Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “Go on,” he urged. “Tell me everything.”

  “We were invited to a party one of his friends was giving. There was lots of liquor, lots of bragging. More girlfriends than there were wives, lots of hooking up with no commitment. I was horrified, and bored stiff, trying to hide it. I was trying to be a good wife, you know? Because that was what I thought I was supposed to do, and a good, dutiful wife helps an air force officer’s career – which, I realized later was why he’d married me. A stable, boring high school government teacher who was twenty pounds overweight was just what he needed. Apparently, he planned to have girlfriends on the side for the hot sex he wasn’t getting from me.”

  She paused again, drew in a breath, tried to deal with the memory. “I went inside to find a bathroom. When I came out I heard him in the living room. I started to go join him because that’s what a good wife does, but I heard him talking about some woman he’d been with, how she was unresponsive like a dead fish. That was the phrase he used. Dead fish. He kept talking and after a minute I realized he was talking about me! His wife. I was nothing more than a not so good lay to him.”

  “Bastard!” Aaron said between his teeth.

  ”I walked out of that party and went to my parents’ house. I never told them exactly what happened. Because of that, I think they blamed me for what had happened, thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. I was too embarrassed to tell them the truth. I never told anyone until tonight.” She looked up, met his eyes in the moonlight. “Until you.”

  “You said he crashed,” Aaron prompted. She knew he wanted to hear all of the story. And she wanted to tell it so she would never have to tell it again.

  “A week later. I heard rumors that he was upset that I’d left him, wasn’t paying attention to his aircraft, but I knew that wasn’t true. He was showing off, letting his bad judgment overcome his talent. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “I’m glad you realize that.”

  She tilted her head back and focused on him. “It took me a while, but I came to terms with it. I thought I wanted excitement, but what I wanted was love, stability.”

  She couldn’t go on. What she’d wanted was him, Aaron al-Rashid, the man who had stolen her heart when she was only sixteen.

  “He was a fool, Rebecca. He was an immature boy who didn’t recognize the woman you were. But I’m glad because he missed the opportunity to teach you about love, about pleasure.”

  Aaron pulled away, withdrew from her. She reached for him. He settled his mouth over hers, kissing her long and slow.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. There’s so much more I want to teach you.”

  Becca hooked her arms around his neck, offered her lips for his kiss. “I’m ready to learn.” She whispered into his ear. “Do you think you could do that thing we saw on the fifth panel? The one where they’re sitting up, they’ve got their legs . . . ?”

  “Oh yes, I know exactly which one you mean. I can do that.”

  And he could.

  Chapter 8

  Becca woke and stretched, feeling fulfilled, satisfied, and self-satisfied. Who knew she could learn so much in one night? About him? About herself? About lovemaking?

  She and Aaron were spooned together, with him warm and solid, against the full length of her back. His arm was around her waist. She ran her hand over her own belly, savoring the memory of how he had loved her with his mouth, filled her with himself. He had loved every possible inch of her, kissed her everywhere, teased, tantalized, and satisfied her in ways she’d never imagined – at least not before she’d seen the walls of that blasted temple. Every part of her tingled and sang as if her body had come to life after being locked away in cold storage.

  And she was hungry.

  Gingerly lifting his hand away from her, she slipped from the pallet and stood up, grateful that during the night, Aaron had closed the tent flap. The sun was coming up, giving barely enough light for her to see by. They were secure in this little world. She stretched with her hands over her head, then twisted at the waist, arms wide. She wanted to embrace the world, but never leave this tent – though she knew it would probably be a different story at the first sign of a sandstorm. For now, she was quite content here.

  Looking around, she saw that Aaron had brought the cooler from the Range Rover. She flipped it open, removed a mango, then searched his boot until she found the special sheath inside that held his knife. After cleaning the blade with a disinfectant wipe, she began peeling the fruit, slicing off pieces and popping them into her mouth. It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted – well, besides Aaron’s mouth, his skin.

  She turned to look at him and saw his eyes were open, his mouth curved in a knowing smile. His dark hair was mussed, his face shadowed by morning beard. He was the sexiest thing she had ever seen – and she was in love with him.

  The realization had her pausing with the knife and mango held aloft.

  This wasn’t the youthful infatuation she’d experienced at sixteen, or the lust that had bedeviled her since she’d walked into his office less than a week ago. This was the real thing. It was terrifying, electrifying. The thought made her happy, humbled, grateful – and completely uncertain whether or not he felt the same about her.

  “Are you willing to share?” he asked in a lazy voice from the bed.

  She blinked, still stunned by the revelation of her feelings. “What?”

  He lifted a hand toward the fruit she held. “The mango. Are you willing to share?”

  “Oh, of course.” She started to hand him a slice, but then paused, her eyes taking on a teasing light, her lips curved in a provocative smile. “But you have to work for it.”

  With a grin, he leaned back and folded his arm under his head. “This early in the morning?”

  “We tribal types start early.”

  Making sure he was watching her every move, she bent over the cooler, flipped it open, did a little butt wiggle, and removed another mango. Before she straightened, she turned her head to look at him. She shifted her body so that he had a full view of her breasts. She cocked one knee to make sure he could see the thatch of golden hair between her legs, the place where he’d given her the most pleasure all night. “Are you ready?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  With a slow, hip swaggering stroll, she approached their bed. She had never been the sexual aggressor simply because she hadn’t known what to do and since sex had never been very good for her, she had thought, ‘Why bother?’

  This was worth the bother, though, as Aaron had taught her through the long hours of the night.

  “What do I have to do?”

  “You have to let me do what I want with you.”

  “Sounds like a tough assignment.”

  “Well, you’re a sturdy F-16 pilot, you can take it.”

  “F-22.”

  “What?”

  “I fly F-22s now.”

  “Even better.” With the knife in one hand and the fruit in the other, she stepped over him until she was straddling him, then knelt until she was positioned across his thighs.

  “Be careful with that knife, will you?”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy? You need to concentrate on the job I have for you.”

  “You haven’t told me what that is yet.”

  “Simple. You have to keep your hands to your sides. No touching me until I tell you to.”

  She peeled a section of the fruit, sliced off a piece, and fed it to him.

  His eyes were on hers as he chewed. “Doesn’t seem too hard so far.”

  She glanced down at him. “So I noticed.”

  He laughed.

  She sliced off another piece, but this time, instead of feeding it to him, she laid it on his chin, then leaned over and urged it between his lips with her tongue. She stayed that way, watching as he chewed and swallowed, then she placed her mouth over his and kissed him, running her tongue over his. He answered with his own thrusts and a growl of need. His penis
stiffened and poked her belly.

  Smiling at the reaction she was getting, she straightened. This time, she placed a slice of mango on his chest, followed by another and another, until they went from the hollow at the base of his throat to the base of his penis which was ready for her.

  But in spite of the need that urged her to hurry, she took her time, she picked up each slice between her teeth, leaned forward and shared it with him, their lips connecting, savoring each bite.

  As she moved closer and closer to his sex, his breath rasped in his throat. She knew he wanted to urge her to hurry, but held back to see what more she would do. It was wildly exciting and gave her a surge of power unlike anything she’d ever known.

  When his hands lifted and reached for her, she sat up and shook her head, her red-gold hair sifting about her shoulders. “Uh, uh, uh.”

  His hands dropped, but his eyes told her he would soon get his revenge.

  Delighted with herself, with his reaction and the craving that was building in both of them, she returned to her task.

  At last, she reached the last slice of mango. This time, she picked it up, looked him in the eye and ate it without sharing. His breath hissed in. Then she kissed his penis, starting at the base and working her way up. The musky scent of him was the most erotic thing she’d ever encountered. He was stiff, strong, ready. For her.

  Instead of closing her mouth over him, giving him the relief he sought, she looked him in the eyes, sat up, and scooted up until she was back where she’d started. She lifted the knife and the fruit, cut off another piece of mango and placed it on the slope of her breast, then gave him a challenging look.

  “Now, you can touch me.”

  “Tease,” he said. “Maybe you’ve learned too well.”

  Aaron surged upward, bent his head, and devoured it, licking every bit of juice from her skin, then took her nipple in his mouth. He pulled at her. She threw her head back, thrust her chest forward, offering more. He suckled one breast, and then the other. When his mouth moved, his hand replaced it so that she had equal pleasure.

  Just that quickly, her plan for seduction fell apart. The fruit and the knife fell from her hands. Becca bent her head over his, kissing whatever she could reach, running her hands over his arms, down his back, around to slip between them. Her hand closed over him, hot and ready.

  His head came up and his breath jerked in, ragged as a sawblade. She took his mouth with hers, kissing him, drawing his breath into her.

  She pulled away and whispered, “Lie down again.”

  He paused for an instant, but then did what she said, but he didn’t go down all the way, propping himself on his elbows. She scooted down his body, kissing his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipples, drawing it over his hair-dusted belly. She paused, lifted her head to make sure he was watching her, then settled her mouth over his erection. He jerked and hissed out a breath, pleasing her with his reaction.

  Her tongue surrounded him, swirled, sought his response even as her mouth moved up and down. His breath was coming hard and fast, his body jerking. He reached for her, tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling her head up.

  “Protection,” he managed to say.

  Thrilled with her own power, Becca reached down to pick up a condom packet. She ripped it open, rolled it into place, then lifted her hips and impaled herself on him. He thrust his hips and she met him movement for movement.

  “Becca, lean back,” he urged, his voice thick with his own growing need.

  She did as she was told, arching her back, planting her hands behind her on his thighs. He reached up and grasped her hips, changing her position just slightly. Sensation exploded in her core, more intense than anything she had known before.

  “Aaron,” she cried, not caring that they were in a tent in a village that was beginning to awaken.

  “Let it come, Rebecca,” he said, plunging upward, into her.

  At last she did, allowing the climax to crash over her, sweeping pleasure through her. Shaky, stunned, she stayed that way for a few seconds, staring upward at the seams in the top of the tent.

  When he could move, Aaron sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down on top of him. He kissed her, praising her sexiness, her reactions to him, the way she made him feel.

  “You’re learning fast, Rebecca,” he said.

  She smiled against his chest. “You’re a good teacher.”

  “Good teachers give tests, don’t they?”

  She lifted her head and looked into his teasing green eyes. “Yes, but a teacher would never think of assessing an activity unless the student has engaged in plenty of practice.” She tilted her head. “Exactly how many condoms did you bring?”

  “A couple dozen. Maybe more.”

  “And yet you were going to leave your house without me. Were you hoping to get lucky with one of the tribal girls?”

  “No, that would have meant returning home without some important parts of my anatomy, courtesy of the tribal elders. Remember, I also packed a sleeping bag for you, a pillow, extra food, the abayeh and scarf.”

  She stacked her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them. “You were very sure of yourself.”

  “No, sure of you. It was worth a try, but I knew you’d figure out what I was doing.”

  “Well, I hope that taught you not to mess with me.” Rebecca closed her mouth over his. Her love for him filled her, overflowed. She wondered when she would have the nerve to tell him.

  ~*~

  Rebecca slept. Aaron eased from their bed, pulled the sleeping bag over her exposed shoulders, then began to dress.

  They had made love most of the night so he should be exhausted, instead he felt energized, excited, but content to the depths of his soul. He sat on the stool to pull on his boots, then had to search for his knife, sticky with mango juice. He was never going to look at a mango the same way again. He used water from a bottle to wash the blade, then tucked it into place inside his boot.

  He sat and looked at Rebecca, her face serene, her red-gold hair spread across his pillow. He would like to stay here with her all day, making love, eating mangoes, causing everyone in the tribe to speculate on what a stud he must be. But he couldn’t expose her to such embarrassment. It was one thing to let the elders perform a marriage ceremony – that wouldn’t hold up in any country, but it was another to abuse their hospitality, holding them up with his own selfish needs when there was trouble brewing. He needed to go meet with them and Ferran, decide what had to be done.

  But he could linger for a while longer, gazing at Rebecca. He loved her, had loved her probably from the minute they had met when he and his friends had been invited to the Sangers. They’d never been in an American home before and they’d been honored by the privilege, sitting awkwardly in the living room making small talk while Mrs. Sanger had cooked for them.

  Rebecca had come down the hallway from her room, smiling shyly, holding out her hand to be introduced to the five pilots who had jumped to their feet. The first touch of her hand in his had sealed it for him. When she excused herself and went into the kitchen to help her mother, he’d been poleaxed.

  From that moment, he’d tried his level best to be around her as much as possible, even improving his chess game so he could hang around her house and play chess with her father.

  His hands had itched to touch her, his mouth had watered at the thought of tasting her. He knew her father would kill him if he tried anything, so he’d been content to look at her, talk to her, give her a ride to the pharmacy or supermarket in the sports car he’d leased for his time in the States. He’d known it wouldn’t last, but he’d tried to fool himself and had created his own little fantasy.

  He had thought she understood how attracted he was to her, that if she’d been older, if there had been the possibility of anything permanent between them, he would have pursued her. It had been a fantasy on his part because she obviously hadn’t shared it. If she had, she wouldn’t have thought him capable of int
erest in her and betrayal of her sister.

  He realized now that part of the problem may have been a cultural misunderstanding. He had thought she was . . . he had to pause and think of the word he wanted. Street smart. He had thought she was more street smart than she had really been. In truth, she’d been more sheltered than he had thought, though not as sheltered as the girls in his own country.

  He’d thought he’d never see her again so he had relegated that time in his life to a fond memory – until she had walked back into his life looking worried, underfed, exhausted.

  She looked better now. Not just sexually satisfied, though he could smugly pat himself on the back for that, but better because he’d been relentlessly pushing food on her and she’d gained a couple of pounds since she’d been with him. It helped that she’d talked to her sister, begun to mend the rift between them. It helped that she had told him about her husband. Given the tension in her family that had existed since Jenny’s miscarriage, he knew she’d never told anyone else the truth about that time in her life.

  Too bad Craig Perris was dead. Aaron would have loved to kick the shit out of him. His heart clenched at the thought of how unhappy she must have been.

  She murmured something in her sleep, turned and moved a hand over the place where he’d slept. Warmth filled his chest. She was searching for him as if they had slept together for years, made love thousands of times, fallen asleep together and awakened together so often that they felt each other’s absence even in sleep.

  That’s what his fantasy had been all those years ago – a lifetime with her.

  He couldn’t resist. Moving from the short stool, he knelt down beside her, leaning in to place kisses on her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth.

  “Aaron,” she breathed. With a warm sigh, she lifted her hands to hold him, then woke fully, confused by the feel of his keffiyeh.