Blue Balls

by RC Boldt

  Just one kiss, I remind myself.

  My fingers dive into her hair, tangling in the long strands and tugging her head to the side to deepen the kiss. When my tongue slips inside and greets hers, a shiver runs through me at the mere taste of her. Rocking her hips over me gently, I groan into her mouth as another surge of arousal flows through me, and my cock hardens painfully.

  One of my hands unclenches its hold from her hair, fingers trailing softly down over the graceful column of her neck, collarbone, and the swell of her left breast. The pad of my thumb brushes against her nipple, and she breaks our kiss, rising to sit, and gently rocks her hips over me.

  Taking my wrists, she moves my palms to her breasts, and I cup their weight. She’s so goddamn sexy, and I know this is wrong, but I can’t deny her what she clearly wants. If she wants to use me to get off tonight, then I’m all hers.

  I’m all hers. Those words linger in the back of my mind, the truth of them reverberating deep within me.

  As she rocks herself over me, her eyes flutter closed, and she’s got to be the most beautiful sight I’ve seen. Caressing her breasts, I arch my hips, pressing into her right where she wants it—where she needs it—most.

  We continue our own rhythm—arching bodies, rocking hips—until one of my hands slips down to her clit. My boxer briefs are getting more damp from her arousal, and I continue to tweak her clit gently before lightly pressing my thumb to it and rubbing in circles. And then it happens.

  Sarah falls apart before my own eyes.

  Lips painted a soft pink part on a gasp, her eyes close, and her nipples harden into a lush, rosy shade as she rides out her orgasm. But that’s not the most beautiful part of this. It’s what slips from her lips. The way it comes out as a little wisp, so airy and dreamy.

  “Jack.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Sarah

  Why does my mouth feel like a litterbox?

  Not that I know what a litterbox actually feels like because I’m allergic to cats, but still. Bleh.

  And my eyes are stuck together. That’s what I get for taking Maggie’s advice and wearing more than one coat of mascara. I have to practically use both hands to gently pull the skin in opposite directions to pry my eyelids open. Talk about gross.

  Want to know what’s not gross? Oh-ho, the sight I’m greeted with, that’s what.

  Two words: Hello, morning wood.

  Okay, that was actually three words. Damn it. I’m still hungover, and my brain is struggling here.

  Jack’s morning wood is practically pulling an Adele and screaming, “Hello from the other siiiiiiiide!” The other side of those boxer briefs, that is.

  The saddest part about a sexy as sin guy you’ve been naked with a bunch of times but never able to follow through with both of you getting the big “O”—in the same instance—is you always wonder…you know. Things like, I wonder how he tastes when he comes, I wonder what his “O” face looks like, or I wonder what it would be like to wake up to this every mor—

  Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. I must have really drunk a lot last night because my mind is veering off into areas I don’t dare tiptoe into. That’s just not me.

  With a sigh, I shift as quietly as I can so as not to disturb Jack, only to realize I have no clothes on, nor any nearby. Approaching his dresser, I figure I can find an undershirt or something to slip on so I’m not prancing around his place with everything hanging out on a Sunday morning.

  Just as my fingers touch the handle of the top drawer, my eyes catch sight of a tiny framed photo sitting off to the far corner of the mahogany. Intrigued, I reach for the photo and bring it closer for inspection because the little boy in it is so incredibly awkward looking. Jack really hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned being a total pocket protector wearing nerd back in the da—

  “That was me and my dad a year after my mom passed away.” His voice is so unexpected that I jerk, nearly dropping the photo. My eyes fly over to see him watching me with an odd, guarded expression. “He had a heart attack about four years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say gently. I’ve always hated that response; it feels vapid and useless when it’s given to people who have lost loved ones, but it’s so difficult to come up with anything else that’s appropriate.

  He lifts one shoulder slightly, gaze averting to the blinds covering the bedroom windows. “He buried himself in his work, and it was stressful trying to raise a kid on his own. Especially in this area…”

  I roll my lips inward, unsure of what to say.

  “Second drawer.” Again, he startles me, my eyes darting to find him watching me. “You should find your pick of T-shirts there.”

  Turning back, I hear him release a small groan. “Jesus, Sunshine. You and that ass…”

  Removing a gray cotton undershirt from the drawer he specified, I tug it on, smoothing it down as it reaches my mid-thigh, I turn back to face him.

  “My ass what?” My expression is one of exaggerated innocence.

  He scrubs a hand over his face, wincing on a tight laugh. “I might not be able to leave this bed for a while.”

  “What if I, maybe, did something like this…” My eyes widen dramatically as I bend slightly, the shirt riding up my legs, the hem brushing the bottom of my ass. “Would that be terrible?”

  “Sunshine,” he says in a mixture of a warning growl and a groan.

  “Ha-ha,” I call out as I jauntily walk toward the bathroom. “Just kidding. My mouth is disgusting, and there’s no way you want near it without a hazmat suit.”

  As I cross over into his en suite, I swear I hear him mutter something that sounds like, “I want more than just your mouth, Sunshine.”

  But I’m probably mistaken.

  * * *

  People totally underrate apple cider and apple cider donuts. Seriously, though. I’m pretty sure I orgasmed when I took my first bite of the freshly made donut at the family-owned apple orchard we’re at.

  Not only is the apple picking on hold until after I get my fill of this goodness but so is the corn maze. No way do I want to test my maze skills on an empty stomach.

  Also, I’d like to go on record and say I have never eaten this many donuts in one sitting before. But right now, I have little to no shame. Hangovers will do that to a person.

  “Should I have gotten a dozen instead of only a half dozen?” Jack’s eyes are sparkling with humor.

  “Hmmph,” is all I can manage with a mouthful of donut. My eyes are nearly rolling back in my head.

  After Jack had carted me back to my place this morning, he’d waited patiently for me to cleanse last night from my body. I put on more appropriate clothing, and he’d driven us up here to the apple orchards.

  Currently, we’re sitting across from one another at one of the many picnic tables scattered beneath a large white tent while I gorge myself on donuts.

  When I feel the granulated sugar from the donut clinging to my lips, I dart out the tip of my tongue because if I don’t at least attempt to savor it, that would be wasteful.

  The donut gods frown upon such things, I’m certain.

  As I concentrate on trying to nab some sugar on the upper left part of my lip, Jack slaps his palms against the wood and pushes himself up to stand. My eyes widen in alarm at the fierceness in his expression.

  Warily eyeing him as he comes over to my side of the table, he slides one leg over the bench seat to straddle it, facing me. One hand reaches out, and his fingers thread in my hair, tugging me to him. His lips softly nip at mine, and his tongue discreetly darts out to taste the sugar clinging to my lips. My breath catches in my throat at the feel of the tip of his tongue on my skin, and my nipples instantly harden at the tantalizing thought of his tongue lapping at them in the same manner.

  “Jack,” I breathe.

  “Yeah?”

  “This is a family place. A PG-rated thing.”

  His lips curve against mine. “Oh, Sunshine. You have no idea how hard it is to keep things PG
-rated around you.”

  I lift my eyebrows suggestively. “I’m pretty sure I know how hard it is.”

  The laugh he gives sends warmth running through me, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. Dusting a soft kiss on my forehead, he whispers, “It’s harder than you can imagine.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Sarah

  “So did we…you know?” I ask nonchalantly, plucking another apple from the tree and placing it in our basket.

  We’ve already finished the corn maze, and I promised Jack I’d bake an apple pie for us after we get back from the orchard.

  Braving a glance over at him, I tack on, “Last night?” The sharp look he gives me stops me in mid reach of another apple. “What? It’s an honest question.”

  He stalks toward me, and I instinctively take a step backward only to find the firm trunk of the apple tree at my back with Jack’s tall form leaning over me.

  “Do you really think I’d take advantage of you?” he demands almost angrily.

  “N-no,” I stammer. “I would never think that.”

  Something shifts between us as we stand along one of the more secluded back rows of apple trees, nearly alone while most of the other apple pickers chose the trees closer to the main entrance.

  His eyes darken as he leans in, bracing a hand on a thick branch above my head. “You don’t remember climbing on top of me, Sunshine?”

  Oh shit.

  My throat is now bone dry, and I work hard to swallow before answering him. “No.”

  “That’s a shame.” His lips graze my jawline. “It was hot as hell.” Another grazing touch of his lips sends jolts through my system. “Do you know what happened after that?”

  Please don’t tell me I had hot sex and don’t remember it, I chant silently.

  Jack goes on without waiting for me to answer. “You fell fast asleep.”

  I jerk back so fast I knock my head into the tree trunk. But it doesn’t register past the look in Jack’s eyes.

  “You ass!” I shove at him, but it doesn’t make him budge an inch. He merely grins down at me. “I was extremely intoxicated.”

  “And extremely horny.”

  I work hard at maintaining my stern expression, but it’s tough.

  “How does it feel to take advantage of such a sweet, innocent man such as myself?” He poses the question with such exaggerated seriousness that I can’t resist a laugh.

  And an eye roll.

  “Seriously, though.” Jack’s expression sobers, backing away from me before his features appear troubled. “I feel so used. Tossed aside like yesterday’s newspaper.” He places a hand over his heart as if he’s experiencing pain. “Oh, Sunshine.” With a mournful expression, he shakes his head. “When will you learn to stop riding men’s penises with wild abandon?”

  I lob an apple at his grinning face only to have him catch it midair and take a big bite out of it. He winks at me, chewing and swallowing before drawing closer.

  Dipping his head closer to mine, he cages me in against the tree. One hand raises to cup the side of my face, and his thumb softly grazes my cheekbone as his eyes lock with mine.

  Something is unique about the way he’s gazing down at me. Something that feels intense and…intimate.

  “Sunshine.” His voice is gravelly and low, his full lips drawing my attention as he speaks, and his head dips closer. “Do you have any idea”—he pauses, his gaze searching, and I can’t help but feel torn between his entrancing words and the sudden commotion of voices which have grown louder behind him—“that I’m fal—”

  “Oh dear.” It’s something in that unfamiliar voice, in those words that make me tear my attention away from Jack.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” My tone is part stunned, part exasperation because I’m staring at what appears to be a Catholic church outing, priests dressed casually but with their white collars prominently displayed and a few of the older nuns—including the one I keep running into—with their traditional headpiece.

  I sidle closer to Jack, using his broad form to disguise myself from the particular nun who’s made it clear I’m on the fast track to hell.

  “I swear,” I whisper-hiss to him, “it’s a conspiracy or something.” My eyes rise to meet his laughing ones. Raising a hand and gesturing to the sky above us, I know my voice has a tinge of distress. “I mean, out of all the people in this area, he’s assigned her to monitor me?”

  “You’d best stop riding penises and FaceTiming with your vagina then,” he says with a soft chuckle. Then he loops his arm around my shoulders and peers down into the basket of apples that I hold. “That should be plenty for a pie.”

  Walking in the direction of the entrance to pay for our pickings, we pass right by the group of priests and nuns. Jack’s expression grows serious, his eyes flicking over them, and then back at me. This is when he does the unthinkable.

  “Would you stop touching me there? No means no! As a female, you should know this!” he exclaims loudly.

  Snatching the basket of apples from me, he promptly stalks off. And I could totally stand here and face the judgment but, really, I have no choice.

  I turn and run after him like the fires of hell are nipping at my feet.

  * * *

  “That was not funny.”

  “It really was. You should have seen your face.” Jack’s mouth stretches wide, flashing a smile. He’s standing beside me in my small kitchen as he helps me peel the apples for the pie we’re going to make.

  “Yeah, because it wasn’t enough that I’m obviously on God’s radar with my sinful behavior.”

  He cuts the final apple into small pieces and adds it to the pie pan. “I think it’s hilarious that you ran into the same nun.”

  “Just hilarious,” I mutter as I pour the batter and spread it over the apple slices in the pan.

  We’re making Swedish apple pie that requires no crust because I’m no Martha Stewart, slaving in the kitchen and attempting to perfect a pie crust or make soufflés. Nope. Not me.

  But I sure do make a mean Swedish apple pie.

  Slipping the pie into the oven, I set the timer on the stove, spinning around to grab the bowl and utensils to wash them. Except Jack’s already beat me to it.

  “You don’t have to wash them,” I protest as he sets everything in the sink and gets soap on the sponge.

  “I don’t mind. Then we can sit and check out a movie while we wait for the pie.”

  I regard him thoughtfully while his attention is trained on the dishes he’s washing. “You’re planning on hanging around just until the pie’s ready for eating? Then heading home?”

  I don’t want to admit how much I want him to stick around. Today’s been more fun than I expected. Then again, that usually goes hand in hand with Jack.

  The side of his lips quirks upward. “Trying to get rid of me, Sunshine?”

  “No, I just…” I don’t ever ask guys to stick around, so this is incredibly awkward for me.

  He finishes and wipes his hands on the dish towel before turning around, his blue eyes locking with mine.

  “You want me to stay?” He poses the question softly, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone, of something more, but I can’t put my finger on it.

  Suddenly, my bravery is nowhere to be found, and I merely nod.

  “The Princess Bride? Or 17 Again?” he asks, naming our two favorite movies.

  “Farmboy,” I call out, playfully tossing my own version of a famous interaction between the main characters in The Princess Bride. “Fetch us each a glass of apple cider while we wait.”

  He winks before turning to my cabinet which holds the glasses. “As you wish.”

  This time, it’s not only the wink, but also the secret smile playing on his lips that makes my stomach flip.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Jack

  “That must be the best apple pie I’ve had in years.” I pat my stomach, placing my empty plate on the coffee table. �
��Maybe the best ever.”

  Sarah’s eyes brighten with pride as she forks the last bit of her piece of pie into her mouth, lips wrapping around the fork in a way that shouldn’t be seductive in the least. However, when it comes to her, I think just about everything she does is sexy.

  I spot a small crumb clinging to the corner of her lips. Leaning closer to where she sits beside me on her couch, I reach out a hand to cup her chin. Her eyes widen, caught off guard.

  “You’ve got a little crumb”—I lean in closer, holding her gaze—“right here.” I dart the tip of my tongue out to nab it, and the way her breath hitches slightly sends gratification rushing through me. My mouth moves across her bottom lip, pressing tiny kisses, and when her grasp on her plate wobbles, I take it from her and place it none too gently on the coffee table to join my own.

  The moment her hands are free, she catches me off guard. Sliding her hands into my hair, she fuses her mouth to mine in a frantic, devouring kiss. Rising to her knees, she pushes me back against the couch, straddling me, as our tongues tangle and our breathing becomes ragged.

  My hands glide down over her soft curves until I grip her firm ass in my palms, pulling her closer. She tears her lips from mine, mouth swollen from our kiss, and her heavy-lidded gaze meets mine.

  “I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

  My brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  Dusting soft kisses along my jawline, she whispers, “I don’t want it to be one-sided again.”

  Fuck if that doesn’t send a surge of blood rushing to my cock as her lips latch onto my earlobe, sucking before she gently grazes it with her teeth. Her hands start untucking my shirt from my jeans, pulling it up and helping me tug it over my head.

  “Ah.” She sighs, eyes taking in the sight of my bared upper body. “Your body should come with its own disclaimer.”

  A surprised laugh escapes me. “Like what?”