by Sadie Sears
Maintaining eye contact, I lowered my head and swiped my tongue along her slit. Her pupils dilated further, and her moans drove me wild. I shivered at the taste of her and did it again, increasing the pressure. Lila squirmed, her eyelids growing heavy. Finally, I broke eye contact and took her in my mouth, swirling my tongue around her clit until she threw her head back, gasping. Her back arched as my tongue worked, making sure to savor all of her. The sweet and salty flavor inspired a guttural moan that vibrated against her, and she writhed beneath me.
Her knees came up around my head, and she tangled her fingers in my hair. I wrapped my arms around her thighs, digging even deeper. Each breath brought a sharp cry of ecstasy and it made me even more desperate to please her, to love her, to worship everything she was. I felt her tense under my hands and pulled her clit into my mouth, sucking hard even as my tongue continued teasing it.
When she cried out and bucked against me, I wanted to cry out with her. I eased her down, slowing my ministrations until she was able to crack one hazel eye open at me.
In my life, I’d never been so hard for a woman. “Damn, Lila, I want you so bad.”
She smiled as she panted. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The twinkle in her eye, the tongue she swiped across her lips, the languid slither of one foot against the sheets as she lowered her lashes and crooked her finger at me, all worked in her favor. Or maybe it was mine.
“Do I need to get a condom?” Not that I hadn’t brought one. Of course I had. Not because I expected, but because I’d hoped.
“No, just come get me.”
Indeed, I did. She pulled me on top of her, kissed me slow and deep. The taste of her was still on my tongue, but she wiped it away and replaced it with a sweeter flavor. She kissed me like it was going to be the last time and we needed to make it last. At least until she pushed me onto my back and unfastened my pants. I helped her shove them off, then waited patiently as she climbed on me.
She sat poised over me, my length in her hand, and she stroked.
Fucking hell. I hadn’t even been inside her yet, and I was ready to blow. I needed to get myself under control, and quick, or the embarrassment would never be lived down. Stroking again, and again, she finally teased her entrance with it, then slid down. My hands clamped down on her thighs as I hissed out a breath, my body burning with need, with more desire and passion than I had ever known.
Lila worked herself up and down, slowly at first, then grinding herself harder and faster. She was beautiful sitting astride me, her perfect breasts bouncing with her effort. I sat up just enough to take one in my mouth, and she latched onto my hair, holding me to her. My name from her lips was a caress, and I wanted to hear it more. There were things in my life I would remember, no matter how long I lived or what faded from my mind in those years, and this moment—Lila on top of me, eyelids at half-mast, lips parted—would live on forever in my mind.
She shifted, twisted, and I ended up on top of her, supporting my weight on my forearms while I buried myself and closed my eyes, savoring every wonder of this moment. But she bucked, and my body jerked because it couldn’t take much more without blowing apart. She met every thrust with one in reply, and my body tightened. Every cell screamed for release until I had to—oh, God. The pressure built, sent me spiraling with a grunt and a groan I couldn’t have called back. Everything about her was perfect, and she was everything to me.
I fell asleep beside her, holding her, loving her in ways I never did before. Usually, after sex, I couldn’t wait to leave or send the woman away. But with Lila, I couldn’t stand the thought of ever being away from her again.
When I woke the next morning, the sun shone bright. It was the Fourth of July. Lila kissed my cheeks, my ear, my lips, my throat. And never before had I been awakened in a way that made me happier. I hugged her closer and made out with her like we were teenagers. And I would have made love to her again had her alarm not blared and she hadn’t pushed me out of bed. Literally.
“What are you doing?” I was on the floor, ass smarting while I wondered how someone, who a week ago could barely lift her arms, had just now managed to shove me with enough force that I misjudged the edge of the bed and fell off.
“I have to get Zoe from Sophie’s house. Sophie’s got a day trip planned for her and Shae to visit her parents. And you have to get dressed and pretend like we didn’t, um, do what we just spent the night doing.” She sounded less frantic and more flushed, but she was jerking clothes on—two shirts now—like she was in an Olympic dressing contest and in gold medal contention. As she pulled on a flannel over the t-shirt she’d slipped over her tank top, she still hadn’t managed to pull on panties or pants, and my cock twitched again. This thing was getting ridiculous.
We’d been up most of the night, for once, not talking. Well, not talking about anything we could repeat in polite company. And it had been divine.
But now, she rushed toward the dresser then flung the drawer open with such vigor, it slid out and landed on the floor. She jumped and pulled her foot back just in time. But, oh, what a drawer it was. Panties—lace, satin, skimpy and gorgeous—along with bras and socks and a copy of the Bible on top of one corner, stared up at me from the side of the bed. If there was a drawer of my dreams, this was it.
She picked up a piece of white lace and slipped her legs through, and I would’ve sighed, but I swallowed my tongue instead and it took me a minute to recover. Then she jerked on a pair of shorts, and I thought I had a chance, but my brain and my dick both knew what was under those shorts. And God help me, I wanted her again.
But she flung my shirt behind her and it landed on top of my head. I left it there because I thought she needed a smile, but when she turned and frowned, I turned it right-side out and yanked it over my head.
By the time she hopped around on one foot trying to pull on a second shoe, I’d pulled my jeans on and stood with my arms crossed. Frazzled because she was late was one thing, this was something else. “Are you okay, Lila?”
She nodded. Shook her head. Nodded again. “I don’t sleep with people. I mean, I obviously did, with you, last night. But I don’t have sex in my house or where Zoe could…” She wrapped her arm around her stomach. “I mean, she wasn’t here, but—it can’t—we shouldn’t—” She shook her head. “And all I want to do is climb back in bed with you.”
I’d thought she’d been ready to tell me to get out, so I bent over and heaved a sigh. “Oh.” I didn’t want to tell her what I really thought, so I walked closer and wrapped her in my arms instead. “Anytime you want. Just say the word. I’m your guy.” And flippant as it sounded, I meant it.
“Right now, I have to pick up Zoe.” And she waited for me to let go, for me to leave.
It hurt a little, though I understood she needed to see Zoe, to spend some quality time with her. But I couldn’t go without knowing when she wanted to see me again. “What about tonight? Are there fireworks anywhere?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She smiled and some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed. “I could text you directions, pack a picnic, bring a blanket?” She smiled and tiptoed up to kiss me. “Be my date?”
Date? Like, let people know we were together? Kiss and touch one another? Yeah. That worked for me. “You bet.” And this time when I kissed her, I was the one who had to relax into it.
When we left the bedroom, she didn’t have a limp, didn’t have to try not to flinch when I squeezed her hand. “So, your relapse?”
“Over for now.” She smiled. “My symptoms have subsided, so life goes back to normal.”
I hoped normal included me. I hoped it didn’t mean she was ready to send me away since we’d found, caught, and released her stalker back into the wild, and her medical issues meant she didn’t need me hanging around messing up her kitchen anymore.
The thought bothered me through the rest of the day as I went home and did a week’s worth of laundry, then grabbed a bottle of water and looked out the window. Sin
ce Lila was bringing the food, I told her I would bring dessert. And what was more Fourth of July than star-spangled strawberries on a bed of creamy poke cake? I didn’t know what the hell that meant, but Lou at the grocery store had said he got some of the best loving of the year when he brought the store’s version home to his wife on the Fourth of July.
I’d already had the best loving of my life, but I wasn’t above stacking the deck in my favor for some more, either. I picked up the cake, put it in one cooler and some beers for the boys in another, then drove to the old historical mansion where Cam and Vincent lived together. When he’d offered to let me move in there, Cam swore the place wasn’t haunted, but it looked a lot like the house that used to sit on the hill in that movie where the guy ran a hotel and taxidermized his mom. And anywhere that looked like that place graduated to the top of my oh-hell-no list. I didn’t even like to visit them. So, I sat in the driveway and blew the horn.
When they climbed in the truck, I pulled onto the road and headed toward the mountain pass. When we passed outside of town, trees of every shape and size lined the pavement on each side; some overgrown, some lush and full, and others were towers that told the tale of years past.
I broke the silence in the truck because I suspected they were having another of their roommate tiffs. The air inside the cab was thick with tension and angst. “I can’t believe you guys live there. It’s creepy.”
Vincent waved his fingers at me, flicked my ear and made the ghost sound from the old mystery cartoons from the backseat.
“If it was haunted, I would welcome the company of ghosts.” Cam glanced over his shoulder and shot Vincent a narrow-eyed smirk.
“You big baby.” He glanced at me in the mirror. “Pardon him. His panties are in an uncomfortable twist because I moved the furniture, and he stubbed his toe when he got up to get a glass of water.”
Cam sputtered and turned to look at Vince again; this time the seatbelt was more hindrance than safety measure. When Vincent winked at him, Cam threw himself back against his own seat, huffing and puffing. “He waited until I went to bed, then moved one chair. In front of a door.”
“I always tell you to take water with you to bed.” Vincent might have been sixty-something in human years, but he had yet to gain the maturity of an adult. His motto was something about only being as old as he felt. Apparently, today he felt about twelve.
Cam growled, his voice deep and petulant even with the air swirling as we rode with the windows down. “It’s like living with a child.”
I shrugged. “Well, he is young.”
And whether he felt 12 or 212, he didn’t like being reminded we all had years on him. Vincent leaned forward with a hand on each headrest behind the front bucket seats. “I’m a senior fucking citizen in most states. I just didn’t live back with the dinosaurs like Sparkle.”
Oh, Lord. He’d taken to calling Cam Sparkle. This was gonna be a fun day.
“You two bicker like an old married couple.” I found it amusing most days, but my stomach was rolling with nerves. I wanted Lila to like them, not be annoyed by their antics.
When they, in unison, shot me identical fuck yous, I chuckled.
Cam crossed his arms. “One day, when you wake up, I’m going to have shaved your head, and let’s see how pretty you are then. How funny you think my fucked-up toe is.”
Vincent laughed like he didn’t believe Cam would do it, but Cameron Charles wasn’t really the kind of guy who wasted words on anything, especially threats. Nine-point-nine-nine times out of ten, if he said he was going to do it, it was going to happen.
Moments like these made me doubly glad I’d chosen to get my own place.
I drove the truck up the side of the mountain looking for the turn-off Lila texted me would be there. I tuned them out in favor of breathing in the warm Vermont air, scented with mountain pine and maple, the earth itself. Then I saw the view from the clearing, and Lila was right about this being a perfect place to watch the fireworks, to take off in flight, to breathe in nature. The clearing was a flat plateau facing the town where the fireworks would be shot. It had a view as far as the eye could see.
Cam and Vincent finished bickering at just the moment I pulled into the small lot where Sam’s truck was already parked. I took a breath because the sight of Lila smiling, with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, always brought out the happiness in me and made my heart lighter.
“Oh, look at him. He’s in love.” Vincent chuckled as he gathered the bag and cooler he’d brought with him and popped open the door behind me.
“You know what? When Cam kicks your ass, I’m going to let him.”
Cam grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Vincent over the seat, and I didn’t stick around to hear more. I had a beautiful woman waiting for me, smiling my way.
I handed her the cooler with the cake and flipped the lid open while she held it. “It’s a star-spangled strawberry poke cake.” I waited expectantly, hands folded in front of me, for her to gush over the design, for her to love it the way Lou said his wife did. When she didn’t immediately smother me with kisses and proclaim her undying love for strawberry whatever cake, I frowned. Lou might’ve overstated things a bit.
She smiled patiently. “I don’t eat strawberries.”
Well, fuck. “Is it a diet thing? Are you allergic?” Who in the real world didn’t eat strawberries fresh off the vine, in a quart box from the pickin’ patch, on a star-spangled poke cake?
She shook her head and pointed to her teeth. “No. I just don’t like the little seeds.” But she turned with the cooler toward a picnic table set up with all the food. “But it’s nice that you brought something. No one’s ever brought me a strawberry poke cake before.”
I shook my head. “Because you don’t like strawberries.” Oh, God. I should’ve asked. I should’ve just brought some flavored gelatin or something. Everybody loved that stuff.
She smiled. “At least it wasn’t that red gelatin stuff Sophie likes.” She widened her eyes and pretended to gag.
I nodded like I hadn’t just been thinking what I was thinking. “Right.”
How could destiny think I was going to live the rest of my life without strawberries, strawberry shortcake, strawberry pie, strawberry ice cream… Oh, chocolate-covered strawberries. And now I was in over my head. Way over. Because as much as I liked strawberries, I liked her more. My stomach rolled as realization set in. Liked wasn’t enough to describe this.
After we ate, Zoe sat across from me and her mom and pulled out a magazine while Cam and Vincent sat with Gretta and Sam enjoying the strawberry cake.
Zoe flipped her magazine to a page she’d obviously marked ahead of time. “All right, Leath, Mom, this is a compatibility test.” Her stern look reminded me of Lila. “If you don’t pass, you can’t date my mom.”
I sat up straighter, laid my hands flat on the table, serious as I could be. No way was I going to screw up being able to date her mom. “All right. I’m ready.”
“Drinks and dancing or dinner and a movie?” Then she asked, “Lemonade or tea?” Then ten other questions in which I answered in the exact opposite way Lila answered.
When Zoe had finished, she shut the book and folded her arms on top. “You didn’t get a single question right.”
I sighed, aware I’d failed, overly conscious of the fact that Lila and I had nothing in common.
“Zoe.” Lila shook her head and gave Zoe a look that said to hush or there would be consequences. My mom had worn it once upon a time.
I glanced at Lila. “Drinks and dancing really?”
She shrugged. “When you don’t do it very often, or you can’t, it sounds like a lot of fun.”
And now I was the asshole at the table. I pursued my lips and tried to look insignificant.
Cam walked to the beer cooler and brought one back for me, too. “I think you need this, buddy.” He wasn’t just any mind-reading ether dragon. He was my friend, the mind-reading ether dragon.
He used his hip to shove Vincent down the bench so he could sit between Vincent and me while Sam and Gretta sat across the table with Zoe. I probably should’ve stood and walked around, taken a minute to put my head back together, but Lila dropped her hand into my lap and snuggled closer to me. I wasn’t going anywhere now.
I kissed the top of her head. Maybe our differences could be our strengths. I could teach her all about football, and she could teach me how to sit through a baseball game without falling asleep. I could teach her about soft jazz and big band music, and she could explain why country singers needed all that twang and yodel in their repertoires. I could show her the complexities of movies, the CGI, the way lighting and sound could make or break a story, and she could read to me.
“Did you hear that?” Lila poked me in the side.
I hadn’t heard a thing. I looked at Gretta who was still speaking.
“…starting my own research team.” She sighed. “But I would need a lab and funding, then permits and it’s a process. I can’t just go in and take over the hospital lab without a bunch of planning and paperwork and maybe even having to pay for it.”
But Cam narrowed his brow. “Do you have a proposal?”
Gretta looked at Lila then at Sam and at Cam. “I don’t have anything written.”
“Yet,” Lila added as she nodded at Gretta.
“Right. I could write one and present it.” She sat straighter, hope lighting up her face, and Sam beamed with pride.
Cameron had investments all over the world. He had a hotel in the French Quarter in New Orleans, a bistro in Paris, a renovated castle in Scotland, and a boat restoration company in North Carolina. He hadn’t dabbled in medicine yet, but he was the money man. He provided the cash, then left the running of the businesses to the people who worked for him.
Vincent ho-hummed over business talk—which had never thrilled him—then stood and moved to sit beside Zoe. They chatted over playwrights. She was all about Faulkner, and he talked her into seeing the Spruce Community Theater’s production of The Pirates of Penzance. He was playing Frederic. “I was born to play him,” he joked and winked at Lila.