Getting Laid

by Vonna Harper

  But what if the only thing he had in mind was walking her home?

  No, couldn’t be. He’d left the Stagecoach, with her, before having dinner.

  Then what were they doing?

  “This used to be a pretty wild town,” she said as her-his house came into view. “Founded in the wake of a less-than-spectacular gold discovery. Some claim jumping and a serious lack of law enforcement. There were problems with the Native Americans, who lost. No real battles, just a lot of people carrying weapons.”

  “Have you ever been gold mining?”

  “A few times, for fun. Obviously, I didn’t have much success, or I wouldn’t still be working eight to five.”

  They were standing just outside her requisite white picket fence when he spun her toward him, caught her wrists and turned them so he could look at her hands. He ran his index finger over her palms. “No calluses.”

  Distracted by the shiver charging down her spine, she twisted free and took hold of his right wrist. Instead of repeating what he’d done, she brought his hand to her mouth and traced his palm with her tongue. She couldn’t believe what she was doing, couldn’t make herself stop. Fresh shivers, most of them feeding off the one at the base of her spine, slid down the backs of her legs.

  “What’d you find with that exploration of yours?” he asked. He was closer than she remembered, taking over and insulating her from the rest of the world.

  “That your palm’s rougher than mine,” she said, the shivers making her bold and the flame in her belly ratcheting up her hunger. “But it isn’t a workman’s hand.”

  “That’s something I want to change. To be proud of what I accomplish physically instead of hiring others to do my work.”

  She knew so little about him. Her body didn’t care about what lay beneath the surface, but if the night was going to turn out the way she prayed it would, she’d learn about more than the external package.

  “That’s why you bought a place in need of a lot of TLC? So you could see what you were capable of?”

  “That, among other reasons.”

  Her hands now pressed against his chest and his hands were around her waist. She needed his fingers on her buttocks, cupping her ass, dragging her against his erection. Damn, she needed so many things. All of them coming from him.

  “Call it a midlife crisis,” he muttered.

  “You’re too young for a midlife crisis.”

  “I haven’t felt young for a long time.”

  She didn’t want anything that complicated, but if he needed to talk, she’d listen. Later. After.

  “I’m going to invite you in.” It was her turn to mumble.

  “I hoped you would.”

  “And not just that.” Much as she wanted to elaborate, the words fell apart before she could say them. Despite the tantalizing mental images she’d spun out, she wasn’t a soiled dove. This wasn’t about earning a living on her back. And yet, wasn’t she about to haul this man she’d just met into her bedroom? Unless he turned tail and ran—

  “Do you want to lay it all out on the table?” he asked. “Or should we just see how this plays out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know any more than you do, Lisi. Except that I want you.”

  He wanted her, just like that. Clean and clear and uncomplicated. She tipped her head up and all but closed her eyes. When her lips encountered his, she increased the initial whisper-touch. She was more than a little dizzy, glad she had his strength to hold on to.

  She’d wanted him to grope her ass, but now she was glad his hands were on her waist, because the neighbors might be watching, rubbing their eyes and picking up their phones to pass on the gossip. Even more important, her triggers were being pressed to the firing point.

  “We’d better go inside,” she muttered.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” he said and helped her ease back onto the balls of her feet. “This is happening damn fast.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Chapter Five

  The first time he’d stepped into the house, Joe had tried to concentrate on it. Now he gave the structure no thought beyond being glad Lisi had left the windows open and the living room fan going. Otherwise, between the lack of air conditioning and what was taking place inside him, he might combust.

  He’d meant what he’d said about things going fast between them, but even as the sensation of being caught in a raging river rushed at him, he didn’t want anything to change. Years of making his mark on the world no longer mattered. Only Lisi and tonight did.

  She was quicksilver, a lightning rod. Sex on a stick.

  The sound of the door closing behind him saved him from trying to plaster more of a label on her. She stood in shadow, surrounded by clues and cues to her life, but none of those things mattered. He’d discovered the opposite sex somewhere in the middle of his fifteenth year but hadn’t found the opportunity to lose his virginity until the week he’d turned seventeen. The next few years had been punctuated by what had seemed like a perpetual hard-on, but, thank goodness, he’d eventually learned how to put sex into perspective. Yeah, he liked sex—loved it, in fact. He’d also learned that there was more to a satisfying encounter than ramming tab A into slot B. There was sensation, the senses, emotion. Heart.

  As for tonight, hell, he had no idea where the line between physical and emotional lay. He wanted to strip Lisi down to the essentials, fast. Put an end to the awful-wonderful ache in his cock, fast. He also wanted to eventually determine why she was having this impact on him.

  Something about her stance plowed into his tangled mind and body, causing him to give her a long stare. Her laced hands rested on her barely-there belly. She’d cocked her head to the side and back a bit, making her look as if she couldn’t decide whether to stay or flee. She couldn’t be afraid of him. Maybe she was no more in control of what she was feeling than he was.

  There might be a way to put an end to the push-pull, to stop the over-thinking. Praying his next move wouldn’t spook both of them, he touched the pulse at her throat. Although she reared back a bit, she stood her ground.

  His confidence growing, he slid his hand around to the back of her neck and drew her closer. She took a step, just a single step, but it was enough to bring her into contact with his erection. She lowered her gaze in what he hoped was approval of his offering.

  Sorry. Some things I have no control over, he debated telling her. But she wouldn’t have left the restaurant with him if she hadn’t wanted this to happen, right? His mouth dried. He hadn’t been this unsure around a woman in years. Fortunately, thanks to his advanced age, he had a body of knowledge to draw on, buried somewhere deep in his brain.

  Women liked foreplay. He’d give foreplay. At least he would until he reached the point of no return.

  Which threatened to be sooner rather than later.

  Giving her a confident smile he didn’t feel, he embraced her and went after her mouth. She gripped his neck and her pelvis tipped toward him. This kiss was private, no neighbors watching. Grateful for the walls between them and the rest of the world, he moved from tentative exploration to bruising urgency. Hell, he had no choice. Even as he took his taste of the wine she’d drunk, his mind and body jumped ahead.

  She was no unsure girl who might bolt, no wife bringing her burdens to the marriage bed. Instead, Lisi was a woman in search of sex, right? Hopefully right. She’d found a man willing to provide same. End of discussion.

  Her lips, ah, soft, so wonderfully soft. Her arms around his neck spoke of trust and willingness, hopefully. Maybe most of all, they were together, his cock nestled against her warm flesh.

  Widening his stance allowed him to position his legs outside hers while keeping certain vital contacts going. He slid one arm along her back below her shoulder blades, grasped her hair, and drew her head back so she was arched beneath him. She held onto his neck to keep from losing her balance. He loved controlling her this way, feeling in command for the first time since
their meeting. When he was certain he was in no danger of dropping her, he went after her chin, cheeks, ears, even her throat, sometimes bathing her sweet flesh, sometimes nibbling while she squirmed and whimpered.

  Yes, he was in charge, briefly. Melting her while deluding himself into half-believing the same wasn’t happening to him. She was becoming putty in his hands, malleable and incapable of resisting. Bit by bit he’d turn her into a sex-crazed animal, a nymph. She couldn’t possibly resist him. Whatever he wanted her to do she would, willingly, sighing and moaning as she knelt before him, offered her breasts up to him, spread her ass cheeks so he could—

  Ah! My back!

  Hissing against the sharp pain, he straightened then drew her upright.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Damn it, he wasn’t going to rub his back, he wasn’t!

  “You’re hurting.” Her gaze intense, she slid a hand under his shirt and ran her fingers over his chest hairs. “Let’s see, is this where it hurts?”

  “No, but nice distraction.” Even with sparks lighting up his chest, laughter demanded freedom. “Let’s just say I’m not the young buck I used to be.”

  “And neither am I a sweet young thing.” She pressed her free hand against the small of her back. “I didn’t know how much more I could take.”

  “That’s what I get for having a mostly desk job,” he said.

  Her nervous yet sultry gaze fastened on him, she turned her attention to his shirt buttons. “If you’re really ready for…”

  “I am. I am!”

  “Good. Now to see if I can pull it off.”

  After making short work of the buttons, she drew the shirt out of his waistband, exposing his chest. Her pupils darker than they’d been moments ago, she ran her fingertips over his collarbone and from there to the valley between his chest muscles. Breathing through flared nostrils helped, but much more and he’d be begging her to quit—either that or take her right here in the living room.

  “This isn’t a desk jockey’s body,” she observed, her tone husky. “At least what I’ve examined so far isn’t.”

  “I work out.”

  “So I notice.” She swallowed. “However, I need to conduct a complete evaluation before I feel qualified to comment on your physical condition. I, ah, trust you don’t have objections.”

  Picking up on the teasing note, he nodded. “So far I have no complaints. However, until I’ve experienced the evaluation you’re proposing, I can’t comment on its thoroughness.”

  “Point taken. So, sir, are you willing to let me begin?”

  Something in her manner told him she was keeping to a light tone in hopes of not revealing how nervous she was. “Begin,” he said. “If I feel the need to take notes, I’ll let you know.”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that will be necessary. I intend to have your full attention.” That said, she lowered her gaze. Her fingers shook a little as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. After taking hold of the sleeves, she toweled his back down to his waist. She wasn’t touching him. Just the same, it took no imagination to mentally switch whatever the shirt was made with for her fingers. Between that and the friction, his core temperature continued to rise.

  After lightly abrading his waist, she maneuvered the shirt even lower, until it cupped his buttocks. Then she drew him toward her, shaking her head when he tried to rest his hands on her shoulders. Not sure what to do with his arms, he settled for holding them out and at the ready.

  Still not looking at him, she dropped the shirt and tackled the slacks’ fastening. The zipper screamed in the otherwise silent room. As the sound died, he thought back to when Neil Diamond had played backdrop to their meeting. Thanks, Diamond.

  A tugging at his hips brought him back to dangerous reality. Another inch of the disrobing and his cock would pop free. “You’re sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

  “Not really. Do you?”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  He was wrong, Lisi thought. Granted, he was standing there like some gifted Greek god waiting for her to make the next move, but she wouldn’t be trying to figure out how and why to strip him naked if he hadn’t just manhandled her.

  Seduction was the man’s job, wasn’t it? Women were supposed to play hard to get, or if not that, be circumspect, respectful and coy. They teased with a look or word, a certain movement, a bit of cleavage, tight clothes. Men did the undressing, the stroking, at least initially.

  Hell, where were the rules?

  Propelled by a mix of the storm in her belly and his hot, hard body, she gathered strength around her. Eyes still downcast, she drew his slacks this way and that until they were past his hips. No matter how much she tried to concentrate on her task, her gaze latched on to what she’d revealed. Okay, so his shorts still covered the jewels. That didn’t mean she couldn’t and wouldn’t give imagination free rein until, in her mind and maybe elsewhere, she was looking at flesh and blood. At what tonight was about.

  Pins and needles attacked her fingers, compelling her to release his slacks and rub her hands together.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “A little priming of the pump maybe?”

  Her pump was already primed, thank you very much. In truth, it wouldn’t take much for a gusher to—

  Somehow, she was on her knees. At least she no longer had to worry about toppling over. Wondering who, if anyone, was in charge of her system, she rubbed her cheek against the cotton-enclosed mound. Then, shaking more than a little, she breathed in his essence. Jeez, things are going fast.

  After a moment, she drew his slacks down around his ankles. Only then did she realize neither of them could finish the job until his shoes were gone. She untied them, then, baffled about what to do next, rocked back on her heels.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  Fighting shyness, she complied. He seemed incredibly tall, a tree of strength.

  “Now,” he continued, “finish what you began.”

  “I’m, ah, a bit stymied.”

  “Then watch as I demonstrate.” Using the top of her head for balance, he kicked off his shoes then peeled off his socks. Although he could have dispensed with his slacks at the same time, he turned that chore into a separate, slow act that floated her teeth.

  Only his briefs remained.

  She was trying to figure out what to do when he cupped a hand under her chin. “Your turn.”

  Oozing into his touch, she pondered the complexity behind his command. Finally, she hit upon tackling her blouse buttons. He did nothing to help, but at least he wasn’t laughing at her, or if he was, he knew to keep his amusement to himself.

  “Stand up,” he ordered.

  She tried to obey, she really did, but her legs had gone numb. Maybe he knew, because he gave her a hand up. Instead of freeing her, he drew her to him, her bra-sheathed breasts pressing against his naked chest. For a moment, there was nothing except his hands on her back and being slightly off-balance. Then he gently pushed her away, took hold of the semi-sheer bright yellow blouse she nearly hadn’t had the courage to wear and stripped it off her. It floated to the floor near his slacks.

  “Now finish the job.”

  Her head buzzed. She couldn’t get in touch with her body, and her mind wasn’t working. Wishing he’d point out the necessary steps, she reached behind her for the bra fastening. Her breasts were ordinary, nothing worthy of headlines. But with his gaze unflinching on them, she took pride in revealing nature’s design. She did so slowly, a strip tease that called for drawing one strap at a time off her shoulders. She kept the cups in place for as long as possible then tossed the bra away.

  His nostrils flared and his fingers clenched. “Beautiful.”

  Swallowing repeatedly, she accepted the compliment by cradling her breasts and drawing them upward. Touch them, she said without words.

  He stepped toward her—that was all, a simple step. Then sud
denly she was in his arms and he was carrying her to the couch. After standing her on her feet in front of it, he nearly popped the button on her shorts while attacking them. “Gotta work on my technique,” he muttered when he was done. “I’m rusty.”

  Later she’d ask about his sexual experiences, maybe. For now, she had all she could do to keep her feet under her while he slid the white garment down her hips. There was no need for him to run his nails over her newly exposed flesh, none at all. Neither did he need to pause in the disrobing and massage her hips through her panties, but he did. She ground her sandals into the carpeting. He was toying with her sanity, turning the tables so whatever command of the situation she’d tried to convince herself she had no longer existed.

  Not that she wanted it any other way.

  Now he was on his knees, unfastening her sandals and running his hands up her legs until, gasping, she tried to backpedal. “No, Lisi, nothing except going forward with this.”

  “You’re driving me crazy.” She fisted his hair and tugged.

  “We’re both crazy or we wouldn’t be doing this.”

  Should she simply agree? Maybe sanity hinged on keeping some small parcel of herself separate from him. Before she could decide what to do, he pressed his mouth against her belly and expelled a long, hot breath.

  Whining like some wild thing, she struggled to remain in place. He helped by gripping her buttocks and anchoring her. Incapable of thinking beyond his hands and mouth, she continued to pull on his hair. He responded by raking his teeth over her belly. She whined again. Then a harsh whimper broke free.

  “Good,” he muttered with his mouth against her panties. “I love hearing that.”

  “I can’t…help…myself.”

  Her shorts were down around her knees, her paper-thin panties dampened by his breath. After releasing him, she yanked her hair with both hands, and when that failed to quiet the storm, she pressed her hands to her breasts and stared at the ceiling.

  A quick tug on his part lowered her panties. Before she could prepare, he laved her exposed belly. Panting, she roughly massaged her breasts. He ran his hands over the backs of her thighs. His nails occasionally raked flesh that quivered with each touch.