by Fiona Zedde
“Hey.”
“You sound a million miles away,” Mayson said.
Renee laughed weakly. “All I said was ‘hey.’” She shook her head. “But I was just thinking about a project.”
“For the firm or for yourself?”
“Myself. Definitely for myself.” Renee sorted her underwear into a silken pile at her side. “So what’s up?”
“I’m going to LA early tomorrow morning to hit the waves in Lunada Bay. Just wanted to let you know so you won’t send out the guards looking for me.”
“You gone the whole weekend?”
“Only if I find something worth staying up there for. Right now the plan is to drive back down Saturday night.”
“Okay. Just let me know if you decide to stay up there.”
“Why, you planning to host an orgy at my house?”
Renee smiled, hands sifting idly through the smallclothes beside her on the floor. “Well, that’s for me to know and for you to maybe find out, isn’t it?”
Mayson chortled. “The day you have an orgy—you know what? I won’t even say that. My little Renee is growing up a little more every day. Who knows what surprise you’ll spring on me next?”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure you can handle it.” Renee held a pair of black panties up to the light. Ah, just like she thought. A hole. She balled the underwear up and threw it behind her out of the closet. “But have a great weekend, though, Mayson. Whatever you get into up there, have fun.”
“You know I will.” Mayson’s naughty intentions crackled loud and clear through the phone.
After she hung up, she sat with the phone in her lap, the laundry temporarily forgotten. She turned the phone over in her hands and allowed the earlier idea to resurface. It was the riskiest thing she’d ever asked him to try.
She opened a new e-mail message on her phone. Before she allowed the butterflies fluttering in her stomach to change her mind, Renee typed the message: Spend the day with me.
She didn’t have to wait long for his response: When?
Her heart lurched in her chest. Had it been as simple as asking this whole time?
Saturday? Sunday?
Sunday. Let me plan everything?
Yes.
Good. I’ll send the details tomorrow. Sweet dreams.
High on the cliffs of La Jolla, the hotel overlooked the leaping waters of the Pacific and the craggy beach where the sea lions basked in the sun. Sheer curtains fluttered at the windows. Endless sunlight filtered through the filmy white fabric.
After the furtive darkness of their previous encounters, the naked light and soft sounds of normalcy floating up from the street and the beach—laughter, the tinkling of a bicycle bell, friends calling out to each other—felt like the most exotic thing Renee had ever experienced.
The note on the bed, a simple piece of black paper against the pale sheets, had told her to be naked and facedown on the bed when he arrived. She imagined the bed linens pressed against her nakedness, into her face, the flush of heat through her when he walked in.
The room was very Victorian, very feminine, not something she thought he would pick. Not something she would pick. Did he think this was the kind of seduction scene she preferred? Renee smiled, rueful. He didn’t know her tastes. And that was okay. It was enough that he knew her body.
At the window, she slowly unzipped the dress, easing the zipper down the curved line of her back to the base of her spine where her buttocks began. She slipped the dress off and stepped out of it. Naked, she stood in the room, feeling him everywhere. A comfort. A benediction.
She lay on her belly in the bed, and waited.
Renee wasn’t sure what she had been looking for when she thought of spending the day with her stranger. It had simply been an idea and a longing formed even before she’d known him. Her body craved a day with a lover, to be touched and desired. And he would give that to her.
When her lover arrived, it was just like any other time. But it wasn’t. The door opened in a quiet rush of sound, a faint squeak. A light breeze from the door’s movement brushed over her back. Then the door closed. A breath. Two. The weight of him in the room. Without being able to see him, she knew he stared at her on the bed, laid out for pleasure. The hardwood protested faintly beneath his weight. A whisper of cloth as he approached the bed. Cool fingers brushed her newly bare neck, traced the short hair hugging her head.
“Beautiful.” He whispered the word into her neck until it was more sensation of breath than sound.
She felt his eyes on her. Felt him watching her with something different than before. Her heart lurched in her chest. For the first time, she sensed that answering current from him. That he wanted more. That he wanted her to see as much as she was being seen. But what if that changed everything?
In the quiet, his hands firmly grasped her shoulders. His weight, heavy and male, pressed into the bed. He lifted her, trying gently to turn her around without the safety of the blindfold. Renee squeezed her eyes shut. No! She stiffened and gripped the sheets.
“Don’t end this,” she whispered. “Please.”
More quiet. His breath, a ripple of air against her lips. Then a backward movement, the weight of the velvet against her eyes. The blindfold.
She slackened in relief (but disappointment too) as he gave in to her demand. Why couldn’t he fight her and become—just once—something she wasn’t completely sure that she wanted?
He moved away from the bed, pulling away the unfamiliar tension of their bared emotional desires. And unwrapped their morning.
Her lover didn’t talk again. He didn’t try to push the sight of him on her again. His mint scent brushed her face as he turned her onto her back, propped her against the pillows. And she trembled, imagining what he saw. The velvet blindfold that covered everything but her mouth. Her brown body against the pale sheets. Her breasts, nipples, woman’s heart ready for his mouth. Her skin aching for him.
Renee touched the blindfold. Her security. And lowered her hands.
Something wet brushed her mouth and she parted her lips to receive it. He took it away, teasing, then he brought it close again, trailing the rough-soft thing over her mouth, leaving behind a liquid stain. She licked her lips. Pineapple.
The fruit brushed her mouth again. It touched her tongue. He put it in her mouth, brushed her lips with his fingers, traced the sensitive skin of her inner lips while the pineapple released its juices over her tongue. Before he could draw back, she latched onto his finger and sucked it deep into her mouth. She pressed it and the piece of pineapple between her tongue and palate. Again and again. Press. Suck. Press suck. The itch of arousal trickled between her thighs.
She felt his growl before she heard it. Mission accomplished, she released his finger to chew on the pineapple, smiling. His amusement licked the air. As she swallowed the pineapple, Renee realized that she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She’d been so anxious for the morning with him to begin, so excited, that food had been the last thing on her mind.
“More,” she murmured.
And he fed her. More pineapple, slices of peaches, avocados, creamy pepper-jack cheese. A tiny croissant he passed to her lips from his lips. She chuckled and slid her arms around his neck, kissing him first lightly then deeply, wrapping her legs around his legs and drawing him down onto the bed on top of her.
Their kisses became touches and moans and slickness and laughter and he lay on his back to pull her over him and there was the sunlight on her skin, his firm body under hers, inside hers, pushing into her in lazy strokes that brought her higher and higher to the easy pleasure of a late-morning orgasm she knew wouldn’t be the last.
She must have slept.
They must have slept. Together.
Their bare limbs were tangled. She’d never been able to sleep with Linc touching her. His body had burned too hot or his feet too cold for her to be comfortable. Or simply, his body had smothered when hers had demanded to be free.
As she emerged from the f
og of sleep, she felt her lover’s absolute stillness under her, his chest moving under her cheek. His body was hard against hers but not uncomfortable, exuding a strength that was as seductive as it was domestic.
She brushed his nipple with her thumb and felt him stir. A low rumble sounded through his chest and vibrated her skin. Under her mouth, the skin of his chest was salty, hard. The nipples like tiny buds under her tongue. He groaned and palmed the back of her neck. His maleness stirred against her thigh, inviting, and she moved toward it, blindly.
They made love again, then ate and slept and loved again in a rhythm that was the most natural in the world. When the sun began to sink beyond the curtains, she felt its loss in the warmth leaking from the room.
Sadness fell like a shroud over her. Although it was irrational, she turned away from him to face the window, rejecting him as if it were his fault the day was ending.
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, touching her lightly. Tears pricked her eyes. Renee pushed against him roughly. He startled and reached, gently, for her again. She slammed her elbow back, connecting with his hard belly. He hissed in pain. With her tears soaking the blindfold, she grabbed his bottom and squeezed. Finally, he seemed to understand what she wanted.
Teeth sank into her shoulder and she gasped. He shoved her thighs open from behind. Despite the role she’d pushed him into, he tested her readiness, two fingers that moved easily into her wetness. He grunted in surprise. But his body was willing enough. He slammed into her so hard she almost toppled off the bed. She squeaked in surprise. His arm latched around her waist, holding her tight, pulling her against him with each grunting, loud contact of their bodies.
She was full and wet and open to him, to his firm grip now lifting her knee toward the ceiling, his body undeniably taking possession of hers as she gasped and moaned with him, shoved back against him. Renee stroked her clit in time to his thrusts, each grunting moment shoving her closer to the fire waiting just on the other side. But the closer it came, the less sure she was that she wanted it.
He took her hard, his gasps and the thud of their bodies exactly what she’d wordlessly demanded of him. Their day together was ending. She didn’t want it to. Her fingers moved faster. He moved faster. Soon, he was jerking inside her, spilling into the condom, shouting his completion into her hair.
The fire retreated as he pulled limply out of her.
This is how this should end, she wanted to shout. Leave me unsatisfied so I won’t miss this and beg for another day with you. She squeezed her eyes shut.
But he was not that kind of lover. He never had been.
He shoved her hands away, turned her. Thick fingers re- placed his manhood. His thumb found her clit. He moved effortlessly in her wetness, taking her with intent speed, tonguing her nipples, sucking them, pinching them until her fire came back. Higher. Brighter. And engulfed her.
She wanted to scream his name. But in the end, she just screamed.
Chapter 33
“Let’s start over, Mayson.”
Kendra stood in the doorway of Mayson’s office wearing white. A ruffled blouse, linen slacks, sandals.
Behind her in the hallway, people gave her only a passing glance before continuing on their way. Mayson wanted to keep it that way. “Come in.”
With Kendra seated at the chair in front of her desk, May-son closed the office door. She cautiously approached the other woman, unwilling to sit down just yet. After the unexpected confrontation in Mission Beach, she didn’t know what to expect from Kendra. She settled for propping a hip on the corner of her desk and looking down at her visitor.
“Listen,” Kendra said, leaning forward with her chin propped up on a closed fist. “I’m sorry about the other afternoon. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Damn right you weren’t. Although she’d tried to move past it, Mayson remembered the humiliation of that public encounter, the heavy pulse of anger when Kendra had talked about Renee being just another woman to fuck. She took a steadying breath. “Why are you here, exactly?”
“I told you, I want to start over.” The long, thick hair tumbled back over Kendra’s shoulders as she tilted her head to look up at Mayson.
“Which means what?”
“I can be what you want. Casual. No strings. Just sex, whenever you want it.” Her voice deepened to a purr. “Wherever you want it.”
Kendra’s lashes lowered and Mayson felt the hidden eyes on her, hungry and hopeful.
“No.”
Kendra flinched as if Mayson had slapped her. “Why can’t this work?” she demanded. “Didn’t I do everything you wanted?” She stood up, back straight, her breasts high and firm under the white blouse.
“Yes, you did. But that isn’t what this is about,” Mayson said. “You know that. I don’t deal with drama and you’ve brought a lot of that.” She took a deep, considering breath. “Maybe you’ve always been like this or maybe I bring out the worst in you.” She shrugged. “Whatever the case, this thing between us has no life left.”
“Drama?” Kendra spat the word. “That’s bullshit. I’m just hotter than your washed-out fuck buddy and all the other dykes you’re used to. You don’t know how to handle it.”
Mayson stiffened. “If it makes you feel better to think that, go ahead.”
The chair jerked across the rug from Kendra’s sudden movement. “Mayson—!”
Mayson shook her head again, calling herself twenty kinds of idiot for letting things get this far. “It’s okay, Kendra. There’s nothing else we need to say to each other. Let’s write this whole thing off as a mistake and get on with our lives.” She moved toward the door.
“Is her pussy that much better than mine? Is it because she has more experience?” She asked the questions with frightening certainty of their answers. “That’s old, stale ass, Mayson. You need something new and fresh. I’m right here. All you have to do is reach out.” Kendra moved closer, her mouth in a pouting smile.
A wordless noise hissed between Mayson’s teeth. “I think it’s time for you to go, Kendra.” She yanked open the door. “I hope you’ll be able to get past this.”
Kendra, with her face set in hard lines and her arms crossed tightly across her chest, looked like she had no intention of leaving.
Mayson set her back teeth. She didn’t want any shit to go down here at the studio but if she had to call one of the neighborhood cops…
“Hey, Mayson, I just found this new instructor—” Linette appeared in the doorway. When she saw Kendra, she stopped her progress into the office. The hand holding a sheaf of papers fell to her side. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Come on in.” Mayson forced a smile she knew didn’t reach her eyes. “Kendra was just leaving.”
The other woman looked at Linette, then at Mayson. Finally she got to her feet and left the office, brushing past Linette without a word.
“That was awkward.” Linette wrinkled her nose like she smelled something bad.
“Could have been worse,” Mayson said with a dismissive wave. She closed the door and sat heavily behind her desk. “Now what do you have for me?”
Chapter 34
“I can’t fucking believe her!”
Mayson stalked back and forth in her living room like a trapped animal. The energy crackled off her in angry, palpable waves.
“She actually came to the studio to give me another chance to fuck her. And when I didn’t take her up on it she insulted you again.” Her braid whipped around her shoulders as she turned abruptly to walk the same length of floor. Again.
“Yup. You definitely hit the crazy jackpot with this one.” From the couch, Renee sighed. Mayson’s pacing was making her thirsty. After a few more minutes of watching Mayson, she got up. In the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and some water for her friend. “Where do you find these women, Mayson?”
“Unfortunately, they find me,” Mayson muttered. “Or I invite them into my life like a fucking idiot
.” She accepted the water with a tight smile of thanks and emptied the glass in a few quick gulps.
Renee took the empty glass and slid it onto the coffee table. She sipped her juice. “Honey, it’s okay. You already sent her away. Just next time, say no. Coochie isn’t worth all this hassle.”
Mayson finally stopped walking the floor and sank into the couch beside Renee. “The advice comes a bit late, darling.” She sighed.
“Oh, May…”
They both knew it had been a mistake to get involved with the girl. Mayson felt guilty and angry with herself most of all.
“Come on. Enough of this self-pity crap.” Renee smoothed the loose strands of Mayson’s hair away from her face. “We should go out. Try to forget about her and your month of thinking with your… privates.”
Mayson’s head eased back against the couch and she sighed deeply, closing her eyes. The half-moon shadows of her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks. Her chest moved with her deep exhale.
Did these breathing techniques ever work when she was this upset? Renee tugged on the tail of Mayson’s braid.
“How about Strokin’ Aces? I’m sure we can find something there to distract you.”
Mayson laughed weakly. “I’m not going with you to the strip club. Not after last time.”
Renee snickered. “Afraid of a little competition?”
Their first and only trip to Strokin’ Aces had been for Mayson’s birthday a couple of years before. The two of them plus Iyla and another friend from LA. It wasn’t Renee’s fault that out of all the women at the table, the strippers gravitated toward her, even going so far as giving her free lap dances, buying her drinks, then slipping their phone numbers into her bra. Jealousy didn’t suit her friend at all.
“But,” Mayson said after a brief silence, “I could do with a drive over to Coronado and maybe some coffee at that place with the triple chocolate cheesecake and sexy waitresses.”
“Almost as good as the strip club,” Renee said, getting to her feet. It was better than moping around the house all night. “Let’s go upstairs and get you in the shower. You stink.”