Double Trouble

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Double Trouble Page 9

by J. R. Madison


  “The salad nicoise?” the waiter asked.

  “Me,” Ryanne said quickly. He nodded and placed it carefully in front of her. I glanced at the mix of vegetables, hard-boiled egg and what looked like fish.

  “Mm?” I frowned when the waiter had gone, leaving the soup in front of me. “Looks good.”

  “My favorite,” she said, spearing a piece of the fish. “That looks good too.”

  “It does,” I agreed. Some small shellfish floated in a broth that was a rich dark brown. I could smell coconut and spices and it seemed like I made a good choice. I was starving and I sipped a generous spoonful.

  “Ah,” I spluttered, my eyes streaming tears. “That is, um…hot.”

  She looked at me, trying hard to keep her face straight. Then she gave up.

  As I spluttered and coughed, fanning myself with my napkin, she leaned forward in helpless giggles.

  “Oh! You poor guy. I’m sorry…isn’t funny. I just…you looked so funny!”

  I couldn’t help laughing too. She was taking such delight out of my embarrassment that I couldn’t help but enjoy it too. I sighed and took a drink of my lemonade.

  “Whew,” I said. “I guess I’ll get used to it.”

  “I’m sure you will,” she said. “You’ll manage just fine with hot stuff.”

  I grinned. “I hope so,” I said.

  She flushed. Her foot stroked mine carefully. “Yes,” she said. Her eyes sparkled. “I also do.”

  I finished my soup in breathless silence.

  For the rest of the meal we talked about football—she did seem to know a lot more than she’d let on, after all—and we looked at each other as the waiter cleared the last dish away.

  “Well?” she frowned.

  “Well?”

  “Should we go?” she asked. Her brow lifted playfully.

  I nodded. “Yes,” I managed to say through a throat too tight for words. “Let’s.”

  We headed out into the night together.

  CHAPTER 12: RYANNE

  I walked out of the door into the warm evening. I breathed in, smelling the scent of late summer, early autumn. My whole body felt alive and tingling in a way I had almost forgotten. I looked over my shoulder at the guy who was following me down the stairs.

  “So?” I whispered. “Are we going back?”

  He reached for me and drew me against his chest. I felt his hands reach for my waist, then stop. He looked into my eyes.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I want that. If you want that?”

  I felt my heart soften just a little more toward him.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “I do want that.”

  We headed into the car park together.

  He followed me to my car and slid into the passenger seat. I looked at him. It was dark in there, just the light over the dashboard painting lurid pale light onto our faces. I stared at him. His hand reached for me and stroked my cheek.

  He drew me toward him then and our lips met. His lips were hard and hot and searching. His tongue plundered my mouth. I felt a savage fulfillment as he thrust his tongue into my mouth, touching my own. I let mine merge with his, twining round it and he groaned and drew me closer to him so that my body pressed against his chest.

  I shifted so my neck was hurting less and reached for him. He leaned over further, his weight pressing me back into the driver’s seat as he leaned into me. His hands were strong and wise and they held my neck, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they clasped my hair.

  I gasped as he leaned back. He looked into my eyes.

  “Ryanne,” he whispered. “You’re incredible.”

  I smiled, a little breathless. “You’re rather good too,” I said with a big grin. “Let’s go.”

  I put my foot to the pedal and sent us backward, then out onto the boulevard.

  We reached my home after a drive of ten minutes, which could as well have been ten weeks for the ache that was building inside of me. I let my hand rest on his leg and I could just feel the bulge in his trousers that told me he was ready for me. I smiled.

  “Shall we go in?”

  He nodded. “Yes,” his voice whispered, strained. It was an arousing noise.

  I slipped out of my seat, waited for him to follow and locked the car, then headed up the steps and into the building. We went into the lift together.

  His arms wrapped round me and drew me against him. I felt my body ache and suddenly I needed him so much—needed that lean body pressing me onto the bed, that bulge in his pants pushing right inside.

  I sighed. I was clawing his head down toward mine when we reached my floor. I stepped out of the lift, hastily straightening my coat and hair, lest someone from my floor be here and see me in such a state of dishevelment. But nobody was there. I sighed.

  “Let’s go.”

  I unlocked my apartment and together we half-fell in through the door. I shut the door and we leaned against the inside wall, his lips tasting mine.

  I sighed and raised a brow at him slowly. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  I had started shivering sometime during dinner. When we got into Ryanne’s car, the shiver became a tremor.

  Now, in her apartment, my tongue parting that red mouth and her scent intense in my nose, I thought I might actually lose my wits.

  I followed her into the bedroom.

  “So,” she said. She turned to me and reached up and put her hands on my head, drawing me to her. I licked my tongue along the outline of her lips, teasing it, and teasing myself into the bargain. I could stand here with her held in my arms forever. My groin ached and she pressed against it.

  I felt my fingers tense where they were twisting into her hair. I needed to feel her so much now. I looked round. Her bedroom seemed a more intimate space now that it was just her and me. I felt like I was an intruder in another, scented, exciting world.

  “Lie down,” she whispered. She went across to the window. I watched her, standing, reluctant to simply obey her. She closed the blind and adjusted the light and then came over to me.

  “Well?” she asked, reaching to my front and running hands that teased and stirred me as they stroked my chest. “You don’t want me to undress you?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “No?”

  “I want to undress you,” I said.

  I had no idea why I was so insistent about that, so bold as to ask that of her. But in that moment, I knew that I wanted to do something special. This was my first night with her—simply her. It was something very special for me. I wanted to make that evident.

  I looked into her eyes. She looked up at me, surprised. She nodded.

  “Well, then?” she said in a surprisingly tentative whisper. She sat down on the bed. I came to join her.

  “Ryanne,” I murmured.

  I reached up to the fabulous, smooth satin hair. It was pinned up in a bun, and I gently let it loose. I saw her eyes widen and she looked at me in surprise.

  “I like your hair,” I whispered to her softly. “It’s such beautiful hair.”

  She bit her lip and looked at her hands a moment. She looked up into my eyes. Hers looked surprised.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  I frowned. “You’re so beautiful I could just watch you now,” I said. I gently stroked her cheek. She looked down.

  “Are we going to do something?” she said in a small, tight voice.

  I nodded. “If you like,” I whispered.

  I reached behind her, fumbling for the zipper of her red gown. I found it and drew it down slowly. My blood was racing in my veins as, slowly and systematically, I undressed her. I let the dress slide down to her waist. I stared.

  She was wearing lacy underwear—at least, those lovely breasts were encased in delicate lacework. I drew the dress down as far as it went and then leaned back, just staring at her. I felt like she was a present I was unwrapping. I couldn’t see enough and yet I wanted the moment to last forever.

  She shook her head. Shifted so
that the dress slid under her and pooled at her feet. She was wearing just the bra and a small, lacy, matching panty underneath. I stared at her. Kissed her.

  She sighed and let me push her back onto the pillow. I felt as if my body might catch fire. As if my heart might too. This was such an amazing moment for me. Yes, my groin was throbbing with longing for her, but I was also feeling it in the very core of me, my heart telling me over and again how lucky I was to have her here.

  She sighed and lay down. “Are you going to get undressed too?” she suggested.

  I gulped. I couldn’t draw my eyes away from the sight of that magnificent, curvy, muscled body lying back on the bed, her breasts pointed and her skin shined with perspiration at chest and throat.

  I undressed faster than I would ever have thought possible, letting my things fall to the floor. Then I went to join her on the bed. I kissed her and gently drew her to me, gasping as her breasts flattened softly against my lean chest. I could have lain there for the rest of my days, just feeling that soft, cool skin against my own, those plump breasts flattened against my hardness, her lips warm and wet and exciting.

  I reached round behind her and drew off her underwear and she twisted with me, letting me take it off her. Soon, we were both naked. I stared at her. I couldn’t take my eyes off.

  Again, this was far from the first time I had seen her naked. But she was so beautiful and here, with my gaze able to freely travel up and down her body, I felt as if I had never truly noticed how amazing she was.

  She had firm breasts, pink nipples and a lean belly. Her thighs met at a sweet mound, waxed and soft to touch. I reached out with my fingers, gently stroking her.

  She closed her eyes and gasped, parting her legs. I guessed she wanted me to touch her. I took a deep breath. I was shivering so that it was hard to concentrate. I wanted to do my best, to really please her. I gently parted the sticky wet folds.

  My fingers slipped across her skin. She was wet and shivering and it wasn’t hard to find the swollen, throbbing place between her folds. I drew my finger across it and felt her gasp. Then I was working her with my fingertips, stroking and pressing and pushing. I bent down and buried my face between her thighs, letting my tongue flick across her clit, faster and faster. She was gasping and twisting and I could feel my own climax becoming dangerously closer just listening to the wonderful sounds she made, feeling that slippery wetness under my tongue and smelling her.

  I waited for her to let out another yell and then I moved back and frowned at her. She was lying with face twisted in pleasure, her eyes half-shut, hair damp.

  “I can…” I whispered. I wanted to ask if I could enter.

  She sighed. “Yes,” she murmured. “Do…yes!”

  I gritted my teeth, afraid that the invitation alone would be enough to make me spend myself. I knelt up and went to kneel between her legs. I looked down at her. It felt like a profound thing to enter her. She was so exciting, so amazing and I knew that once I had done this I wouldn’t ever be in the same headspace again. Part of me would want her permanently.

  “Yes?” I asked. My cock was hard and throbbing when I lifted it.

  She opened her eyes. Looked into mine.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  I entered her.

  I gasped aloud as her clinging, hot wetness subsumed me. I drew out and pushed in again. Drew out and pushed in. It felt so good, so impossibly good.

  She groaned and cried out, head twisting with pleasure, mouth opening wide in the darkness. I pulled out and pushed in, pulled and pushed. Pulled and pushed. Faster and faster, harder and harder. Deeper and deeper.

  I was gasping and pushing and groaning, so close to the climax that I thought I was flying, thought I was burning, thought I could die.

  I screamed out and she screamed out just before me. I collapsed onto her chest, my body exhausted.

  We lay there together, our sweat gluing our skin and the air cooled us.

  I knew I would never feel this good, this profound, this amazing. I lay there and looked at her, lying there with her eyes closed, her dark hair a cloud around her pale shoulders. I knew that I would never forget this, not for an instant, as long as I lived.

  CHAPTER 13: RYANNE

  I sat up in bed. My body felt deliciously satisfied and utterly refreshed. I sighed and nestled closer toward the warmth in the bed close by. I sighed and rolled over and looked at him.

  “Tyler?” I whispered.

  He didn’t move. I found myself studying him. His eyes closed, his head tipped back with the sunlight just tracing the ocher blondness of his hair, he was striking.

  I didn’t usually go for guys with those angular, more rugged faces. But now I found myself starting to like them. They matched well with his body—the big, straight shoulders, the bulging biceps, the neck with its thick veins.

  I rolled over, smiling at the delicious feeling of fulfillment deep inside me.

  “Tyler,” I whispered again. “It’s eight o’ clock.”

  I rolled over and sat up. Slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom, my head full of memories of the previous evening—we had coupled three times and I had climaxed twice. I felt so, so good and I looked around my bathroom foolishly grinning, every pore of my skin alive to the feel of the air, the tiles under my feet, the temperature of them.

  When I came back he was sitting up in bed, leaning on the pillows. He saw me and his lips lifted in a smile.

  “It’s time for coffee,” I said. He still watched me.

  I frowned. Went to my wardrobe to get out my work things. I decided on my pale slacks, the new ones, teamed with a black and white spotted shirt in silky cloth. I would pair it with my black blazer and a white scarf.

  I laid it out on the back of a chair.

  “You know,” he said as I turned around, looking for where my comb had gotten to.

  “What?” I frowned, combing out my black hair. I recalled him taking the hairpins out and felt a flush of shyness. It had been such a profound moment.

  “Well,” he grinned shyly. “I wanted to say how awesome that was. But I can’t describe it.”

  I felt my entire body blush. I grinned. “You know what flattery does,” I said coyly.

  “You know it’s not flattery.”

  The words were so level, so firm, that I felt my heart stop. I recalled what he had said the other night, when he and Jake were here and I felt a lump in my throat suddenly. I didn’t want to feel emotionally affected. I shook my head impatiently, deliberately distracting myself.

  “I need to fill up with gas before I go to work,” I said aloud, reaching mechanically for my clean undies, my slacks, a pair of secret socks. “And then maybe go past the grocery store when I take the other way back this evening…”

  I walked past the bed, half-dressed, taking my dirty things through to the bathroom to put them in the washing machine. When I got back, he was standing at the window, looking out.

  I found myself staring at his muscled nakedness. His buttocks were firm and hard, his back corded with muscle, his thighs lean and even his neck had that strong grace. I couldn’t look away. He was a fine man. I wanted to just drink in the sight of him, naked in my room, allowing myself to tease myself with the sight of his body.

  He turned. He smiled, and I blushed. He had caught me in the act of staring and, looking at his smile, he must have noticed what I was doing and that I approved of what I saw.

  “You want coffee, before you go?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Thanks,” he said politely. “That would be nice.”

  I raised a brow, surprised by his manners. His mix of honesty and tenderness would never cease to affect me. I reached for my blouse and started buttoning it. When I looked up, he was watching me. His eyes were bright and I felt their approval.

  “You look so good in that,” he said.

  I grinned to cover how touched I was. “Better than I do out of it?” I teased.

  He frowned. “You know what I me
an,” he said.

  I laughed. I walked over very deliberately and planted a kiss on his lips. Tried not to smile when I looked up into his face and saw how astonished he was.

  “Yes,” I said lightly. “I do know what you mean. And thank you.”

  I reached for my black blazer, shrugging it on. Then I looked in the mirror. I looked quite formidable, it seemed. The woman looking back at me from my big standing mirror looked like she didn’t have feelings—a pillar of white, black, and indifferent elegance.

  “I’ll have to put my hair up to match,” I said, half to myself. The hair tumbling wild and loose around my shoulders did rather upset the calm and collected aspect.

  “You have such lovely hair,” he said from behind me.

  “That’s as may be,” I said, glaring at my reflection as I focused on trying to make an even bun, “but it looks wrong with this outfit. This better?” I added, turning to face him with my hair in a severe, sleek bun.

  “I guess,” he said nervously. “Well, it sure would intimidate the opposition.”

  This time I couldn’t help chuckling. I leaned forward with my weight braced on the wall and laughed, enjoying the free, easy feel of it.

  “I don’t know if that’s my goal,” I said, “not exactly. But now that you’ve said it, I’m going to think about it all day. Thanks. I think.”

  He laughed. “Well, you can be sure I’ll be thinking of you,” he said.

  I stared. No. I couldn’t have heard that. Had he really? “What?” I said.

  He shrugged and went pure scarlet, then looked at his hands. “I…I’ll be thinking of you all day,” he said gently.

  I sighed. “Well, don’t think too much,” I said briskly. “I don’t want to get in the way of that game you’re going to be playing on Saturday.”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. I wondered if he had forgotten about the game. About the fact that they invited me. I planned to go if I could find the free time to go.

  “Well, it won’t,” he said awkwardly. “I want to do my best.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” I nodded. “And now I have an informed opinion on the subject.”

 

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