by Melissa Blue
Words were beyond her, but she moaned her approval.
“But enough. Time for my dick to get some of that. What do you say?”
“Ian,” seemed to be the only word that mattered and she murmured it. He was gone for only a moment, but really her legs and arms quivered from the intensity of what he’d done, she couldn’t have moved any damn way.
He ripped off the blindfold and with no ceremony bore down into her. The toy had been nice, but this is what she’d craved. What she’d probably beg for if he made her. And she would. Jocelyn held no shame in that need.
“I want you to see you come. Watch it in yer eyes.” He groaned when she clenched on his cock.
He threw her legs over his forearms and dragged her nearer. She was close already and then he began to pump hard and deeper into her, never letting his gaze waver from hers. Her moans deepened in tone and her vision seemed to darken around the edges.
“Yeah. Just like that,” he said, voice husky. “Come on my dick, just like that.” He reached between them and flicked his thumb over her achingly swollen clit.
That’s all it took. Her pussy tightened around his thick girth and milked him. He shuddered and thrust deeper, damn near growling when he came with her. His lips peeled back with a guttural snarl and God, she wanted to kiss him. Just run her tongue over the seam of his mouth as he made that noise.
The grip on her thighs loosened and he pulled out of her, lying down beside her and throwing an arm over her waist. He made a sound between a grunt and a curse. She held herself still so she wouldn’t curl into his warmth. They were both sweaty and smelled of sex. Nothing would have been better than to shut her eyes, find the crook of his neck and pass out in it.
But that’s not what they were. She glanced down at his arm. A thoughtless or possessive action? They never cuddled. They never talked about her leaving after sex. Had he wanted her to stay all those times she crept out after he went to sleep? But…his arm felt good. Her bed felt warm. She wanted to sleep too. It wasn’t a big deal. If it turned out to be, they’d talk about it, finally. Or make some more ground rules. Ones that included sleeping over and how that was okay and no big damn deal.
Decided, she flopped on her stomach, pressed her face into a pillow. The movement didn’t dislodge his arm, it warmed her back now. It felt so damn good. She stopped worrying about it and fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Something cold, wet and a little rough bumped his hand and jolted him from sleep. Curved, almost whimsical bed-posts greeted his view. The mahogany wood definitely wasn’t his, or the soft cotton comforter beneath his arse. Light spilled in from the hallway. Groggy, he leaned a bit to look over on the floor to see Lexxie bumping his hand, his shirt in her mouth like a chew toy.
“I really hope you didn’t eat any of the shirt. It could kill you, you know?”
Glancing at his other side, Jocelyn continued to slumber. He pulled the cover over her naked form and then slipped out of her bed. Ian sighed. He was a dobber. An absolute dobber, for fucking her, for staying. For breathing in her scent and reveling in the fact that she smelled like him.
Earlier, he’d taken off the condom in the bathroom, slapped water on his face, passed by his clothes to lie down for another moment to catch his breath. He’d fallen asleep instead. She hadn’t pushed him off the mattress with a nice shove if he didn’t get the message to go home. Here he was, not bolting for his clothes so he could make his escape. He glanced down at the pup and scooped up the little troublemaker.
“And if you didn’t swallow any bits of my shirt, you’ve probably pissed on her rug. She’ll kill you. It’s an antique. The only one she owns from what I can see.”
Gently he freed his shirt. Some tears but nothing missing. “Good, you didn’t. But, I’m sure you’ve pissed the rug. Let’s go hide the evidence.”
He wasn’t exactly whispering, but still Jocelyn didn’t move. Ian squinted at her. Yeah. Asleep. Not faking it, hoping he’d get the message. The real question he ought to ask himself, why wasn’t he gone? Lexxie whined and he pressed her closer to his chest.
He was being nice that’s why. He’d let her sleep and take care of her dog while she did. Checking the time on her nightstand clock, it was barely midnight, but a long time since the last feeding and for a short stint outside.
Not bothering with the shirt, he found his pants, slipped into them and didn’t fix the belt buckle. He discovered some leftover grocery bags under the sink and took Lexxie out. Done in almost a literal two shakes, he came back into the first floor flat.
Jocelyn hadn’t woken up, so he prepped a bowl for the dog and wondered why he wasn’t trying to leave. He meant what he said. They were dating. In a way. No need to feel discomfort for lingering in her apartment.
The sex was a bit different tonight, but of course it would be. He’d played out one of his own fantasies. No big deal that he suddenly had the urge to wake her up with a kiss and do it all over again, just as slow, nothing rough. A lingering, sensuous glide into what they loved to do with each other.
No big fucking deal if Ian wasn’t rubbish a good part of the time, and he signed up to teach her to be more like him. That lingering, sensuous glide he wanted tonight only meant he hadn’t gotten his fill of her yet. He started to worry he may not ever. The Kama Sutra had sixty-four positions, but that still wouldn’t be enough. Some positions she might love more than others. He loved watching her love it. He’d have to do it again. Just for her.
Ach. Fuck.
He was leaving and there was no changing that. He’d made commitments that would solidify his consultation business. He’d be gone and couldn’t ask her to wait. His father had waited for a woman. Even if his mother had only gone for a few weeks that last time, those moments until she did return would have slowly killed his father anyway. She traveled most of their relationship until one day she didn’t come back. His father had been locked in a relationship with an absent partner and it sucked watching it kill a small part of his da every time his mother left.
No. Just no. Would Joce want him aside from being a good lay? All signs pointed to no and that gripped his gut hard and twisted. She’d touch his lips and looked as though she’d kiss him. They hadn’t and, still, he was reeling by how much he suddenly needed to. When the woman wanted something, she’d learned to ask for it. She hadn’t asked so didn’t want to kiss him. He was a number on her bucket list. Exactly what he always wanted. So why was his jaw clenched so hard at the thought she didn’t want to kiss him?
Lexxie whined at his feet. Ian picked her up, placed her on the island in front of him and told the troublesome thoughts to bugger off. She bumped his face with her cold, wet nose and he tried to smile. “You know, I’m half in love with you already? All you need to do is the puppy dog eyes and I’m done for.”
Her butt hit the wood and her tongue lolled out, eyes getting bigger as she did. “I had to say something, didn’t I?”
She did a doggy grin at him. Ach. His heart tripped and fell and Ian laughed at the light spill of emotion.
“What’s so funny?” Jocelyn asked groggily.
“Lexxie’s trying to wrap me around her paw and it’s working.”
He glanced up. Hair a bit messy from sleep, she looked confused but pleased. His stomach clenched. This was his chance to leave but his feet refused to move. Lexxie whimpered and scuttled closer to him.
“Do I look that bad?”
“You look nicely rumpled.”
“No need to lie. Got a glimpse in a mirror and almost pissed myself until I realized it was me.” She looked rumpled.
She’d probably expected him to be gone and hadn’t bothered to clean herself up. She padded over to the refrigerator and murmured a “thank God” and started pulling stuff out.
“I’m starving so I’m about to cook,” she said. “I know you’re hungry. Take care of my pooch? This might take a while.”
Without question, he should have shot down the invitation, but they were d
ating. He could do this. Spending time together out of bed wasn’t a complete no-no. They did all the time at work. Now they’d do it here.
He told himself one lie after another until the tension in his shoulders ebbed. “Need me to move?”
She flicked a glance toward him and bit the curve of her smile. “You’re fine. I know you like to watch me.”
“There is that.” He cupped Lexxie’s bottom and brought her up to his chest. She curled into the crook of his arm and fell asleep within seconds. “What’re you making us?”
“Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans and biscuits.” She squinted. “Something like bread rolls, to you.”
His brows rose. “That hungry?”
“Yup. When was your last homemade meal?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t been home in a while.”
“Not exactly what I meant, but now I’m curious. Glasgow’s home, right?”
“Where I grew up. Cold for no reason most of the year, but sometimes I miss it. My brother can take care of himself and does so badly. He’s a dobber, too. More so than me. And Da…he’s getting older. Him I miss.”
“Most parents do when you’re not looking.” She broke out the chicken, already thawed. She must have planned dinner earlier. A large offering for just herself.
He opened the ’fridge and looked inside. Nothing like his. Hers had order and was clean. Tupperware galore, but one could only eat leftovers for so many days before getting sick of them.
“If you’re looking for the heads of the men I’ve slept with, they aren’t in there. Grab me the flour. Bottom shelf.”
“Looking at leftovers,” he said and then smiled at her.
“Third shelf, red top. That should hold you over until I’m finished.”
When he passed over the flour, he saw the tray of canned rolls. So that wasn’t going to be homemade and that relaxed him even more. He wasn’t dealing with Betty Crocker.
“Who’s getting older for you?” he asked and didn’t take anything out. He could wait.
“Mother. Calls me once a week with a list of things not working like they used to. Last week it was her knee. Dad’s as spry as ever, probably won’t retire as a principal for a while yet.”
She grabbed an apron from the hook by the stove, covering the long nightshirt she’d pulled on. The tightened strings pulled the shirt up enough he could see the boxers and luscious beautiful legs. She made the male piece of clothing feminine, sexy. Already, he wanted to jump her again.
Giving the thought and her some distance, he went back to leaning against the island. There was no nervous fumbling because she had an audience. He wondered how many times she cooked for a man.
The thought lodged between his stomach and heart. Yeah, he broke a lot of ground in bed for her but not here. His gaze strayed toward the door and he sighed. No. Still couldn’t force himself to go. How often would a beautiful woman, fantastic in bed, too, offer to feed him and want him to stay?
Not ever.
“Your mother or is it mum?” she asked.
Ah. That’s why he didn’t do this. “Having a great life from what I hear.”
Her gaze narrowed on him for a moment, but then she continued seasoning the meat while making a noncommittal noise. “That sucks.”
He waited for more poking and prodding about the relationship with his mum. Questions to see if he hated all women and suss out the reasons why he only indulged in non-committed relationships. There’d be insinuations and pity about not having a mum’s love as a little boy. He waited some more but none of that came. “That’s it?”
“If you wanted to spill out your sob story, you would’ve. Wine? I picked up some Chardonnay before I got home yesterday.” She smiled at him, knowingly, and he had to smile back.
“My mum was American. She loved to travel, like me or I’m like her. Fell for my Da in Scotland. They got married. She kept on traveling between getting pregnant with me and then my brother. Eventually she kept going and never came back. Found some other man to marry and more children to have. I’ve heard she didn’t travel as much after that.”
Finally she looked him head on. “She’s your bastard, and trust me, a mother who leaves her children behind without a backward glance is, at the very least, a bastard.”
That had crossed his mind a time or two or three. Along with the fact he might feel different about sex, love, marriage and everything in between if his mum had stuck around long enough to keep his da, his brother and him from turning into unmitigated bachelors.
He scoffed to dislodge the bitter taste in his mouth. “Guess you could say that.”
“But, the difference is you aren’t leaving anyone behind when you go. That makes you a cad, but not heartless.”
Warmth filled him at the words even though they were complete shite. “Is that the way you see me?”
A corner of her mouth quirked up. “I see you naked so my viewpoint may be biased.”
“That may be the reason.” But Ian didn’t think so and he frowned at that.
She grinned at him. “Ask.”
He shook his head, still puzzled by her words. “No question yet.”
“When you do, know that I’ll answer.”
The words finally eased the tense ache in his shoulders. “You won’t mind it?”
“You do it for me.”
He stilled at the tone. “Any questions you have?”
She made a contemplative sound and covered the chicken in flour while the oil heated and popped softly. “More of a statement.”
“And that is?”
“I know what dating is, Ian,” she said but didn’t look at him.
“Aye?”
“Yeah, but you’re leaving, and I’m fine with that. I will be. Eat with me tonight. Leave when you damn well please. When you do go, for good, don’t worry you’re leaving me brokenhearted. I’m made of sterner stuff than that. You don’t have to sugar-coat the ending, because the whole point of us was for me to do everything I was too scared to try.”
Her words rocked him to the core. She was strong. Vibrant. Sexy. Wholesome-ish. Everything he should walk away from and give a better man a chance to enjoy. “Aye.”
“You won’t be the bastard, so relax. We’ve got three weeks and there’s plenty of fantasies between the two of us to keep us busy.”
He looked at Jocelyn, really looked at her for what felt like the first time. If he was a different man, with different heartaches and goals, he would have fallen for her right then and there. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t relax, not entirely, but fuck if he didn’t try.
*****
Ian moved just a fraction of an inch and Lexxie adjusted her position on his right foot. He liked that. They’d played out the same scene several times in the last few days and still he wasn’t tired of it. This time was a little different. Ian shifted against Jocelyn’s kitchen island. She leaned closer to him. He liked that even more.
He wanted to see if Joce would sink her teeth into food. She’d taken all the time in the world cutting the pork chop into fine slivers. Her lids were low, hair bunched up on one side because he’d waken her for dinner. She still looked sexy as fuck to him, lips pursed and a wary glaze to her eyes.
She lifted the fork and put it back down beside the plate. “There’s no dishes in the sink. So, I don’t think you really cooked this.”
Ian forced his lips not to curve into a smile. “You wound me with yer suspicion.”
Her gaze narrowed to slits. “You’re breaking out the Scot. Now I know you’re lying.”
“Just taste it.”
“Would you feed it to Lexxie?” she threw back.
He plucked a piece from the plate and tutted. The warmth on his foot lessened only a fraction. Jocelyn rounded to his side and watched him give Lexxie a piece of the food. The dog chopped on it twice but since the meat was tender it was gone in a flash.
“See?” he said.
She didn’t move back to her side so while Lexxie warmed
his foot, Jocelyn warmed his side. He hooked a finger on her plate and slid it over to them.
She looked at him and then the food. “Where’d you get it?”
He swallowed the laugh at her question. “Freezer.”
“How’d you thaw it?”
“The old fashioned way of running cold water. Not hot.” Something she’d taught him or, closer to the truth, something he’d picked up the last three days spending way too much time at her house.
“I don’t know…” She bit her lip and picked up the white ceramic dish. A sniff and then she shrugged. “Open wide.”
She lifted a piece of the pork to his mouth and he grabbed her wrist. Ian chewed the food and then licked traces of the wine and Worcestershire sauce from her fingertips. Nipping at the sensitive tip of her forefinger, he pulled back. “Delicious.”
“You’ve told me a time or two, but what about the food?”
“Not as good as you but passable.”
A dreamy mist, a mixture of pleasure and lust, clouded her eyes. Her lips formed into a soft pout and his gaze was caught in the web of the dark-pink and tender flesh. Much plumper than the lips he was familiar with but no less tantalizing. Drawing him in, teasing him because they felt off limits and nothing about them seemed to be.
Maybe a few days ago had been a fluke, and he’d read too much into her reaction. He tutted and twitched his foot. Lexxie jumped up, and Ian moved in on Jocelyn, leaning down for a kiss. Before their lips could touch, she lifted her head and offered her neck. He tensed.
Ach. No.
Letting out a frustrated breath, he straightened, grabbed the plate and handed it to her. “Eat. It’s rude not to.”
She hesitated, not meeting his gaze, but finally took a bite. She made a noise that sounded like a guttural hmm and ate another sliver. But she’d turned her head away when he’d tried to kiss her and Ian couldn’t revel in sounds she made. The good mood he had was slowly turning to shite the more he thought about that quick flick of her head.
Lexxie whined. He glanced down and she shuffled close to his foot again. An angry tut had her scuttling back. “What?”