A Fine Balance

by Susan Johnson

  He jerked his hand back but not before he felt her slippery cleft. “Not a good idea,” he muttered.

  “You’re huge,” she whispered, gently rocking her bottom against his rock-hard dick. “Did I mention I’m on my honeymoon?”

  “Jesus,” he groaned.

  “Look, if something doesn’t feel right, we’ll both know it. Empirical evidence and all that stuff. I’m begging, okay?”

  He blew out a breath. “Not a good word.”

  “It’s true, so there,” she said, pettish and pouty.

  “You sound like you’re five.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “No shit.”

  “Look, this argument is over. I’m undressing you and you’re going to give me what I want or I’ll cry. Loudly. Yeah, you find that scary, right?”

  “No, just juvenile,” he grumbled.

  “Well, then I’ll just cry softly because it is my honeymoon and you’re making me sad.”

  He briefly shut his eyes, took a breath. “You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?”

  Her smile could have been seen from outer space. “Absolutely. May I undress you now?”

  “I have a question first. Condom or no condom?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because you’re not on the pill, you’re starting a new job in a few weeks, so it’s your decision.”

  “How did you know I wasn’t on the pill?”

  Once an undercover cop always an undercover cop. He shrugged. “Wild guess.”

  “I could have been.”

  “But you aren’t. What do you want to do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I asked first.”

  “You have no opinion?”

  “None that matters. It’s your call.”

  She crinkled her nose, tipped her head back a little. “Don’t you want children?”

  “We already have two.”

  “So you don’t want any more?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She grabbed his face, leaned in close and said, very, very softly, “I’m asking for your personal opinion about having more children.”

  He smiled. “Okay, I wouldn’t mind. On the other hand, it’s really up to you since you’d be doing all the work for nine months. And I mean it when it comes to your job. Do you want to take on a pregnancy now?”

  She sat back. “Thank you. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “I seriously don’t want to make any waves. Life’s good now, perfect, as a matter of fact. I’m more than content.”

  “What if I want your child?”

  “Then say so.”

  She softly laughed. “I want a girl.”

  He lifted a brow. “I can’t offer guarantees.”

  “Then, we’ll just have to keep trying til I get a girl.”

  His smile could have melted what ice was left at the Poles. “Whatever you want, Bear. It’s yours.”

  “I like when you give me what I want.”

  “My pleasure.”

  The face of an angel, a tiny smile. “Now?”

  “Sure,” he said, quietly. “We’ll give it a try.”

  When he didn’t immediately move, she said, “Want me to undress you?”

  “Uh-uh, I’ll do it.” Still not entirely sure he should accede to her wishes, he was busy running through options.

  “You have to believe me,” she said because he was staring off in space and the tick above his cheekbone meant he was trying to find a way to say, no. “I’m perfectly fine. And also, you’re not the boss of me.”

  His gaze hit her like a laser, his snort seconded his narrowed look and his voice when he spoke was the equivalent of a warning flag. “You telling me what to do?”

  “Yup. And hurry the fuck up.”

  He opened his mouth, shut it again, reminded himself it was his honeymoon and he loved this snippy bitch. “I’m not real good with orders,” he murmured.

  “I can tell.” She raked him with a glance. “You know what?—just unzip your jeans and I’ll do the rest. Or hell, I’ll unzip them.”

  He quickly rolled off the bed and stood out of reach.

  “I hope I don’t need a doctor’s statement,” she said, softly, stretching her arms up, and slowly arching her back like some alluring sex kitten.

  “I’m thinking,” he said, because it was like watching porn only real.

  “Think over here,” she purred, sliding her hands under her breasts and lifting them so they rose into soft pink mounds. “Better yet, come touch me and you’ll see that I’m”—her voice dropped a lower—“completely rested…”

  Fuck it. Why fight it? He’d find out soon enough if she was rested or not.

  He shed his clothes in two seconds flat, but then he’d had a lot of fucking practice. A second after that, he reached the bed, gave her shoulder a push so she toppled over backward, put his hand over her mouth and said, “We’re doing it my way. I want you walking, and talking in the morning, being Mom to the kids. Nod if you understand.”

  She nodded.

  He took his hand away and climbed up on the bed.

  “I still get you like soon, right? You’re not going to make me wait too”--

  “Long?” Jack whispered, sliding inside her smooth as silk. “Uh-uh.”

  “How do you do that?” she gasped, filled to the brim in nanoseconds, enchantment beginning to transform her world.

  Years of practice was never the right answer. “Upper body strength,” he said, and moved gently forward a fraction more.

  Her eyes shut against the spiking rapture shuddering through her body, the voluptuary sensations irrepressibly fierce, stupefying…

  “Hey, talk to me.” She’d gone utterly still.

  “Shut up,” she purred. “I’m enjoying my view of paradise.”

  His faint panic extinguished, he whispered, “See if you like this view better.” Slowly withdrawing, he glided back in even more slowly, her pussy yielding to his huge cock by exquisite, nuanced degrees. And when he was almost completely submerged, he moved in a small, succinct, unerring way so she absorbed his rigid length entirely.

  She uttered a low, throaty moan, the landscape behind her eyelids took on an astonishing brilliance, the glow on her retinas replicated in every shimmering, licentious nerve in her body, her image of paradise gloriously enhanced.

  And with each additional stroke after deepening stroke, he carefully guided the rhythm, the extent and depth of each thrust with consummate restraint, offering her a new kind of pleasure, lush and languid, provocative and intoxicating, so when her orgasm overtook her softly, it surprised her with its soul-stirring sweetness.

  There was a soul-stirring uniqueness to the occasion for Jack as well; a cautious man, he’d never climaxed in a woman, condom-free. His orgasm marked a new, shockingly blissful milestone in his life.

  It was one of many gratifying orgasms that night, some leisurely, some frantic, all wildly satisfying and much later when he’d quenched his wife’s feverish cravings and his less urgent ones, he wrapped her in a quilt, grabbed two small items from a bedside table and carried her out on the balcony. Sitting on a cushioned chaise, Jack settled Jillian on his lap and half-lifted his hand to the scene before them. “Do you like the view?”

  She smiled at her darkly handsome, nude husband. “I like this view.”

  He laughed. “Feeling good?”

  “Deeply and ubiquitously,” she murmured. “I’m every kind of happy.”

  He smiled and kissed her gently. “You’re every kind of wonderful to me, Jilly-bean,” he whispered. “Nothing better in the world than you.” She began to tear up, and male-like, he quickly changed the subject. “I have a couple little presents. Look.” Opening his hand, he held it palm up.

  “Happy tears,” she murmured, wiping the wetness from her cheeks with her fingers.

  “Good. I’ll figure out happy tears from sad tears, but give me a little time. It’s a steep learning curve. N
ow look at this one first.” He tapped a tiny silver wrapped box. “Then this.” Another tap on a small blue velvet drawstring bag.

  Opening the silver-wrapped box, Jillian pushed back the lid and her eyes snapped up. “You said you wouldn’t.”

  “Sorry.” He learned long ago to avoid an argument by not arguing. Lifting a wedding band of square cut diamonds from the box, he pulled off her gold band and replaced it with the diamonds. “If it’s a problem wear it for me at home.”

  “These diamonds are huge.” Her voice was low, restrained.

  “Not really. I saw lots bigger ones. I want you to have it,” he said, softly.

  She drew in a breath, looked up at him and smiled. “It’s beautiful, you shouldn’t have done it, but it’s lovely.” She ran a fingertip over the large, glittering stones. “It must have cost a fortune.” She’d been poor so long, this degree of wealth was difficult to comprehend.

  “I got a good deal,” Jack casually replied. “I know the jeweler. Open the next one. No angst, I guarantee.”

  She found a small bottle of perfume inside the velvet bag.

  “I had it made for you. I told Bernadette you smell like apple pie and roses. She did a great job, it’s perfect.” Plucking the bottle from her hand, he withdrew the stopper and put it to her nose. “See, that’s you.” A smile that would have made an angel weep with jealousy. “You’re my uber-sweet domestic goddess. Hey, hey, don’t cry.”

  She sniffled. “I’m just super happy.”

  “If you promise not to cry, I’ll make you happier. How do you feel about an orgasm with a bird’s-eye view of the Grand Canal?”

  She giggled. “Good distraction.”

  He winked. “I’ll make it better than good.”

  “How can I refuse?” she purred.

  “There you go, the perfect wifely answer.” He caught her hand before she punched him, kissed her knuckles and looked up with a grin. “Top or bottom, Jilly-bean?”

  Chapter 59

  A week later, Jillian and Jack were walking across St. Mark’s Square, hand in hand, when Sam growled, did a pit-bull equivalent of a point and they saw Matt Hayes seated at a table in the Café Florian arcade.

  “Take the boys home,” Jack said, dropping Jillian’s hand. “Paolo, wait,” he called out. His driver was walking ahead with Luis and Zeke.

  Jillian glanced at Jack. “Is Hayes dangerous?”

  “We wouldn’t see him if he was dangerous.”

  “He’s with a woman and child.”

  “The second mystery after why is he here?”

  When they reached Paolo, Jack handed over the packages he was carrying and Sam’s leash, then smiled at the boys. “Paolo’s going to take everyone home. I have an errand to run. It won’t take long.”

  The young Venetian spoke rapidly in the local dialect. “I can be back in ten minutes, less if you need me.” Paolo was more than a driver; he was a bodyguard, although his security role was covert. Jack didn’t want to alarm Jillian.

  Jack shook his head. “I’ll grab a water taxi. Keep an eye on things at the house.” The last phrase was swiftly delivered in Italian. “Boys go with Paolo now. If you’re good I’ll bet he’ll take you for a ride in the speedboat later.”

  “Would you like me to go with you?” Jillian murmured as the boys moved away.

  Jack’s gaze snapped back. “Fuck no.”

  “If you want my opinion, Hayes isn’t all bad.”

  “Thanks, dear. I’m sure you’re right.”

  She grinned. “Patronizing ass. Now be careful. I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

  “Don’t worry. You make my life worth living.”

  “You could invite him to dinner.”

  “Jesus, stop,” he said, grimly. Jillian didn’t know about Hayes pursuit of Luis, and she was way the hell too forgiving. He wasn’t. “I don’t want him anywhere near you and the boys.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Me too. It’s just that I’ve just been around the block a few more times than you.” Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. “Now, go. I want to get this over with, come home, have a drink or ten and forget I ever saw him.”

  But Jack kept his gaze on Paolo and his family until they disappeared from sight. Only then did he turn and walk toward the café. Hayes was alone, the woman and child gone. They must matter to him. Good. Level playing field.

  “Should I be surprised to see you?” Jack asked, taking a seat opposite Hayes at his table, automatically unbuttoning his flint-gray sport coat as he sat. Useless muscle memory; he didn’t carry here.

  Hayes smiled. “Old habits die hard. And yes, you should be surprised. I sure as hell was.”

  “That’s reassuring. On vacation? A shot of Le Diciotto Lune Stravecchia Grappa,” he said to the waiter who’d come up, glanced at Hayes, then added, “Make it two. Wait.” He pulled a roll of Euros from his jeans pocket, gave the waiter a fifty. “We’d like some privacy. Keep the change.”

  “I see you’re married.” Hayes nodded at Jack’s ring finger.

  “Yeah. You sent the woman and child away. Relatives?”

  “You might say that.”

  “How precisely might I say that?”

  “The young girl’s my daughter.”

  “And the woman?”

  “None of your business.”

  “What if I make it my business?” Jack scrutinized Hayes; he hadn’t made any concessions to disguise. Same military haircut, same windbreaker and button-down shirt, no hair dye or fake glasses. “Are you hiding in plain sight or not hiding at all?”

  “I could ask you the same question. You have a longer list of enemies than I do. Matter of fact, though, I’m”—Hayes curtailed his comment as the waiter set down the two drinks and left—“not looking for trouble. Live and let live, that’s my motto.” Picking up his grappa, he saluted Jack.

  Jack smiled, raised his glass. “To the absence of trouble.”

  “Fucking A.” Hayes tossed back the brandy, placed the empty glass on the table and leaned back in his chair. “You here long?”

  “Where’s Remington?” Jack raised the shot to his mouth and drank it.

  “Don’t know, don’t care, he’s radioactive.”

  “And you’re not?” Holding the glass up, Jack signaled for two more.

  “Uh-uh. I’m just a fucking peon. Dime a dozen. No one cares.”

  “Some might if you come back to the States.” Unpeeling another fifty from the bills in his pocket, he set it under his empty glass.

  “Don’t plan to. I’m getting married. I found out last week I have a daughter.” Hayes smiled faintly. “It never occurred to me it could matter, but it does. So I’m retired and plan to stay that way.”

  “Living here?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “How old is your daughter? I’m just making conversation,” Jack added as Hayes tensed. “I have a brand new family too. Luis is nine, you know Luis, and Zeke is two.”

  “Sorry about Luis.” Hayes grimaced. “I could make excuses, but I don’t have any good ones. My daughter Giuila’s eight. Her mother goes to church every fucking day. I’m actually thinking about joining Renata at Mass, get some of Remington’s slime off my soul if I still have one.”

  Their grappas arrived and Jack raised his glass. “To lost souls and second chances.”

  Hayes nodded and lifted his glass. “To wives and children.”

  After the men drank their drinks, a small silence fell.

  “If I ever need a freelancer,” Jack said, not entirely sure why he was even asking, other than Hayes was more capable and resourceful than most and perhaps, as Jillian had noted, not all bad, “would you”—

  “Sorry.”

  “Stay out of it. Good idea. There’s not a huge upside.”

  “What about you? If there’s not a Remington, there’ll be someone else riding your ass up there. Weed’s big money.”

  Jack grunted. “Haven’t decided.”

  “Maybe your wife wi
ll decide for you.”

  “Did yours?”

  “In a way. She doesn’t know much, but enough to want me out.”

  “Good for her.” Jack came to his feet; Jillian was waiting. “Ciao.”

  “Keep your powder dry.”

  Jack had half turned; he swiveled back, his brows arched high.

  Hayes smiled. “That sheriff of yours. Interesting guy.”

  “Best if you forget about him.”

  “Hey, not a problem.”

  “Goddamn, Hayes, I was just beginning to like you.”

  “No you weren’t. We’re too much alike. Don’t play well with others, distrustful, natural skeptics.”

  Jack grunted. “You forgot good with a gun. Stay away from my family.”

  “You do the same, we have a deal.”

  “Fine. You got it.”

  He’d make sure he had a little insurance against that deal though, Jack decided, walking away. He’d have Ray run down names and addresses. It’s not that he didn’t half ass like Hayes’ clear-eyed view of the world’s opportunists, but Hayes might run out of money, or retirement might pale, or his wife might kick him out someday.

  And Jack had a family to protect now.

  He wasn’t about to take any risks.

  No loose ends, no unknowns, no gambling with the perfection of his life.

  To learn more about author Susan Johnson AKA CC Gibbs visit her:

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