Dropping Gloves

by Catherine Gayle

  “I meant I could make you something to eat. Dessert or something,” I said, recognizing how feeble it sounded in comparison to what she’d initially interpreted it to mean. “I fed you once, and you didn’t immediately keel over and die from food poisoning. You never did eat the chocolate mug cake I made for you.”

  She smiled without looking up, tracing the patterns of the swirls in my marble counters. “If I ever turn down chocolate, that’s when you know there’s something to worry about.”

  “Two chocolate mug cakes, coming right up.”

  I disengaged Blackbeard again, passing him over to Katie. Then I took out two coffee cups and the ingredients, and I set to work. She put him on the floor and got him to chase a feather toy on a bright yellow fishing pole for a while, but I doubted he would keep it up for long. Not after a big meal like that. When I took the cakes out of the microwave, I turned around to find him making a flying leap at me…only it was really the feather he was going for. It was just heading right in my direction. I dodged out of the way just in the nick of time to avoid claws sinking into my balls again. Once was more than enough for this lifetime.

  “Sorry,” Katie said, but she was laughing and didn’t look remotely apologetic.

  “Did you swing that thing my way on purpose?”

  “Not really. Maybe.” The look in her eyes said absolutely.

  “So that’s what I get for making chocolate cake for you, huh?” I set them on the counter to cool, put some raspberries in the mugs, and topped them off with whipped cream.

  “Can you put some more in mine?” she asked.

  “After you sent that killer flying straight at my nuts?” I scoffed. “You should be glad I’m not going to keep it all for myself.” But I still put more whipped cream in her cup. I set the can on the counter, grabbed two spoons, and carried everything into the living room.

  She followed me, Blackbeard chasing the feather toy behind her. When she sat down next to me, she set the can of whipped cream on the coffee table.

  “Still not enough?” I asked, laughing.

  “Never enough.” She gave me a seductive smile that heated my blood. It was too soon after I’d just come, wasn’t it? But I was already starting to get turned on again.

  Blackbeard swatted at the feathers a few more times, but Katie wasn’t swinging it anymore, and he was absolutely pooped. He curled up on the area rug, wrapping both front paws around the feathers to keep them close, like a child would hold a teddy bear, and was asleep in no time.

  Katie took one of the mugs and a spoon and dug in. I waited to see what she thought, not that I had to wait very long. She swallowed and glanced up at me. “How on earth is this so good?”

  “Oh, you’re surprised, eh?”

  “Well, not that you made it,” she clarified. “I already figured out you’ve learned a lot in terms of making your way around the kitchen. I’m more surprised that something that can be put together so fast could possibly be this good.”

  I shoved my spoon in my cup and came up with a big mound, making sure I got cake, berries, and cream, too. Katie reached for the can, but instead of spraying it in her cup, she shoved the dispenser between my lips and shot some cream in my mouth alongside my bite. In shock, I laughed so hard I snorted, which was apparently the wrong thing to do with a mouthful of chocolate, raspberry, and sweetened cream; it went everywhere.

  “What did you do that for?” I asked, trying to catch what was falling from my mouth but failing miserably. It dripped down my chin, dribbled all over my chest, and some even landed on my lap.

  Katie had a mischievous gleam in her eye. “So I could do this,” she said. Then she took my mug from me, set them both on the coffee table, and licked some of it from my chest.

  That was all it took for me to go from laughing to harder than steel. I’d been uncertain a few moments before if I could get another erection so soon, but there it was, plain as day, tenting my pants. I leaned back against the cushions, watching her in wonder. “If you wanted your cake and mine, too, you could have just asked,” I said. My voice shook because she was working her tongue up the cleft in the center of my abs, the same way she’d done to my cock earlier. “I would have given it to you. Made you another. Whatever.” I’d give her anything she wanted.

  “I could have,” she said when she dipped her head lower and flicked her tongue around my belly button in a way that made my stomach quiver. “But I wanted to do this more than I wanted cake.”

  I leaned back, eyes locked on her every move, trying to get myself under control. I couldn’t exactly complain about what she was doing, either. I couldn’t do much of anything but watch, hope that I could hold out long enough to actually make love to her this time, and clench my hands on the couch cushions.

  She still had the can in her grip, and she sprayed a dollop on one of my nipples. Her lips closed over it, and she sucked so hard she might as well have been doing the same to my dick, because it jerked in response.

  “Does it—” I cut myself off, trying to get my thoughts in line. Not an easy task since now she was swirling her tongue around that nub, and her hands were gliding all over my ribs and abs, and I was about to completely lose my shit.

  “Does it what?”

  “Does it feel like this for you? If I— If I touched you like this, would it feel this good?”

  She didn’t answer right away. She kept licking my skin and leaving a trail of wet kisses in her wake as she came up my neck to my mouth. Her thighs straddled my lap, and she ground herself against me. She kissed me, tasting sweet and chocolaty and perfect, and I put my hands on her hips to bring her closer to me.

  But then she straightened, set the can of whipped cream aside, and tugged on the hem of her shirt. I watched in wonder as she stripped it up and over her head, tossing it to the floor behind her. “Why don’t we find out?” she said.

  She had on a pink, lacy bra, delicate fabric cupping her flawless breasts. My mouth watered, my eyes hungrily taking her in. I wanted to see every bit of her. To touch every inch of her skin. To discover all her scents and tastes and learn the sensitive places she liked to be touched.

  She had a mole on her left shoulder, and there was a pink blemish on her skin over her right breast. I lifted my hand to touch it, tracing the scar with a fingertip. She shuddered slightly, an almost imperceptible tremor, and I looked up to meet her eyes.

  “Chemo port,” she explained. “They put tons of makeup over it any time they dressed me in something where it would show on The Cool Kids.”

  “Is it tender?”

  “Not now. It itches sometimes.”

  An overwhelming urge to kiss her scar hit me, so I did. I pressed my lips to the raised bit of flesh. Her breathing sharpened, her lungs lifting her breasts closer to me. Feeling bolder, I kissed her lower, slipping my tongue out to taste. Her skin was smooth as satin. The flesh of her breast was warm and pliable, giving way ever so slightly to my pressure. I kissed the other, just above the top of the lace, and could feel her heartbeat pounding as fast as mine against my lips.

  “Touch me,” she said, velvety and low.

  She didn’t need to ask me twice. I cupped her breast with one hand, the other dropping from her hip to explore her ass through the denim of her jeans. She was supple everywhere, soft curves and delicate dips, so different from me. Her body was hot against my hands, and she drove back into my touch, arching to push into me with a quiet sound coming from somewhere deep within her. I squeezed gently, and her nipple hardened beneath my touch.

  She sucked in a breath, and I met her gaze. Her eyes had turned an intense blue, bright like flame. “More, Jamie.” She placed one hand over mine and crushed it against her. “I need more of you.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.” Her smile was as silken as her skin. “I promise.”

  She sounded so certain, but she was so small. And she was sick again. When she’d had leukemia, she’d bruised so easily I’d been afraid to do m
uch more than hold her hand. It wasn’t leukemia this time, but I was still afraid to touch her in the ways I wanted to. She was precious to me, someone I wanted to protect. Someone I wanted to love with all the reverence and care that had been lacking in all that she’d known before.

  Reaching both arms behind her back, she unclasped her bra and drew it forward. I released my hold on her, and the lace scrap dropped to the space between us. Those beautiful, perfect, intoxicating breasts jiggled for a moment before settling, still perky, and practically begging for me to kiss them. Should I? I didn’t know, but she’d licked and sucked on my nipple, so it only seemed fair. She drew her arms free from the straps and tossed the bra behind her, but I couldn’t look anywhere but at those orbs of softness.

  Katie leaned forward, and I froze, unsure what she was doing. She grabbed the can of whipped cream, sprayed some on her breast…and then everything happened at warp speed. I couldn’t think anymore. I closed my mouth over her, sucking up the cream and rasping my tongue over her tit. It just got harder, bigger, swelling under my ministrations. She fisted a hand in my hair and put more cream on her other breast, and I greedily lapped it up as she held me to her.

  Her breathing was shallow and frantic. The heartbeat thundering behind her ribs was loud enough it almost echoed through the room. She ground her hips into me, heat building upon heat, and then shouted, “Ah!”

  I reared back, instantly concerned. “Too much?” I should have trusted my gut. I was being too rough with her. Hurting her.

  But she locked both hands in my hair and kissed me so hard, so desperately, that I forgot all about anything but kissing her back. I ran my hands over her back, her sides, her arms, trying to memorize every minute detail. When she came up for air, she said, “Take me to bed, Jamie. I want to be with you.”

  No need for a second invitation. I was on my feet, Katie in my arms with her legs wrapped around my waist, in about two seconds flat.

  “Don’t step on Blackbeard,” Katie said. She put her arms around my neck, helping to hold her weight.

  I glanced down to gauge where he was and took a different path around the coffee table.

  “And condoms. We need the condoms.”

  Right. Condoms. Good thing Katie was capable of thinking about things like protection, because that ability had left me the moment she’d removed her shirt. I made a detour through the kitchen, slowing down long enough that Katie could grab the plastic shopping bag off the counter, and then headed down the hall. As soon as we reached my bedroom, I flipped on the light and kicked the door closed behind us, because I didn’t want another repeat of what had happened earlier with Blackbeard trying to help out, and set Katie on her feet.

  She tossed the bag on the bed and started stripping off her skintight jeans right away. She still had shoes on, though, so I was able to whip my pants down and kick them to the corner of the room before she finished. I grabbed the bag, dug out the first box I laid my hands on—“Not the flavored ones,” she said, still struggling with her jeans—glanced down to see that I’d grabbed the wrong box, tossed it back, and dragged out the next one I found. I tore open the lid and fumbled for a foil packet. By the time I’d ripped it open with my teeth and unrolled it over myself, Katie had gotten free of her jeans.

  She slid to the center of the bed, reaching out a hand to me. Nerves turning my legs to jelly, I had to sit down unless I wanted to make a fool of myself and fall on the floor. She touched my arm as soon as I sat, tugging until I relented and lay beside her. I tried to remember how to breathe as my skin met hers.

  Every inch of her body was as silken as her breasts. I locked my gaze with hers and trailed my fingertips down the center of her chest to her belly. Her muscles jumped to life beneath my touch.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked, straining to form words. Hell, I was straining to form coherent thoughts. I knew I was sure. I’d wanted Katie for years, and now, with her lying here beside me, I could hardly believe it was happening.

  “Yes. I want you, Jamie. I want to be with you now, before I have to deal with radiation and chemo and surgery again, before I feel like crap all the time. I want to feel you inside me. To experience this with you without anything else in the way. I want this.”

  Even hearing her words and knowing them for the truth, I still couldn’t seem to make the next move. There was a part of me that wanted to freeze this moment in time and make it last forever. Maybe I was putting off taking the next step because I knew at some point it would come to an end. Maybe I didn’t want to face what would come afterward because the future was a giant mass of uncertainty.

  Katie must have sensed my hesitation. She took my hand from her belly and edged it lower until my fingers skimmed the liquid heat of her curls. “Touch me,” she said again. “I’m ready. I love you, and I want this. I want to experience this with a man I love and respect, and who loves and respects me, too.”

  So I touched her. I slipped a finger through the slick folds of her flesh. She lifted a knee and moved it to the side, opening herself to my exploration. I found a nub near the top of her private place and traced circles around it. She gasped and moved her hips to meet me.

  “Good?” I asked.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “That’s my clit.”

  I might not be experienced in the bedroom, but even I knew enough about female anatomy to realize I’d just struck gold. I concentrated my efforts on that small spot, varying my pressure and changing up the tempo until her eyes went unfocused and she couldn’t hold still. She had to be close to orgasm.

  “Move lower,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

  So I lowered my hand, keeping my thumb on her clit, until I found her entrance. She was so soft and wet, and my finger slipped inside without any resistance. Katie moaned and bucked her hips, driving my finger deeper. I added another, shocked at the sensation of having her flesh surrounding me, accepting me, clutching to keep me in.

  “Jamie,” she rasped, and I glanced up to meet her gaze.

  She hooked a hand under my shoulder, tugging gently until I came up above her. I braced my weight on my arms on either side of her, and she opened her thighs wider to allow room for me to nestle between them. My cock was straining to reach her, as though it had a mind of its own and could sense the proximity of her pussy.

  With a gentle scrape of her nails, Katie moved her hands down my back, stopping when they were on my ass. She gripped my cheeks hard, drawing me closer, even as she locked her legs with mine. “Please.” Just one word. Almost inaudible and full of need.

  I held my weight on one arm and used the other hand to guide myself inside her. She took me completely, stretching to accommodate my size but fitting as tight as a glove. She squeezed my ass again and shifted, and then primal instinct took over.

  My forehead against hers, eye to eye and nose to nose, we moved together until she clenched me tighter and let out an unintelligible shout. Every muscle in her body had been tensing, clasping, reaching for this moment, and now they all gave way in the sweetest, most exquisite explosion imaginable, like a coil releasing. I kissed her, increasing my pace until I came, too, wrapped up in her love.

  “I don’t think I could ever love you more than I do right now,” I murmured, my nose buried in her hair that was splayed over my pillows.

  She relaxed her legs so they were tangled with mine but not holding me in place, and she ran her fingers through my hair, her nails scraping my scalp in an oddly comforting manner. “Why do you love me?” she asked.

  Why did I love her? Talk about a complicated question. I let it roll around in my head before propping myself up on my elbows and looking down at her. “I love you because I don’t know how to not love you. Because I can’t imagine my world without you, and I don’t ever want to have to face that again. Because you are sweetness and light and life, and you see me as the man I could be, not as the man I am.”

  Katie shook her head. “You are that man. You just haven’t learned how to see yourself
that way.”

  I rolled off her, drawing her along with me to hold against my side. “You make me want to be better than I am,” I said gruffly. Then I couldn’t seem to stop kissing her. Every time I thought I was done, she would smile again, or her eyes would take on this lazy, sated look, and I would have to kiss her again. I kissed her hair, her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips. I couldn’t get enough. I wanted to bottle this moment and the way we both felt right now so we could return to it whenever life got to be too much to bear.

  Because that was coming. She knew it and I knew it.

  I had never been the praying sort, but I said a silent prayer right now. We’d had this one perfect moment; I asked for it not to be the last.

  I ended up spending the night with Jamie instead of going home. He let me sleep in a pair of his boxers and a T-shirt that were easily two or three sizes too big for me, but at least I didn’t have to go back over to my place to find anything. Once we had cleaned up and were fairly sure there wouldn’t be any more sexy times for the night, Jamie had opened the door and let Blackbeard join us.

  As tiny as he was, that kitten didn’t have any problems at all getting into the bed on his own. Not that either of us found that surprising, considering the way he was always climbing up to Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie slept on his back, one arm holding me to him. I used his chest as my pillow, and Blackbeard nestled in the space between Jamie’s neck and shoulder, hanging out above my head. None of us moved a muscle the whole night, it seemed, until sometime after dawn, when Blackbeard started chewing on my hair and attacking it as if it were his feather toy.

  Needless to say, I woke up laughing.

  Jamie jerked awake, stretching once the initial shock wore off. “He should be eating my hair instead of yours.”