Putting Out

by S Doyle

  “What is this some kind of hard-to-get bit?”

  “No,” he stated. Then ruined the effect by shifting his body under the covers so as not to tent the sheets quite so much.

  “Come on. It’s late and I’m needy. I bet if I just put my leg on this side of you…” Reilly lifted her leg and straddled his hip with it. “Then settled down on top of you like so….”

  Her cotton- clad bottom bumped against his covered sex then rested on his stomach.

  Luke gritted his teeth against the need boiling inside. He clasped her around the hips and heard a soft gasp. His hands tightened on her flesh as he battled every natural instinct he had. In a fluid movement, he used his strength to turn her onto her back and then rolled out of the bed.

  Forcing himself not to look at her, he moved around the bed to the window overlooking the lake. The moon was high. The picture of a soft blue glow over barren fields should have been soothing but it wasn’t.

  He heard the creak of the bed and the soft stride of her feet on the floor. His hope was she would listen to what he said about it being disrespectful and leave, but he knew her better than that.

  He also knew her needs could be as great as his. That was as shocking as it was arousing because his need for her was pretty damn strong.

  The slide of her palm down his back until it rested at the base of his spine had him close to purring like a cat.

  “I’m not strong enough to do this, Reilly.”

  Her hand reached around his hips and found him again still hard and pulsing. She teased him then stroked him in a way he knew he’d damn well taught her. Firm hold, hard strokes, her fingers toying the rim of the head, making him practically purr.

  “I beg to differ,” she murmured as she kissed the center of his back. “Luke, I don’t know why you’re fighting me. Or yourself for that matter, but let’s not fight. Too much is happening. I need you. I need you to center me. You can do that. Please do that for me.”

  If there had ever been born a man who could have refused such a plea, Luke would have bowed to his superior willpower. Because he didn’t have it. With a quick move he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from his dick. Then with a tug, he was pulling her underneath his arm so she was in front of him. The window was framed with a sill he used to plant her butt on so she was waist high. He took off her tank top in one long pull and then watched as the eerie blue moonlight illuminated her breasts.

  Just like he remembered them, firm and plump and tipped with the tightest, sweetest nipples he’d ever had in his mouth. He traced a finger down the center of her body and then lightly brushed over her hardening nipple with this thumb. Her body rippled and it pleased him.

  Bending down, he feasted on her and listened as her head fell back against the glass.

  If he wanted to he could make her come this way. Just by teasing and tugging on the tips of her breasts until she couldn’t breathe anymore. Her nipples were so damn sensitive and he loved to play with them to torture her. But she’d started this and now he was too far gone to stop until it was over. He needed to be inside her. Now.

  While his mouth traced a path from one peak to the next, his hands reached for the elastic band at her waist. He wrapped an arm around her back and lifted her even as his other hand pulled the pants down until they slid off her legs.

  Those long legs wrapped around his back. He could feel her powerful thighs clenching his hips, drawing him closer while her hands traced a path around and down his spine. His cock brushed along the soft patch of curls and he could feel how wet she was. Could smell her arousal.

  Lifting his head, he could see her neck thrown back, her shoulders pressed against the window. All of her framed by the night awash with moonlight. She was beautiful. She was his.

  “You still on the pill?” he asked, reaching down to push the head of his penis inside her body where she was impossibly hot and wet.

  She didn’t speak but the gentle nod of her head was all he needed. He thrust hard and deep and felt her body jolt in reaction.

  “Ah fuck, Reilly. Only you,” he muttered against her neck. “Only you feel this way.”

  With one arm braced against the wall and his other wrapped around her lower back, he fucked her hard. His hips snapped as he thrust deep not trying to go slow or draw it out, but instead pounding them both to oblivion because he knew that’s what she liked.

  All too quickly he heard her familiar breathy gasps, felt the sting of her nails on his shoulders. Then she was calling his name and her body was tightening around him, pulling him deeper until with one last pump, he came in a wave of ecstasy.

  The breath left his body in gasps and formed frost clouds on the glass over her shoulder. For a while they didn’t move as their bodies enjoyed the slow descent from the very fast ride they’d given each other. He disengaged and pulled her away from the surface he knew was ice cold against her back, although he doubted she felt it.

  Reilly stumbled a second and he reached out to steady her, but she laughed and slapped his hands away.

  “Oh, wow, that was good. Just what I needed.”

  “Glad I could be of assistance,” he grumbled.

  Naked, she continued to stumble toward the bed and fell face forward into the soft comforter. She patted the empty space next to her.

  “Come here. We can sleep for a while and then have another go before I have to go back to my room.”

  Luke looked down at the picture she presented. Totally at ease in her nudity. Stretched out with the elegant back he loved to stroke on display. Her heart-shaped butt he was compelled to smack once in a while. She was smug and satisfied and for whatever reason, it pissed him the hell off.

  This hadn’t been part of the plan.

  “No other go. I shouldn’t have…it doesn’t matter. You need to leave now.”

  She couldn’t have heard that right. Reilly rolled onto her back and was about to make a joke when something in his eyes stopped her. He wasn’t kidding.

  The contrast from the man she knew, and the man standing in front of her naked with his hands on his hips and a serious expression on his face, was startling. Luke had always had what she would call an easygoing demeanor. Easy good looks. Easy smile. Easy. Looking up him now he was anything but. The angles of his face were harsh. His lips were thin. The grip on his hips was painfully tight.

  He really wanted her to leave.

  She wasn’t sure what to do with that information. Sitting up, she pushed herself off the bed but when she got to her feet, she found her knees were a little shaky.

  Funny. She wasn’t at all the shaky-knee type.

  He collected her tank top and bottoms and tossed them at her. She’d never been self-conscious with him before, but suddenly being naked in his presence made her feel far too vulnerable.

  Dressed, she looked at him again, unable to decipher his mood.

  “I’m sorry. I just thought…”

  “Things are different,” he said.

  She stopped when she got to the door, her hand on the knob.

  Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Oh, who the hell was she kidding?

  “Is there someone else? I mean Holly-Two… did you leave her for someone?”

  Luke sighed. “Not really. Maybe. I don’t know. The point is I can’t mess around with you anymore. What happened was a mistake. I didn’t want…I mean, I did. Want you. I always do. But…it’s just not part of the new plan.”

  It hurt. She wasn’t in such denial she couldn’t at least admit it to herself.

  “Okay. We’re still friends, though.”

  “We’re always going to be friends, Reilly. Look, I didn’t want to lay all this on you now. You need to make some pretty heavy decisions and get through that first. Then we’ll talk and I’ll tell you what’s going on. Maybe you can help me work out a few things.”

  Great. That was good. That was what being real friends meant. He could take her against a window in one breath then ask her for advice about his next wife
in the next.

  At least now she had something to look forward to after making what could be the biggest and most devastating decision of her life. To think she’d been worried about what came next.

  “Sure,” she said in the same tone people use when they promise you they will help you move. “Night.”

  “Night.”

  Too distracted to concern herself with being sneaky, Reilly opened the door before checking and stepped out into the hallway.

  At that same moment, Kenny emerged from the bedroom next to hers wearing nothing more than some thin pajama bottoms. They looked at each other for a second, each one trying to determine what this meant. Then his face scrunched up into confusion.

  “What in the hell were you doing in Luke’s room?” he whispered.

  Reilly rolled her eyes in what she hoped was an effective “get real” manner.

  “He needed a pillow. As if I would be sneaking around this house to get into Luke’s room.”

  Kenny’s shoulders slumped a little in relief.

  “Of course. Who am I kidding? As if you and Luke would ever… you’re like a sister to him.”

  Reilly stopped herself from wincing when he said it. She guessed that would be the case from now on.

  “Can I assume you’re heading downstairs for a glass of milk because you have too much respect for our grandparents to go sneaking around their house to have relations with your new girlfriend without the benefit of marriage?”

  “You can assume that now.”

  “Excellent.” It was selfish and petulant on her part to want to share her foul mood but it was part of the little-sister code.

  “You can go back to bed.”

  “I could.” She smiled sinisterly. “But I’m feeling rather wide awake.”

  Kenny waited but he knew it was futile. Reilly crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare. After a minute, he broke and started toward the stairs.

  “Hey, bring me one, too. And some cookies,” she called to him in a whispered shout. Cookies and milk wasn’t another round of hot sex with Luke, but it would have to do.

  What was she doing? He stared up at the farm house. Watching from a distance. And rage flooded his vision and he pushed the night-vision goggles off his head.

  She was his and she’d let that other man touch her! That wasn’t right. Couples weren’t supposed to cheat on each other.

  Shaking his head, he tried to think. They weren’t a couple yet. He couldn’t blame her. He would, however, have to punish her once she was his. Punish her for exposing herself to anyone watching. Punish her for letting that other man have what was rightfully his.

  But that would come later. Right now he needed to make a plan. A plan to win her and make her his. He knew plans needed time, but he didn’t know how much he had. After the damn announcement it felt like time was running out.

  He hated what the ranking meant. Hated there were more people after her, watching her. Wanting her time and her attention and her picture.

  A smart man didn’t let obstacles stop him from reaching his objective. A smart man manipulated those obstacles. Embraced them, and instead, made them work to his advantage.

  He was a very smart man.

  “Reilly,” he breathed and watched his breath turn into a puff of cold smoke. “You do have a beautiful back.”

  7

  “You call this shopping?” Erica looked into the window of the tiny storefront, which had the audacity to claim the word “boutique” in its name.

  “What? It’s Midwest fashion at its best,” Reilly told her, as she eyed the simple cotton dress.

  It was very pretty. Soft and loose, it would make a great summer outfit. It wasn’t Bloomingdale’s, but no one really cared to look like Bloomingdale’s in Little Creek.

  “It’s lame.”

  Reilly tried keep her smile in place. Erica was born and raised in Long Island, New York, the only daughter of very wealthy parents. For every trophy she brought home, she was promised a no-limit shopping trip to Manhattan. At thirteen, she’d pushed the bounds of no-limit so far, her parents had been forced to rein her in at twenty-five thousand dollars per spree.

  Reilly laughed when she made jokes of how much she could spend and she never labeled Erica as a snob. However, her reaction to small-town America wasn’t like some who came from the big city to visit. She wasn’t finding Kenny’s hometown quaint or charming. Rather, she found it pathetic, and somewhere in Reilly’s sentimental heart that hurt.

  “Yeah… well, I’ve always thought Tiffany’s was lame.”

  Erica smirked. “Hey, come on. I’m not trying to be mean… I just can’t help it.”

  Reilly decided to keep it light, and smiled. “That’s because you’re a bitch.”

  “That’s my word. Where are the boys, anyway?”

  Reilly looked across the street at the one hardware store and saw Kenny and Luke emerge. They had refused to go into the boutique on the grounds it was a girl store and had opted instead for the manly store. Ironic, too, because Luke knew more about fashion than he did about hardware.

  Together they jogged across the street avoiding the two cars that made up the traffic, and triumphantly showed a bag in each hand.

  “What did you buy?” Erica asked.

  Kenny stuck his hand in the small brown bag and pulled out a rubber washer. Luke pulled out a bigger one.

  “You’ve always got to one-up me, man,” Kenny complained.

  “Sorry.”

  Erica shook her head. “What are those for?”

  Kenny and Luke looked at each other and shrugged.

  “We don’t know,” Kenny answered. “But a man walks into a hardware store, he ought to buy something.”

  “They’re washers, you idiots. They’re for leaky faucets and things that turn like this.”

  Reilly made a motion with her hand. She could see the wheels turning in their respective heads trying to fit the rubber pieces in their hand to where it might go in a leaky faucet.

  “You’re both such losers.”

  “Losers with washers. All the difference in the world.”

  Luke reached out to grab at her nose and this time Reilly drew back, not letting him get close. For reasons unbeknownst to her she had woken up exceptionally angry with him. It was a good bet the anger w as a result of being unceremoniously tossed out of his room last night, and that made her angrier.

  It’s not like they had a relationship. She knew that. She’d never wanted one. A relationship between them would be too much like…a relationship. Complex, intense, and scary. At least she thought that they had an understanding.

  Only now there was some other woman in his life while the ink on his divorce papers was still drying. Geez, he moved fast. Although she was sure there was always a queue of women waiting for him to be single. The two men turned and walked in front of them while she and Erica strolled behind.

  Reilly noted Luke was shorter than Kenny but still had two inches on her, which made him tall. Where Kenny was lanky, Luke was more compact. Maybe ten years from now that compactness would turn into a paunch in the front of his gut, but for now it was all still firm.

  Dark brown hair, brown eyes, there was nothing unique about him there. His brown eyes were more caramel-colored than brown and could be interesting to look into every once in a while. Despite his looks, though, he was arrogant, competitive – bigger washer case in point – and his easygoing manner could be frustrating when she wanted him to be serious. Or worse, when she wanted him to be easy and sexy and he got all serious on her.

  In bed she’d never met his equal. The way he could make her body hum was special. Was it like that for every woman he was with? Did he know how to touch them all in just the right way, to take them with the perfect amount of urgency when heat and speed were called for?

  Irritated, she thought whoever the mystery woman was, she could have him. It was probably Sandra Bullock. Or maybe Jodi Foster. She could see Jodi being his type. And she’d won
two Oscars, hadn’t she? After all nobody knew better than Reilly that Luke always upgraded: cars, clothes, and women.

  Bastard.

  “Where are we going?” Erica wanted to know.

  “For ice cream,” Kenny called over his shoulder. “The parlor has a new awning. We need to check it out.”

  Erica stopped and turned to Reilly.

  “Is he serious? Is he taking me on a date to an ice-cream parlor for a hot fudge sundae?”

  “Uh… I think he might be. Yeah.”

  “I can’t eat ice cream during the season. I already ate pie last night. You made me eat pie.”

  Erica was famous for her conditioning and diet discipline on tour. Most considered it the model behavior for a female athlete resulting in strength, endurance, weight control, and flexibility.

  What most didn’t know was that off-season, Erica made up for lost time on an entirely junk food, fast food, and processed food diet. Plus, she rarely moved from her couch.

  “One sundae.” Reilly held up a finger for emphasis. “It won’t kill you.”

  “Spoken by the woman who has no regard for her body and still manages to kick all of our asses and look good doing it. Bitch.”

  “Great metabolism. It’s a gift.”

  Erica held up a single finger, which conveyed a different message.

  “Hey, Reilly! A picture?”

  Reilly turned and found a photographer ten feet back aiming his zoom lens at her. She spun around and let him get a picture of her back.

  “Come on! One picture,” he yelled.

  She’d learned a long time ago the easiest way to cope with media attention was to give them what they wanted and wait until they got bored. It had worked to date, but the new storm over her up and coming decision was making it difficult to wait them out.

  Another man across the street, who had been talking to some locals, picked his head up at the photographer’s shouts and trotted across the street in her direction.