by BETH KERY
Ricky looked sweaty and slightly panicked as the ball arced downward out of the sky. The back of Thomas’s neck prickled with the awareness of Joseph Carlisle’s observance from the dugout.
In the dream, he was able to sense his adopted father’s thoughts. Joseph knew his son was going to drop the ball. Thomas knew it, too.
A deep, nameless dread filled him.
“You can do it, Ricky! Concentrate,” he shouted at the dark-haired boy. In the dream, time stretched. Ricky glanced over at him. He seemed to gain confidence at something he saw. A smile tilted his lips.
He looked up and caught the dropping ball. Thomas whooped loudly.
“I’ll practice hitting with you later on,” he shouted when Ricky joined him at a jog, still clutching the ball victoriously. Love for his brother felt like it’d burst from his chest.
“You will? Really, Tom?” Ricky asked, surprised by his unexpected generosity. A flash of guilt stabbed through him. He’d been so rude and sarcastic to Ricky since he’d arrived at the Carlisle house, feeling like an unwelcome guest, an ugly, pulsating blemish on the smooth, lovely façade of the Carlisle family.
“Sure,” he assured Ricky as they ran toward the dugout and a watchful Joseph Carlisle. Thinking about Joseph’s reaction to Ricky catching the fly ball made him beam with happiness. “We’ll practice out back after dinner. I don’t care how many nights it takes. You’re gonna hit the ball wherever you want.”
Thomas started into wakefulness, the image of Ricky’s dawning smile fresh in his mind and spirit. He stared blankly out the curtained window, seeing the gray light of dawn. It took him a moment to recall where he was, but then he inhaled Sophie’s scent combined with that of the clean cotton sheets.
He just lay there for a few seconds, letting his pounding heart slow, allowing Sophie’s fragrance and the sensation of her warm, even breath falling on the skin of his chest soothe him.
What had occurred in the dream had never happened in real life, and that was what pained Thomas in that moment more than anything. In reality, he’d been rude and sullen to a hopeful, eager Ricky for over a year before he ever came out of his shell and befriended him. Thomas’d watched for nearly two whole summers while Ricky suffered during baseball season under the eye of his irritated, disappointed father.
Why had the ancient, nearly forgotten childhood regret risen so powerfully tonight?
After a moment, he swiped at his damp cheeks and rose from the bed, careful not to wake Sophie.
Sophie’s heart seemed to leap up into her throat when she awoke the next morning and discovered she was alone in the bed.
Dear God, she thought, as she flung back the sheets. Not again. She grabbed a yellow sundress out of her closet and hurried into it, tying the straps at her shoulders in a haphazard fashion and rushing out of the room.
“Thomas?” she called out anxiously. Something about the flatness of her query in the silent house warned her she was alone. She held her breath as she raced to the back door. Warm, cheerful sunlight bathed her face, chest, and arms as she stepped out onto the back stoop. The storm had passed. They’d been gifted with a dewy, golden day sent straight from heaven.
She exhaled the breath that had been burning in her lungs when she saw Thomas’s car directly behind hers in the drive.
She hurried around the house, hearing the buzz of bees and flies over the field of prairie grass and wildflowers next to the cut grass of her lawn. A decent-sized town had never sprung up around Haven Lake over the years, and Sophie was thankful for that. Without restaurants, movie theatres, and strip malls, the sleepy lakeside community had never really caught on as a vacation get-away. Haven Lake today was nearly as populated as it had been twenty-five years ago, when she came here as a child.
There were a number of houses rimming the lake, but she could only make out two secluded residences on the far shore through the dense oaks, maples, and locust trees. They were permanent residences; she was one of the few vacationers on Haven Lake.
The closest house was about a quarter of a mile down Lake Road. It belonged to the Dolans—a friendly couple who had retired relatively young. They occasionally stopped by to chat when Sophie was in residence, oversaw her lawn maintenance, and collected her mail for her when she wasn’t there. She couldn’t make out their home due to the thick foliage, but she could see their white dock running out into the still waters.
The lake and surrounding woods showed a different face to her every day, it seemed. Today the lake was a dark blue, reminding her of a sparkling sapphire set in a bowl of lush viridian.
The scenery usually captured her focus utterly, but today another natural wonder vied for her attention.
He wore a pair of blue swim trunks and nothing else. His torso gleamed with sweat as he pulled himself up until his chin was above a six-inch thick oak branch.
Sophie walked toward Thomas slowly.
His abdominal muscles must be working nearly as hard as his bulging arms and shoulders because they were tight as a ridged drum as he completed pull-up after pull-up. His gaze remained fixed on some distant point in the sky as his muscles flexed and then stretched with his falling weight, and flexed again. He grunted each time his body contracted before he uncoiled his lean, glorious length. Something about his hard, constricting muscles, the savage jerk of his sinews, and his soft grunts made her think of sex.
Then again, it was impossible to look at Thomas adorned only with trunks and golden brown skin that gleamed with sweat and think of anything but sex. She thought of last night—how he’d eaten her up with the single-minded intensity of a wolf at its supper. Her pussy tingled at the memory.
After another minute of heart-pumping activity—both for him and increasingly for Sophie—he dropped to the ground, limber and sinuous as a panther. She’d thought he hadn’t noticed her presence, as rigid and unwavering as his expression and gaze had been, but she realized he’d known she was there all along. He spoke without looking at her as he picked up a discarded T-shirt.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering where I got the clothes?” he asked as he wiped the sweat off his neck and then his brow with the shirt.
Sophie’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t been wondering about that at all. She’d been too busy salivating at the sight of all that flexing, pumping male muscle.
“Where did you get them?” she asked, suddenly curious now that he’d brought it to her attention.
“I was up early, so I drove into Effingham and found a store open,” he murmured. Now that he was looking at her, he seemed distracted by the sight. His gaze dragged over her face, neck, shoulders, and chest slowly. Sophie forced her attention back to the conversation even if her body was far more aware of the undercurrents sizzling between her and Thomas.
She smiled at what he’d said. The only store where he could have bought clothing at 6:00 A.M. was a Wal-Mart.
“What are you grinning at?” he asked softly. Sophie unglued her eyes from the mesmerizing vision of him running his hand slowly over his sweat-glistening abdomen.
“The thought of you shopping at Wal-Mart for clothing. I’m used to seeing you in expensive suits.”
“I’m used to seeing you all buttoned up as well.”
She glanced down at herself self-consciously. She couldn’t be any less put-together than she was at the moment. She hadn’t combed her hair and the straps of her dress were haphazardly tied. Once again, a sense of awkwardness seeped into her awareness, an acute consciousness of the unusualness of the situation with Thomas. He was practically a stranger to her, despite the fact that she knew so many secrets of his private life . . . despite the fact that she’d let him repeatedly consume her with his raw passion.
She cleared her throat and glanced at him uneasily. “Did you eat while you were in town? Would you like some coffee, or maybe some—”
She blinked in amazement when he dropped the crumpled T-shirt on the grass and stepped toward her. He cradled her head in his hands. His thumbs beneath her
jaw urged her to look up into his face.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown woman blush as much as you do, Sophie,” he murmured distractedly.
The heat in her cheeks amplified at his words. Damn it. She hated the telltale sign of what was happening in her inner world and had done battle with blushing since she was a child, although it’d been most acute in adolescence. It took something pretty major to get to her nowadays. Still, it happened more often than she’d prefer. She was an experienced, professional woman and it infuriated her, this proclivity to turn red when she least wanted to show her vulnerability.
She twisted her chin, breaking his intense study of her. If he’d laughed at her or insisted on talking about her sudden discomfort, she probably would have withdrawn even further. But instead—in what she was learning to be typical Thomas fashion—he acted as though her blush was not only beautiful, but a sign of much more than embarrassment.
Which it was, Sophie realized when he slipped a long finger beneath the strap of her sundress and leaned down to gently kiss the heat in her cheeks.
“You look like sunshine in this yellow dress with those pink cheeks,” he murmured next to her skin. Sophie couldn’t help but smile then, even if her blush didn’t dissipate. She turned toward him, liking the sensation of the warm, fragrant puffs of his breath on her upturned lips, shivering as he stroked her shoulder with a magical touch. He peered at her upturned face intently and returned her smile. “I wonder ...”
“Wonder what?” Sophie murmured. She went up on her tiptoes to try to brush her lips against his, but he was too tall and he didn’t lean down toward her.
“Why every time I look at you, I want to fuck you until my ears ring.”
If her cheeks had been warm before, they burned now. She felt liquid seep from her pussy. Maybe Thomas noted the arousal that surged through her veins because he slowly brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek, as though tracing her heat. She murmured his name when he pressed his fingertip into her lower lip, his gaze turning hot and wanting. He lowered one arm and opened his hand over her hip.
“Are you naked under this dress?” Even though his tone was like a low purr, she heard something just beneath it . . . something that reminded her of a motionless panther about to pounce.
She nodded, spellbound by the sensation of him rubbing her hip and ass cheek through the thin dress. His gaze lowered, as though he were gauging her reaction to his bold caress. Sophie knew she should suggest they go inside the lake house—his palm was now boldly cupping and massaging her ass—but her pussy had gone molten, making her forget purposeful speech. She panted softly, her gaze fixed on Thomas’s mouth.
He moved suddenly, pulling her with him. He pushed her back against the trunk of the oak and stood in front of her, his body ghosting hers within an inch . . . just out of contact, almost as though he was worried about touching her with his sweat. Sophie was preoccupied by the opposite. She experienced an overwhelming need to press against his hard length. His heat and scent pervaded her awareness. That was when she knew the real reason she’d blushed. Her own thoughts about what she wanted to do with this man both shocked and thrilled her.
Despite his perspiration-gilded muscles, he smelled wonderful—salty and spicy, like prime male flesh. Her mouth watered for him. She leaned forward and licked a tiny, puckered nipple, covering her tongue in his sweat. He hissed and plunged his fingers into her loose hair roughly. Still, he held himself off her, restraining himself.
She pressed her lips against his hard chest and moved her head slightly, coating her lips in his essence, too, before she licked again, intoxicated by his taste. He growled, deep and rough and cupped her jaw in his hand. Sophie glanced up at him, her parted lips slick with his sweat. His mouth slanted into a snarl when she glided her tongue along her lower lip, tasting salt and musk. His nostrils flared.
“You’re going to have to pay for that, Sophie,” he warned as he pressed his thumb to her damp lip, forcing her mouth open slightly more.
She went with him willingly when he grabbed her hand and led her across the expanse of the yard. He took her behind the boathouse, where it was shaded and cool. Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps by the time he pressed her back against the boathouse wall. Her heart began to throb with excitement against her breastbone when he leaned down and ran the tip of his tongue over her lower lip, mingling their flavors.
“Such a sweet mouth,” he muttered against her lips before he leaned down and pillaged what he’d admired with his lips and tongue. Sophie groaned in rising excitement. Her palm slid across his sweat-dampened ribs while her other hand found his cock unerringly. He groaned into her mouth when she cupped his erection through the swim trunks and stroked the long, thick column of his penis.
Her hunger swelled.
She panted when he lifted his head and stared fixedly at her mouth. A ray of sunlight filtered through the trees, bringing out the golden glints in his dark eyes.
“Down on your knees, Sophie.”
She sunk before him, using her hold on his waist to stabilize herself. She reached for the waistband of his trunks, all the while wondering why she wasn’t even remotely offended by his demand. The memory of how full and firm his cock had felt in her hand gave her the answer. She wasn’t offended by his command to give him head because his wish matched hers perfectly at that moment. She couldn’t wait to touch him, to fill her mouth with his teeming flesh.
He placed his palms on her hands, stilling her attempts to lower his trunks.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he murmured. Her eyes went wide as she glanced up at him. Just inches from her face his penis lurched against the fabric of his trunks. Doubt suffused her. His cock was too large for her to successfully bring him off with her mouth alone. She’d need her hand to attend to the flesh she couldn’t get to with her lips.
“I’m all sweaty. I don’t want to mess you up, but,” his deep voice broke slightly, “God, I need to do this, Sophie.”
When she heard the apology twined with his desire, her doubt evaporated. Slowly, keeping her eyes locked with his, she moved her hands behind her back.
“I’m going to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours.” Sophie’s vagina contracted almost painfully at him whispering something so illicit while she knelt before him here at the edge of the silent woods with the sun-dappled lake sparkling out of the corner of her eye. His words had landed on her ears like a dark angel’s blessing. “And it’s going to feel so good, Sophie. All right?”
Her gaze dropped down his magnificently naked, glistening torso to his crotch. She merely nodded her head, too overwhelmed by a sexual hunger that was more powerful than she’d ever known to speak. She watched, mesmerized, as he lowered the trunks and let them fall around his ankles. When he stepped out of them, he was completely naked. He stood before her, his muscles still hard and delineated from his workout, his golden brown skin shiny with perspiration. His cock hung thick and heavy between his strong, hair-dusted thighs, the color of it golden like the rest of his skin, but flushed with a ruddy hue. She could see several veins at the surface, feeding his arousal. The sight of the fleshy, delineated cap made her salivate. She longed to feel his weight in her palm, thirsted for the sensation of the fat, tapered crown sliding between her lips.
He cupped his hand at her nape and caught her forward movement when she leaned down instinctively to slip the cock head into her mouth. She caught his male scent and liquid heat surged from her vagina.
“Stay still,” he rumbled above her, his voice rough with arousal. He kept one hand lightly encircling her neck while he lifted his cock with the other. Sophie stared, entranced, as he brought the smooth head within an inch of her parted lips and began to stroke himself. He lightly caressed her nape, making her shiver uncontrollably, as his fist ran up and down the crown and top half of his penis. When she parted her lips farther and craned toward him, his hold on the back of her neck tightened, restraining her.
She glance
d up at him, feeling irritable at his deprivation but also nearly at the boiling point of excitement.
“Let me suck it,” she whispered.
He smiled, slow and brilliant. He took a small step toward her, positioning himself.
“Open your mouth, but keep your eyes on my face, Sophie,” he rasped.
She did what he asked. It stunned her to realize it, but she literally shook in anticipation. He cupped her skull and pushed his cock head between her lips slowly, his girth causing her mouth to part wider. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she shut her eyes so that she could completely focus on the feeling of his cock stretching her lips, the softness of his skin sliding next to her tissues . . . the salty, musky taste that filled her mouth.
He paused when her lips encircled the thick, delicious rim beneath the cock head.
“I told you to keep your eyes open, Sophie. Look at me.”
She pried her eyelids apart and stared up at the glorious length of him. His face looked set and rigid as he looked down at her; his eyes glittering in the shadows caused by his falling bangs bracketing his cheekbones.
“God . . . your eyes, Sophie,” he muttered gruffly. “Maybe I’d be better off having you close them. But don’t . . . just . . . stay still. Do you understand?”
She nodded, making his cock bob in the air.
He flexed his hips and firmed his hold on the back of her head. His cock slid along her tongue. She stared up at him as he slowly filled her mouth with his throbbing flesh. When her eyes went wide in alarm as he neared her throat, he eased out slowly, grunting in pleasure. He held her immobile while he repeated the process, thrusting shallowly into her again and again, fucking her mouth more rapidly now, pushing a millimeter or two more of his long cock between the ring of her lips with each lusty stroke.
The only control she had in the situation was how firmly she clasped his cock and the magnitude of her suck. She took full advantage of what control she possessed, making her lips a tight clamp and creating such a fervid suction that her cheeks hollowed out and their inner lining touched his thrusting penis.