
A shrine to her bastard ex? Or hiding that the fucker still lived here, if their finances pinched so hard. Divorced couples splitting expenses wasn’t unheard of. No other car in the drive, but her ex might’ve gone out if they had some date-night arrangement.
His thoughts conspired with his feet. Both times he’d picked her up, she’d met him at the front door. Hadn’t given him a glimpse inside the house. Trained instinct, some of his need, sure, the inability to leave a closed door shut, to see the danger, eliminate the threat, and secure the system. A quick peek wouldn’t hurt. The knob turned under his hand.
“Rob, wait—”
The door swung open.
“—please don’t.”
An empty room lay before him. Barren, with an undisturbed layer of dust on the floor. No worse than the empty rooms in his place.
“I’m sorry, honey girl.” He dropped the knob and turned. “I wasn’t meaning to intrude.” Only assuage his own petty fears and jealousies.
She stood naked at the end of the hall, tight lines etched around her eyes and a small gap frozen between her lips.
“My mama told me time and again curiosity would land me in hot water.” Nothing he said registered in her spooked face. Two sweeping steps brought him within reaching distance. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He wrapped his arms around her tense frame. “You’ve got every right to be angry at me for snooping.”
No response. Her thoughts stayed bottled up behind her blue-gray stare, opaque and unreadable.
“My
house is fulla empty rooms, too. You wanna come snoop in every corner, that’s fair. Nora?”
Shuddering, she pushed his chest. Hard and meaning it. Twice and a third time.
He let go.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted ice in your drink.” Her wobbly tone sank in thick undercurrents, her words mired together and struggling to reach him. “And which side of the bed you like.”
Oh, fuck. No way in hell would she ask him now. Not after those unreadable eyes filled with darkness so heavy she bent her neck under the load.
“Be angry with me, honey girl.” The plea straining his voice ran unchecked, gone beyond his ability to rein in, and why the fuck not. She ought to know how much she meant to him. “Let me have it, both barrels, ’cause I swear to you I will respect your privacy—”
Shaking her head, over and over, she backed away.
God in heaven, let her slap him across the face and get the anger out rather than simmer in regret.
“I’m sorry, Robin, but I need you to go.” She wrapped her arms around herself. Hiding her body from him. Clutching her hip and her shoulder with a white-knuckled grip. “Please.”
No. Dammit. He’d opened one goddamned door to an empty, meaningless room. A mistake, but not the end of the world. “Nora, please, we can get dressed and talk about—”
“Please don’t fight with me. Please.” Her voice cracked and fell to a broken whisper.
His outstretched hand only pushed her further away.
“I can’t do this.” She hunched like her stomach pained her, the arms she’d crisscrossed insufficient bandages for what ailed her. She hovered on collapse and him the cause. “Not right now.”
“Okay. All right.” He raised empty hands beside his face. No threat, not to her. “Promise me you’ll talk to me the first minute you’re ready. The very first. I don’t care what time of day or night or what you think you’ll be pulling me away from. I told you my calendar’s full up with Nora Howard and I meant it. Every minute I have is yours, even the ones when you don’t want me here.”
Two of those minutes, longest of his life, passed before she nodded.
“I promise,” she rasped.
Leaving her went against every protective instinct in his gut. He walked past the living room, his black shirt an inky blot on the pale carpet. He’d marred perfection and couldn’t name the crime. Managed the fooling around beautifully and somehow launched a bunker buster at the emotional side.