Under A Blue Moon : Indigo Knights Book IX

by A. J. Downey

  I keyed my way into the apartment having every intention of asking if she wanted to take a walk with me a few blocks to this Vietnamese joint for some hot soup, and I walked smack into a cacophony of delicious smells and some equally delicious heat that made my question die in my throat.

  “What’s all this?” I demanded.

  “This is a lot of things,” she said, closing my oven door and beaming at me.

  “Where does the list start?” I asked, shutting the cold firmly on the outside and throwing the locks.

  “Well, we’re celebrating that I had over eighty bucks in loose coins in that Crown bag for one.”

  “Wow, nice!”

  “Two, I wanted to say thank you for everything you’ve done.” She reached out and I took her hand as she reeled me in closer to her, putting her arms around my waist, looking up at me with those stunning mismatched eyes of hers; smiling this charmed little smile.

  “You’re very welcome,” I said softly. “You should know that by now.”

  “Mm-hm,” she hummed and her smile turning slightly mischievous. She said, “And three, I really, really, really wanted to finish this morning’s episode.”

  “Yeah?” I asked smiling too, my lips already descending towards hers.

  “Yeah,” she whispered, her warm breath brushing across my cold lips.

  The kiss was an explosion of passion between us. She didn’t hesitate, her lips parting, her tongue meeting mine, stroking against it boldly; her taste sweet from whatever she’d been drinking. Vaguely spicy, orangey, flavorful and bold.

  “God, you taste divine,” I growled against her mouth.

  “Oh, you like that?” she murmured.

  “Hmm, yeah, what is it?”

  She reached off to the side, groping at one of the countertops and laughed, and I stepped back letting her go. God, it was reluctantly that I did it, but damn, I would have her in my arms soon enough. In my bed, holding her close, even if that was the only thing I got to do.

  She slid a packet off the counter, a tea bag and put it in my hand. I read the label, the brand one I didn’t readily recognize. It was a sweet orange spice flavor of tea and I gave a nod and an impressed look.

  “Want me to hook you up?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that’d be good,” I said. “What else have you got going on in here?”

  This woman had done the works. She had a chicken roasting in the oven, salad made with all kinds of extras like mushrooms, olives, cucumbers and bell peppers. She had made fresh popover rolls in my one muffin tin and even had a plate of these peanut butter cookies with the Hershey Kisses pressed into the top.

  “Jesus, you’ve been busy!”

  “Yeah and I have almost half that gift card left.”

  “Gift card? What gift card?” I asked.

  “From the coin machine. If you get a gift card, you don’t pay fees – take the cash and you have to give a percentage to the coin machine company.”

  “Huh, I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t usually have a lot of pocket change. I use my card for almost everything.”

  “Makes sense. You know, by the time you grab a shower and change clothes, I’ll have everything done and plated up.”

  “Sounds good, I could stand to get warm and into more comfortable clothes.”

  “Alright then.” She stood on her tiptoes and puckered her lips and I laughed, giving her a quick chaste kiss.

  “I’m really starting to enjoy those,” she murmured.

  I chuckled and went around the counter saying, “Plenty more where they came from.”

  By the time I got out, she’d made good on her promise. There were two plates made up and waiting and she was saying, “I guessed on the salad dressing and went with Ranch.”

  “I’m more of an Italian guy, but Ranch is good, too. I have to say, this is really a surprise.”

  “Good.” Her smile lit up the space we occupied. “I’m glad. I wanted it to be.”

  “I was feeling pretty guilty about the lack of food in here. I think it’s going to be a chill shift tomorrow. I maybe can hit up the –” She opened the freezer to show me another chicken in there as I put dressing on my salad.

  “Soup tomorrow from whatever is left of this bird. We should be okay for the next couple of days.”

  “Nice,” I said and nodded impressed.

  “I have oatmeal for tomorrow morning. Milk. Plenty of flour, eggs, yeast, peanut butter… I can make a loaf of bread tomorrow. We’ll still have popovers to go with the soup. No worries.”

  “You don’t have to do all this,” I said, tracing some of her longer, beachy waves behind her ear. She smiled up at me.

  “I like to pull my own weight,” she said.

  “You’ve done admirably with all of this, let me just say.”

  “Shall we retire to the dining room?” she asked, and I chuckled and nodded.

  “Let’s, and ladies first.”

  We watched the tail end of the Late Late Show and I swear to God, I feasted. Her cooking was out of this world and probably a lot healthier than the noodle place when I stopped to think about it. We ate our fill and both of us cleaned up.

  “I took a gamble that you weren’t allergic to peanuts,” she said and held up one of her bite-sized cookies. I let her feed it to me and it was really good… and I mean really good.

  “Mm, wow,” I said around a mouthful.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I chewed and swallowed. “Those moutherfucker’s are dangerous.”

  She laughed and sounded delighted.

  “They’re my signature cookie. My granddad and I made them every Christmas.”

  “You talk about him a lot,” I mused and she nodded.

  “He was my whole world,” she said. “I miss him every day.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, setting the last dish in the dry rack and turning. She’d ripped apart the bird and I went to grab the pan she’d done it in and pour the drippings down the drain.

  “Wait!” she cried. “Don’t do that. I can use them for the soup tomorrow. Pour them in here.” She thrust one of my Tupperware containers at me.

  “Okay, you’re the boss,” I said amused.

  “You put it in the fridge, scrape off the fat and are left with all the good stuff,” she said. “Add water and it makes an okay stock.”

  “I am not going to lie,” I told her. “I am your typical dude. I grill meat and can cook a steak, but my knowledge of cooking is fairly stunted.”

  “Kind of blows my mind,” she said as she worked to put things away. “You have a really well-stocked kitchen.”

  “That was my mom and my sister,” I told her. “I guess they figured if they hooked me up with enough decent cookware it would somehow magically teach me how to cook.”

  Saylor Grace giggled and put the container in the fridge.

  I pulled her into my arms, and she bit her bottom lip, blushing.

  “I don’t know what exactly this is,” I told her, “but I like it.”

  “I like it too,” she murmured.

  “I’d kind of like to know how far I’m allowed to go before I make any kind of misstep with you.”

  “I don’t think you could mess this up… I’m more afraid that I’m going to do something to overstep.”

  “I guess we just have to be careful with each other. Keep the lines of communication open.”

  “I guess so,” she whispered, her voice dropping into this husky, sexy tone that drove me a little wild. I tightened my hold on her and she sighed in contentment.

  “I’m going to unwrap you like a present,” I breathed against her ear.

  “Yeah?” she asked. “Then what?”

  “I’m going to love you long and slow. Take my time with you.”

  “Ooo, I like the sound of that,” she said, voice a low and sultry purr. “Let’s do that.”

  She tipped her face up and I met her halfway, pressing my lips to hers in an almost needy, certainly insistent kiss. Her
lips parted in invitation, her arms went around my neck and I groaned as she buried her fingers in the back of my hair.

  She whimpered, this soft, desperate sound against my mouth that sent fire through my blood. I held her tight against my body and she swooned into me. I swear to God, I don’t think I had ever felt like so much of a man, so powerful, so virile, than I did in that moment when she yielded to me.

  There was something so incredibly erotic about it, and we hadn’t even gotten to the part where we were supposed to take our clothes off.

  It was the strangest sensation, kissing Saylor Grace in my kitchen like that. It felt so natural, so pure; so right. She fit into my arms so perfectly, where she molded her body against mine – goddamn did it feel good. There was no comparison to any woman I’d ever had occasion to get with before. Our chemistry was off the charts, and I suddenly couldn’t wait to get her naked and under me.

  I kept to my word, though. Saylor Grace wasn’t some quick fuck for me. She was a woman that I had every intention of savoring as long into the night as possible.

  I led her out of the kitchen and around to the foot of my bed. I plucked at the buttons of her light and fluttery, completely inadequate for the temperature outside, flowery bohemian blouse. She had it tucked in the front, the tail out and hiding her shapely ass from me.

  I pulled her tight against me by that gorgeous ass of hers as I devoured her from the mouth down, kneading her soft flesh through the thick denim of her jeans. She kissed me back just as fiercely, her hands delving beneath the hem of my tee. I moved my hands, grabbing the back of the neckline of my shirt and hauling it off over my head so I could pull her back against me.

  Her skin against mine where her blouse gaped open was the softest thing I’d ever felt against my own. The woman’s skin was satin, her scent intoxicating, and the way she moved against me, her reach eager, her kiss passionate fire, her touch sending lightning through my veins, making me come alive – she was just so perfect it was hard to maintain control.

  “God, you feel good, Saylor Grace,” I whispered against her ear, gripping her hair carefully, to control, not to hurt, as I played my lips along the side of her neck.

  “Jeremy,” she gasped, and I loved the sound of my name on her lips.

  Her fingers tugged lightly at the drawstring of my flannel pajama bottoms as I pushed her blouse off her shoulders reverently, breaking our kiss so I could lay eyes on her, the flesh that was revealed pure and smooth, peaches and cream and begging for me to taste her.

  Her blouse fluttered to the floor and I worked the tongue of her brown leather belt from its brass buckle, the leather sighing with its surrender as I opened it up to get to her button and zipper fly.

  She pushed my pajama bottoms to the floor but left my boxers on, and I realized she was matching me. Piece by piece of clothing but she was getting ahead of herself. I pushed her jeans down, off over her hips and pressed her close again, my hands wandering to the clasp of her bra at her back, unhooking it a little too expertly in my haste to get it off so I could finally be nothing but skin on skin from the waist up.

  Jesus, feeling all of her warm, silken flesh, the press of her small but perfect tits against my chest – I could die now. I could die and I would have only one regret, not knowing what it felt like to be inside her.

  She whimpered beautifully against my mouth as I smoothed my hands up and down her back. She stepped on the cuffs of her jeans, marching in place to get her legs free. We were both barefoot, which helped – it just meant fewer clothes in our way.

  I was straining at the front of my boxers, my hands wandering, caressing over her body and trailing to rest on her hips before I ventured bravely forth to plunge my hand down the front of her cotton panties.

  “Oh, God, Jeremy,” she whined against my mouth, her tone begging as my fingertips pressed against her pussy. I tapped my foot against the inside of her ankle, gently kicking her feet wider and she complied, her strong sure fingers wrapping around the head of my cock through my boxers.

  “Oh, God, Saylor,” I echoed her and our mouths clashed.

  Jesus Christ she was so wet. My fingers slicked through her arousal and I teased the nib of flesh at the top of her sex. She squirmed on her feet and I dropped to my knees, taking her panties down and pressing my mouth to the front of her slit, delving my tongue between her folds, over her curls, tasting her, teasing that little kernel of nerve endings with my tongue, rolling my eyes to gaze up her body to those spectacular mismatched eyes of hers.

  That view was everything, those gorgeous blue and green eyes staring down at me in wonder and lust between the valley of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell with shallow and uneven breaths, her fingers twining in my hair and her hands unconsciously pressing my mouth tighter to her body. Her legs trembled finely as she threw her head back and gasped as I found just the right spot with my tongue.

  She shook her head and gasped out, “My legs, they’re weak, I can’t stand anymore.”

  I tore my mouth from her sex and turned her with my hands on her hips. She obeyed me, turning where I directed her and with a wicked grin, I pressed on her stomach and threw her down on the bed. She yipped and laughed but I wasn’t done. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and dragged her back to the edge of the bottom of the bed, shouldering her knees apart and going right back down on her.

  She moaned and gathered the comforter in her little fists at her hips which bucked unbidden, rising to meet my lips and tongue.

  I put an arm across her hips and pressed her down to keep her at my mouth as I used my other hand to slip a finger or two inside of her.

  She was hot to the touch, like silk against my tongue and hand. My dick throbbed painfully with a need to be inside her, but I denied myself. I was honestly worried I wouldn’t be able to last very long once I was there, so I wanted to make her come a time or two first so as not to disappoint.

  Mmm, she didn’t disappoint me. Now that was for sure. She was so responsive, crying out yet trying to remain quiet, her body shuddering against the bed as she grew closer and closer to a final devastating orgasm. When she finally let go and took the plunge, it was beautiful. She cried out and arched, her hands flying from the blankets to her mouth to stop herself from screaming, her body which had been tauter than a bowstring had snapped closed, hurtling forward and I just needed to get the hell out of the way.

  I jerked my head and shoulders back as her legs snapped shut and her knees rose to her stomach as she shook from involuntary muscle spasms brought on by her wracking waves of pleasure.

  My fingers were still buried in her wet heat, and I relished the contractions around them, as her body tried to pull me deeper and I had to experience this sensation around my cock.

  I waited until she calmed down, until she unfurled like a beautiful, delicate; night-blooming plant. Like the Casablanca lilies that grew in my mom’s garden.

  I slipped my fingers from inside her on a whimper of protest from her and stood, slipping my boxers off, staring down at her beautiful prone figure.

  She looked up at me, eyes glassy with her burgeoning afterglow and I smiled.

  “My turn,” I murmured, and she smiled and reached her arms up, beckoning me to lie with her.

  It was an invitation I wasn’t about to refuse.

  12

  Saylor…

  “My turn,” he murmured with this devilishly debonair grin that I just adored. I reached my arms up, languidly, still unable to fully control my body much beyond the simple movement thanks to the incredibly devastating orgasm he had just graciously put me through.

  He bit his bottom lip, excitement firing up his beautiful green eyes as he gazed upon my nude prone body on his bed. He had me at his mercy and he knew it, the slightly predatory look in his eyes incredibly arousing. There was no menace behind the expression, instead, there was something akin to joy, an almost gratitude, and though it was incredibly subtle, it was there and palpable and made all the difference.

 
He slipped his boxers off his hips and let them sweep down his legs to the floor. When he straightened, his cock was so hard, standing at full attention, the crown of it brushing just below his bellybutton. He was long, the head of him full, and the shaft not terribly over thick.

  I was glad for that. I didn’t have the biggest pussy, and the few partners I had been with willingly, had varied in size. The biggest of them had hurt and it had been disappointing to say the least – too big you couldn’t get too rough and sometimes I liked sex to be a little on the enthusiastic side.

  Poe was perfect and I was really looking forward to having him inside me.

  He kneeled over me on the bed, kissing me softly, ramping me back up slowly and I was struck by how careful he was of me. His arm around me, hand at my lower back, lifting me gently to urge me further up onto the bed so he could get between my thighs.

  I followed his motions with no resistance so that we could settle in the circle of one another’s arms and kiss a while. He paused just a moment to search my face and asked,

  “You want me to wear a condom?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered and he smiled.

  “Didn’t know your preference,” he said.

  “I got a free IUD from Planned Parenthood, but I still use protection just in case.”

  “Not a problem for me,” he murmured, kissing the tip of my nose. “I was more asking about a latex allergy.”

  “Oh! No, I don’t have one of those…” My curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “Were you with someone who had one?”

  “For a minute, a long, long, time ago,” he murmured and reached into the drawer beside the bed on ‘his side’ to bring out a square foil packet.

  “What was she like?” I asked, for some reason wanting to torture myself a little. I mean, did he still have feelings for her? Did I look like her? Anxiety swirled in my chest and he gave me a one-sided smile.

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” he said. “I want to talk about you.”