I swung around to the liquor store after that, prepared to go to any and all lengths to distract myself from the bullshit she'd spewed on me. And it was bullshit, end of story. Sure, there would be a sort of…readjustment period. Kellan was big on trust. And okay, he was going to be royally pissed when he found out. But if he loved me…
Except, he couldn't love me. Not if he didn't know me. And—
No. Not thinking. Not letting her do that to me, sabotage me, make me feel like shit for being myself.
That wasn't fair, though. She'd never tried to make me feel bad about anything. Even this, yes, she was trying to convince me, clinging to this idea even in the face of all evidence that it was impossible, ridiculous even. When was the last time someone had told her no, let alone about something she truly believed in?
It'd be fine. And we would be fine.
And I needed a drink. And Kellan. Now.
I grabbed a bottle of Powers and a few interesting extras and showed up at his door feeling like hell.
He opened the door, looked me over, and said, "Guess you had your talk."
"Yeah."
He stepped back and gestured for me to come in. "I assume it was not a success."
"Probably as good as it was going to get." I put my bags on the counter and started pulling things out. "Goddamn, that woman can change a subject."
"Wow, she pulled avoidance?"
"It's a WASP thing." Speaking of which, I really, really didn't want to talk about it right then. I tucked my uneaten sandwich into the fridge, then pulled my secret weapon out of the bag: amaretto-flavored alcoholic whipped cream. "But it's done, and I have good news too. Look what I found."
He eyed it, one eyebrow cocked. "The hell is that for?"
"You are so unimaginative."
He smirked.
"But don't you worry your pretty little head." I leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on him. "That's what I'm here for: to be the brains."
"What's that make me?"
I set the can down on the counter and kissed him again. "The cock."
"I've been called worse by nicer people." He grabbed it and started toward the couch, ostensibly reading the back copy.
"Where you going with that?"
He threw himself down on the couch, still reading. "C'mere. I'll show you how imaginative I can be."
Yes. Yes, this was just what I needed. Exactly what I needed. Another of Kellan's finer qualities: his willingness to be diverted—at least for a while.
And, in turn, to divert me.
I followed him to the couch and crawled up into his lap just how he liked, leaning forward with my hands on his shoulders, ass up, and kissed him to distract his attention from the can. "I know you can, baby." Another kiss, and this time he took over, biting at my bottom lip and breathing deeply.
I did too, the warm, clean scent of him, the faint spearmint taste of his favorite gum, sinking into the feeling of his hard thighs between mine. I closed it off again and continued with, "But you know I like to surprise you." Another kiss, and I put my hands at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up slowly and breaking the kiss only when I absolutely had to in order to get the thing off. I threw it on the coffee table and tugged at his.
He set the can down to help.
I grabbed for it, hopped off him, and wandered around the couch, pretending to read the back of the can like he had.
He groaned. "Oh, you prick."
I pretended to ignore him, making my way toward the kitchen again.
I heard him vault over the back of the couch. "That's cheating."
I kept my back turned as I popped the cap off. "What's that saying about love and war?" I tilted my head back and shot some cream into my mouth. It was stronger than I'd expected, like a frothy shot of vodka with just the faintest almond flavor. I swallowed unhurriedly, though I felt him stalking me just feet away. "Mmm, it's good too."
He attacked, wrapping me up in his arms; happily, he had continued taking his shirt off after I'd abandoned him. I doubled over as if to protect the can, my protests drowned out by laughter as he wrestled me to the ground. He pinned me on my back, straddling my hips and holding my wrists over my head, his lips inches from mine, grinning.
I smirked and let go the can.
He snatched it up, using one hand to pin my arms to the floor, and put it out of reach near his left knee. Then he leaned back over, positioned himself just above me again, settled his ass down right on my crotch, and said, "Aw, look it you, all defeated."
I arched my back, rubbing my swelling cock against the inside of his thigh. "Unh, I dunno, Kelly. Feels like winning to me."
He shifted his hips, increasing the pressure. Boy had a future as a lap-dancer if the whole code-monkey thing didn't work out. He took a deep breath of me, put his lips not half an inch from mine, so I could feel them move. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Guess no one ever taught you: best way to get something you want is just to ask for it."
"Kellan?"
"Yes?"
I arched again, sighing, mouth just open enough to let him get the right idea. "May I please, please have some?"
He bit back a smile.
I stuck out my lower lip. "Pretty please? Sugar on top?"
"See, who could say no to that?" He rearranged me so I could sit up, then put his ass to the floor.
I scooted forward between his legs and threw mine over his thighs. I ran my fingers down the trail of dark hair that led from his chest, down his belly to the little wrinkles sitting up created just above the low waist of his jeans. I eyed his erection, obscenely filling out the denim, and strangled a manic urge to get it out and get it in me right then.
By the time I raised my eyes again, he had the lid off. He squirted a decent-sized dollop of fluff onto two fingers and then held it out to me.
Always just what I fucking needed.
I took him by the wrist and guided his fingers into my mouth. I closed my lips, sucked the cream slowly, running my tongue first along the bottom, over his knuckles up to the fingertips, then turned his hand over and licked my way up the inside.
He smiled, open-mouthed, and licked his lips almost as if he didn't even realize.
I tickled the inside of his wrist, then sucked his fingers in as far as they'd go, until I felt them pressing at the back of my throat.
He gasped. "Jesus."
I sucked as I pulled his fingers out of my mouth, dragged my teeth carefully over the fingertips, and finally kissed them. "More, please?"
His dark eyes had that look, the one that told me he was far gone and open to suggestion. He moved to oblige me, and this time I licked it off his fingers all at once, then leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. I opened up and pushed at least half of the sweet-sharp confection into his mouth with my tongue.
He moaned, swallowing and pulling me closer until I was in his lap properly, his mouth working its usual magic against mine but tasting like vodka and dessert.
I shifted us around until I had him pinned against the back of the couch, still on the floor. Whipped cream can forgotten on its side, the tables fully turned, I pulled back and said, "Sweet, huh?"
He ran his sticky hand up my side, two fingers of the clean one tucked into the front of my jeans. "Uh-huh."
I laughed and kissed him again, feeling him up, sinking into his skin, breathing him until nothing else existed. But silence made the thoughts come again, if boiled down to their simplest, most instinctive form: I love you, I love you, I love you, please, please, please don't hate me.
I had to shut it up. "Kellan?"
"Hmm?" He kissed at my neck, sucking here and there.
I shivered. "Now can I have what I really want?"
"Huh?"
"You, baby." I reached between us, undoing his fly one-handed, then slipping my fingers into his pants. "You're so much sweeter than that." Another kiss, and I licked at the roof of his mouth to illustrate my plans for the immediate future. "
I'll suck your cock all night just for a taste of it."
He held my face to his with both hands and kissed me so hard it hurt. Hurt good, that is. I rubbed him through his underwear—not because I needed him any hotter or readier, but just because I couldn't stop touching him once I started. But I wanted him naked, now, so I had to sit up eventually, which meant our mouths had to part. He licked the tiniest remnant of cream from just beside his mouth, laughing in surprise at finding it there.
I grinned. "Ever taste it before?"
"My…?"
"Yeah." I got off him and tugged his pants down around his ankles. "Yours."
He kicked them off. "Just when I kiss you. After, uh…"
My pants were already unbuttoned—he'd been busy. I pulled them off. "Want to?"
He stared, open-mouthed.
I practically tore off his underwear and pinned him against the back of the couch again, this time sinking lower and lower myself, leaving a trail of kisses from the center arm of his tattoo down his belly, till I was crouched between his legs. I went straight for his cock, sure to build up a lot of spit and let it leak out, using my hand to work the thick shaft while I pulled up, shoving him as far into my throat as I could when I went down. I got him wet fast and rubbed some of the spit down lower, working it over his balls with my free hand, slipping down behind them to stroke his taint. His legs spread wide, his head sinking down the back of the couch, one elbow propping him up, one hand tickling my scalp, ruffling my hair with that shiver-inducing gentleness.
His cock swelled against my tongue, hotter and fuller, stretching my lips. That taste, the first hints of salty-musky precum and the smooth, faint sweetness of his skin… Instead of trying to make it last, I went faster, kept the seal with my lips tight, and took a long, deep breath out to relax my throat further, take more of it in. His hips shifted under me as he tightened up under my fingers. In almost a sympathetic reaction, my cock swelled, wetness seeping into my shorts. I hummed deep in my throat, both to express my excitement and increase his.
He held his breath, but his legs relaxed so his knees fell farther apart. An instant later, his dick spasmed hard, shooting a long, warm stream of cum into the back of my mouth. Some of it slipped down my throat, but I kept at least half, rubbing my tongue against the head of his cock until the throbbing and spurting slowed, until I felt him breathing again. Then, carefully, I pulled him out, crawled back into his lap, and kissed him, at first close-lipped, but then I formed a seal between our mouths and pushed my tongue into him, covered thickly with his sex. He sighed and shifted beneath me, brought one hand up to brush my cheek, then flatten against it, fingertips ruffling my hair.
He swallowed; so did I, sharing it with him completely. When it was all gone, I said, into his mouth, "See? Sweet, isn't it?"
"Jesus Christ. You're so fucking dirty."
"Not iffy yet?"
"Keep trying."
"That's the plan."
For as long as he'd let me.
*~*~*
We had a baseball game and a Lizard night, and alcohol and variations on common sex acts covered the rest of the weekend. But by Tuesday, Clark was asking me what the hell had me looking so bleak when I thought no one was paying attention.
Wednesday morning, I woke shivering in Kellan's bed, and he was already awake. Normally he was up and out, maybe going for a run or cooking breakfast or something else I would consider ridiculous at that hour. But this time, he was just there. Watching me.
My brains were extra scrambled from the nightmare. I wanted to wrap him up, disappear under the sheets with him, and forget. Kelly, all pale and serious and dark-eyed, looking at me like he'd never seen anything so fascinating.
He asked, "What do you dream about?"
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"I never know if I should wake you up or not. Sometimes you—it's not talking, exactly," he said, his sweet voice all morning-rough. "You sort of groan. And you go all tense and…shake."
I had to keep my eyes shut. "I don't remember my dreams."
He was quiet for so long that I finally opened them. He hadn't moved, just lay there on his side, his arms crossed in front of him. His mouth pressed into a little line, and I knew he didn't believe me.
I said, "I mean, I'm sure I have nightmares. Don't you?"
"Yeah. Sometimes." And he withdrew to the bathroom, looking very much like one of his cats after being thrown off the bed. He didn't bring it up again, but he didn't ask me to go for a drink after work either.
*~*~*
I wasn't about to let another stupid misunderstanding ruin things, though. Shit was getting way too real for me to even consider it. The next day, I dropped off a latte for Sarah (mad post-pregnancy PMS, poor woman—she was all about the mood-alterers at that point), then made my way to straight to Kellan's cube to give him his favorite cappuccino.
He accepted it but chewed on his nails like he wanted to say something and couldn't.
So I went first. "I'm sorry, Kelly. About the nightmares. I'm just, you know, not used to talking about them."
He looked down at his coffee cup, still chewing. "How'd you know I was still thinking of that?"
"You didn't call me last night."
"I don't always…" He looked up, smiled all lopsided, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Okay. Point taken."
I glanced around, saw the coast was clear, and leaned down over his chair. The added weight of my arm on the rest made it creak—still had no idea if it'd hold the both of us, but that groan didn't bode well. In the circumstances, I figured it'd be best just to kiss him.
So I did. And he let me, at first, sitting there and turning his face up and slightly to the side. Kissing back but that was all.
Which just wouldn't do. I moved closer, put my legs on either side of his knees, and pushed in on him so his chair creaked again as the back tilted. I parted my lips and his with them. I licked at the backs of his front teeth playfully.
That's about where he gave a little "Mrph" and reached up to touch the side of my face, ruffle my hair, and started sucking on my tongue.
Now he was prepared to be convinced. When we closed it off, I gave his bottom lip a nibble, made him sigh, and then put my forehead against his. "I have these client meetings with Delmonico. Think I'm supposed to be in Boston tomorrow or something. We can talk on Friday, okay?"
"About the…?"
"Anything you want. Nightmares, stuff with Mom, whatever. I've just got a lot on my mind, is all. Not used to it."
"So you say." He smiled, again lopsided. "But I thought about it, and I don't like to talk about that shit just after, either. I didn't want to be pushy."
"You are the opposite of pushy, baby." I kissed him again. "We still on for Saturday with your mom at the farmer's market?"
"Uh-huh."
"Loads of time to talk, then."
"Yeah. Sure. Just—you sure you're okay? Because you don't seem okay. And I, um, worry."
"I'm always okay." Except that he was so fucking sweet, it made my heart hurt. This time I kissed him so hard that I pushed the chair back again, and he reached up and grabbed my face with both hands. I was so relieved that my little apology had been not only accepted but that it had him actually owning my mouth in the middle of work, that I lost myself in it. My knees were so weak that I nearly collapsed into him, and the fizzling in my belly was extreme.
Until the fizzling turned into a sound over my shoulder, and I broke off the kiss and looked over my shoulder to see his monitor flickering.
His eyes went wide, and he grabbed for my arm like I could reassure him—or save his precious code. "Oh, God, please, no."
Thank God, the thing righted itself once I got control again, and Kelly sighed in relief. If he'd lost anything, I would've felt even shittier than I already did.
I needed to talk to someone about that, actually, as these little control freak-outs were getting on my nerves. But first things first.
He smacked me on the ass on my
way out of his cube. Isabella was coming back to hers, so she got a front-row seat for that part, which made her laugh uncontrollably. I guess I did too, but I was thinking pretty hard.
Friday night.
That gave me precisely three days to come up with a story. Three days to think about what I would—what I should—do.
Three days to decide if I believed my mother, if I believed everything I'd been raised to believe.
Or if I believed what my heart screamed every time I saw Kellan.
*~*~*
I was just about to head to his place after work on Friday—with no more firm a plan of action than I'd had last weekend after Mom had torn out my heart and shown it to me at Tommy's—when I got a call from her.
Her voice was raw and tired, barely recognizable. The first thing she said was, "I'm sorry about the other day, honey."
"It's okay," I said. It wasn't, and she'd know it wasn't. But she'd also know it was a peace offering. Now, more than I had in what felt like a very long time, I needed…I just needed my family, I guess.
She shocked the hell out of me by saying, "No, it's not. You were right." The slight quaver in her voice remained.
It made me achy. I wasn't sure what to say but, "Really. It's okay."
"And I knew it was hurting you. I knew you were being dishonest, and I let you, thinking that if it was true, you would tell me. I even knew you were suggesting I find a date because you wanted me to leave you alone."
"Well—"
"I don't want a date, Jamie. The truth is, I like being alone. But I did love your father."
"You don't have to dig all this up again. That stuff I said, about it being lucky that…that he died…" The memory made me sick to my stomach. Something I couldn't take back. "God, I'm such a shit. I'm really sorry. I swear, I didn't mean—"
"It's all right, honey. You were rightfully angry, and they were just words. Your father and I—we did what we were supposed to do, and neither of us had a regret in the end. But you…are not me. And you're not your father. And we were both angry at our parents for a long time for that very reason."
Nobody's Hero Page 15
