Driven to Distraction

by Olivia Dade

  17

  “God, love. You’re so fucking pretty.” Sam looked up in time to catch Con’s expression. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Constance Marie. How many pussies have you seen up close over the years?”

  She smirked, rearranging the pillow beneath her head. All very casual, if you didn’t notice the rosy flush dappling her golden skin, her tight brown nipples, or the way she kept squirming. Just a little bit. Just enough to reveal how much she wanted his mouth on her.

  Of course, she wouldn’t be Con if she didn’t pretend indifference. At least until she couldn’t stand the charade anymore. “Wouldn’t you be surprised if I said ten? Or twenty?”

  “Surprised? Hell, I’d be delighted.” Dipping his head between her legs again, he nuzzled her puff of dark hair. “And I’d demand details.”

  Another eye-roll. “Of course you would. Sadly, I have no details to give. I’ve never gotten an intimate view of anyone’s vagina. Including my own, despite how much pleasure it’s brought me over the years.”

  He kissed the faint line where her thigh met her mound. “So you’ll have to trust me when I say your pussy is exemplary. Beyond gorgeous.”

  “Really?” Con propped herself up on her elbows, her hair swirling around her shoulders. “Does it smell good? Does it taste good?”

  “Yeah. Definitely.” With a single finger, he stroked along the center seam of her sex.

  She flopped back down. “Then stop being lazy. Eat it.”

  He grinned and spread her open, obediently licking a slow circle around her clit. Con’s impatience, as always, turned him on like he couldn’t believe. Maybe because when she wanted him badly enough, she dropped any semblance of nonchalance and revealed raw need. The same sort of raw need that clawed through him every time they touched.

  He fluttered his tongue against her clit, then sucked it gently inside his mouth. She raised her hips and moaned, her body shifting restlessly until he slid his arms under her thighs and held her in place for his mouth. Although she’d have denied it until her dying breath, she loved being restrained. Controlled, all responsibilities gone. Free, if only for a few moments and under rare circumstances.

  And when he went down on her, she loved being stroked inside her pussy at the same time. So he disentangled one hand, sank two fingers into her slippery heat, and began to fuck her with them. Her hips immediately bucked in his hold, and her entire body tightened.

  Good. She was close.

  He hummed against her clit and rubbed it with his tongue until she was clutching his hair. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and he gloried in the sound. In the feel of her slick desire, the smell of it. The tart, salty taste of her sex. The chance to prove himself to her once more.

  Her short nails pricked at his scalp. And when he sucked her stiff little clit into his mouth again, he slid a third finger inside her, filling her the way she liked.

  “Sam!” On a broken gasp of his name, she came hard, her pussy milking his fingers and twitching against his mouth. She pressed herself to his face and ground out every last ounce of pleasure, moaning long and low.

  That was what he loved. Giving her what she needed and watching her fly apart.

  Even as the rhythmic contractions slowed, she continued to breathe hard and clutch him close. With gentle flicks of his tongue, he eased her through the rest of her orgasm until she lay limp and sweaty on his mattress. Then he simply rested his head on her flat stomach, stroked every bit of her flesh within reach, and waited.

  She’d let him know when she was ready to fuck. Con was nothing if not direct.

  Every time she splayed herself wide for his mouth, triumph still pumped through his veins. Every time, he wanted to make it good for her. Better than anything she’d ever experienced. So good she’d forget all her doubts, all her fears, all those other men she’d fucked and left, and remember only him. How wet he got her. How hard and often she came when he ate her.

  They’d been dating for three months now. After two weeks as his girlfriend, she'd claimed him publicly at his hockey game. But she’d only let him go down on her a month ago. Not because she was embarrassed or shy, he knew. Because it was intimate. Really, genuinely intimate. It also put her in a vulnerable position, which she hated.

  But she didn’t hate the way his lips, his teeth, and his tongue made her feel.

  And no matter how hard she came, she was always raring to go after a minute or two of recovery time. Even if he hadn’t relished eating her out—which he did, wholeheartedly—he’d have considered the time and effort a good investment.

  An investment that paid dividends almost immediately, as he’d expected. After a languid, satisfied stretch, Con slipped out from under him and nudged him onto his back. Then she crawled between his legs and took him so deep in her throat he had to bite back a shout.

  She licked and sucked and pumped him in her strong grip, working him with such skill he literally saw stars behind his eyelids. But before she could make him come, he eased himself free and pulled her upward, claiming an open-mouthed kiss that went on and on until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Panting, he laid back and rubbed his thumbs over her tight nipples.

  Pleased at her broken whimper and the way she began to grind her pussy against his abdomen, he smiled despite his raging, needy prick. “How do you want it?”

  “Your cock?” She’d clearly been practicing, because she raised a single eyebrow just like he sometimes did. “Hard. Deep. Inside me.”

  He took a shuddering breath. “Yes. Obviously. But do you want on top or not?”

  She could be touchy about the issue. For the first couple months they’d dated, she’d pretty much only allowed girl-on-top or doggy-style fucking. No missionary-position sex. Ever. He wasn’t entirely sure why, although he had his suspicions. And he hadn’t argued, given how much he enjoyed whatever position she chose.

  Recently, though, she’d started tugging him on top of her every so often when they made love. Unlike their first time together, she even let him stay there until they each came, face-to-face and kissing. Intimate. Undeniably intimate.

  But right now, she was looking down at him with the fierce pride of a conquering Amazon, and he was sure she wanted control. Of him, her own pleasure, and their lovemaking.

  Then, to his surprise, she said, “You on top.”

  So he flipped them over in one swift move, which he knew excited her. And when he settled between her spread thighs, her wet heat nearly seared his cock. His naked cock.

  It still stunned him every time he thought about it. A week ago, they’d presented each other with disease-free test results. Con had donated their remaining condoms to Grant—for reasons Sam really didn’t want to understand—and then they’d started fucking bare.

  He’d never trusted a woman enough to forego condoms before. But the night of the wedding, Con had said birth control wasn’t an issue, and he believed her. No discussion necessary. She wasn’t the sort of person who’d risk pregnancy because of carelessness.

  Still, the first time they’d had sex skin-to-skin, he’d paused right before penetration. “This is a risk you’re willing to take?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she’d said, giving him an odd look and an impatient smack on his butt. “But it’s not really much of a risk, is it?”

  He had to agree. Disease wasn’t a concern, and they could deal with an accidental pregnancy if Con’s birth control failed.

  And maybe once they’d been a couple for a while, once she knew for sure he’d never become a burden to her, once he’d convinced her to wear his ring and become his wife, they could talk about children conceived by choice. But for now, he was just grateful that she’d given him a chance. That she allowed him closer with every day and night they spent together.

  He pushed inside her tight pussy slowly, making sure she felt every inch of him stretching her wide and sliding deep. For once, she didn’t try to set the tempo. Didn’t urge him to go faster and drive them
both to a quick, sharp orgasm. She seemed content to wrap her legs around his hips, stroke his back, and arch to meet him. At long last, he bottomed out inside her, and she moaned at the sensation.

  Moving over her with steady deliberation, he sought her mouth in a leisurely, tongue-tangling kiss. His pace controlled, he withdrew to the head of his cock and then sank deep again and again. For long minutes, until she wrenched her mouth from his and began to toss her head.

  She still didn’t snap at him, claw at his back, or slap his ass to spur his pace. All of which excited him, sure, but this… This was a Con he’d never seen before. A woman entrusting her pleasure to her lover’s hands and body. Relinquishing control with total faith he’d get her there and make it good.

  Levering himself up on one arm, he reached between her legs with his free hand. Her clit, so swollen and sensitive under his fingers, had turned slick with her arousal. Easy to circle. Easy to rub. Easy to tease.

  She didn’t push his hand away, just clutched his shoulders and whimpered with every wet slide of his cock in her sex, every gentle press of his fingertips on her clit. And when she finally came, her pussy quivered around him in rapid contractions that went on and on. Her head thrown back on the pillow, she whispered his name and shook beneath him for so long he started worrying.

  But then she opened her eyes, and there was no pain or sadness in them. Only satiety and happiness, along with something else he’d never seen there before.

  His body bucked in an all-consuming orgasm. He buried his face in her neck, pushed his cock deep, and choked out a triumphant cry.

  For minutes afterward, he couldn’t seem to move. He must have gotten heavy on top of her, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she kept trailing her hands up and down his back with clear affection. Almost…lovingly.

  Love. That was what he’d seen in Con’s dark gaze.

  Maybe he was fooling himself. But he didn’t think so.

  “Con?”

  “Hmm?” She sounded sleepy and content.

  Bracing himself, he broached a topic that might make her panic. But it also might tell him what he needed to know. “We spend every night together. From the moment we leave work until the moment we drive back to the library. Most days, we carpool.”

  “I noticed.” Unlike the last occasion when he’d pointed out their amount of togetherness time, the night she’d agreed to date him, her body didn’t grow tense. It remained lax and trusting beneath his, her breathing even.

  “And we’re together every weekend. Day and night.”

  “Yup.” Still no tension. And when he shifted to her side and pulled her close, she didn’t resist. Instead, she slung an arm over his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “You gave me a key to your house a month ago, and you’ve had a key to mine for longer than that.”

  She yawned and hitched one shoulder. “Um, yeah. I was there, Wolcott. What’s your—”

  “My clothes are hanging in your closet. Your sweaters, tees, and jeans are in three of my dresser drawers. We both doubled up our toiletries so we’d have what we needed in each house.”

  Raising her head, she blinked at him. But there wasn’t a trace of fear in her eyes. Only a healthy amount of sleepy annoyance. “What is this? State the Obvious Day? Jesus, Sam. I’m trying to take a little post-coital nap. Work with me here.”

  “Have I made your life better? Easier? Happier?”

  He knew the honest answer. Not because he was cocky or took her for granted, but because he worked at it. Hard. He worked at lifting her burdens. He worked at bringing her pleasure, both in bed and out. He worked at giving her the time and space she needed for her happiness and for their relationship.

  When her siblings called, he evaluated the situation and determined whether he could provide emotional or practical support. So he was now pretty familiar with Pru’s grad school woes, Christian’s seeming inability to pay his car loan on time, and Chas’s way-too-generous credit limit on her MasterCard. He’d helped research gynecologists in San Diego. One of the tow truck companies out there knew him by name. And the registrar at Pru’s university had, according to her, put him on her Christmas card list.

  Con always had a beer waiting for her in the fridge when she got home from the library. If she worked later than he did, he made certain she had dinner waiting for her too. Usually dinner including fried potatoes of some sort, since crispy spuds put her in a very, very good mood. A very, very good mood that she often communicated via enthusiastic blowjobs.

  The two of them didn’t have stupid fights anymore. Not about her Bookmobile equipment, the Department of the Year contest, or anything else. If they disagreed, they worked it out through calm conversation or in bed.

  Her migraines had almost entirely disappeared, and he hadn’t seen her thump her forehead against a wall in weeks.

  His doing. Not a boast. Fact.

  He worked his ass off for the woman he loved, and it brought him more joy than she probably understood. He didn’t resent the work. He got off on it. And he made sure Con did too.

  But the question remained: Could she acknowledge the reality of their lives together without panicking? Had she relaxed her guard enough to allow him even closer?

  She’d sat up in bed beside him. And when she answered his question, she didn’t sound sleepy anymore. “You want to know whether you make my life better?” Her fingers trailed through his beard and tugged lightly. Ducking her head, she pressed a sweet, lingering kiss on his mouth. “Yes. In every way, Sam.”

  She gave him that reassurance without hesitation. Without hiding the softness in her gaze or the affectionate smile on her pretty, talented mouth.

  Which meant he found the courage to push her harder. “So do we really need two houses anymore?”

  She shrugged, her lips pursed briefly in thought. “Probably not. But you’re moving in with me, Wolcott. I like your place, but I’m not abandoning my garden.”

  Then she flopped back down on his chest and appeared to fall asleep within seconds, completely unbothered by their conversation.

  And that’s when he knew for sure. She loved him. She hadn’t said the words yet, but she would. Probably sooner rather than later.

  His heart thumped so hard and raced so fast he was sure he’d wake her. But she didn’t stir, not even when he thrust his arms above his head in triumph, à la Rocky.

  She loved him. He loved her. They would be living in the same house soon. And there was nothing holding them back from a long, happy life together. Nothing holding them back from marriage, once she grew comfortable with the idea. Nothing holding them back from having kids when they were ready.

  He already knew she’d make an amazing mother. He’d watched her deal with her siblings for months now, and he remembered her ease with the children who visited the Bookmobile. His own parenting skills were more suspect, but he’d learn how to be a good father. Willingly. Joyfully.

  He was going to have a family again. Oh, fuck, a big family he could call his. His most painful, intimate wish, coming true at long last because of the woman in his arms.

  Con would need time to come to terms with all of it. But she’d get there. He knew it. And once she did, he’d be waiting.

  18

  Sam was tilling Con’s raised garden beds in a faded flannel shirt and a ragged pair of jeans, a mask on his face as he guided the loud, smoke-belching machine over as much of the surface as possible. The two of them already dumped several loads of compost in the beds beforehand, so the tilling process was mixing the old dirt with new, rich soil in preparation for her spring planting.

  She was grateful as hell for his help today. The cough she couldn’t seem to shake had been keeping her up at night, and she was feeling tired. Exhausted, actually. Her joints and bones ached with it. And although he didn’t complain, she knew she was interrupting his sleep too. So if she couldn’t get rid of the cough in another day or two, she was going to have to vi
sit her doctor for the first time in years. For both their sakes.

  But not this morning. This morning would be spent outdoors, next to her favorite man in the world, rather than in a dreary, stuffy doctor’s office. If the cold breeze made her shiver, she could simply cuddle up against Sam.

  She stifled a cough behind her fist and surveyed the handful of packets in her right hand, shaking them to hear the shushing, rattling sound she loved. The two of them had chosen every one of those seeds together. Sugar snap and snow peas because she liked the way she could eat them raw. Romaine and butterhead lettuce because he—unlike her—enjoyed the occasional salad. A panoply of other herbs and vegetables that appealed to one or both of them.

  In the past, she’d always ignored anyone else’s opinions about what she should buy each year. Especially since she knew she was the only one who’d till, sow, weed, and harvest the plants she grew. But this year, Sam would help. He’d said he would, and he always kept his promises.

  And he was going to move in with her soon. This garden had become theirs, not just hers. So if he wanted to plant fava beans, fine. She knew he’d provide backup as she dealt with the inevitable swarm of aphids. If he wanted to grow carrots, no problem. She’d never had much success with them in the past, but that didn’t bother her. If carrot seeds made him happy, she’d order them without an argument and gladly work alongside him in the crisp air of early spring.

  He’d studied how much space each plant needed and plotted out a little grid on his computer to guide their efforts. Normally, she’d have hand-drawn a map, which took her hours and multiple drafts as she ran out of room too early or forgot one of her crops. His method was so much easier, she could hardly believe it.

  But she did believe it. At this point, she believed he could do just about anything.

  He could make her intractable migraines vanish, until she only suffered one headache every month, at the tail end of her period.

  He could assist her with her siblings. So effectively that she no longer dreaded their calls, and they'd begun to remark on how much more relaxed she sounded.