Space Age- Houston, Prepare for Launch

by Sara L. Hudson

  I nod once. “Now.”

  Slowly, she raises herself off her ass, moving closer to me.

  “Wait.” Her hands freeze at my command. “Take off your shirt.”

  Another worry of her bottom lip, but she drops her hands to the bottom hem of her blouse and lifts it up in one smooth motion. Her sheer bra puts her perfectly pebbled nipples on display, the black material highlighting her pale, unblemished skin.

  Gently, I trace one finger down her sternum, between her breasts, drifting down to her navel. “So perfect. Not even a freckle.”

  “You should wear sunscreen every day.”

  My lips quirk at her professional tone. I love how this brilliant woman, so capable and in control of a million things, including the lives and health of astronauts, gives up control to a lowly fireman. “Bra.”

  She arches her back to take it off but stops. “Your shirt first.”

  “Mmm, okay. I’ll give you that.” I reach over my shoulder, yanking my shirt over my head. My cock is hard as steel when her eyes widen at the sight of my chest.

  I’d forgotten she didn’t see me last night. I’d been fully clothed as I’d gone down on her, and she’d fallen asleep before I could undress. Her being so enthralled by what she sees now is doing wonders for my dick.

  I’m not a vain guy, but I do know I’m fit. I work hard to be that way. It makes the job easier and makes me safer being able to run and work with fifty pounds of gear on me. And if my body makes the doc that much more enamored of me to the point where she gives up concerns about age and past dates, I’ll use it.

  For someone the boys at the station like to call a goody-two-shoes, I seem to be devious as hell when it comes to winning over Dr. Rebecca Sato.

  “Bra.” This time when I say it, she moves quickly to comply. “Now kiss me.”

  One, two shuffles forward on her knees, her hands automatically spreading over my pecs, up my shoulders, down my arms.

  “Becca.” My voice is a growl, a warning. One, thank fuck, she heeds, her lips coming to mine. At the first touch the kiss ignites. Everything escalates like a flame licking up spilled gasoline. My hands are in her hair, hers slipping past the waistband of my jeans to grab my dick. I’m pushing her down on the hardwood, bracing myself on my forearms, not wanting to crush her, but wanting to dominate her. Make her submit to what we are, what we can become.

  “Ryan. Fuck, Ryan.” She squeezes my cock and my eyes cross. “Don’t you dare stop this time. I don’t care if I pass out, you wake me the hell up after.”

  I chuckle darkly into her neck. “We don’t need to—”

  “Yes, God damn it. We do.” She lets go of my dick long enough to unfasten my jeans, and she’s shucked them down past my hips before I can blink.

  “Stop.” And God bless her, she does. Becca loves to be told what to do, no matter how much it goes against what she seems to want. I dip my head, making sure to meet her eyes. “You’re mine?”

  She bites her lips, already swollen from my kiss, worrying the flesh with her teeth. She nods.

  “Say it.” I’m an asshole using sex to manipulate her into agreeing to be my girlfriend. But right now, I don’t care. Because I know I’m right. We’re going to give each other everything we’ve always wanted. And it’s going to be epic.

  “I’m yours.”

  “And I’m yours.” I kiss her once, hard. “Now get my dick out and get out of those godforsaken tight jeans you’re wearing. They’ve been driving me crazy.”

  A siren’s smile spreads across her lips, and I know I’m fucked in more ways than one. She pushes my boxers down the same way she did my jeans. Doing a push-up, I manage to toe my sneakers off one at a time, so Becca can use her legs to push my jeans and underwear down the rest of the way.

  Her eyes go to my cock, hard and hurting. “Holy shit.” Her words are low and whispered. Then she’s reaching out to grab me again.

  “Uh-uh.” I shake my head when she meets my eyes. “Take your jeans off.”

  Holding my push-up a while longer, I watch as she gives my dick a longing look before shimmying out of her jeans, the movement making her apple-sized breasts jiggle. I saw them last night. I sucked them last night. Bit them. But with the afternoon light coming through my back windows, I relish the new details. She does, in fact, have a freckle, just above and to the right of her left nipple. It fascinates me. Along with the dusty rose hue of her aureoles.

  Now that I finally have her naked beneath me, I lower slightly, hissing when my skin touches hers, bracing my weight on my forearms on either side of her. My neck tickles with each burst of air as she pants.

  I find her wet heat with my thigh and press up, circling it against her clit, making her moan. “Ride it.”

  Her hands flutter to my shoulders on a whimper.

  “Do it, Becca.”

  Slowly, then gaining speed, she undulates her hips, finding pleasure as she rides my leg. Her arousal coats my quad, easing her movements. My dick rests hard and heavy on her hip.

  Bowing my back, I keep pressure between her legs and suck a nipple into my mouth. The one with the adorable freckle.

  Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Oh God. So good.”

  I hum around her nipples.

  “Wait. Wait.” She pushes my head up. “You in me, now.”

  I smile lazily at her. Even though my dick is desperate for her, I love watching her get off. “You want to give the orders now?”

  “No, you idiot, just this one.” Her hand drops down to my dick and she pumps it hard and fast.

  The lazy smile vanishes. “Fuck, Becca.”

  “Please, Ryan.” Another hard pump.

  “Jesus, okay. Hold up.” She lets go of my dick and I push up on my haunches, leaning back for my jeans. Becca, the sneaky thing, takes the moment to crunch up, scoot back and swallow my dick.

  “Fuuuuuuuck.” Her glossy black hair falls over my thighs, the curl of her spine leading the way to her heart-shaped ass. She bobs a few times, doing this insane flicking thing with her tongue at the crown of my cock, tickling the sensitive underside. “Not that I don’t appreciate this…” I moan after another flick. “But I’m either coming in your mouth or inside you.”

  She pulls up with a pop, her exotic eyes nearly black. “In me.”

  I grab my wallet, then lean forward, scooping her up. I’ll be damned if the first place we make love is on the kitchen floor. I turn her in my arms, and she squeals as I settle her into a fireman carry.

  “Ryan! What the hell?”

  “Quiet.” I smack her ass. Her sharp intake of breath is more shocked and aroused than pissed. Interesting. “I’m not fucking you on the hardwood floor.” I round the corner to the staircase.

  “There was a perfectly good couch just over there.”

  “Perfectly good isn’t good enough. Not for you.” That quiets her.

  It takes me a minute, but I make it to my room, rolling her off my shoulder and onto my bed. She laughs as she bounces and something in my heart seizes, as if it’s trying to stop time to remember this moment. Becca, her hair wild, her eyes sparkling, and her skin flushed with desire, laughing on my bed. She’s breathtaking.

  I flip open my wallet, pull the condom out and don’t waste any more time. I roll it on, watching the amusement wash away from her eyes on a flood of arousal.

  Crawling over her, smiling when she lays back, I stretch her arms over her head. “Wrap your legs around me, Doc.”

  She complies, tilting her hips up so my cock glides across her wet heat. We both groan at the sensation.

  Jerking my hips, I notch the head of my dick at her opening, stilling, savoring the moment. “Look at me, Becca.” Those sexy, feline eyes meet mine and I hold eye contact as I push into her. She worries her bottom lip some more but doesn’t look away. When I’m fully seated inside her, I circle my hips, smiling when her eyes roll back and she groans. “Should I do that again?”

  “Yes.”

  Another circle, another groan
. Again and again, until her heels dig into my ass. “Please, Ryan, please.”

  My name on her lips does me in and I pull back only to thrust hard.

  She screams out yes, her palms wrapping around my headboard to hold on. “Please, please.”

  I thrust again and again until it’s one long, loud pounding. Until her ankles flex, her back bows and her mouth widens on a silent scream. I’m still circling my hips, drawing out her orgasm until her muscles go limp, giving me permission to finish. But I don’t finish hard, I don’t race. In and out I glide. Her hands lower to wrap around me and I bury my head at the crook of her neck, feeling her silky hair, breathing in her scent. One arm wraps around her back, the other grips her ass as slow, short thrusts bring me closer to climax.

  “Mmm, baby. So good, baby.”

  And that’s it. Her words push me over, the endearment what I need to know that she feels it too, this heat, this connection. The climax shoots through me, my body shuddering over hers as she sighs into me.

  We’re right where we’re supposed to be.

  Nine

  Second Opinion

  Rebecca

  “Have you heard the latest from your father?”

  I’ve just finished my shift on Mission Control and like some sort of sixth sense, my mother calls as I turn on the car, the Bluetooth making her heavily accented English weigh heavier on my heart. “No, Okaasan. I haven’t talked to Dad in a while.” I make the turn toward the guard station and the exit.

  “He has new woman. Your age.” She sniffs indelicately. “The man has no shame.”

  I don’t say anything. Not much is required of me when my mother calls. It’s either to tell me about her failing health (the woman will outlive Armageddon) or to complain about her ex-husband, my father.

  “I tell you, Rebecca-chan, I should’ve taken you with me to Japan after the divorce. Such nice men here. Men with honor.”

  I wave to Charlie at the guardhouse on my way out and take a left on Saturn Drive as she tells me for the hundred thousandth time all the things she regrets about my father. Part of me wants to turn right, toward the station house where Ryan is, but he’s working, and I don’t want to be a nuisance.

  “I’m glad I stayed in California, Okaasan. I got a great education.”

  “You could have gotten good education here too. And we could be having this conversation in Nihonjin.”

  More guilt settles on my shoulders. When I was little, I’d been fluent in Japanese. But when Mom left, I stopped using it. And like anything, you need to practice.

  “Gomen, Okaasan.”

  She clucks her tongue at my apology. “Not your fault, my musume. That man is to blame.”

  My mother makes no secret that she rues the day she ever married my father and followed him to America. Whereas most of her friends and family were jealous of her making a new life in California, courtesy of my father’s brilliant tech mind in the Silicon Valley, my mother had no such ambition.

  The doctor in me can diagnosis both my parents quite easily. My mother suffers from bitterness and my father from an early onset midlife crisis that’s turned chronic.

  Neither wants treatment.

  I’ve never asked why she married my father. I’m smart. I can do the math. They were married in February and I was born in September. Nothing like being the cause of your parents’ illness.

  I weave through traffic, heading toward my apartment at The Endeavor, the only luxury high-rise in the Clear Lake area. As it’s a mile down the road from Johnson Space Center, a few people at NASA live here, Jules included.

  When I moved in there was a rumor that Matthew McConaughey had bought the penthouse. After years of Jules and me staking it out, we’ve determined it’s just that, a rumor.

  Shame. I could’ve used some “Alright, Alright, Alright” right about now.

  “Have you thought about what I said? Find yourself a nice older man. Security. It’s important.”

  Ryan’s handsome face comes to mind. He insists we’re together. And I guess we are, but for some reason, even after amazing sex, similar interests and goals, I can’t wrap my head around it. Whenever I try, I keep seeing Chloe. My mother. The endless stream of pictures on my father’s Instagram account with a different girl on his arm. Emphasis on girl.

  “I’m a medical doctor at NASA. I have security.”

  “There are different types of security, Rebecca-chan. You need companionship. Not safe for a woman by herself these days. You need a man.”

  “Not a lot of older men want kids, mama.”

  “Don’t call me mama. No respect. And kids?” She snorts. “You’re too old for kids. Forget kids.”

  My knuckles are white on the steering wheel by the time I pull into my parking spot.

  “You find a nice, older man, Rebecca-chan. Not too good looking. Security.”

  “I have to go now, Okaasan.” I peel my fingers off the leather one at a time.

  “Working girls. Always too busy for family. Just like your father.”

  If she turned the knife any deeper, I’d bleed out. “Love you, Okaasan.”

  “Hmmph. Ja ne, musume.”

  Pushing the ignition button, I get out of the car and stretch, trying to shake off my mother’s words. She has reasons to be the way she is. She’s still hurt about how her life turned out. But understanding that doesn’t make her words hurt less.

  When I was four, my father left my mother for a younger woman. She was twenty-two, ten years younger than him. Since then he has bounced between women, none over the age of thirty-five, even though he is now well into his sixties.

  My mother thinks I’m too old for children. In Japan, maybe that is still the perception, but I know that women have babies well into their forties. Hell, as a doctor I’ve monitored both female astronaut pregnancies and male astronauts’ wives’ pregnancies, all ranging between mid-twenties to mid-forties. I know that my mother is not correct, at least medically speaking.

  As for older men, I’ve tried that. Ryan may not be older, but he isn’t as young as I first thought.

  And he wants kids.

  I should’ve told my mother about him. Once again, I let her insecurities ignite my own.

  A glance at my watch shows me there’s still time before the shelter closes for the day. If I can’t spend time with Ryan, I might as well help out at the shelter and make myself feel better with animal cuddles. Win-win.

  Sliding back into my car, I maneuver back to NASA Road 1.

  Ryan

  “A random dude rubbed oil on my chest.”

  I barely manage not to spew my coffee over the firehouse’s computer in front of me. I take a hard swallow. “Jesus, man. Does Ana know about this?”

  “Shut up. It was for your girl and her calendar.”

  “Oh, right. Your photo shoot was yesterday.” Something catches my eye. “Is that…” I squint at him. “Is that glitter on your neck?”

  He slaps his hand over his throat. “God damn stuff won’t come off.”

  I lose all interest in the holiday schedule I was creating and laugh my ass off. “A guy rubbed oil and glitter on your body?” Tears form in my eyes, and I rest my head against the desk surface. “Please tell me someone got that on video.”

  “No, you asshole. But it will be in the calendar for all to see.”

  I wipe my eyes. “Priceless.”

  Rich just glares.

  “Why glitter?” A horrific thought crosses my mind. “Wait. Are we all having glitter rubbed on us?”

  “No.” He crosses his arms. “Apparently I didn’t take into consideration New Year’s when I picked the month of January.”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  “The whole theme was a New Year’s Eve party. They even put party hats on the two dogs and cat I took pictures with and set noisemakers in front of them.”

  His sullen face makes me grin. “I bet they took to the hats better than you took to the glitter and oil.”

 
“Shut up, dick wad. Just wait for your turn.” A devious smile creeps up his face. “You’re December. I bet they sprinkle sparkling snow on you or deck your balls with lights.”

  I rub a hand over my face. “God, stop. I’m nervous enough.”

  “Why the hell are you nervous? I doubt it can get worse than glitter-oil.” His smirk kicks up again. “Although honestly, it paid off. Turns out Ana has a stripper fantasy I didn’t know about.”

  “Uncool.” I shake my head. “I don’t need to know about your sex life, man.”

  “Don’t be jealous.” Smirk still in place, Rich pushes off from the wall. “Who knows, maybe the good doctor will be into the glitter too.”

  If Becca liked glitter, I’d swim in a vat of it. That in itself tells me how much I’ve fallen for her.

  We haven’t been able to see each other for a week. Her with Mission Control shifts at night and Neutral Buoyancy training in the afternoon, me with back to back shifts. Time together has been sparse.

  Two days ago, she got me a visitor’s badge so I could check out the Neutral Buoyancy Lab where she suited up and went under water to train with the astronauts she’s in charge of. Afterwards I was so turned on by how smart and badass she is, I dragged her into a supply closet and went down on her.

  How the hell this woman, with all her accomplishments and stunning looks, wants me, I don’t know. But shout out to the man upstairs if he had a hand in it.

  I glance at my watch. She texts me when her Mission Control shifts end, which is at eleven at night. It’s six-thirty in the morning, so she’s probably still sleeping. Something I should be doing. Rich is my relief. I should go home, sleep and then head to the photo shoot at Rocket Park. But even after a forty-eight-hour shift, I’m jumpy. Nervous.

  Becca is coming to the shoot.

  I dove straight into this calendar idea, one because I wanted to get closer to Becca, and two because I love animals. But I hadn’t really thought about actually being photographed, and this past week all the other guys have come in regaling me with stories of having to punch out a bunch of push-ups before the shoot, being half naked in front of strangers, getting rubbed down with oil and now, glitter.