Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series

by Jameson, Red L.

  I don’t touch his hardness like I want to. I keep a little distance between us as I slide my fingers around the back of his legs, under his ass. It’s like touching a statue. A warm, flesh and bone, statue. He’s so cut, so muscular, and I love the way his butt divots on the sides. By the time I work my way up and over his ass, he’s breathing fast.

  “Joe? Will you, please, take off your pants and lay down on the bed?”

  “Can I kiss you first?”

  I nod and tilt my head up. He catches me by my cheeks, pulling me close, kissing me with surprising tenderness. His tongue is in my mouth, just gently touching mine. I moan and flatten my hands on his stomach, feeling the muscles there twitch. We kiss until I can’t stand it any longer. There’s a weight inside my body. Or, rather, the feeling is an emptiness, and I know he can fill it. I ache for him.

  I step away so he can lean down, taking off his boots and jeans. Then he walks to my disheveled bed. He lays down, looking at me. I bite my lip, trying to tame my wild smile. My body is surging with desire and power and lust, and swirling around is this insane thought that I could fall in love with Joe. It’s not really all that insane, except when I think about how long I’ve known him.

  I swallow those nagging doubts away and go to my closet, finding a couple long silk scarves. I’ve never worn them. I don’t think I’m nearly French enough to pull off a silk scarf. I’m just a Wyoming hick. But now I know why I’ve been hanging onto them for so long. I almost skip to my bed, savoring every inch of Joe as I get closer and closer.

  “You sure about this?” I ask, glancing at the scarves and then his contracting stomach and his cock laying on it.

  He slowly smiles. “What are you looking at, honey?” His length jerks.

  I grin. “I think your monster likes me.”

  “Oh, I think so too.”

  I look at the scarves again and wag my brows a few times.

  Joe chuckles. “Yes, baby. Tie me up. I’m game.”

  I’m giggling and jumping on the bed, between his legs, grabbing one of his thick wrists and then tying it to my bed frame. After doing the same to the other side, I come back to sitting on my shins between his muscular legs, examining my handiwork.

  “This is more exciting than I thought it would be.”

  “Yeah?” Joe’s voice cracks.

  I nod.

  “Going to tell me if you’re wet?”

  I shyly look down, softly chuckling. “I’m so wet for you. I’m so wet for this.” I look back up at him. “Can I touch you? Touch you all over?”

  “Yeah.”

  I glance back at his cock. But I want to save that for last, I tell myself. Oh, but it’s hard not to wrap my hands around it and stroke him up and down, make him moan and throw his head back as I pleasure him. Instead, I touch his left thigh. There’s a deep scar right above his knee.

  “What’s this from?”

  “Shrapnel.”

  I look up alarmed. “You were hurt when you were over there?”

  He tries to shrug, but it’s difficult with his hands bound. Still, he smiles. “I’m okay. Went to Germany for a few weeks to make sure I was good. That was cool. Had a lot of beer.”

  I glance back down at the ragged scar. “I’ve never seen you drink.”

  “I’ve never seen you drink.”

  “I’m not.” I glance up, feeling bold enough to tell him a version of the truth. “I’m not going to drink ever again.”

  He takes a slow breath, nodding. “Okay.” He somehow does shrug with one shoulder. “I never liked it that much myself.”

  I’m not sure if he knows, or even if I can wrap my head around his acceptance and how beautiful it is. Not only do I have his approval to never drink again, he’s basically saying he won’t too. My heart stutters and squeezes all the more. I lean down, kissing his scar. Then I see another one under his knee.

  “Is this from shrapnel too?”

  “No.” His voice is even more husky. “That’s from thinking I could jump my bike over a dirt hill. Broke my arm too.”

  I smile and kiss under his knee. “Which arm?” I ask, straightening after I’ve kissed him.

  He twitches his right one.

  With his arms tied, and where I’m sitting, I can’t reach him very well, but I do kiss his elbow. “I love your arms.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod, kissing his tricep. “I love holding onto them when you’re inside me, thrusting so hard and so fast, and I just hang onto them.”

  “Moira,” he moans.

  I place both my arms on either side of him and kiss him across his chest and down his stomach. Licking him, I watch his cock twitch even more as I lower to his dark blond hair at the base of him.

  “Moira? Can you take off your little shirt thing? Please?”

  I smile as I look up, leaning back to sit on my shins once more. “The shirt thing is a tank top.”

  “Whatever. I’m not going to remember that. I can’t remember my name right now.”

  I laugh as I peel my tank off. He moans as he looks at me.

  “Joe? Do you like my breasts?” I ask as I cup myself through my bra.

  He nods, watching me.

  I squeeze my breasts, and a droplet of moisture seeps out of the head of his cock. Leaning over him again, I capture it with my tongue, licking the very top of him. He hisses for breath. And I can’t resist his cock any longer. I wrap my lips around him, taking him in, needing to be filled by him. Holding him by his base, I point him upwards, so I can take more of him in. He moans and might be saying my name. After taking him in as far as I can, I slide back up and look at him. He’s biting one of his thick arms, all the cords of his body standing out, his muscles rippling, contracting and so beautiful.

  “Do you like that, Joe?”

  “Fuck.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He’s chuckling though it sounds wonderfully strained.

  I can’t help but do it again and again—taking him in my mouth, fascinated as I watch him become more and more tense. His body is so breath-taking and I love watching him as he closes his eyes, smiling. The veins of his body seem to be standing out more. The ones on his forearms are making shadows from the little light in the room.

  I wanted to savor this, enjoy watching him as I gave him pleasure, but suddenly I’m too needy. In a hurry, I strip off my bra, shorts and panties, feeling a need for him unlike any I’ve ever known. When I brush my thighs together, I feel my wetness, and even that turns me on. I straddle him, but reach over to my nightstand, opening a drawer where I’ve hidden our new box of condoms.

  Opening the foil and placing the prophylactic on his head, I’m almost faint with this feeling. I love being in control. I love feeling like everything we’re about to do is because I want it. I love feeling like I have a say. I’m careful about unrolling the condom on him, and it’s difficult, even though we did buy the extra-large size.

  I glance up, gazing into his gray eyes turned so dark from his desire. “Did I do okay?”

  He looks down at his cock and nods. “Looks good.”

  “I didn’t hurt you?”

  He shakes his head. “Everything you do feels so fucking good.”

  “Can I tie you up again? In the future, I mean.”

  He smiles through his rapid breathing. “Yeah, baby. Any time you like.”

  I straighten to my knees, holding the base of him. “Good. I like this. I like this so much.” I slide his cock against my wet sex, easily finding my opening. Lowering on him, I’m surprised I don’t feel any twinge of pain. He’s a big guy and I usually have. But I’m so excited. He’s mine. All mine. He’s letting me do whatever I want to him, and I can’t help but want to do this until the end of time.

  I push up and down on him, leveraging myself against his chest, quickly finding a fast rhythm, my body already so needy, so greedy, wanting more and more, quicker and quicker, until…

  “I’m so close already,” I say as I’m bouncing on h
im.

  “Fuck, that’s hot.”

  “Are you close?”

  “Yeah, baby. Just trying to hang on to make this good for you.”

  I’m working up a sweat, loving the push and pull, the internal friction building inside my body. I love that he’s inside me. He’s in my body. In my heart. In my head.

  “Moira? Baby?”

  “Joe…”

  “Can I have my hands back? I want to touch you so fucking bad.”

  “Yes.” I open my eyes, thinking I’ll untie him, but he’s already holding my hips, accelerating the rhythm all the more. I giggle and bite his shoulder. “You could break free that easily?”

  He grips my hips all the more and shifts so he’s sitting, leaning against my headboard. “Yeah, sorry. You didn’t tie me very tight.” He cups my breasts, massaging, caressing.

  I moan. “I’ll have to work on my knots. But thank you for pretending you were tied up.”

  “Anything for you, baby.” He leans his head back, letting me lick and bite his neck. “Jesus, Moira, you feel so good.”

  “I love when you’re inside me.”

  He stops, looking me in the eye. “I love…it too.”

  I could have sworn he was going to say that he loves me. And my heart is pounding all the more.

  He leans forward and captures my lips. We’re kissing when he reaches between our bodies, finding my clit. He sweeps across that tight nub of mine. Once. Twice. I throw my head back, letting the orgasm wash over me. I can feel my body squeezing him, and he moans, suddenly thrusting hard. Finally, he grunts and holds me very still. He’s still kissing me, and his tongue rushes across mine. He spasms a couple times, breaking our kiss. But he looks at me and I wonder if he’s going to say it. I wonder what I’m going to say.

  Slowly, he smiles. “My pretty Moira.”

  “My handsome Joe.”

  His smile widens. He slides our bodies down my bed, so I’m lying on him. I turn my cheek on his sweaty chest. I like our sweat after sex. I like feeling slippery and our smells intermingled. He’s breathing fast and holding me so tight. I can hear his heart beating.

  “I never want to let you go.”

  I smile, loving how sweet he is. “I don’t want you to.”

  He squeezes me even tighter as I realize, eventually, he’ll have to.

  18

  When I’m happy, time passes so quickly. For the last four weeks, I have Joe at night where we cling to each other, our sex getting better and better. And then there’s the nights when he just holds me. I sleep. I sleep so hard. I haven’t slept like this in…maybe ever. I feel like a new person, either from our sex, from him, or from all the sleep. God, sleep is good.

  Joe got a construction job working for Tony’s competition. At night, he breaks into my house tired, and his palms are even more rough and calloused, making me tingle and crave it when he cups my breasts. I hope he likes his job. I keep asking him if he does, but his only answer is, “It’s a job.”

  I have to get Jamie ready for first grade. God, when he left for kindergarten, it nearly killed me. I’m not sure how I’ll cope without my little man around all the time. Further, I’m not sure how Liv will deal with it, either. She adores her older brother so much, and she cried so hard when Jamie started kindergarten.

  Both kids are in love with their new babysitters, Shane and Joe. Every Wednesday, they show up around dinnertime and Liv gets so excited she’s made trail marks around the table. By now, I should tell the kids that Joe and I are…how can you tell your kids that you’re dating? I mean, I guess you just do, but, well, I’m still having a hard time with that. So, although it makes Joe frown at me, we’re still a secret. It’s very junior high of me, I know. And Bit tells me I need to get over whatever I’m afraid of.

  Bit and I are becoming friends. Really good friends. I love that skinny girl in all black. What’s making me feel terrible about our friendship is I’m spending more time with Bit than Eva, who’s got a few houses she’s trying to sell right now, making her busier than normal. Which makes me feel not quite as guilty.

  The thing is, with Bit, she doesn’t want to drink, either. Or, actually, we both crave to drink. I want a glass of wine in my hand all the fucking time. But we support each other not to. And I haven’t said anything to Eva about going to AA meetings. I don’t know why, but something within me keeps wanting to withhold that from her. I probably worry too much about what Eva might think.

  It’s late summer, where everything gets hotter than it should be, but the nights are filled with a crispness that’s a sure sign of autumn around the corner. And for once, I’m looking forward to the future.

  After a weekend filled with sex, Joe and I reluctantly say our goodbyes when I wait for my kids to return from their once-a-month visit with their dad. A few weeks ago, I called Tony, saying I was sorry for not answering the phone. He seemed understanding and said I had a right to be mad at him. We talked about the kids and he started to talk about when we first dated. That annoyed me, because I don’t want to relive the glory days of our former life together. I’m finally moving on. I don’t mind being Tony’s friend, but I don’t want to be reminded of what was. I’ve done that enough on my own. Somehow, I got off the phone without insulting him and was proud of that.

  Tony’s late dropping off the kids, like usual, and I wish I hadn’t kicked Joe out of the house so early. We could have—Okay, Tony never liked cuddling. But Joe does. So until Joe, I’d never known what cuddling could be like. It’s freaking amazing. Joe and I curl into each other’s bodies while we watch TV, and I fit right beside him. I have a niche where I belong. God, I love it when he wraps his big arm around me and we snuggle close. I feed him crackers and popcorn. He says he’s going to get a gut, but he’s still so muscular I have no idea why he’d say such a thing.

  While waiting for my kiddos, I realize how I miss Joe’s body. I miss him. He makes me laugh. He makes my kids laugh. Yeah, I’m going to get over my fear and introduce him to my kids as my boyfriend. And that’s that.

  Finally, there’s a knock on the door, but as I race toward it, I realize Jamie and Liv wouldn’t knock. They’d just walk in because it’s their house. Maybe Tony’s being more respectful than usual and knocking.

  I fling the door open with a large smile that falters when I see the tall man with golden brown hair. “Shane.”

  “Hello, Moira.” He pushes past me and walks through my house as if he owns it.

  After closing the door, I follow him, slightly panicked. “Shane, it’s great to see you, but—”

  “Your ex-husband isn’t here.”

  I nod. He’s managed to make it to my kitchen in record time.

  “Is he normally late?”

  “How do you know—yes. But—”

  “I thought I’d surprise him.”

  “Why?”

  Shane blinks and leans against my kitchen island, a predatory look passing over his face. “Because he’s never going to hurt you again.”

  I roll my eyes. “That was an accident. I told you that.”

  Shane sighs and pivots forward, opening my fridge. “Why don’t you have any alcohol?”

  “I don’t drink.”

  Shane looks at me over the edge of the refrigerator’s door. “Does my mother know that?”

  “No.” I suddenly lose my temper. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I told you—”

  “You can’t just show up at my door—”

  “I protect my own.” He towers over me, frowning. “I told you that.”

  I shake my head. “What does—what—” What the hell does he mean by “protect my own”? But I can’t find the words to ask that, so I manage to say what I can. “I’m not some shrinking violet you need to protect.”

  “No, you’re not.” He glances down my body, clad in a short summer dress I had been reconsidering because I’m afraid Tony might think I’m trying to flirt with him. But I genuinely like the dress. It’s loose everywh
ere, and shows the good bits of my legs, as well as when it’s this hot, I need the thin straps and nothing on my neck and shoulders.

  When Shane first looked at me, I thought he was trying to suggest that, yes, I could fend for myself because I’m not exactly a weakling. However, he pauses a moment too long at my breasts, then much too long on my legs. And suddenly I’m aware that he’s closing the refrigerator door, that there’s nothing between us now. That he’s standing too close, and he’s warm and I can feel that. I can smell him. He’s clean. Reminding-me-of-mountains kind of clean. He hasn’t shaved for a couple days and the dark scruff on his face makes him look menacing. He’s also wearing a t-shirt that shows off a tattoo I’ve never noticed before on his muscular arm.

  We loved with a love that was more than love. -Edgar Allan Poe

  I swallow and find myself touching him, right where I see the quote in black ink. Shane twitches and I take my hand away, holding it close to my mouth.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s okay.” His voice is altered. Soft.

  “Who did you love with a love that was more than love?”

  He swallows.

  I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy. It’s none of my business.”

  “I fell in love. Long time ago. Well, I thought it was love.”

  I nod and look up at his dark golden eyes.

  “Did you think you loved your ex-husband?”

  Now, I swallow. “Yes.” I smile. “I thought I was very much in love.”

  “Did you end things because he cheated on you?”

  “Yes and no.” I admit much too easily. “I found out about…the women. But I told him I’d stay if he could stop. He couldn’t stop and I didn’t want to lose myself from a broken promise. Didn’t want to lose what shred of dignity I had.”

  “You’re so strong, Moira.”

  I shake my head.

  “Yes, you are. Most others would stay and lose that shred.”

  “Did you?” I know it’s really, really none of my business what happened to Shane, but I can’t seem to stop from asking.