Nobody Does It Better

by Blakely, Lauren

  I move in her, slowly at first, searching for her rhythm.

  She slides her hands along my back, and I shudder. “Love that. Do that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  She digs her nails in, and I pump harder, deeper. So deep she cries out, my name a long, carnal song on her tongue.

  “Fuck, I love it when you say my name like that,” I whisper as I swivel my hips and drive into her.

  “Shaw,” she murmurs. “I . . .”

  I’m at a loss for words too.

  Everything is sensation as I thrust.

  Her wetness enveloping me.

  Her soft flesh arching beneath me.

  Her nails scoring my back.

  Her hands gripping my ass.

  Her breath coming faster.

  It’s almost too much. My bones crackle, pleasure barreling through me on a mad dash for my groin. But that won’t do. I have one job—make her toes curl.

  Gritting my teeth and fighting off the threat of my own orgasm, I hike up her hip, wrapping her leg around me, going deeper.

  “So good, bunny. So fucking good.”

  “Better than good.” Running her hands up to my hair, she wraps her fingers around my head, looking in my eyes. And we shift yet again. From friends to lovers to something more profound.

  Yes, I’m fucking her.

  Yes, it’s fantastic.

  And yes, sex has been known to fry a man’s brain.

  But this feels like a helluva lot more than a way to pass the time.

  The sounds she makes unravel me. They make me burn everywhere with rabid lust. They turn my thoughts hazy.

  She cries out, and then she does what she promised. She’s talking in Spanish, and I don’t know this language. But even I understand what she’s saying.

  Oh God.

  So good.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes!

  I’m willing to bet the next one is something like this . . .

  Coming!

  Hottest sound ever. Her accent when she loses control, when she gives herself to pleasure, turns me on so much I can feel myself unraveling. She arches, shuddering, and I chase her there, groaning and growling until I reach my release, the snow a mad blur outside the windows, the world beyond the cabin spiraling away.

  After, I need to know if we’re simply passing the time or if we’re starting something new. I want the latter. I want to start something with her and keep it going and going.

  But when she lifts a brow and offers a suggestion for what’s next on the schedule, I don’t know that I’m getting the answer tonight.

  Or that I mind.

  10

  Book Club Ladies Group Chat

  CarolAnn: Dying here! Give us the details. Is everything firmed up for the wedding?

  Miriam: Can you hear me squealing across town? It absolutely is. I can just picture them together having a dance, maybe a bite of Sara’s coconut cake, toasting to the happy new couple. It’s all so picture-perfect.

  Sara: My heart is fluttering! (Though I’m not baking a cake for a wedding! Puh-leeze. That’s only for my man.) But this outcome almost makes me want to try to set up CarolAnn’s handsome paramedic nephew with my niece. You know, the one who works at Arden’s bookstore. What do you say?

  CarolAnn: Yes! Madeline would be perfect for Hunter. He’s a teddy bear, and she’s a smarty-pants.

  Miriam: Being a retired teacher, that’s my favorite kind of gal to set up. The paramedic and the bookstore gal are next on our list! Once this first project is complete, of course, in a few more days.

  Sara: These youngsters just need a little nudge sometimes. And when they are so right for each other, they don’t always see what’s in front of their noses.

  Miriam: Truer words. And you two may have given me a hard time about how long it took, but it never would have happened if we hadn’t intervened. Am I right?

  Sara: Right, yes. Smooth, no.

  Miriam: Smoothness is overrated. All that matters is these two young lovers are coming together! We simply had to be involved.

  CarolAnn: They do need go-getters like us to move them along. And we know how to wring the most out of our lives.

  Sara: Nobody does life better than us.

  11

  Vanessa

  I dip a toe into the bubbling water. “It’s toasty,” I declare as stars twinkle in the inky sky. I shiver as the chilly night air wraps around me.

  But I’ll be hot in seconds.

  Shaw peers at the hot tub. “It damn well better be boiling since it’s colder than a polar bear’s pinkie outside.” He glances toward the back door—I wedged a brick in it. I’m no dummy. I’ve heard stories of people who freeze to death in outdoor hot tubs on back decks when the door locks behind them. The keys, bathrobes, and towels are all on a chair right outside the glass door.

  Which is unlocked.

  We’re triple-covered, though, because Shaw raps his knuckles on the window he’s also cracked open. “That way I won’t have to break out the ax and bust down the door if we did get locked outside.”

  “But you could, right?” I untie the bathrobe and drop it on the wooden deck.

  His eyes bulge.

  “Could what?” He sounds transfixed.

  I step into the hot tub, and I roll my hands, reminding him of the conversation. “You could break down a door or a window? That’s what you firemen do, right?”

  “Yeah,” he draws out, as if the word stretches into the next century.

  “Why do I get the feeling you lost the thread of the conversation and you’re staring at my boobs instead?”

  Shedding his bathrobe, he steps into the tub as well. “Because I was. Because you’re fucking distracting. You’re naked and hot as hell. I can’t think about fireman stuff. I can’t think about anything but getting my hands on you again.”

  That’s all I want too.

  Once wasn’t enough to curb my desire for him. Once, as magnificent as that one time was, barely scratched the surface. As I sink into the decadently hot water that bubbles around us, he glides over to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and drops a delicious kiss to my lips.

  I murmur, my eyes fluttering closed, goosebumps rising on my flesh.

  This time, his kiss is soft, an exploration. Like he’s taking the time to get to know my mouth, my lips, my jaw. His lips skate over mine, travel across my face as if he’s marking me with kisses—with mind-bending kisses. I scoot closer, my wet, naked body pressed to him.

  He slides his hands up my back, into my hair, then down again, cupping my ass. “You’re spectacular.”

  My fingers have goals of their own, and they travel along his chest, across his shoulders, down his strong arms, tracing his muscles. “So are you.” I stop at the jagged white scar cutting from his stomach to his right hip. “I noticed this in the calendar.”

  “You were looking at my calendar page?”

  “Of course. You’re the hottest.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “Is it from work?”

  He nods. “Fire at a winery. A beam fell. Hit me and ripped some skin.”

  I wince. “Ouch.”

  He shrugs like it was nothing. “I’m tough.”

  “I know. But I want you to be careful.” My voice sounds tender, and that’s the truth of how I feel for him. Even if this is a one-night-only thing—and I don’t know why it would be more—I want him safe and happy and well. “Your job has risks.”

  He grins like that’s the best thing I could have said. “I am safe. And I’m careful. I promise.”

  “Good. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

  His grin stretches. “You want me sticking around, V?”

  I punch him lightly. “Yes, stick around, please.”

  His smile possibly reaches the sky. “I’ll do my best.” After sinking onto one of the seats in the tub, he tugs me on top of him so I straddle his legs.

  “And now this hot tub
is getting red-hot.”

  “Please. It’s white-hot.”

  He hums a dirty little ditty, then his expression shifts to serious. “In there,” he says, tipping his forehead to the cabin, “I meant everything I said.” His eyes are etched with honesty and a vulnerability that reaches into my chest and grabs hold of my heart, squeezing it tightly. The way he looks at me makes me want to run inside, call Perri, and ask for forgiveness and then permission, because this man is all I want.

  But this isn’t about her right now. Because I don’t know that Shaw wants the same things I do. If he doesn’t—and I still have no reason to think he does—Perri doesn’t need my confession. Not if tonight is all there is.

  Oh, but if he does want the same things . . .

  He is, at the very least, worth testing the waters.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, hope wrapping around me.

  With the pad of his thumb, he strokes my chin. “I’ve wanted you for so damn long. I’ve wanted to kiss you, I swear, since . . .”

  My heart somersaults. He’s so close to voicing what I feel, something worth rocking the boat with my best friend. “Since when?”

  He gazes at me, stroking my arms, threading his hands in my hair. “I can’t stop touching you. I just can’t.”

  “Don’t stop, then.”

  Curling a big hand around the back of my head, he draws me in for another kiss. My skin tingles, and pleasure tightens in me, swirling in my core.

  “Since high school,” he answers when he breaks the kiss. “High school and college and ever since.”

  I smile a big, dopey grin. “Same here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I seal my mouth to his, kissing him in a tender, gentle way I hope intoxicates him like he’s done to me.

  He sweeps his tongue over mine, and we’re both melting into each other. We kiss for long minutes, the jets of the hot tub hitting us, the bubbles jamming out their own background soundtrack, the snow tumbling from the sky. I’m falling, too, under the spell of tonight. Falling far. Falling hard.

  “What took us so long to do this?” he asks when we stop.

  This.

  I need to remember what this is.

  I can’t fall harder. I need to fall out.

  Right now, we are only passing the time. This is a plan to get him out of my system. To eradicate all my wild emotions so I can walk away and finally stop comparing other men to him.

  I’m having him, so I can move on from him.

  But it feels so good to tell him what I want. “Maybe because a certain someone didn’t want us to,” I tease.

  Laughing, he sets a finger to my lips. “Don’t say her name. It’s just you and me tonight.”

  And that reminds me yet again that this is for tonight. So I’ll take tonight. I run my hands through his damp hair. “By the way, I presume you’re spending the night.”

  He laughs, tossing his head back. “You’re not kicking me out now, snow bunny. The roads are closed, the snow isn’t stopping, and I don’t even have any service on my cell.”

  “You need a cell to drive?”

  “I need a cell if there’s a problem. I’m a fireman. We’re trained to deal with emergencies, and I find it best if we don’t cause any, but should I encounter any, I want to be prepared. A working cell helps.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “Well, you can put out the fires here, then.”

  He gazes appreciatively at me as he slides his hands along my thighs. “You got a fire I need to extinguish?”

  I dip my hand between his legs and squeeze his erection. “I think we both do.”

  He groans, his eyelids hooded. “Fuck, that’s good.”

  I bury my face in his neck, kissing my way to his ear. “Want to pass the time again?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  I rub against him, kissing him, getting us both so worked up we’re groaning and gasping, and I’m sure the deer and woodland creatures are cringing and covering their ears in embarrassment.

  But before we do it in the water, I set my hands on his chest. “Hot tubs are great, but I’d really like to get you in my mouth, and also not drown nor have you freeze.”

  “Enough said.”

  Seconds later, we’ve grabbed our clothes and keys, scurried inside, and locked the door behind us. I tell him to sit on the couch in front of the fireplace.

  With the fire warming my skin, I drop down to my knees and take his cock in my hand, savoring the velvety steel of his length. He jerks against me, my name like a dirty prayer on his lips.

  One firm stroke and I let go and dip my head between his legs. I wrap my lips around his shaft, taking him in deep.

  “Fuck, Vanessa,” he says, and his hands dart into my hair.

  Drawing him in, I thrill at the wonderful reality. This man is mine tonight.

  He’s resplendent like this, with his thick, strong legs spread, his big arms around my head, his body slouched into the couch. I cup his balls, toying with them as I suck.

  He tastes so damn good because it’s him. As I bring him to the back of my throat, he grunts, making the dirtiest sounds. Then he thrusts hard, nearly making me gag.

  In a split second, he stops, yanks me up, and stares at me with wild, dirty eyes. “Get on my face while you do that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” He slides down so he’s flat on the couch. “I need to eat this pussy while you suck me dry.”

  A spark ignites in me, lit in my core and spiraling through my body from his filthy words. “I’ve never sixty-nined,” I admit.

  He blinks. “No?”

  “Never.”

  He sighs, like a satisfied man. “That’s fucking awesome. That’s the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me. I’m going to come so hard, baby. You okay with that?”

  I smile sheepishly. “I think I’ll like it.”

  He slides me around, tugging me to his face so I’m practically draped on him. At the first flick of his tongue, I groan like an animal.

  “Oh God,” I breathe out, and he moans too, licking me as I return his cock to my mouth.

  He spreads my legs wider, lapping me up as I draw him back into me. It’s heady and dirty, the way we are, draped over each other’s bodies, lavishing dizzying attention with tongues and mouths and now . . . fingers.

  Oh God. Dear Lord.

  I shudder, my entire body shaking as pleasure kaleidoscopes through me from his mouth, his tongue, and his fingers fucking me.

  Everything, every damn thing about this moment is so intense, so erotic.

  So intimate.

  Is it insane to feel closer to him right now than when we were fucking? I’m not looking in his eyes. He’s staring at my ass, if he’s even looking. Hell, my mouth is full of his thick, hard cock, but with his groans and my sounds and the wildness, I feel closer. So close that pleasure tightens in my belly.

  I can’t keep him in my mouth. I let go, his cock falling from my lips, as I give in to the storm inside me, to the swirl of sensations, to the burst of pleasure.

  Over and over, it builds from his tongue licking me, caressing me, his fingers in me and on me and spreading me, and it’s like he’s fucking me with his mouth and his hands at the same time.

  And his sounds.

  The noises he makes are lustful, carnal moans that tell me he loves doing this to me.

  And I love what he’s doing so damn much that the desire pulses between my legs and the exquisite ache ramps up until finally I climb to the heavens, soaring in ecstasy, babbling, shouting, crying out.

  I’m incoherent as I come ridiculously hard on his face.

  And before I know it, he’s spinning me around, hunting for another condom, but I shake my head. “Clean, I’m clean. Are you?”

  “Tested. Yes,” he grunts, and that’s enough.

  I sink down on him.

  “Shaw,” I groan in ecstasy as he fills me.

  “Vanessa,” he says, and it sounds like a plea
.

  “That was the most intense orgasm of my life,” I murmur as I rise up then drop back down, grinding on his fantastic dick.

  He grabs my hips, moving me quickly. “You’re so fucking sexy when you come. So fucking sexy all the time. So fucking sexy now.”

  His fingers dig into me. His hands grip me. And he fucks up into me, harder, wilder. He grunts and growls, teetering near the edge.

  “I want you to come, baby,” I tell him, sliding my chest against his.

  He groans.

  “Don’t hold out for me. I’m good. I want you to.”

  He grabs the back of my head, yanking me in for a fierce kiss. “You’re perfect. God, I’m so crazy for you.”

  And his words, they ring in my ears. They’re like a song. They’re like bells announcing my dreams.

  They’re the best thing I’ve ever heard. The man I love is crazy for me. And I’m so damn crazy for him that hearing that sends me on a fast track to pleasure.

  “Say it again,” I tell him.

  “Does it turn you on?”

  “So much.”

  He slams me hard onto him. “I’m fucking crazy for you.”

  I pant. “I’m crazy for you.”

  I close my eyes, riding him, riding us to the edge of pleasure, till the bliss grabs me and pulls me under. I come, and he comes, and we come together.

  After, he wraps an arm around me and sighs contentedly. “I’m pretty sure that was the best sex ever in the world.”

  “It definitely was. Nobody does it better,” I whisper.

  “That’s for damn sure. Nobody does it better than us.”

  And I know why. Because of what I feel for him, and what I hope he feels for me.

  * * *

  Sex makes me hungry.

  We eat the sandwiches I picked up earlier.