by Mari Carr
How much of what she wrote was derived from their researching?
The last forty-eight hours had been the most wonderful—and exhausting—of his life and, for the first time since he’d become her editor nearly a decade ago, he found himself overwhelmed with curiosity about what she was writing. Ross had never had any trouble waiting until the final manuscript to see her work.
Julia was an extremely talented writer. She would make her plot proposal, he’d tweak it, and then he’d simply wait while she worked her magic. He was desperate to see what she thought of their explorations during the past twenty-four hours. To see if she was as heady from the experience as he was.
“Well, well, well,” he said, when he couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Looks like you’ve broken through the writer’s block. That is your erotic romance novel you’re tapping away at, isn’t it?”
Her instant blush answered his question and he suspected she was indeed putting some, if not all, of their actions into words.
“Want me to take a look, see if you need to do any tweaking?” he asked nonchalantly. He rose from the bed to cross the room to where she sat at the desk.
“No,” she said quickly, saving and exiting from the file. “Not until I’m finished. You know that.”
“Well,” Ross teased, “I thought since we were collaborating on this project, you might want me to take a more hands-on approach.”
“More hands-on than what you’ve been doing? I don’t think I can handle any more of your hands.”
Delighted with her jest, Ross bent down and impulsively placed a quick kiss to the end of her nose. “Don’t let me interrupt your creative flow. I’ll just be in the kitchen, slaving over your lunch.”
“Actually,” she said, “I was about to take a break. I’ll help you. I think there are sandwich fixings in the fridge. Even we can handle that.”
“Sounds good,” he replied, grabbing sliced turkey, lettuce, tomatoes, mayo and some leftover bacon from the refrigerator. “If you look in that cabinet by the sink, I think there’s a big bag of potato chips.”
Together they made and devoured their lunch, washing the sandwiches down with ice-cold soda and talking about insignificant things—people at the publishing company, the weather, the latest episode of a crime series they were both addicted to.
“I suppose I should get back to work,” Julia said as they washed off their lunch plates. “I did come here to write a book.”
“Yeah, well,” Ross began, “I know you hate distractions while you’re working. Tell you what. I’ll leave you to it, while I go tackle some of that snow.”
“But it’s still snowing.”
“Yep, but it’s probably better to attack it in small increments or I’ll never be able to find my way to the woodpile. I’d hate for the heat to go out and us to be digging through three feet of snow looking for firewood. Besides, you know me. I can’t stand to be stuck inside with nothing to do.”
Julia’s cheeks flushed as she glanced toward the bed, betraying her thoughts. Much to his chagrin. His cock was actually sore from the workout they’d been giving it.
“Besides that. Dammit woman, but if you don’t stop looking at me like that, you’ll find yourself on your back with your ankles around your head. And as much as I’d love that, there are limits to even my sex drive. Have mercy on an old man. You’re about to cripple me.”
She grinned at his comment. “You’re only thirty-five.”
“And feeling every minute of it. What I wouldn’t give to be twenty years old right now.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Julia glanced out the window to admire the strength in Ross’s arms and back as he easily shoveled the heavy snow off the path leading from the cabin to the woodpile.
Sighing, she silently chastised herself for missing him. “My God,” she whispered, “he’s only thirty feet away! Get it together, Julia.”
It would do her absolutely no good to become romantically infatuated with Ross. He was a confirmed bachelor, a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. She had to hold onto that thought before she found herself giving him something she swore she’d never give anyone—her heart.
The rest of the day passed in quiet solitude. They’d both decided that since clothing was a necessity for working in the snow, she should also be allowed to cover up. Ross gave his grumbling consent and let Julia put on her work outfit—warm fleece lounge pants and a T-shirt.
He came in twice to add more wood to the pile inside the cabin and to warm his numb fingers around the steaming cups of hot chocolate Julia made, before venturing back out into the freezing elements. Unfortunately, the path he’d shoveled was already covered again with a thin crust of snow.
After dinner, they lay together on the soft bearskin rug. Ross put a CD in the player and the soft sounds of Tom Waits’s album Closing Time lulled them peacefully toward sleep.
Ross broke the silence by finally asking her the question she’d been waiting for all afternoon. “How’s the writing coming?”
“Fine.” For the first time in her life, she found her words failing her. Fact was, all she’d done was put together a diary of sorts. She should be developing her characters and plot, but instead all she could do whenever she sat in front of the computer was recollect the power of Ross’s touch, the incredible feeling of him as he thrust deep inside her, the magic of each orgasm he’d given her.
What would he think if he knew she’d spent nearly two hours this afternoon describing every feature, every nuance of his body in minute detail?
“Need to do more research?” he asked mischievously.
“Maybe. What did you have in mind?”
“Have you ever given a man a blowjob?”
Red-hot embarrassment raced through her body. Just when she thought he couldn’t shock her anymore.
“Well, I—I mean, I—” she stammered. “Oh hell, no, but I’ve always wanted to.”
The silence in the cabin was rocked by Ross’s spontaneous laughter.
Hurt by his response, Julia started to rise. She had told him she wasn’t very experienced, but she didn’t need him to ridicule her for it.
“No,” he said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back down to him. “I’m not laughing at you. Christ, Jules, you have no idea, do you?”
“I told you before I didn’t. Now let me go. This isn’t funny.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ross replied. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I know you’re inexperienced and I don’t think that’s funny. Hell, it’s a crime. A sexy woman like you. No, what I meant is you have no idea how adorable you are. After all that we’ve done, the fact that you can still blush like a teenager when I ask a simple question—”
“A simple question? You use the term ‘blowjob’ in a sentence like it’s a commonplace topic of conversation.”
“You’re writing an erotic novel. It better become comfortable dialogue to you as well. Besides, I wish you’d told me about this deep, dark desire of yours to give a blowjob. I would’ve been happy to oblige you years ago.”
Julia acknowledged Ross’s jest for what it was—harmless—and smiled at him. Besides, he’d called her sexy and adorable—all in the same breath.
“Who said I wanted to give one to you?” She could tease him as easily as he did her.
“And who in the hell’s cock have you been fantasizing about sucking?”
“Jealous?” She hoped for a moment he truly was.
“Maybe.” He pulled her face to his for a rough kiss that quickly turned heated, and for a moment, Julia wondered if perhaps he really was jealous. His kiss was potent and his hands fiercely possessive as he frantically pulled her shirt over her head.
“Too many clothes.” He yanked her pants off with even less finesse and Julia was giddy that he lost all control when it came to her. “I knew it was a mistake to let you cover up.”
Only when she was totally naked in his arms did he regain his composure. “That’s
better.” His gaze devoured her once more.
“For you maybe,” she whispered, gesturing to his fully clad body.
Grinning, Ross tackled the button and zipper on his jeans as Julia went to work on his flannel shirt. Twice they bumped heads in their haste to divest him of his clothing. Finally, after much struggling and laughter, they were both naked and incredibly aroused.
Kissing her again, Ross’s lips became soft, almost worshipful as he slowly tantalized her mouth with his own and her body with his exploring hands.
Julia’s hands mimicked the actions as she studied and caressed his body. When she reached his rock-hard arousal, she used both hands, first gently, then more firmly, stroking down and reaching underneath to tease his balls, before moving back up again. Tiny liquid drops escaped the tip and Julia licked her lips, wondering what he would taste like.
Without awaiting an invitation, she bent down and ran her tongue around the head of his penis, teasing the small slit with the tip of her tongue.
Several breathless curses fell from his lips and Ross grasped her head. “God, Brown Eyes,” he moaned, “do that again.”
Smiling, she complied, kneeling before him and licking him all around his firm hard-on before finally taking him fully into her mouth. She worried she hurt him at his sharp intake of breath, but all uncertainty left her when she felt his grip on her head tighten and he pushed her farther down on his cock—silently begging for more.
His shaking hands and harsh breathing gave her clues to what he enjoyed. She experimented with her teeth and her tongue, applying pressure to different spots, discovering what he liked and what he didn’t. She was amazed to discover how much she enjoyed doing this.
The smell and taste of him was so uniquely Ross. She felt as if she’d been given a small peek at a part of him others could never see.
“Jules,” he said after several more minutes, “sweetheart, I’m going to come. If you don’t want—” Julia cut off the rest of his words by sucking even harder and farther into her mouth.
“Oh shit,” he cried as his climax overtook him, great spurts of come sliding down Julia’s throat, all of which she drank greedily, refusing to release him until the last drop erupted.
Ross’s grip on her head relaxed and, as a great oak falls in the woods, he collapsed onto the rug as if dead. Scrambling up, Julia knelt beside him, suddenly concerned.
“Ross, are you all right?”
“No,” he mumbled, “I was right. You killed me.”
“What?” She bent down to check his heart. It was racing and she became worried. What if he was having a heart attack? After all, he’d warned her earlier he wasn’t young anymore.
Noticing her concern, Ross grabbed her, pulling her on top of him. “I’m kidding, Brown Eyes.”
She slugged him lightly on the shoulder. “Dammit, Ross, don’t tease me like that. I thought you were having a heart attack.”
“Too many more blowjobs like that and I might. I thought you said you’ve never done that.”
“I haven’t,” she responded, pleased by his reaction. “I’ve just thought about it.”
“Lord, save me from sexy female writers because that is one hell of an active imagination you have.”
“Glad you liked it,” she replied.
“Yeah, well, never let it be said I failed to reciprocate.” He sat up slowly. “There’s a backpack over there on that chair, Jules.” He gestured to an easy chair by the bed. “If I could move, I’d go get it. Mind grabbing it for me? I’ve got some treats in there for you.”
“Chocolate treats?”
“No, you naughty imp, better than chocolate.”
She raised her eyebrows, suspicious about his remark, but she went to get the bag. Dropping to her knees beside him, she placed it in his lap. “What’s in it?”
“Toys.”
“Aren’t we a little old for toys?” she teased uneasily, suddenly aware of what he probably considered treats.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “You know I won’t hurt you.”
“So there aren’t whips and chains and other instruments of torture in there?” Her tone was light, but Ross could sense her trepidation.
“Of course not, Jules. I’m not into pain and unless we discover that you are, we won’t play those games.” His answer was straightforward and honest. Julia silently sighed a breath of relief.
“I don’t like pain either,” she said, before recalling Ross’s spankings and the pleasure she derived from them. “I mean, I don’t think I do.”
Ross pulled her onto his lap. “A little spanking isn’t exactly the same thing as S & M, sweetheart.”
“So, what’s in the bag?” she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.
“Ah, getting into the research now, I see.”
“Ross,” she repeated impatiently, “what’s in the bag?”
Opening it, but shielding the contents from her, Ross rummaged through until he found what he was looking for. When Ross pulled the items out, Julia had to suppress her gasp of surprise and uneasiness. He held them out to her for her inspection.
“Is that what I think it is?” she asked nervously, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. Although she’d read about butt plugs, she had never actually seen one.
Ross dropped the items on the rug and pulled her more firmly onto his lap. “Jules,” he consoled. “Honey, if you hate it, we’ll stop.”
“If it hurts—” She bit her lower lip.
“We’ll stop. Trust me?” he repeated and she nodded.
Kissing her gently, he soothed her fears with his sweet ministrations—rubbing her back, running his fingers through her hair, tickling her feet. He rose slowly, and then bent down to lift her before carrying her to the bed. He joined her, then pulled the covers over them both.
“What about the—” She gestured to his backpack.
“Later,” he whispered. “Right now, all I want is you.”
And he proved it with each caress, each kiss, each orgasm. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.
Julia realized as she drifted off she’d never felt so loved. If she’d been less tired, that would have scared the hell out of her, but instead, in her exhausted state, she allowed herself to pretend, just for the night, that Ross did love her and they would beat all the odds stacked against them to live a long, happy life together.
Chapter Seven
It was still dark outside when Julia awoke. She sensed Ross was also awake, and then realized what had roused her. She was on her stomach and Ross was kissing a path down her back, his tongue darting out now and then for a taste of her. She could get used to these late-night adventures.
Tensing slightly, she felt his hands on her buttocks, but she relaxed as he began to softly massage them. Every touch felt like heaven and she wondered how she would ever return to the real world—with Ross, the friend, instead of Ross, the lover.
The snow had stopped earlier in the day and the weather forecast called for warmer days ahead. With the melting snow, Julia began to feel as if her days with Ross here in her own private Eden were numbered.
“Bend your knees,” he said, lightly pushing her up. She was still drowsy and so satiated by his earlier loving that the sudden, unexpected feeling of cold gel on her anus caused her to jerk.
“Hush,” he soothed, “it’ll warm up in a second.” True to his word, the gel did seem to heat up as he slowly rubbed it around her back entrance.
“God, angel,” he whispered, “I want you so bad. Every time I come inside you, I leave you only to want to get right back in.”
His words, as always, affected her strongly and she began to push back toward his hand, silently asking for more.
As he applied more gel, she felt his finger seeking entrance to the dark portal. No one had ever breached her ass and she was surprised by the intensity of the sensations provoked by merely the tip of his finger. Slowly, he worked his finger in deeper and soon she felt herself pushing back against him
, seeking more.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me in.” He removed one finger only to return with two.
She gasped for breath as the pressure of his two fingers increased, becoming painful. “Push against me,” he instructed.
She attempted to do as he asked, trying to decide if she liked his actions or not. It hurt, but not unbearably, and she had to admit there was some part of her that was deeply turned on by his wicked touch. Determined to learn all she could, she relaxed until he had both fingers buried completely within her.
“Christ, you’re tight,” he said, starting to thrust his fingers in the rhythm she’d come to love.
Arching back against him, she followed his movements, the pain decreasing as the pleasure grew.
“Ross,” she cried as the stimulation became too much, “more, please.”
Rather than giving her more, however, his fingers left her completely. She started to protest.
“Wait,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, his tongue darting out to tease her earlobe.
Suddenly she felt something hard pressing into her. She started to pull away, but Ross’s strong arm across her shoulders held her firmly in place. She felt him put the tip of the tube of lubrication to her anus as more of the sticky gel permeated her tight hole. Then he began to press the plug into her. A butt plug, she thought, recalling the toy he’d pulled out of the backpack earlier.
She’d read about them, but she never imagined in her wildest fantasies that Ross would ever want to put one inside her. She understood the implication. The plug would gradually loosen the muscles of her anus and it would make it easier for Ross to fuck her there. He wanted to fuck her ass. The thought should frighten her, but instead she struggled to take the plug. She wanted him there.
God, she wanted him anywhere she could get him.