by Carly Keene
She takes another one of those deep breaths that does wonders for her gorgeous tits. “All right, Charm Boy. Tonight. Right after I close up.”
Okay, so the first step is a success.
“I’ll be right here.”
CHAPTER SIX
Andie
So it was Drew doing all those nice things for me anonymously. I grilled the waitresses at Millie’s about who’d left the instructions, and they didn’t know. I grilled the baristas at By the Cup, and they didn’t know either. Some part of me knew, though.
I don’t have any reason to trust him . . . other than the fact that he really has come back home for good, and he really is going to stay and run Seaforth’s Auto. Danny Adams’s mom told my mom at church that Drew was having a lot of work done at the auto shop, getting it nice again, and I appreciate that. I don’t think he’d be putting effort into it if he was just going to do a half-ass job at it.
And he’s left me alone while he was doing all these nice things, too. Nobody up in my face.
Which was probably good, because if he was up in my face, I’d probably be trying to set world records for kissing, in my enthusiasm for his technique. The man can kiss, I’ll give him that.
I whisk around the kitchen, cleaning up the day’s candy-making activities and getting things set for tomorrow. I put the flowers in a container and set them in the window, so I can look at them at work. Then I close out the register and the credit card machine, and Drew lounges at one of the little tables, eating his sucker and again not getting in my face. I don’t like people in my face when I’m counting money. I get the deposit ready, and then I wash my hands and pick up my tote purse. I don’t even look in the mirror, because if he wants to take me out to dinner, he can do it whether I look end-of-day mussed or not.
“I’m set to go,” I announce. “We have to go out the back.”
He nods, and looks for a place to put his half-eaten sucker. It’s all melted down on one side where he’s been licking it, and I have to stop myself thinking of his tongue.
“Here,” I say, and offer a clean piece of plastic food wrap. “Save the rest for later. You’ve probably ruined your dinner by now anyway.”
“Thanks,” he says, wrapping the sucker up. “No, I’ve been working all day. I’m starving. I could seriously murder some bacon and waffles. Or Millie’s meatloaf.”
“Oh.” I take another look at him. I’d been so caught up in watching his mouth, I’d forgotten to look at the rest of him.
But damn, he looks good. His dark jeans fit him really well, clinging to thighs and hips and ass. He’s wearing what looks like a clean shirt; it’s white with green stripes and I’m pretty sure I’d see grease stains on it if he’d worn it at work. Besides, I think Seaforth’s has always used blue work shirts with the name on the pocket.
“I just can’t resist little bites of sweet stuff,” he says, his eyes flirty. “I could eat everything in this entire shop.” The intensity in his eyes says he includes me.
I gasp a little. “Did you just—”
His face changes. “Sorry. That was over the top and kinda rude.”
At this point, I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The suspense is driving me crazy, and also making my body want him super bad. Already my panties are damp between my thighs.
“I meant it, though,” he says.
“We should go,” I say, needing to get away from this topic before I go up in flames. I love breakfast for dinner, and there is nothing romantic about Waffle House, so that’s what I pick. I get a western omelet with home fries, and Drew gets his bacon and waffles. And we talk.
It’s odd how easy this is. Talking to him is reminding me how much I liked him back before he blew everything to hell. And that reminds me of something else.
“I found out you weren’t lying about jail,” I say, and cut another bite of omelet.
His eyes get big. “You asked? Officer Bruce told you?”
“I asked Chief Hagee. Officer Bruce left for Boone years ago. The arrest was in the records.”
“That’s supposed to be expunged,” he says, looking outraged. “I was a juvenile, dammit.”
“It’s okay, I bribed the Chief,” I explain. “He’s a sucker for peanut butter swirl fudge.” I smile. “And I don’t think he would have told me if I hadn’t promised never to gossip. Speaking of which, I’d never heard anything about your little jaunt behind bars, so I was surprised.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know why you never heard about it. In this town?” He shakes his head.
“So I asked Norma,” I add. “She’s older. Has kids about Brit’s age. She’d heard it.”
“Well, there you go. If there’s gossip about it, it must be true.”
I laugh out loud and go back to my omelet. We catch up on mutual friends, we talk about movies. We talk about his stint in the Army. And my college, and my career switch. My grandfather. His dad. Our respective family businesses. I am more comfortable, and more turned on, than I’ve ever been on a date with a guy. Which is kind of scary. When I look up and catch sight of the greasy clock on the wall, it’s past 9:30. “Wow, it’s late,” I say. “I should go. Want me to drop you off?”
“That might be best.” Drew picks up both checks—I’d insisted on separate checks earlier—before I can get so much as a pinky on mine. “Nuh-uh. I invited you, I pay. That’s the deal.”
High school me would have argued. But current me is not going to fight over the check. Especially not after he’s gone to so much trouble to be nice. “Thank you very much,” I say demurely, to disguise the fact that my panties are soaked through.
Once we’re back in my car, he suggests that I just go home and let him walk from there. It’s not far, he says, and he’s got a point. There’s no point in driving four small-town blocks, although the distance from one end of town to the other is considerable.
I park in my driveway. It’s dark. No lights are on at my house. My heart has sped up.
This is a bad idea. This is a super terrible awful idea. This is stupid.
“Do I get a kiss goodnight?” Drew asks softly from the passenger seat.
“Maybe,” I say. In the dim light coming through my neighbor’s side window, I see a droplet of something stuck at the edge of his mouth. Syrup? Better check. I lean over and lick it off with the very tip of my tongue, and he makes a tortured sound before he turns his head and kisses me, hard. If he’s not careful, he might get more than a kiss goodnight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Andie
I kiss back. At some point later, we’re in a back-breaking clinch in the front seats of my little Toyota, and I want to rip his shirt off and bite into him. I want him to bite into me. There’s no room in here, so something’s gotta give.
I tear my mouth away from his, and he kisses down my neck and up to my ear. I moan, then I say, “Stop.”
He says, “No,” into my ear and takes my earlobe between his teeth, very gently. I melt into a puddle before I can help it, and the next thing I know his hand is just above my knee, slowly moving up. I want it to move faster.
“I am not having sex with you in the front of my car, Drew Seaforth!”
He makes a frustrated noise and stops kissing me. Stops caressing my thigh. “Shit, I’m sorry, Andie. I’m a beast.”
“No. I mean—come be a beast in my bedroom, not in my car.”
He pulls back, trying to see my eyes in the dark.
“Yes, I mean it,” I say. “Come in.”
If I stop to think how we got here from mutual hatred two weeks ago, I’ll lose my mind and probably not get laid at all. I couldn’t stand that. I’ve had a taste of Drew, and I want more. I want all of him. I want everything I might have gotten if he’d never stood me up for prom.
I fumble the key in the lock, but I finally get it open, and then closed and locked behind us as we’re back in our clinch, mouths glued together and hands roaming everywhere.
“Jesus, Andie,” Drew moans in
to my cleavage. “Fuck, I can’t believe we’re doing this.” I gasp as his fingers undo another button and then my front-hook bra, and his mouth is sweet and warm on my breast.
“We can—stop—any time—you—want,” I gasp out.
“Hell no,” he says, and moves his mouth to my nipple, sucking it in a way that makes my knees buckle. I finish unbuttoning his shirt, but then my hands don’t work either because he switches breasts and his fingers tease the wet one he just let go of. I sag against the wall, mindless with desire.
“Where’s your bed?” he says against my nipple. “No, forget the bed, I’ll probably come off in the next sixty seconds, just from this. God damn, Andrea, your tits are magnificent.”
“Couch,” I whisper, and lurch toward it. He follows, kicking off his shoes and stripping his shirt off. I let my dress slip off my shoulders and kick off my own shoes. My bra’s hanging open, my hair is in a tangle, my panties are so wet they might as well be tissue paper, and I have never felt so sexy in my life as I feel right now, with his gaze on me and his pants tented out in front.
It’s not like I’ve never had sex before. I had two boyfriends in college. But I have never, never felt like this before—like I’m melting and burning up, like I might die if I don’t have him inside me soon, like I’m drowning in the sweetness of wanting him.
Then his arms are around me and we’re on the couch, both of us wrestling with the zipper of his jeans. “Stop,” he says, and with only one of us working on it, the zipper relents. His cock sort of pops out, although still in his boxers, and my mouth starts watering. It’s big. Hard, thick, long, clearly very desperate for me to touch it.
I grab. He moans. “No, stop. Let me—” and then his jeans are off and his boxers are off, and that gorgeous cock settles in my hands. “Now you can.” I stroke it with both hands, kissing his chest, and he moans again. “No, I was wrong. Stop, Andie.”
“I like it.”
“You keep doing that and it’ll all be over too soon. It’s your turn first.”
That sounds good. I let go.
He immediately peels my panties down and settles between my thighs. “Ahh,” he says, and the feel of his warm breath on my ladyparts makes me shiver. “God, Andie. Perfect.” And then he’s kissing me down there, touching me down there, licking and rubbing and BLAM the whole universe explodes into silver and rainbows. When I can see again, his chin is resting on my pubic bone and I think he’s smiling.
“Whoa,” I say, panting.
“Yep.”
“Are you being arrogant?”
“Are you being ungrateful?”
I have no answer. He slides one clever long finger down my folds and inside me, then another. I make a noise.
“You’re being ungrateful,” he says. “Say thank you and I’ll do it again.”
“No,” I say.
“No?”
“Come up here,” I say impatiently. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s fishing around in his pants for God knows what—
“Condom,” he says with triumph, holding it up.
We’re really going to do this. Although I’ve already had one giant amazing orgasm, I think I’m ready for more.
We put the condom on him, and then he’s inside me, filling me up. It’s incredible how he fits. How we fit together. My eyes are damp, and my pussy is way wetter. Something is happening to my heart, too.
“Move, Drew,” I urge.
“No, I’ll nut.”
I don’t even know what that means.
“You feel too good, Andie. You feel so fucking good.” He kisses me, hands caressing my breasts. “So fucking tight, so wet, damn, if you move before I get a hold of myself I will blow like Krakatoa.”
I have the immediate desire to make him blow like Krakatoa. I lie still instead, stroking my hands over the back of his head and the part of his ass that I can reach.
“This is what happens when foreplay lasts ten hellish years,” he mutters, and I laugh out loud.
“You’d better get started,” I say, mock-threatening, “or I’ll see if Chief Hagee will arrest you for breach of contract.”
“What?” He rears back to get a better look at me.
“You said you wanted to fuck me. Well, here we are, and no fucking. Big wave, but no motion of the ocean. I demand my money back.”
“Hey, I paid for dinner,” he says, sounding annoyed.
“Yes, and now you’re gonna owe me another one. I was promised incredible fucking.”
I don’t really know where I’m going with this, except trying to lighten the mood.
“Don’t be a bitch, Schubert,” he says, and now he seems to have caught on. His voice is one step away from laughter. “You rush a miracle man, you get lousy miracles.”
“Well, take your time, then, Seaforth,” I say, and rock my hips under him, “but get a move on, will you? I don’t have all night.”
He catches his breath. “Yes, you do. And I’m taking it. All of it.”
And then he starts to move. Which starts the whole thing over again. His cock is so hard in me, rubbing all those good spots inside, that within just a few moments I’m writhing and bucking under him, my breasts jiggling, straining for completion. We move together, and he whispers things I can’t make out in a husky voice that’s tearing my heart open, and then there’s silver light and rainbows again, and I clutch him tight with all the parts of my body where we touch.
And then Krakatoa explodes. I feel his back tense, his arms squeezing me, and he feels even bigger inside me—and then he groans like I just tore his heart open, and collapses on me.
I don’t mind. I draw mindless circles on his shoulder and kiss his hair.
“Nngy,” he says into my neck.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” I say.
He moves his head. “Andie.” He sounds exhausted.
“I changed my mind. You can wear it out.”
“Good. You can wear me out, too.” He yawns. “Keep in mind that I last longer without ten years of foreplay.”
“That sounds acceptable,” I say.
“Schubert?”
“Mm-hm?”
“Can we sleep in your bed?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Drew
I’m ragged out and confused and mind-blown, after the sex.
The incredible, head-banging, surprisingly emotional sex. That I just had with Andrea Schubert. Who maybe probably no longer hates me. Maybe? Probably.
Which is really good, because I think I’m in love with her.
“Can we sleep in your bed?” I ask, too muddled to think straight.
She leads me to her bed, and we get in it. I go to sleep wrapped up around her. I’m in Dogwood Falls, sleeping with Andrea Schubert, and I have never felt happier or more comfortable in my whole life. It’s fucking weird, but nice.
I wake up later; it’s still dark but I’m alone and the bed is cold, covers thrown back. I hear the toilet flush, and I relax, but she doesn’t come back right away. It takes a few more minutes. When she comes back in, I say, “Hey.”
“You’re awake,” she whispers. “I thought I’d better get things cleared up in the living room.”
“You didn’t happen to bring my wallet with you, did you?”
She laughs. “I brought the condoms.”
We start again, this time with the closet light on so I can see her—all of her. Those lush round tits, the full hips, the long legs. Her beautiful face turned up to me with something that looks like trust. I shiver, surprised at how much I want her to trust me. I knew I wanted to fuck her, but what I didn’t know was how much I wanted to make her happy.
“You’re beautiful,” I say earnestly. “So beautiful.” And then I go to work. I kiss her neck and her ears. Her collarbones. Each breast, each nipple. I spend a long time there. Her hand searches down my body and takes hold of my dick, stroking lightly. I spread her lovely legs and touch her pussy, pink as her lips. Pink as her nipples.
I feel drunk on
her. I stroke down past her neatly trimmed triangle to her wet folds, shuddering a little as her hand gets bolder on my shaft and her other hand finds my balls. When that gets too exciting, I move out of her grip to bend down and find her clit. I lick it slowly, then faster. Her hands clench at the covers.
I caress her dripping folds, then slip two fingers inside and stroke her like that. She gasps. When her hips start jerking up at me, I speed up until she’s moaning and writhing, and then I lick her through her climax, letting her come down easy.
I’m rock-hard and dying to be inside her again.
“Come here,” she whispers. “I want you in my mouth.”
I straddle her chest, letting my hard-on settle right between her generous breasts so she can just lift her head and open her mouth. That is possibly the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, my dick surrounded by Andie’s pretty lips, pillowed by her amazing rack. Her mouth feels so good that I’m wary of losing control again. I pull back and find another condom. I stretch her legs in the air and set the head of my cock right at her opening.
“Please,” she says, and I push inside. She’s even tighter with her legs up, and I have to go slow.
“Faster,” she says.
“Touch yourself,” I suggest, so she does. I look down: Andie’s fingers on her clit, my cock sliding in and out of her bare cunt. This is even sexier than her sucking me. “Fuck, you look as good as you feel, baby. Are you gonna come for me?”
Her hitching breaths say she is, but I ask her again because I can feel her getting hotter every time I say it. “Come for me, Andie. I want to see this cunt coming on my dick. I want to see that.”
Her fingers move faster, and her hips pump, her tits jiggling, and shit if she doesn’t come soon I’m gonna fucking lose it. And then she does come, and the sight of her pussy lips spasming on my cock does make me shoot my wad again.
I ditch the spent condom, after, and curl up around her again. “Is this a norm?” she asks. “Me getting two orgasms to your one? Because I sort of like that.”
