by Gina Watson
“Wow, you know what would be good with it?”
“Steak?”
“I wasn’t going to say steak, I was going to say potato chips.”
“I’ve done that before.”
“What’s in the pan?”
“That’s the chicken.”
“Ah.” He popped another cucumber slice into his mouth and chewed. “So what did you want to discuss?”
Fiona removed the Riesling from the chiller. As she peeled away the foil wrapper her hands shook. How long had it been since she’d felt nervous around a man? She smiled, basking in the sensation.
Leaning her hip against the counter she fiddled with the corkscrew. “I was wondering how often you come to town.”
“Not that often usually, but—”
“That’s actually a perfect timeline for my plan.”
“What plan?”
“I was thinking it would be …” Fiona hadn’t thought through how to present her proposal. “I wouldn’t mind it if you and I hooked up whenever you came to town.”
“I’d like that. Let me ask you something … do you like jazz?”
“Does it matter?”
“I thought I’d get tickets to the jazz festival.”
Fiona frowned, and then shook her head. “No.”
“It’s not for everyone. I happen to love it, but Parker can’t stand jazz.”
“I love jazz. I meant no, I don’t want to go out with you.”
His body language immediately changed. It was as if she’d zapped him with a magic wand that transformed over-the-moon happiness into rock-bottom sadness. His shoulders slumped and he pushed the appetizer away from his body.
“But I thought we were going to hook up.”
“I’m going to be clear regarding my expectations because I can’t offer any middle ground. If you want to accept my terms then great, we have a deal. If not, I won’t see you again.”
He looked perplexed. He leaned back into the bar chair and crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it.”
“I enjoy having sex with you. When you come to town, I would like to do it again. I’d need to be provided with your arrival date at least a week in advance. I’d want to meet you at a predetermined location. Maybe a hotel. Just to be clear, you won’t be able to come to my house again and I won’t be able to go out with you to jazz clubs or restaurants. This is strictly a sex-only relationship. It won’t do to get involved on an emotional level.”
As she spoke, he’d been a wall of set determination. The only hint that he’d been listening was the slight increase in his respiration rate. He sat frozen like a piece of furniture, his eyes unblinking.
“Everett?”
His throat engaged in a swallow. “Wow. I guess Julian was right—I really don’t know what I’m doing.” He laughed nervously. “I’d never wanted to get close to a woman until I met you. I preferred keeping my options, and my zipper, open. But then I met you and all that changed. Suddenly, everywhere I looked I thought I saw you walking toward me. Which is crazy, but true. I was at the LSU campus recently and in the distance saw a woman with your same features. As we approached one another my smile became wider and wider. She began to frown”—he cocked his head at her—”I’m sure she thought I was certifiable. I realized when I passed her that she looked nothing like you.”
His hand rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I just told you all of that. I enjoyed our time in New York. You hadn’t wanted to give me the time of day before New York. However, I can see my performance has qualified me to be your stud. I’m dumbfounded. I thought we’d both realized some potential, but I guess it was just me … again.”
He made a sound in the back of his throat and simultaneously stood. “Excuse me, I need the restroom.”
Fiona’s throat burned as she realized she’d hurt him. He was one of the nicest men she’d ever met—maybe even the nicest. She figured he’d be relieved to receive her proposal. He couldn’t develop his realized potential from Boston anyway. What was the big deal? She scooped cauliflower onto plates for them and walked them to the table. She went back to the kitchen for the Riesling and two wine glasses, meeting Everett on her way back to the table. “The main course is ready.”
“I think I’ll take off.”
Oh, God. He really was upset. She felt so bad being the cause of his hurt. “Won’t you eat first? I’ve got the dessert baking in the oven.”
He didn’t answer her with words, but moved to take a seat at the table.
He wouldn’t look at her, just down at his plate. She poured the wine while he ate a bite of the food on his plate.
“This does eat like chicken. It’s tasty and it’s got some kick to it.”
“It’s gobi Manchurian, an Indian dish.”
“Are you going to tell me what I’m actually eating?”
As he forked another bite their eyes connected. “It’s cauliflower.”
His eyes lit up. “Mmm, I like it.”
“Everett, listen … I’d not intended for my proposal to hurt your feelings. I didn’t think you were in a position to offer more than, say a friends-with-benefits situation.”
He sipped from his wine glass. “But you don’t want to be friends. You just want to fuck.”
“Were you going to try to develop a long-distance relationship?”
“No. Honestly, I thought you’d called me here tonight to issue an ultimatum. Something along the lines of if we were to continue to see one another you were going to demand some kind of commitment. A commitment I was prepared to make. I’ve actually been asked to take an assignment here in Baton Rouge. I accepted it.”
He shrugged as if what he was saying didn’t have a direct impact on his life.
“You’re going to be living in Baton Rouge?”
“Already am.”
Fiona looked down at her untouched cauliflower. She couldn’t think when she looked into the sincere steel gray of his eyes.
“Everett, if I’d met you under different circumstances I would have jumped at the chance to get to know you. You’re exactly the kind of person I’m attracted to, but I have responsibilities that prevent me from being free to develop any kind of relationship with you. I can’t make a commitment right now. I’m sorry.”
“We can’t even be friends?”
She smiled at him. “I’d like to be friends.”
“Friends that can go to restaurants and jazz clubs together?”
“Yes.”
“Friends who have sex?” His brow cocked at her, waiting for her answer.
This was the moment Fiona realized that she didn’t want him to leave her home and walk out of her life forever. “You know what, Everett?”
His brow furrowed into a scowl. “What?”
“You deserve to know that everything I said earlier was total bullshit. I’d very much like to get to know you better. I don’t want you to leave and not be around. I couldn’t be happier that you will be in Baton Rouge indefinitely.”
“Really?”
God, his face lit up like that of a child who just won ring toss at a carnival, and thereby a plush bear bigger than a small car. “Really.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“I’m sorry I’m all over the place. Due to the way my life has turned out I haven’t dated or had sex with anyone for ten years, until you. I’m afraid I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“We’re in the same boat—I don’t know what I’m doing either. So are we going to exclusively date?”
“I think we are. But I do still have those responsibilities I mentioned earlier. I won’t be available much.”
“I can work with that. My immediate plans are to eat an overly large helping of that blueberry thing”—he gestured with his fork toward the kitchen—”and then I’m taking you to bed. How’s that sound?”
“Absolutely perfect.”
***
Everett stood looking at the petite form of Fiona. The artwork on her body was exquisite. He’d
wanted to examine it thoroughly in New York, but they’d been drunk and aggressive. Tonight he would set a slower pace and worship her from head to toe.
She walked to her dresser in her jeans and bra to turn on a lamp. He turned off the abrasive overhead light, and then walked up behind her. He kissed her decorated shoulder. “You’re beautiful.”
She slid her feet out of her shoes and for the first time he realized how adorably small she was. “You’re so tiny.”
“You’re so tall,” she said as she looked up at him. The top of her head came to his chest. “How tall are you anyway?”
“Six feet.”
“Twelve inches.”
“Huh?”
“You’re twelve inches taller than I am.”
“You remind me of Tinkerbell.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I think it’s the hair. I love it. Maybe I can kidnap you and carry you around in my jacket pocket. You’d be my prisoner.”
“There’s so much wrong with that scenario.”
“Not to me. I can imagine all sorts of wonderful things that we’d do.”
“That’s really creepy.”
He bent down to kiss her neck and inhaled her vanilla scent. “Mmm, why do you taste like vanilla?”
“Lotion.”
“I could just eat you up.”
“Please don’t.”
She started undoing the buttons on his shirt. “I like all your fancy-ass clothes, Mr. David.”
“I’m glad. I like it when you’re removing them from my body.” She slid the shirt down his arms, leaving his upper body bare.
He lowered his lips to hers and picked up the scent of sugar and blueberry, along with the vanilla. Massaging their lips together he let a moan escape the back of his throat. He was already hard for her, his body not wanting to take things slowly, but he would if it killed him.
She opened her cute little mouth and he tasted her further. “Mmm, did you put cinnamon in the crumble?”
“Yeah.”
“I can taste it on your tongue.”
When her hands threaded through his hair he lifted her slight weight. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he leaned them against the dresser.
While they kissed his hands explored her petite curves, her body toned from running. When he reached the clasp of her bra he expertly unhooked it.
She giggled. “Do they teach guys how to do that in elementary school?”
“No, actually I didn’t become skilled at that move until college.”
He slid the bra off her arms and caressed her ribs. She squealed and wiggled away from him. “Sorry, not there. Ticklish.”
He smiled and stored that knowledge for later. As she sat topless and so cute perched on the dresser his hands came up to enclose around her small breasts. Everything about her was small and he wanted to be the one to protect her from anything that could do her harm.
She slid from the dresser and fumbled with the buckle on his belt. “Let’s take off our pants.”
“Okay.” She moved to work on her own hardware while he finished what she’d begun on his pants. Once they were both nude they stood, admiring one another. Her smile widened, as did his at what he’d uncovered. This is what they’d missed when they were drunk and frenzied in New York.
He could see her ass in the dresser’s mirror. It was pert and high and all he wanted to do in the world was squeeze those beautiful cheeks in his hands so he turned her body around. She faced the mirror and he stood behind her, kneading her ass to the tune of her moans. The full round globes fit his hand perfectly, filling his palm. He let one hand go to explore her lower abdomen, seeking the space between her legs.
When his fingers slid between her lower lips, he felt the moisture that had collected. “You’re soaking wet.”
“I have been since you walked through the front door.”
It was his turn to moan. “Are you talking dirty to me?”
“What if I am?”
He lowered his lips to her ear. “I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to fuck you for a very long time.”
She bit her lip, but he still heard the sigh that faintly escaped her throat. Her arousal became increasingly more audible as more moisture flooded her core. When her head arched and her eyes closed he watched in the mirror as her orgasm bloomed. He loved how his name sounded as it dripped from her passion-laced lips.
He couldn’t wait to have her so he got into position behind her, bending his knees to compensate for her small stature. Her moisture lubricated the cock pushing between her thighs. He teased her with his tip until she gasped in frustration.
“Everett, fuck me.”
God he wanted to. “There’s just the matter of the uh … “
“What?”
“Do you have any condoms?”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
Her eyes closed and heavy breathing escaped her open lips. “I think I’m going to cry.”
“No, please don’t.”
“I need you.”
He turned her in his arms and saw her lip quivering and his heart cinched.
Fucking hell, he’d risk it. “Are you familiar with the pull-out method?”
“I’m not familiar with much, so no.”
Her pouty lips were priceless. “I’ll pull out before I come. Is that okay?”
“God, yes!”
Turning her back around he slowly pressed into her sweet wet warmth. She emitted a long sigh and when he was in all the way he returned her sigh.
“I love how desperate you are for my cock.”
“Mmm, I’ve been dreaming of you every night.”
“I also love how your pulse elevates when I whisper naughty, dirty words into your ear.” As if on cue her body hummed and squeezed around his girth, causing him to groan.
He gathered her short hair into his hand and pulled her head back to his chest. As he thrust steadily and evenly he sucked on her long slender neck. “I want to mark you.”
“Do it.”
God, she was hot. And she liked it a little dirty—he fucking loved that.
As he sucked on the tender skin of her neck his fingers squeezed the hard nipple of her left breast before moving over to the right.
“Everett,” she moaned.
“Yeah, babe?”
“I want you to come.”
“You’re going to make me come so hard.”
“Can you go faster?”
“I can do anything you want.”
“Harder.” Her breathy pleas were his undoing. He pumped hard and fast and she coaxed his orgasm out of him with more dirty talk and the milking motion of her muscles. He barely pulled out in time to squirt all over her lower back. He caught her watching him explode in the mirror. Her eyes were glazed over as she licked her lips.
As they attempted to catch their breaths her head went down onto her forearms on the dresser. Heavy breathing had her ribs expanding in and out in an erotic dance.
“Can I get you a towel?”
“Please.” She pointed, without lifting her head, to the en suite bathroom.
He warmed a rag under the faucet while the rubber ducks lining her tub stole his attention. He smiled as he pictured her sensually bathing while the ducks floated around in the water.
He padded back into the bedroom finding Fiona exactly as he’d left her. She was so still he thought she’d fallen asleep in her position leaning on the dresser, but a lazy satisfied smile begin to break across her face.
When the rag made contact with her lower back she moaned. “Mmm, Everett David. You must have had a lot of sex.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re so good at it.”
“I’ve never had any complaints, but I think it’s only good when you have an equally good partner.”
“Oh? So I’m good?”
“Baby, you’re the best.”
“Do you have any plans for the rest of your Saturday?” She queried.
“I planned to do some sketching.”
“What are you drawing?”
“I’m doing a scene for an actor friend of mine. He’s been filming in Shreveport for a while now. He’s on a cable television series. Anyway, he wants a scene to commemorate his stint in Louisiana. He mentioned moss-covered gnarled oak trees.”
“Wow, that’s cool. You do work for famous people?”
“Not usually—he’s my first.”
Everett fought hard to keep his lips turned up into a smile. He didn’t like the thought of her with her hands on any man, let alone an actor. “Do you need some inspiration?”
“I’d love to go look at some moss-covered trees.”
“I know just the place.”
“I want the scene to be mysterious.”
“I’m telling you, I’ve got what you need.” He smiled suggestively and adjusted himself.
Clothed, she walked up to him and grasped between his legs. “Baby you do, and then some.”
She was hotter than black asphalt during a Louisiana August. “Would you like to swim afterward?”
“Sounds like a great plan. I’ll pack a suit.”
“Will you also pack that blueberry thing you made?”
She giggled. “But of course.”
***
Fiona thought Everett quite something. She was no virgin bride, but for her sex had never been as complete as it was when she was with him.
He’d insisted on driving them in one car and that’s how Fiona came to be chauffeured to his cousin’s plantation, which it turned out was next to his family’s estate.
The radio in the car was turned low, but she still heard Muse on the satellite station. She admired his taste in music so far.
So far. As in this was just the beginning. She smiled. Fiona loved the unadulterated expectations of a budding romance. Not that this was a romance, but a girl could dream.
“What has you smiling over there?”
“I just like smiling.”
“You don’t give away your secrets easily.”
“I don’t. You have to earn them.”
“Oh, you can count on that.”