Seasoned Veteran

by Roz Lee

  She took a sip of the dark amber liquid, swallowed then smiled her appreciation for the libation. “This is good. I grew up on Jamison’s.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Grew up on it?”

  “Rumor has it my grandfather on my dad’s side put it in my baby bottle. I have my doubts about the truth of the story, but my mom claims she rubbed it on my gums when I was teething. Warning—don’t cough in the Flannery household or you’ll have a cup of tea, liberally spiked, in your hand before you know it.”

  “Sounds very practical to me.”

  “It’s not exactly modern medicine, but it works.” Her words died off. Maybe she realized how trivial the conversation was in light of why she was drinking whiskey in his den while he had her panties in his pocket. She sipped again—for courage, perhaps—and asked, “How old are you?”

  “Forty-one in a few months.” Ancient. Old enough to be her father. Too old for an angel like her.

  “You don’t look it. I would have thought thirty-five, tops.”

  “Thanks, I think.” He swirled the liquid in his glass, watching it rise and fall around the sides of the crystal tumbler. “Why are you here?”

  She finished her drink in one last gulp. “I thought that was obvious. I’m attracted to you. I want to sleep with you.”

  He smiled. “Hon, there won’t be much sleeping in my bed tonight.” Not if he could help it, or stay awake for it. Getting old was a bitch.

  She helped herself to his whiskey decanter, pouring three fingers into her glass. “You know what I meant. Are you trying to scare me away by being crude?”

  “Hell, no,” he said, meaning it. “I told you I don’t play games. I needed to hear you say it, just so we both know what’s going to happen. I don’t want you leaving here in the morning thinking things went too far.”

  “As best as I can tell, they haven’t gone anywhere, except you have my panties, and I’m in danger of getting soused on your liquor.”

  He set his unfinished drink on the nearest flat surface then crossed the room to stand toe-to-toe with her. She lifted her face. Their gazes met. Damn, she looked a lot younger than twenty-five, but she was of legal age for everything he had in mind. That was all that mattered.

  “Let me see if I can get you intoxicated some other way.” He was already half drunk on her scent, and he’d yet to do more than hold her hand and glance at her snatch. It wasn’t fair such a little girl had that kind of effect on him. She made him feel old and young all at the same time, and he didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

  Her lips were plump, stung from the strong spirits. Without touching her anywhere else, he lowered his head, covering her mouth with his. Soft. Warm. Perfect. He tasted the whiskey on her tongue, but there was something underneath, something unique and more intoxicating. He angled his head to get a better fit then she did the same. They came together like animals mating. Sucking, biting, taking, giving, tasting and feasting. He’d kissed plenty of women since his adolescent days, but none of them had stolen his sanity the way this one did. It was one kiss!

  He’d meant to seduce but found himself surrendering to the passion growing between them. She wasn’t innocent, but he could tell she was learning as she went, taking everything he did, turning it back on him until he was no longer sure who was seducing whom. Sweet God, her mouth was made for kissing—and so much more.

  Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he stepped back. He took the glass from her hand. Carrying the drink, he led her to the stairs with his free hand on her ass. God, he loved firm women. He couldn’t wait to get her out of her dress. Her sundress looked like one of those no bra things—a marvel of modern technology if he’d ever seen one. One zipper then, if he was correct, she’d be naked.

  She remained silent as he set her drink on his nightstand then removed his clothes. He took good care of himself. Years of having to do so in order to play baseball had ingrained on his life. He worked out every morning as religiously as he showered and brushed his teeth. The gym wasn’t a fountain of youth, but it kept him lean, his muscles hard. Tonight, the hardest part of him sprang free as he shoved his boxers to his ankles. His dick wasn’t enormous, but he had plenty to offer. No one had ever complained and, from the look on Siobhan’s face, she was suitably impressed. At her age, she couldn’t have seen all that many, but still, her approval filled him with pride.

  “Can I,” she asked, reaching for him.

  “It’s all yours.” He thought she only wanted to touch him, but when she sat on the edge of the bed, motioning him forward, he knew better. She spread her legs. He stepped between them. His cock bobbed against her lips, sending shock waves of pleasure up his spine. She wrapped one hand around the base—reached for her whiskey glass with the other. He watched helplessly as she turned her head, tilted the tumbler to her lips, and drank.

  Her whiskey-soaked tongue swirled around the head of his dick, spreading liquid fire across the sensitive skin. He hissed at the jolt to his nervous system. It was all he could do to remain upright. Then she closed her lips over him, taking his cock in, one fiery inch at a time.

  “Christ almighty!” He fisted his hands in her hair. Holding on for dear life, he prayed he wouldn’t collapse. Her mouth was wicked, wet heat searing his flesh. Killing him. He was on fire inside and out. As she worked the length of his shaft, igniting flames then dowsing them with cool air over and over again, he clung to her for support. He should put a stop to it before she ruined him, but he couldn’t. Even if his life depended on it, he couldn’t.

  His dick popped free. For a second he thanked God he’d survived, but she’d only paused to take another drink. Holding his cock high, she dipped her head. Her tongue swiped across his balls. He saw stars. Before he could stop her, she swallowed his dick again. Her wicked tongue swirled around his girth. Her cheeks hollowed, applying the most devastating suction he’d ever felt. It was like someone strapped a jet pack to his genitals then lit the fuse. He rocketed straight to the stratosphere.

  He couldn’t stop from coming. His hips jerked. His testicles were fireballs burning through his groin. Cum jetted from him in a hot stream that scalded his insides and fried every synapse in his brain.

  Holy shit.

  Chapter Five

  Two months earlier - September 12th

  Siobhan dropped to the bed, her arms flung wide, Jake Tulleson on the floor between her legs. The back of his head rested against her aching pussy—a first for her. She could hear him breathing, so she knew he was alive. She’d read about the trick with the whiskey, somewhere, and had always wanted to try it, never believing it would produce such positive results.

  She licked her lips. Running her tongue around the inside of her mouth, she savored every last trace of his orgasm. For the first time in her limited sexual experience, she felt powerful. She wanted to tell the whole world of her triumph. She, little Siobhan Flannery, had knocked the knees out from under a real man. Despite Jake’s present state, he was all man—a seasoned veteran on the baseball field and in bed. Yet, he lay crumpled at her feet, panting as if he’d beat out a throw to third base for a stand-up triple.

  “You okay?” She reached down to run her fingers through his hair. In better lighting, indoors, she noticed more than a touch of gray throughout, but not a bald spot in sight. Like everyone in the Mustangs’ organization from the coaching staff on up, he wore his hair in a traditional cut, which, in her opinion, added to his sophisticated air.

  “Alive. Barely.” His deep voice was every bit as intoxicating as his excellent whiskey. Getting drunk on his words would be easy. Good thing he didn’t talk much.

  She rose up on her elbows as he shifted to his knees, facing her. Lord, he was handsome—and way out of her league. She attracted her fair share of nice-looking guys, but they’d all been baby-faced boys, playing at being men compared to Jake. Instead of making him look old, the lines on his face added character. Looking into his eyes, she got the feeling he’d experienced far more than anyone knew. There
were secrets buried beneath those blue lakes.

  Whatever those secrets were, they hadn’t prevented him from enjoying life. Laugh lines radiated from the corners of his eyes, highlighting the smile breaking across his face.

  “My turn. Take the dress off. I want to see you.”

  She lifted the flimsy garment over her head, dropping it to the floor. Her nipples tightened to hard peaks under his scrutiny.

  “Beautiful.” He weighed her breasts in his palms. His thumbs stroked the aching nubs, sending jolts of electricity to her pussy. She groaned, arching into his touch.

  Reaching for the glass on the nightstand, he brought it to his lips. He took a sip, swallowed then sipped again. He swirled the last around in his mouth before swallowing it down, too. She almost came off the bed when he sucked her left breast into his mouth. The whiskey burned, but it was his tongue igniting an entirely different fire that did her in. Wrapping her arms around his head, she held him fast.

  “Like that?” he asked, taking another swig from the glass.

  “Mmm.” Yes. Oh my God, yes.

  He gave the other breast the same thorough attention. Fire licked her insides, stealing her inhibitions. She moaned and writhed, holding his head close. When he released her nipple then sat back on his heels, she closed her eyes. A groan slipped past her lips.

  “Not done yet, sweetheart.”

  Thank God.

  His hands closed over her ankles, slid up to her knees. Slipping beneath her legs, he caressed the sensitive skin where her legs hinged. Applying insistent pressure, he lifted, spreading her thighs wide. She flung her hands behind her to keep from toppling over.

  When he fixed his gaze on her pussy, a thrill shot through her body. No one had ever looked at her the way he was—like he’d been wandering in the desert for a week and she was a fresh-water spring.

  “Don’t move.” He reached for the tumbler, filled his mouth with the fiery elixir. Clenching the comforter in both fists, she watched as he lowered his head between her legs. His open mouth pressed to her swollen flesh ignited a wildfire. Flames radiated from her core to the tips of her extremities.

  “Jake! Oh my God!”

  Collapsing onto the bed, she closed her eyes in order to focus inward. The man had skills. Whiskey, whiskers, and the flat of his tongue conspired to scramble what little sanity his teeth and lips didn’t obliterate. He knew things about her anatomy she didn’t. He knew when to be gentle, where being a bit rough would add an edge to her pleasure.

  Desperate for release, she arched her back in an effort to get closer to the source of the unrelenting pleasure. She would have closed her legs around him, trapped him to her, if he hadn’t held her legs in his iron grip. With each stroke of his tongue, each nip of his teeth, each caress of his lips, he wound the coil of tension inside her until she quivered like a bowstring drawn tight.

  “Please.” Her mouth formed the word, but she couldn’t be sure the sound passed her lips. Everything within her was tuned to one spot low in her abdomen where pain of denied pleasure threatened to consume her.

  Her plea might have reached his ears, she’d never know. Without breaking contact, he shoved her legs higher, tilting her ass in the air. He leaned into her, devouring her like she was the last thing he’d taste on earth. Sounds vibrated through his lips to her pussy, words she couldn’t comprehend.

  She stilled—a moment frozen in time as if her body stood on a precipice between two equal chasms. On one side was death. On the other, life so brilliant it blinded. For a heartbeat, she hovered over the crater of death. He moved his mouth against her. She felt rather than heard his command. Come.

  So simple. So pure. So right. His voice tugged at her consciousness. She swayed away from death toward the brilliance of life. The lock imprisoning her pleasure snapped. She was free-falling toward the light. Pleasure so sharp it wounded, wracked her body.

  Tears of joy spilled from her eyes as wave after wave of ecstasy carried her on invisible currents.

  She was safe. Strong arms held her, protected her from crashing to the bottom. As the first headlong rush eased to a gentle soaring, she dared to open her eyes.

  “Jake,” she breathed.

  He smiled down at her—a beautiful, triumphant smile she answered with a weak one of her own.

  “You are so damn beautiful.”

  She was mush. A big puddle of sexually satisfied goo. He lifted her easily, sliding her up on the bed. In a moment, he sheathed himself. He moved over her, his cock stretching her, filling her, completing her.

  When he was as deep as he could go, he paused, looking down at her. His eyes mirrored everything she felt. Wonder. Lust. Fear. Love.

  He began to move inside her. His eyelids dropped, denying the feelings she’d seen so clearly in his eyes. Her pussy grasped at his cock in a vain attempt to bind him to her. He wouldn’t be imprisoned. Retreating then thrusting hard, he repeatedly dared her to claim him.

  Her heart cried out for its answering beat, though she could hear it, there was no answer. He’d shuttered himself away from her.

  Relentlessly, his body demanded a response from hers. As much as she wanted to scream, to plead for him to give as much as he was asking, she was powerless when it came to her own body. He demanded she give him all. She gave him everything. She gave her body, her heart, her soul.

  Her second orgasm was nothing the first one had been. Instead of feeling loved and cherished like before, this time she felt alone and forsaken.

  As he took his own pleasure from her, tears came again—not for her loss, but for his. She’d glimpsed what could be between them. She was ready to embrace it, would have walked into the future with him without any doubts, but he’d shut that door with an unshakable finality.

  When the last shudders of his orgasm subsided, she shoved against his shoulders until he rolled away from her. She ran to the adjoining bathroom. Slamming the door, she sank to the floor—a trembling mass of misery.

  Chapter Six

  Present - Thanksgiving Day

  “You okay?” Her brother’s deep voice nearby brought her back to reality.

  Siobhan nodded, scooting over on the sofa so there would be room for him, too. She would rather barricade herself in the small pool house out back of Bentley Randolph’s house than sit on the man’s sofa and pretend to be cheerful. Sean, however, had all but dragged her across the backyard earlier.

  “I’m fine.” Only an idiot would have believed her sincere. “Is it too early for me to go back to my place?”

  Sean covered her clasped hands with one of his. “Don’t you want to spend Thanksgiving with family?”

  Since they hadn’t invited Sean, she’d turned down the invitation from her and Sean’s blood family in order to spend the holiday with her brother’s new family, whom, by extension, were hers, too. Not everyone in attendance knew about or understood the unorthodox relationship he shared with Bentley and Ashley, but none questioned the quirky dynamic either. For that, she was thankful.

  “You know I do. But it’s not easy being around all these cheerful people.”

  The guests consisted of a few of Bent and Ashley’s relatives mixed with some co-workers Sean and Ashley knew from the TV network where they both worked. Her brother looked relaxed, but she could see the unease in his eyes. They all walked a fine line—trying to appear to be casual friends when in fact the three of them shared a bed. Today’s gathering was a test of sorts for them to see if they could pull it off. She was certain they could, if they would all relax, quit looking as if they were guilty of something.

  “Cheerful? Do I look cheerful to you? If Bentley gets any more cheerful, the stick he has up his ass is going to snap in two.”

  “Shh!” She ducked her head to conceal her laughter. “I don’t think your guests have noticed, so don’t bring it to their attention.”

  “I don’t see how they could miss the tension.” He turned to look at her. “Please, don’t leave me here alone with these people.”
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br />   The exaggerated pleading expression on his face lightened her mood. Chuckling, she shook her head. “Since you put it that way…I’ll stay.”

  He patted her hand then stood to smile down at her. “Cowboys are on. Want to come into the den to watch the game?”

  “I will in a minute. I’ve been sitting here feeling sorry for myself long enough. I should go see if I can help in the kitchen.”

  She found Ashley alone in the kitchen “Where did everyone go?”

  “To watch the game, I think.” She glanced up from stirring the contents of the big bowl in front of her. “Why aren’t you in there?”

  Siobhan shrugged. “I came to see if you needed any help, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  Her hostess dropped the spoon in the bowl before reaching for a towel. “I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you, too.” She wiped her hands clean as she crossed to the fridge. Pulling two plastic bottles from the massive Sub-Zero unit, she held one out to Siobhan.

  “Water?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  Ashley claimed the stool next to hers.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Her friend took a long drink from her water bottle. Setting it aside, her hostess turned to face her. “I wanted to thank you for stepping into my shoes for the Crystal Ball. I’m up to my eyeballs with events to plan. Having that one off my list of worries is a godsend.”

  Siobhan swallowed the words she wanted to say. No matter how messed up her life was, the genuine gratitude on her friend’s face prevented her from dumping her emotional baggage the way she’d planned. “No worries. You did most of the work. All I have to do is follow up on a few things.”

  Deep lines formed between Ashley’s eyebrows. “You aren’t mad at me?”

  She was, but there was no use holding onto the feeling. Her intentions had been pure, if not misguided. “No. But, it’s not going to work. Jake and I are through.”