Flash Drive

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  “No. I’ll just comb it.” She opened a drawer and took out a wide-toothed comb.

  “Let me,” he said and took it from her.

  For several minutes they stood staring at each other in the mirror as he drew the comb through her shoulder length hair, separating the strands and tingling her scalp. She stared at the outline of his chest and arms, wanting more than anything to be able to run her hands through the sprinkling of crisp hairs. She looked forward to when she would be given leave to delineate the broad muscles with her fingertips and to pluck at his nipples. Her eyes met his several times and lingered, feeling the heat, sensing the hunger. His dark expressive brows arched and one brow lifted in warning when she succumbed to temptation and reached behind her to drag her fingernails up his powerfully built thighs.

  He put the comb on the counter and turned her to face him, then bent and put his arms under her knees and lifted her off her feet. He carried her effortlessly to the bed and whipped the covers down with the hand supporting her knees. With great care he placed her in the middle of the bed then climbed in beside her, kissed her lightly on the nose, and resolutely turned her away from him.

  “Big plans for you in the morning. Rest now. Get some sleep.” He kissed the back of her neck and pulled her to him, wrapping his leg over one of hers.

  “I have to go to the Shallotte Farmers Market in the morning. I promised some friends I’d come see their booth.”

  “You’re going to have to start saying no to everyone except me for a while. If we start on the list of things I want to do to you, we won’t be done until 2020, so we can’t afford any distractions,” he murmured against her ear.

  “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

  “It’s 4:30, get some sleep. I’ll give you a sample in the morning.” He kissed her neck again and breathed in the delightful fragrance of her shampoo.

  She fell asleep cradled in his arms. It took him a while longer to nod off. He didn’t want to waste the time he had with her by sleeping it away. But his mind finally gave in to the fatigue.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  He woke first, or more precisely, the appendage he affectionately called Spear woke first. Proud and pointed in the right direction, his penis nestled between her thighs, nudging her opening and calling attention to a significant problem.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned in her sleep, moving her curved bottom to accommodate him.

  “Morning,” he breathed into her ear as his fingers worked to make her slick for him.

  “Who is this?” she asked and waited for his response. It came in the form of a slap to her rear. She giggled. He thrust and filled her.

  After the shock of the initial impact she groaned, “Uhhh! mmm, ahhhh. . . . .”

  “Music to my ears,” he said as he inched back, gripped her hips and dove in again.

  Writhing together on the bed, he ground into her while his hands loved her bottom—each round cheek lovingly kneaded, scratched, pinched—until she couldn’t hold still. She heaved her bottom so furiously back against him that he had to wrap his hands under her, splayed over her navel to keep them fused together.

  When he felt her lower her hips to the bed to find relief for her neglected clit, he brought his hands down from her belly to gently cup her. He used the pads of three fingers to press against the top of her needy cleft. It took four steady depressions of his flattened fingers pressing against her mons before she cried out and spent. He added to the slaughter of her senses by lightly pinching her swollen nub and sending her over the edge with his name screaming into her pillow.

  He gave her a few moments to process her orgasm, let it settle and weigh into her brain before he knelt behind her, lifted her to her knees and went for his. The bed shook from the ferocity of his thrusts, as he gave her no quarter and slammed into her, claiming her—driven by a demon weeks in the making as he’d read her stories late into the night.

  His release was upon him before he was ready, causing his body to harden, his jaw to firm, his arms to pull her tight against his groin with each full thrust. He fought against the tide and momentarily held her to him as if frozen in place, no further exertion necessary or possible as his head fell back and he damned near howled with the want of her.

  He took a deep breath and resumed his pummeling. As his body thrummed and his penis pulsed inside her with each taking thrust, he became aware of her arching, keening, and now reaching for her own elusive climax. With monumental control, he forced himself back from the edge he was so precariously balanced on and brought one of his hands around from her hip to her backside. Sightless now, with his own scattered senses, eyes squeezed tight from the effort, he felt her ass, forced his fingers down the smooth valley and widened the cleavage with his thumb. He pressed it into her tightly puckered opening, gently breeching the rim. She screamed and bucked and as her sphincter muscles milked his thumb, he let himself join her in the abyss. His jaw clenched, and he hissed through his teeth with each spurt that left him.

  As he floated back from the state of euphoria he’d been transported to, he could hear the echoes of her screams joined with his heavy pants. The fading nonsensical rants of, “Christ! Laurel . . . Laurel . . . Nnngh!” had run through his head like a mantra and even now, with his lips on her back, he heard them. He was stunned. He’d blanked out, lost consciousness and fell into an oblivion so deep inside his body that he’d heard his pulse beat, visualized each pump of his heart as it had worked to revive him. Experiencing his own version of Fantastic Voyage, he had careened off walls of pleasure so intense he couldn’t find the energy to lift himself off the woman he’d flattened under him.

  She was the first to speak. “You still alive? I can’t even feel you breathing.”

  His lips grazed her shoulder blade. “Alive . . . just not breathing yet,” he muttered.

  She turned her head and smiled. He managed to move his hand, run his fingers down her cheek.

  A minute passed and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as he asked, “Did we ever discuss the topic of birth control?”

  She snorted and smiled. “Not that I recall.”

  “Tell me you’re more responsible than I am.”

  “I’m more responsible than you are.”

  “Thank God. I’m sorry. Can’t think what came over me. So we don’t need the condoms?” There was a decidedly cheerful lift to his voice when he asked the question.

  “It wouldn’t hurt to do both.”

  “I’ll try to do better. In the meantime . . .” he pulled out of her and lifted himself off the bed. “Let’s use the shower head to rinse you out. Could be fun,” he added with a wiggle of his expressive brows.

  “I’ll do it,” she said as she slid off the bed and made her way to the bathroom. He sensed she needed some private time and grabbed one of the towels he’d tossed on the floor last night. “I’ll go take a shower in the guest bath. Then I’ll take you to the Farmers Market, if that’s okay?”

  She smiled, dreamy-eyed, and simply nodded as she closed the door between them.

  He shook his head in wonder. How had he lost control like that? How had he forgotten to protect her? And how the hell was he managing to stand? Never would he have thought his body capable of sensations that intense, that . . . devastating. An infant could have crawled along the hallway faster than he could put one foot in front of the other. Dear God, what was this woman doing to him? But he had to smile. He’d rocked her world. If he closed his eyes, and shut everything else out, he could feel her last orgasm pulsing around his thumb and latching onto his penis.

  He’d have to tell her that he was going away for a few days. Not that he couldn’t avoid the trip back to Baltimore if he wanted to, but he needed to put some distance between them now—he needed her to want. Last week she’d called the shots. This week, he would be t
he one to pull away, leaving her hungry and wanting more . . . keeping her on edge.

  As he stepped into the shower he looked down. Talk about wanting more. Spear was clamoring for attention again and he doubted that Laurel kept olive oil in her guest bath.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  He watched as Laurel raved over her friends’ booth. He’d been introduced to both Eileen and Carol, and then stood back as she fawned over their hand-made fleece comforters and aprons, quilts, sports paraphernalia and jackets. Gathering her purchases, she led him over to a booth proclaiming herbs by Shelton Farms.

  “Meg has the best herbs. I could use some more basil, and she usually has five or six types.”

  “What’s your favorite?” he asked.

  “Sweet Genovese.”

  “Hmmph, mine too,” he teased.

  She laughed and smiled brilliantly up at him. “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Because you’re not that gullible?” he bent and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  He’d just had her not two hours ago, and not in a token way. Mind-blowing sex is the only way he could describe it. And he desperately wanted her again.

  They strolled from canopy to canopy, enjoying the warm summer day and the delights of the market. When they walked up to a display of beaded jewelry, he listened to the lady describe how she had made the collection of necklaces and bracelets that were shimmering in the sunlight. “I use genuine Swarovski crystals and real gold beading. The clasps are gold or silver, depending on the design. Try one on,” she encouraged Laurel. But Laurel smiled at her and declined.

  As she walked away, Garrett spotted a tiny silver turtle in one of the charm boxes. He waited until Laurel was out of earshot.

  “Can you make an anklet for her using this,” he held up the tiny turtle, “and some clear crystals so she can wear it with anything?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can you do it now?”

  “Uh yeah. Be about sixty bucks.”

  “Good.” He pealed off a hundred dollar bill and handed it to her. “We’ll be back for it.”

  “Take me about twenty minutes.”

  “That’ll be fine.” He moved to join Laurel who was asking an artist about his metal sculpture.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, there you are. Isn’t this ladybug cute?”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  He looked over at the man behind the table. “We’ll take it.” He handed over a fifty and the man handed him back a twenty.”

  She turned back to him, “I have money.”

  He smiled down at her. “So do I.”

  She frowned. “I don’t want you spending your money on me.”

  “I can afford it.”

  “So can I.”

  “Look, let’s not fight over this.” He picked up the bags containing the ladybug lawn ornament, her herbs, and the quilted items from her friends’ booth, and moved her along, whispering over her shoulder, “Be gracious, or I’ll have to spank you for your bad manners when we get home.”

  He saw her shudder and smiled. The next table was homemade jellies and jams, and they both picked out two that they liked. Then they walked down to the river and to the dock and admired the view. He couldn’t remember a time when he was so relaxed, so focused on doing absolutely nothing but strolling along a lazy river.

  When it was time to leave, he walked her by the beaded jewelry table. The beaming woman stood and handed him a small bag along with his change. He put the money in his pocket and took the small bag from her as Laurel stared at him, a questioning look in her eyes.

  “A memento,” he whispered as he drew the tiny anklet out of the bag to show her. He knelt at her feet and attached it to her ankle. As he stood, his fingertips ran up her leg stopping mid-thigh where the hem of her short ruffled skirt began. He looked down at her and noticed she had suspiciously wet eyes.

  “That is so sweet.”

  “I wanted you to remember your first boil.”

  “Is that what you wanted me to remember about last night?”

  “That, and a few other things. But I’m not worried about you remembering those.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I plan on doing them over and over again so you don’t forget. Many, many times.” He bent and kissed her, thoroughly. The women watching at the nearby tables opened their eyes wide and sighed at the romantic gesture.

  He broke away and whispered, “Ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. How about some lunch?”

  “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

  “How about the Inlet View? We can get a bite to eat and a glass of wine.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  He took her hand in his, kissed her knuckles, and led her back to his truck. As she was getting in, she turned her ankle to admire her new anklet. She crooked her finger at him, a seductive smile on her face. “This deserves a reward.” She clasped his cheeks between her hands and kissed him. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”

  He closed her door and got in on the driver’s side. “Now, just so you know, I’m buying lunch. And if you argue, I’m going to stop on the way back and paddle you.”

  She blinked her eyes wide. Would he? Would he really do that? And why did that thought not distress her? Not in the slightest.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Driving along 179 through Shallotte, Garrett looked over at Laurel and his eyes met hers. Sea blue met summer green as his eyes burned with desire. “Slip off your panties,” he said. “Then put them in the glove box. It’s unlocked.”

  Her eyes went round and she opened her mouth to protest.

  “No, no arguments,” he said. “Just do it.”

  He focused on the road, mentally ticking off the seconds and waiting. So many things counted on her doing his bidding right now. If she didn’t do as he asked, he’d lose ground he might never recover. He’d lose the upper hand he was trying to establish as the dominant male she needed. Her fantasies, as he knew them, required this type of control. Would she relinquish it? He couldn’t remember the last time his nerves had been frazzled like this.

  He forced himself to hold his breath in and not breathe out a long sigh of relief when she put both of her hands under her gauzy skirt and slowly tugged off a pair of baby blue panties. He watched trepidation flash over her face as she opened his glove box and tucked them on top of his owner’s manual. With a finalizing click, she shut the hinged door with her tiny shred of dignity inside. He quirked his lips in a smile he hid from her.

  Nothing was said, no mention was made of her state of undress as he lifted her from the seat of the truck to the pavement outside the restaurant. Her skirt was short enough that he was not about to allow her to climb the stairs with others present, so he slowed their pace to allow a group to go before them.

  He took her hand and watched her face as she took each step. He knew that the thought of her pussy, open to the air, with her thighs widely parting with each step, completely exposing her, affected her in many ways. She’d be wet by the time they were seated. She’d be soaked by the time they got back to the truck.

  Seated at an outside table enjoying what was perhaps the best view in Brunswick County, Garrett watched Laurel dip a corner of each forkful of lettuce into a cup of ranch dressing.

  “So, Special K and yogurt for breakfast, salad for lunch . . . one would get the idea you were dieting.”

  “Perpetually. Isn’t every woman under forty?”

  “What happens at forty?”

  “We give up, let the powers that be run amuck.”

  “Hmmm
, maybe I shouldn’t get too attached.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.” She looked at him over the rim of her wine glass.

  “I think it might already be too late,” he whispered, and ran a finger down her arm. He watched her shiver, flush . . . and flutter her eyes at his husky words.

  He took a bite of his club sandwich. Nibbled on sweet potato fries. Met her eyes. Raised his sexy slash of a brow. “You’re facing the inlet, why don’t you consider relaxing your thighs a little? Your knees are working overtime.”

  “Is that an order?”

  Oh God, now she was asking to be topped. She might not know it, but that was exactly what she was doing. His penis leapt.

  “Yes.”

  He watched as her thighs parted slightly. His breath hitched. He watched her face flush crimson. He decided to change the subject. Give her a few moments to adjust, accept . . . revel in her awakening sexuality.

  “I have to fly back to Baltimore this week for a few days. Can I get on your dance card for the weekend?”

  She nodded as she looked over at him, and while she was trying to appear nonchalant, he could see the desire flaming in her eyes. He stared into her face and read the signs. He had the distinct feeling that she was going under. Fighting a battle with the lust growing inside her and rapidly losing. The timing was going to be rushed if he didn’t slow her down.

  He took the wine glass from her hand and took a sip, then placed it back on the table. He leaned in and kissed her, his fingertips running over the smooth skin above her knee.

  “Ready to leave?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He motioned for the check, and when the waitress returned he handed her a fifty-dollar bill without even looking at the ticket. “We’re in a hurry,” he said and gave her his megawatt smile as he pulled Laurel up from the chair. Laurel had noted that his amazing good looks, coupled with his extraordinary presence, tended to make the female population skittish and self-conscious. The cute little waitress was no exception, and she actually tripped on her own sneaker-clad feet. Garrett reached out and gripped her arm, righting her before she fell on her face.