Getting It Right (The Atticus Chronicles)

by Jane Kent

  He frowned thinking about how hard PJ had worked this past week to make Skye’s party a success and how much she’d been looking forward to it. Well, he could at least give her one of the traditions she’d researched. Backtracking, he picked out a bunch of not-too-badly mangled grapes and left them on the bedside table, grinning as a wicked idea struck and took root.

  He crossed the hall to lean silently on the bathroom doorframe. PJ didn’t notice him and he watched as she lazily slid a soapy sponge up her arm, then leaned back and smoothed it slowly over and around her breasts, teasing the hard peaks. She turned her head, then, and gave him a sensuous smile, and his ever-ready-for-PJ dick clamored for attention.

  Little tease! She’d known he was watching!

  “Need some help?” he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he pushed away from the doorframe, stripping off his jacket, shoulder holster and tie, and rolling up his shirtsleeves as he crossed the room.

  Dropping to his knees, he took the sponge from her unresisting hand and stroked it over her body, paying particular attention to all the sensitive spots he’d learned this past week until she was purring like a cat.

  He pulled the drain stopper and flipped on the handheld shower at its lowest setting, letting the warm water run over her, rinsing off the soap suds, fascinated when the water beaded on her skin from the bath oil and rolled down to quiver on the tip of her nipple or pool in her navel.

  When he brought the showerhead down to rinse between her legs, she shuddered and he held it there, turning up the pressure, letting the water pound into her. Her breathing quickened, a soft flush suffusing her body and her gorgeous tits arching up toward him. He flicked the shower off.

  “Noooo, please,” she moaned and he brought his palm down to rest on her wet pubic curls as he inserted his middle finger to draw out her body’s natural lubrication and smooth it up and over the clean, pink folds. He flicked her clit once, making her jerk, and withdrew his hand.

  “Please, Bastian,” she begged, whimpering. “Finish it.”

  Taking one of her hands, he placed it at the juncture of her thighs. “You finish it,” he whispered.

  She hesitated then her fingers slowly began to move, flexing, curving in and sliding down.

  Mesmerized, he watched as her fingers dipped and rubbed and smoothed, pleasuring herself. Her fingers moved faster and faster, harder and harder, and his cock throbbed with each stoke. But tonight wasn’t about him. Tonight was all for PJ. He wanted to give her the special night he’d wanted for her their first time together.

  All at once, PJ stiffened, her back arching away from the back of the old-fashioned tub, her head tipped back over the rim, her breasts rising and falling with her panting breaths, and she climaxed. And his dick grew even harder as PJ brought one of his fantasies to life.

  So, okay, yeah, maybe this had been a little bit about him too.

  As PJ’s breathing returned to normal, her eyes opened and she rolled her head to toward him, not quite meeting his gaze, her expression self-conscious.

  “Beautiful,” Bastian said softly. He leaned in and lightly kissed the nipple closest to him, then rose to his feet, pulling PJ with him. He wrapped a large, soft bath towel around her and removed the few pins left in her hair, letting it tumble down her back, then lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, depositing her on the bed.

  Glancing at the bedside clock, he marveled at the perfect timing, especially considering the first part of their evening, and picked up the grapes he’d left on the bedside table.

  * * * *

  Feeling lethargic and happy, PJ curled on her side watching Bastian, waiting for him to shed the rest of his clothing. She loved looking at him, seeing the play of his muscles as he undressed, her hands eager to run over all that glorious, satiny skin and those hard-packed muscles disguised by his clothing. But instead of doing the expected, he lay down beside her on the bed still fully clothed. Lying on his side facing her, he propped his head on one hand and, with a playful smile, dangled a bunch a bunch of grapes in front of her with the other.

  Twelve grapes at midnight to ensure twelve happy months.

  It was such a silly little thing to get emotional over, but that didn’t stop her. Bastian had remembered that one small item on her list of customs from their very first real conversation. She felt the tightness of tears gathering in the back of her throat and she swallowed to keep them at bay.

  It was only seconds away from midnight so they waited, neither speaking, listening for the first strike of the town clock across the square. The look in Bastian’s eyes made PJ feel like some kind of femme fatale. And there was something totally wicked and wanton about lying here completely naked while Bastian was still dressed, his hot blue gaze roaming over her.

  The musical tones from the town clock broke the silence. As the chimes finished and the first strike of the hour sounded, Bastian slipped a grape between her lips, then fed her eleven more with each strike of the clock heralding the New Year.

  Then he kissed her, a slow lazy kiss with an unspoken promise of things to come. “Happy New Year, PJ,” he said softly. “I love you.”

  “And I love you,” she answered, smiling up at him. She reached for the grape bunch still in his hand. “You haven’t eaten your grapes.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head, and holding the grapes out her reach. “You’re not the only one with a culinary imagination.” He smiled his wicked angel’s smile. “I have special plans for my grapes.”

  He gently pushed her onto her back and leaned down to brush her eyes closed with his lips. He placed a grape on each closed eyelid and pulled them into his mouth, and then wandered over her face with his lips, planting random kisses. His fingers stroked across her lips before slipping a grape between them, and then his mouth settled over hers, sucking out the grape and turning the suction into an erotic kiss.

  Nibbling his way along her jaw line to her ear, he whispered, “That’s three,” and swirled his tongue inside her ear, sending a shiver racing down her spine, before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. Then, abandoning her earlobe with a gentle nip, he nuzzled his way down her neck to her shoulders, kissing each one before moving on to her upper chest.

  His lips slid lower and PJ moaned, sliding her hands down over his shoulders to clutch at his back, as his hand smoothed over her left breast to cradle it and he licked and laved his way to the erect peak, lavishing it with attention.

  “Four,” he murmured trying to balance a grape on her nipple, then chuckling softly when it rolled down into the valley between her breasts. His lips gave chase to lap it up as he rolled a grape around the outer circumference of her right breast. Then he made the circles tighter and smaller, higher and higher, until the grape was circling her right nipple, around and around the aureole. Holding the grape against her nipple, Bastian pulled both into his mouth, lashing her nipple with his tongue and suckling hard. PJ gasped, her back bowing up off the bed as her fingers raked down his back and Bastian released her nipple with a soft pop. “Five.”

  Gently lifting her arms away from him, he rolled her smoothly over onto her stomach and set the next grape on the small of her back. “Six.” He licked up the grape, then tongued and kissed his way up her spine, over her shoulder blades and back down to eat a grape off each buttock cheek, his hands cupping and kneading her butt.

  “Seven. Eight.” Then one teasing finger delved into the wet, swollen folds of her aching center, sliding slowly down, and PJ’s hips involuntarily lifted off the bed to ease his access, her legs opening wider as she gasped into the pillow under her head.

  But the wandering finger only teased, rubbing and slipping around her clitoris and hot weeping channel, never penetrating. Then, slick now with her body’s welcome, the wicked finger glided up, up the crevice between her butt cheeks grazing over a place no one had ever touched. PJ bucked, shock stealing her voice, fingers digging into the sheets.

  Bastian dropped a light kiss on the back of he
r neck and flipped her back to face him, placing a pillow beneath her hips. PJ was panting, too sensitized to move.

  Palming one diamond hard nipple and working the other with his tongue, he rolled another grape down between her breasts and up the slight incline of her body, over her rib cage and belly with his free hand, resting it in her navel. His tongue followed to lick it out and PJ squirmed, her stomach muscles clenching and she cried out. “Nine,” he said softly as he laid a string of kisses between her hipbones.

  “And ten.” Setting a grape on one hipbone, he flicked it off to bobble down her thigh and caught it in his teeth just above her knee. Smoothing his palms down her leg, pausing to tickle behind her knee, he worked his way down to her toes and drew them into his mouth. She moaned, her toes curling, as he ran a finger along the sole of her foot, then slipped a grape between the toes of her other foot and sucked it out. “Eleven.”

  Oh, God, who knew toes could be ticklish and a sensitive erogenous zone?

  He planted kisses up her other leg and swiped his tongue along the sensitive skin behind that knee before gently pushing her legs wider apart and nibbling his way farther up until he was lying between her thighs. Pulling the soft skin of her inner thigh into his mouth, he sucked, marking her with a love bite.

  PJ writhed on the bed, straining upward, trying to move her begging core closer to Bastian’s mouth, pleading with him. Her body was on fire and she was long past caring about grapes.

  But Bastian resisted her pleas and her struggles, raising his head, and the devil’s own smile spread over his face. “Twelve,” he said, rolling the last grape between his fingers.

  Oh, God! He couldn’t mean…

  But he could. And he did. His talented fingers rolled the cool, smooth grape down over her über-sensitive clitoris to the entrance to her body, his tongue following to scoop it up and staying to play.

  He plunged one, then two fingers into her, pumping and working her, as his mouth moved back up to her clitoris to swirl and tease. Shudders wracked PJ’s body as the crescendo built. And then Bastian’s fingers curled into the secret spot deep inside her as he closed his mouth over her clit and sucked hard, tongue flicking. And that was all it took. PJ went rigid as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.

  “Bastian,” she screamed.

  As her body became boneless and her breathing slowed, PJ was vaguely aware of Bastian slipping the pillow out from under her hips and moving back up the bed to run his fingers across her face in a light caress as he waited for her to come back to him. She opened her eyes to find him grinning down at her with smug male satisfaction.

  She reached up to cup his face in her hands. He leaned down to kiss her lightly and she tasted herself and the flavor that was uniquely Bastian’s on his mouth. “I love hearing my name on your lips when you come,” he said softly. He turned his head and kissed the soft skin of one of her inner elbows, then the other. “Missed those spots.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “And I think I definitely have a culinary talent, don’t you?”

  “Oh, most definitely,” she agreed, sliding a hand down over his rumpled shirt and suit trousers to fondle his rock-hard erection. “But you still haven’t…”

  “That was just for you.” His hand closed over hers, increasing the pressure as his eyes closed, a look of pure bliss on his face. Then, groaning, he pulled her hand away. “Not yet.”

  He dropped a kiss on her nose and pushed himself up off the bed. “Don’t go away.”

  Oh, funny man. As if she’d have the energy even if she had the inclination. But… “Where are you going?”

  “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously as he crossed to the door and disappeared into the hall.

  PJ stretched, then sprawled lazily in the bed waiting impatiently for Bastian to return. She was completely satiated and yet, she still longed to make love with Bastian, to feel him moving inside her, to run her hands over his rippling muscles and smooth skin, to watch the pleasure-pain on his beloved face as he climaxed.

  There wasn’t a sound coming from the apartment.

  What on earth was he doing?

  PJ sat up, listening, and still hearing nothing, she slipped off the bed, pulled on her silk robe and padded out into the apartment and down the hall to check the kitchen, the bathroom, the second bedroom and the living room. But Bastian was nowhere in sight.

  Where could he have gone?

  A soft knocking came at the door to the outer hall and PJ jumped slightly. She peeked through the peephole and then pulled the door open when she saw it was Bastian. “What…”

  She stopped, stared, and then started giggling.

  Bastian was wearing a red union suit and held a basket in his hands as he lounged against the opposite wall. “Hey, no laughing, this is my sexiest pose,” he said.

  And, yeah, if anyone could make a red union suit look sexy, it was Bastian. Unbuttoned to the waist, the cotton jersey clung to his body, hugging the powerful muscles in his arms, legs and torso, and outlining his still semi-hard penis.

  “Aren’t you coming in?”

  He shook his head with a smile. “First footing, remember? You have to invite me in.”

  Playing along, she said formally, “Please come in.”

  Passing her the basket as he entered, he waited, a curiously anxious look on his face as she pulled back the napkin covering the contents. And her heart melted and tears welled again at this man’s thoughtfulness. The basket held the traditional Scottish first footing gifts, a bottle of whiskey, shortbread, salt and what?

  “What is this?” she asked, puzzled, as she held up a round loaf of burnt bread.

  “Oh, uh…that’s the black bun substitute. Not that I actually know what a black bun is.” He grinned at her. “You should have seen Emma’s face at the bakery when I asked for a loaf of burnt pumpernickel bread. And speaking of substitutes, do you know how hard it is to find a lump of coal these days?”

  He pulled a small red box out of the basket and held it out to her, the anxious look back on his face. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to make do with this substitute of much older carbon.”

  She opened the box and gasped. Inside was the loveliest, most delicate diamond heart pendant she’d ever seen. Tears spilled from her eyes and this time she didn’t even try to hold them back as she flung herself into his arms. “Oh, God, I love you. Not because you gave me diamonds but just because I do,” she babbled. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous!”

  “This is a symbol of my heart which is already yours and always will be,” he said softly as he lifted the pendant out of the box and fastened it around her neck, and then kissed the tears from her cheeks. “I love you.”

  Reaching up, she captured his face in her hands and kissed him, gently nibbling at his lower lip before sweeping her tongue into his mouth. His tongue met hers in a dance as old as time as his arms came around her, pulling her close, one hand at her back crushing her breasts into his chest, the other cupping her bottom. Her arms slid around his neck, her hips pushing into his growing arousal.

  Breathless, she pulled back and Bastian sucked in a deep breath as she ran one hand down his chest, his abs and belly clenching as she trailed her fingers over them and then on down to cradle his erection through the soft red cotton. She gave him a seductive smile. “I think it’s long past time we took care of this, don’t you?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, I think I could be persuaded. You have something in particular in mind?”

  “Mmm-hm,” she said, running a teasing finger lightly up and down the twitching penis in her hand. “You’ve inspired me. I suddenly feel the need to…eat. And that crushed chocolate cake in the kitchen will be playing a big part.”

  Both eyebrows shot up at that. “Is that so?” he said, slowly stepping out of her reach. “In that case, since you’ll be doing all the work, I’ll get the cake,” he said magnanimously, grinning at her as he swatted her lightly on the butt. “Meet you in the bedroom.”

  Hopefully, the old Vic
torian’s cranky water heater would be up to the task tonight because they were both going to need showers when she was done.

  Hmmm, maybe only one shower. For two.

  PJ watched Bastian saunter away, singing under his breath. She wrinkled her brow, trying to place the tune, then laughed softly as it came to her. No traditional New Year’s Auld Lang Syne for Bastian.

  Oh, no, not Bastian. He was singing a tune from the sixties that was enjoying a comeback because of the recent smash Broadway musical, Jersey Boys, about the singing group, the Four Seasons, who had popularized the song. Snatches of the lyrics about a special lady surrendering and an amazing night floated back to her and she laughed again as he looked back at her over his shoulder and winked.

  The man was crazy! And she loved that about him. How had she gotten so lucky?

  She was head over heels, madly, crazily, deeply in love with everything about Bastian St. John. And there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he felt the same way about her.

  What was it she’d told Skye her New Year’s resolution was going to be before they’d made the No Resolutions pact? That she was going to do something for herself this year? Her fingers closed around the pendant at her neck. Well, it looked like she was going to have to renege on that pact with Skye. Because loving Bastian—this strong, generous, passionate, playful man—and being loved by him, definitely fell into the ‘doing something for herself’ category.

  Smiling to herself, she headed for the bedroom to wait for the love of her life.

  About The Author

  Jane Kent has been telling stories most of her life; when she isn’t writing them she’s moonlighting at her day job in professional theatre and film. She lives near Toronto, Canada and is allowed to share a home—as long as she caters to every whim—with two very spoiled cats.

  Stop by Jane’s website anytime www.janekentauthor.com She would love to hear from readers at jane@janekentauthor.com and promises to respond to each and every one…though not necessarily speedily!