Let Me Count The Ways

by P. G. Forte

  I’d forgotten how quickly he could move. I’d almost forgotten how well he could kiss. But the moment he clasped my face in his hands, the moment his lips touched mine, it all came rushing back. Oh, yes. I locked my hands behind his head and fell into his kiss. My only regret was that he couldn’t talk and kiss at the same time. There aren’t many ways in which fantasy is superior to reality, but that’s definitely one of them.

  When he finally raised his head, I locked eyes with him and smiled. “God, I’ve missed your mouth.”

  “Claire.” Mike groaned in response. He pulled me close once more, muttering between kisses, “You don’t know what it does when you say those things. These last weeks have been hell. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think straight.”

  Huh? Bracing my hands against his chest, I pushed him away a little. “Why’s that?”

  “Because! I didn’t know where I stood with you, or what you wanted. You were so vague when I asked about seeing you again. And you left so quickly.”

  What the hell? “Mike, I was perfectly clear. I said it would be nice, didn’t I? Or something to that effect.”

  He groaned again. “That’s just what I mean. Too vague. Too polite. I wanted a simple yes or no.”

  Amused now, I couldn’t help but murmur, “Really? You’d rather I’d said no?”

  Mike frowned. “Don’t play with me, Claire. You know how I feel. I’ve always been honest about my feelings for you.”

  “And I haven’t been? I was not vague!”

  “Maybe not intentionally,” Mike conceded. “But it felt vague to me. And then when you didn’t call...”

  I held my tongue. It would have been easy to say, well, you didn’t call me, either, but would that accomplish? All this conversation was taking us into murky territory. I didn’t want a relationship with him. Not the kind where feelings could be hurt if someone didn’t call. “Why are we talking about this now? Don’t we have better things we could be doing?”

  “Wh--what?” A frown furrowed Mike’s brow as he glanced around the room, his expression stuck somewhere between eager and doubtful. “D’you mean here?”

  I felt my eyes widen as his meaning hit home. No, that was not what I meant.”

  Or was it?

  After all, it wouldn’t be the first time. I’d seduced Derek in this room once, although it hadn’t been easy. If there’s one thing that man prides himself on it’s his iron self-control. Something told me Mike would be a whole lot easier to bend.

  I smiled. “Well, now that you mention it, sure. Why not? Unless you’d rather wait for some other time?”

  “No.” Mike’s voice was flat and final. “That’s one mistake I’ll never make again.”

  Mistake? What’s he talking about? Before I could ask, he’d pulled me in for another kiss. His hand tangled in the hair at the back of my head and he used it to lower me onto my back. From the sound, I think he must have used his other hand to clear my desk.

  For just an instant, I thought about reminding him the office door wasn’t locked. Even muffled by carpet, the thud of that many objects hitting the floor at once could attract attention. But, if he wasn’t worried, why should I be? I could pretty much guarantee I’d been observed having sex more times than he and had long since learned to tune out an audience. Besides, by then, he’d already shoved both my shirt and my sports bra over my head and it was fair to say I was feeling a bit distracted.

  Quickly, Mike pushed both garments up my arms, stopping when he reached my wrists. I shivered a little at the sudden exposure and then gasped when he gathered the material together in one hand. One twist of his fist and I was effectively trapped with my arms stretched out above my head. Heat rushed to my pussy as he trailed the fingers of his free hand down my arm, making me squirm. My nipples beaded tight, a clear invitation to touch, one I hoped he wouldn’t ignore.

  “Yes,” I whispered, watching his face, watching desire light up his eyes. “Do it.” My breath caught in my throat when his hand curved around my breast and it was all I could do to release it. But what did I care? At that point, I wanted his mouth on my chest more than I wanted to breathe again anyway. Squeezing my eyes shut, I arched into him. Offering. Asking. Aching. “Mike...”

  Wet and warm, his mouth closed over one puckered nipple. He rolled the other between thumb and forefinger; his touch gentle, but not too gentle. Just perfect, in fact. I cried out softly in mindless pleasure.

  I don’t know how long it went on. I only know I was writhing by the time he released me from the sweet torture. Tears were leaking from the corners of my eyes and my breathing was too labored, too uneven to allow for speech.

  Mike gave the bonds that held my wrists immobile a little tug. The added tension sent shivers racing across my skin. I inhaled sharply, arching upward again, whimpering delightedly as his hand slid down along my belly and into the waistband of my pants.

  “You’re so wet,” he murmured hoarsely as he probed my slick, swollen flesh, fingering my clit, bringing me right to the edge. And then he stopped. “I have to see.”

  I groaned as his hand was withdrawn. Noooo. Don’t stop now. Not now!

  He didn’t say, don’t move, but I couldn’t have anyway, even after he let go of my wrists. I was panting, partly in an effort to keep from screaming at him, keep going--faster, faster. As his hands slowly coaxed my pants off, a voice in my head was chanting, do it, do it, do it...

  Mike went down on his knees and spread my thighs wide. I opened for him eagerly. The first swipe of his tongue set fire to my nerves. I went off in seconds. I’m not sure which of us was more surprised.

  “Thank you for this,” he murmured pressing a kiss against my thigh.

  He’s thanking me? Shaking my head in disbelief, I freed my hands and sat up. Stiffly. “Don’t thank me yet,” I told him as I nudged his shoulder with my foot, forcing him to get up, to get out of my way so I could stand.

  Once we were both on our feet, I backed him around the desk and pushed him into my chair. Then I dropped to my knees on the floor between his legs and unzipped his fly.

  Mike’s breath gusted out as I took his erection into my hand, intending to give him the best head of his life, but then I inhaled his scent and memories from two weeks ago filled my head. My nipples pebbled up instantly. My pussy throbbed. Serious fellatio would have to wait . I was too needy to be so generous today.

  Instead, I played the tease; circling his crown with my tongue, cradling his sac in one hand and pumping slowly with the other. Lowering my head, I nibbled my way along his shaft with just enough pressure to make him moan. When he did, I took it as my cue.

  “Pussy wants filled,” I murmured as I straddled his lap and nuzzled his neck. Knees pressed tight around his thighs, I lowered myself on top of him.

  “Bring it here,” Mike growled, fingers closing on me instantly, digging into my waist as he flexed his hips and thrust inside me. “All of it, Claire. I want all of you. Now.”

  Heat engulfed me; white hot, it left me writhing in Mike’s arms. His teeth nipped at my shoulder as he held me to him and continued thrusting, impaling me over and over until I gave him what he wanted: All of me. Now.

  I clutched his neck as we came together; each contraction of my muscles forcing another spurt of cum from his cock; each jerk of his shaft inside me making my pussy spasm harder.

  Finally, spent, exhausted, sated... at least for now... I collapsed on top of him. “Now you can say thank you,” I teased breathlessly.

  Mike’s arms tightened around me. “Thank you.”

  I chuckled softly. “You’re welcome.” Then I kissed his cheek and slid from his arms.

  As I scooped my clothes up, I couldn’t help assessing the mess on the office floor. At least it didn’t look like anything had been broken. Thank God, I hadn’t been using my laptop today. Still, I knew it would take days before I had my desk back the way I liked it. Next time, we’d do things differently.

  Turning back to Mike, I was s
urprised to see he was still sprawled in the chair where I’d left him. Only his gaze, heavy lidded and dark, seemed animated, his eyes tracking my every move. I stretched languidly, just to tease him. Until a trickle of wetness down my leg reminded me what such teasing could lead to.

  Surely not again? I glanced at the open fly of his pants. Was he harder than he’d been a moment ago? Better stop staring and get dressed before one of us starts getting ideas.

  “I have to admit I’m surprised,” I said, pulling several handfuls of tissue from the box in my desk drawer and handing some to him.

  “About what?”

  “Us. Our... whaddaya call it... stamina. I mean, we’re not kids.”

  Mike shrugged. “That’s what I was telling you earlier. What you get from kids... what good is it? That’s not gonna last. Experience, maturity, respect, those are things you can count on.”

  I nodded, not really listening, as I blotted moisture from my legs in an effort to render myself once again respectable. Mature? That was just another word for old, wasn’t it? Did anyone ever really think that was better? “Yeah, but, experienced or not, we sure haven’t been lasting very long.”

  Mike’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed.” I gestured at the clock on the wall. “These little trysts of ours have not exactly been leisurely.”

  “Claire... I’m sorry.” The disappointed look on his face, the crestfallen tone in his voice--it was all so pitiful, I couldn’t help but giggle.

  “No, silly.” Leaning in, I rested my hands on the arms of his chair and kissed him lightly. “That wasn’t a criticism.”

  Before I could pull away, Mike caught hold of my wrist, and kissed me again. His open palm, sliding up the back of my bare thigh, made me ache for him all over again; left me moaning with pleasure, with wonder, with need .

  “Enough!” Wrenching my wrist free of his grip, I took a step back. “See what I mean? I can’t hold out either. I feel like I’m--Like I’m eighteen again and just discovered sex.”

  Actually? That was more like fifteen and a half. But he didn’t have to know that now. Or ever, for that matter. In fact, there was a whole, wide range of details I had no plans to share with him. When it came to some parts of my past, I figured the less he knew, the happier we’d both be. I liked Mike a lot. We were friends now, at least I liked to think we were, and I wanted to keep it that way.

  And the one sure thing I’d learned about keeping friends was this: Never hand your friend a weapon that can be used against you. Not unless you’re looking to test the friendship or end it--fast.

  * * * *

  Mike

  Reaching for Claire, I dragged her back against me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her tight. Eighteen, huh? Well, it was good to know I wasn’t the only one feeling overwhelmed by this situation developing between us. The shaky intake of her breath as I pressed a kiss against the soft flesh of her belly had me closing my eyes and sighing with bliss. Claire.

  “Let me go now, Mike,” she murmured breathlessly. “I have to dress.”

  I thought about saying no. I thought about slipping my hand between her legs instead. Thought about urging her onto my lap, so I could make her come once again. I wanted to make her prove what she’d just implied, that she was helpless to resist me.

  Just knowing I could have that effect on her was intoxicating. Knowing she’d probably let me pleasure her like that or, even better, that she might be wanting me to--that was nothing short of astonishing. But she’d asked me to let her go. I had to honor that. So I kissed her lightly, one more time, and opened my arms.

  Neither of us spoke much as we dressed. I felt a slight qualm when I saw the tangle of objects on the floor by her desk.

  “Sorry about the mess,” I told her, as we tackled the chore of restoring order.

  “That’s okay,” Claire murmured, her cheeks suspiciously pink. Though she didn’t say it, the words, it was worth it, seemed to hang in the air between us.

  To be honest, I wasn’t all that sorry either. I seldom lose control like that and I was surprised to find I liked it. But, even more importantly, if Claire’s reaction was anything to go by, she’d liked it too. That alone was reason to plan for similar spontaneous events in the future.

  “Well, I’m about done in for the day,” Claire sighed, when we were finished. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something.

  I can take a hint as well as the next guy, I hope. “Let me take you out to dinner,” I suggested.

  “Like this?” She glanced down at herself doubtfully. “I’d have to go home and change first.”

  “Why don’t I follow you home then? You can leave your car there and we’ll go in mine?” The moment I said it, I wondered if I’d made a mistake. It was only two weeks ago she’d accused me of stalking her. On the other hand, this was as good a way as any to find out what she really thought about that.

  Claire shrugged. “Okay, sounds good. Let me get my purse and we’ll go.”

  Yes! It was all I could do to keep from pumping my fist in the air. She hadn’t even hesitated. My jubilation was short lived, however. I turned back toward my desk, saw the papers scattered on its surface, and groaned. “Oh, hell.”

  “What’s wrong?” Claire inquired, lifting her purse from its nest in the bottom drawer of her own desk.

  I gestured at the papers. “I forgot. I wasn’t finished.”

  “Oh. Right.” A smug smile seemed to flirt with the edges of her mouth. “Well, what do you want to do?”

  Smiling? What I wanted to do, at this present moment, was think up some way to pay her back for that bit of insolence. I stared fixedly at her mouth, unable to look away. “I guess I could take it home with me.” I could bring it in to the office tomorrow and let one of my employees finish it up. Only I didn’t want to do that. Working on Claire’s account was a pleasure for me, an act of devotion. It was my task and I didn’t want to share it with anyone. “But why don’t I check my schedule tomorrow and see if I can’t find some time to come back next week and finish it?”

  “All right.” Claire flashed a brilliant smile as she slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Good idea,” she said as she headed for the door. “Two weeks was too long to wait anyway.”

  Now, what the hell does that mean? I wondered. Did she think I’d let her account sit, untouched, for two weeks? Or did she mean two weeks was too long to wait to see me again? Does she only intend to see me when I come to do her books? The hell with that!

  Before I could ask, however, she’d reached the door and pulled it open.

  “Was that unlocked the whole time?” I was surprised into asking.

  Claire glanced at me slyly. “You just figure that out?”

  I felt the blood warming my cheeks and knew I was once again blushing. “I, uh, yes. Sorry. You should have said something.”

  Claire patted my arm. “Well, you were occupied.”

  I frowned. Something about her words seemed vaguely familiar. “What?”

  “You know how it is,” she murmured, blinking innocently. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” Then she skipped blithely down the stairs.

  I trailed behind her feeling once again bemused.

  “Good night, everyone,” Claire called cheerfully to her staff as she breezed through the small reception area, receiving a chorus of good-byes in response.

  “Night, Claire,” Derek murmured. As he glanced up from the clip-board he’d been examining, his expression changed. His initial smile faded into a look that bordered on displeasure.

  I felt myself bristling as his gaze lingered on her in what seemed to be entirely too proprietary a manner. He looks like he knows exactly what we’ve been doing. Then his gaze shifted to me and the open hostility I read there removed all doubt. Damn. He does know. Not caring to conjecture how that was possible, I returned his look with one of cool disdain and passed him by without a word. Tough luck, kid. You didn’t know wh
at you had, did you? Well, now she’s with me.

  Picking up my pace, I managed to overtake Claire before she reached the front door. “Allow me, milady,” I murmured as I held it open for her.

  “Why, thank you, kind sir.” She flashed me another smile, then her eyes narrowed inquisitively. “What’s going on with you?”

  I looked at her in surprise. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “It’s just... all of a sudden, you have this kind of cat that ate the canary look about you.”

  Oh. I felt my lips stretch until I knew I must be grinning from ear to ear. “Close. Now, where would you like to go for dinner?”

  Chapter Seven

  Mike

  Claire’s house was not what I’d expected. I’d thought her home would reflect her personality, her tastes and passions, her career. I thought it would tell me something about her that I didn’t yet know. Maybe many things. Instead, it seemed... impersonal.

  “I know,” she agreed when I questioned her about it. “It’s not really me, is it?”

  “It’s not really anyone.”

  Claire shrugged. “Why should it be? I don’t own this place, you know. I lease it. Furnished. There’s a maid who comes in once a week, a gardener, a pool boy. I didn’t hire them, I rarely see them, I don’t even sign their paychecks. I just live here.”

  “I see.” I glanced around the living room again. “Kind of like living in a hotel.”

  “One that’s severely lacking in room service and other amenities, but yeah. Pretty much.”

  “Why?”

  “Money for one thing. That’s simple enough, right? Until my settlement went through I couldn’t afford to buy anything and, once I had the money, I decided I’d be better off investing in my business.” She sighed. “Plus, I guess I just got tired of having to re-invent myself every few years. The thought of starting over again... I just couldn’t do it.”

  I suppose I must have looked puzzled because she shrugged and added, “You know. Marriage, divorce, remarriage. At this point, I probably wouldn’t recognize my own tastes in furnishings if I were plunked down in the middle of ‘em. Really, the only things here that are mine are my clothes, and that’s just fine with me.”