The Sweethearts’ Knitting Club

by Lori Wilde

  His teeth lightly nipped her skin, and he tightened his grip on her waist as her knees completely gave way.

  Even after all these years, after all their time apart, he knew her body better than she did. Beau had never found her secret trigger spot, Jesse zeroed right in.

  “Do you still like this?”

  She couldn’t answer, only whimper.

  “Mmm, good to know. I love how you smell, like watermelon and little purple flowers. I love the way you taste, salty, yet sweet, like a PayDay candy bar. That’s the way of you, Flynn, tart-tongued at times, but it’s only to hide that tender, tender heart.”

  He skimmed his hands up underneath her blouse, his palms slipping over skin. His fingers skated around to unhook her bra, and the next thing she knew it was off her, flung somewhere across the room.

  Magic. The man was Copperfield with a bra. Some things never changed.

  Jesse took her breath, and her wandering thoughts, when he ensnared her lips with his hot, wet mouth and sucked her skin. Radiant heat mushroomed outward, across her shoulders, headed pell-mell for her breasts.

  Her pulse leaped, bounded. Her nipples tightened. She reveled in the luxury of his embrace and took a deep breath. She inhaled, and his manly scent—motorcycle oil, fresh paint, pure essence of Jesse—filled her lungs.

  They ripped at each other’s lips, tearing away the veil of the past, revealing themselves to each other as they were today, in this moment, aching and hungry and open to each other, crashing the boundaries that had separated them for so long.

  He lowered his lids, sultry, half-mast. Lust for her burned in his eyes, stiffened the length of him pressed hard against her.

  “Do you want me to stop now?” he whispered. “Have we gone too far? Are you out of your comfort zone?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him yes, it was too much, but no words came out. Instead she leaned over and nipped at his shoulder.

  He felt so good. She felt so good. What he was doing to her felt too good. Everything about this man, his lips, his fingers, his tongue, his arms, his gray-blue eyes, the heady fragrance of his skin, made her want to beg for more, more, more.

  Take me, take what you want, take everything, leave me stripped raw and bare and savagely sated.

  The viciousness of her thoughts stunned her. She’d never felt so unbridled, so free.

  More, more, take more. Let me give you everything I have to give. Lips and teeth and tongues and hard, wet kisses.

  She was overpowered, overwhelmed, overcome, over-everythinged. Jesse was a fighter jet and she was in freefall. Nothing to grab on to, nothing to stop herself from plummeting.

  His thumbs brushed lazily against her nipples, tightened the already stiff peaks, driving her crazy. Her breath hung up somewhere between her lungs and her throat. No air, just the smell of Jesse.

  Stop. Stop this before I lose my mind.

  A throbbing ache pooled deep inside her womb. Reflexively she pressed her knees together, more to keep herself from falling down than anything else. If he wasn’t holding on to her, she would probably already be on the ground.

  His fingers fumbled. Copperfield having magic trouble? Fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, trying to undo them, finally he just grabbed her shirt and pulled it open. Buttons popped, hit the floor with a little spit-spat noise. Material ripped.

  Her hands were on the hem of his T-shirt, dragging it up and over his head. Bye-bye, T-shirt. Hello, hard-muscled man. She whistled in a breath, traced shaky fingers over his striated chest.

  Skin to skin. Chest to breasts. They were naked from the waist up and breathing like labored engines chugging up a steep grade. His pelvis was pressed tight against hers, and he was hard and long and thick. Was he as big as it felt like he was? A raw, nagging twinge bloomed between her thighs. His calloused fingertips scratched rough against her tender nipples. Her hands were cold against his heated belly.

  Simultaneously they inhaled the same excited sigh.

  “Wanna stop?” he murmured.

  She grabbed for his belt. Panting, he pulled at the snap of her jeans.

  Now, now, gotta have him. Can’t wait, can’t stop, can’t think, can’t breathe.

  Jesse.

  Reality. More intense, more nerve-wracking than her dreams. What if she didn’t please him? What if he didn’t please her? What if after all this time, all this waiting, they were bad in bed together?

  “Shh,” he said. “Stop thinking. You’re thinking too much.”

  “How do you know?” she whispered.

  “You’ve got the oddest little frown on your face like you’re mentally arguing with yourself. I know you, Flynn MacGregor, you have a hard time just being in the moment. Be here with me now, Flynn. Don’t think. Don’t live in the past. Don’t project into the future. Don’t stand on the sidelines any longer. Stop ignoring your own needs. Shut down that noisy little voice and listen to your body.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

  “No trying. Do it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Here, let me help you.” He pulled off her shoes, tugged her jeans down over her hips. She kicked them aside.

  Jesse knelt in front of her. He cupped her buttocks in his palms, looked up at her with complete and total awe. The light in his eyes shook her very soul.

  “Beautiful,” he cooed. “So, so beautiful.”

  The pleasure of his words, the expression of pure gratitude on his face toasted her skin, warmed her heart. He pressed his cheek against her belly, held her close to his head. She could hear her heartbeat pounding blood through her ears and felt hot tingles of delight race over her skin.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, lightly nipping the skin just below her navel with his teeth. “You taste so good. Tender. Juicy.”

  “That’s me, tender and juicy, just like chicken,” she joked. She pulled in a shaky breath and lowered her lashes. Keep kissing on down to the sweet spot, she thought, but didn’t have the courage to say it.

  “Lucky for you, I love chicken.”

  His tongue was at the top of her panties, and for all practical purposes her mind had gone to mush. His hands were softly kneading her butt cheeks and his hair was tickling her belly and she was aware of absolutely everything. The smell of new rug, the ticking clock on the wall, the rich taste of lust on the back of her tongue, the sight of Jesse’s teeth tugging on her white cotton panties, the feel of his warm breath against her achy flesh.

  “Lucky me,” she whispered as tiny little campfires ignited along her nerve endings. Everywhere his lips touched, she blazed.

  A robust laugh rolled from him. He tilted his head and looked up at her, his eyes shiny with lust. His hands moved from her bottom to her waist. “Feel like you won the lottery, do you?”

  “No,” she said, “I feel like you won the lottery. I’m the prize here.”

  “Oh, you think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Such an ego,” he said, and drew her down on the rug in front of him.

  They were eye to eye, nose to nose, his hands still resting on her waist. For the longest moment he said nothing, did nothing except peer into her.

  “Knock, knock, anybody home,” she finally ventured.

  “Gotta,” he said.

  “Gotta what?”

  “Gotta have some of this,” he said, and with a low groan, he tugged her against his chest for a soft, slow kiss. He drew her tongue from her mouth with gentle suction. He reached up and cupped the sides of her face with both palms.

  Her hands got busy exploring him, moving them up his thick biceps to his shoulders. She dug her fingertips into his muscles, kneaded them. Heat rolled off him in waves, causing sweat to dew between her breasts.

  Jesse made love to her with his mouth; in turn she combed her fingers through the sprig of hairs at his chest. “Woman,” he mumbled against her neck, “you drive me crazy.”

  “Right back at you. You’re not alone in the booby hatch.”

  He pulled
her into his lap then, and she felt the throb of his erection through the fabric of his jeans. The man was enormous, and the pressure! Glorious pressure squeezed the floor of her pelvis.

  She rocked against him.

  He groaned really loudly this time—all masculine need and hungry arousal. She was hot, he was hot, the room was a frickin’ sauna. They were kissing again, their tongues dancing, dueling, taunting. She dug her fingers into his skin and kissed him and breathed him and pushed her bottom against his stiff penis.

  Sweetness vanished from his kiss. Tenderness? Out the window. Everything was rough and primal and wild and carnal.

  They were moving too fast, rocketed by passion and the past; she should tell him to stop, but her tongue didn’t work. Who was she kidding? It worked too well. She was licking and tasting and teasing and having way too much fun to stop.

  More. She had to have more.

  His thumbs brushed her nipples, and she let out a hungry moan. Her hands were all over him. Touching, stroking, probing, exploring. Her head spun, her heart thumped, her skin burned. Her breasts tightened, her nipples beaded. Had she ever felt a pleasure this delicious? Yes. Once. On a bridge, long ago.

  She was in his lap, riding his thighs, pressing her palms against the zipper of his jeans where his penis strained, dying to get out and come play. She groped him through the denim, feeling every hard edge of him.

  He groaned.

  The ache between her thighs was painful now. A wet, hot ache that swirled her brain. One of his hands stayed at her breasts, lightly pinching a nipple while the other hand crept down to give as good as he was getting. He slipped past the waistband of her panties, his thick finger searching for her most sensitive spot.

  His hand was between her thighs, his thumb on her…

  Oh, dear Lord, he’d found it.

  She squirmed and wriggled, pushing against his hand. She was on fire, burning, burning. But she wasn’t ready for this. “Jesse, wait…” She panted.

  “You mean it?” His voice was ragged, disappointed. “You want me to stop?”

  “Yes, no…”

  Jesse pulled back, looked her squarely in the eyes. “Which is it? Yes or no?”

  “I want you…”

  “Well then, that’s settled. I want you too.” He slipped his hand back between her thighs; the air was sweet with the smell of her sex. Her scent caused his cock to twitch. She was so hot and wet down there. Wet and ready for him.

  Jesse wanted her so badly. Had wanted her for ten long years. Lust pounded through him. This was it. She was finally going to be his. He shifted her in his arms, stretched her out on the braided rug, looked down into her face. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

  “You’re not half bad yourself.”

  Gently, he parted her slick, warm flesh with his fingers. She was dripping for him, and when he slipped his finger inside her, she gasped and her eyes widened and she grasped his shoulders in her hands.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  He could feel her trembling against his hand. “You’re so wet. You have no idea how much you turn me on. I want to kiss you here.” He touched her clit. “Lap you up with my tongue.”

  Her muscles tensed and her breath grew shallow and quick.

  “Do you want me to use my tongue on you here?” He lightly strummed the nub of her clit with his thumb.

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded. “Jesse,” she rasped.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Please, please…”

  He flicked his thumb against her clit, softer and faster.

  “Please, please, I want you to…”

  “I know.”

  “No, no—” Her words broke off on a strangled cry of pleasure. She moaned and clutched him and quivered.

  His heart galloped. She was coming, big time. Her eyes widened and her face twisted up into a look of pure orgasmic ecstasy. Perspiration popped out on her face, and when she’d finished shuddering, he drew her to him, rocked her against his chest, feeling mighty damn proud of himself.

  He nestled her in the crook of his arm, kissed her forehead, and ached to be buried inside her hot feminine body. She had no idea what this restraint was costing him.

  “Oh my.” She exhaled and looked up at him. “I’ve never…that was…”

  “Flynn one, Jesse zero.” He laughed.

  “So that’s how it is? We’re keeping score?” Her eyes glimmered mischievously. Then she pushed him over onto his back and straddled him, her glorious breasts bobbing sexily in the light from the overhead fluorescent bulb. “You’re in trouble now, bucko.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. First thing, those jeans have got to go.” She undid the snaps of his jeans and grabbed hold of the waistband. “Hips off the floor,” she said, but she didn’t have to tell him, Jesse was already arching his back, his cock twitching to break free.

  He heard her audibly suck in her breath when she got a good look at him, but when she touched the head of his shaft he was the one sucking in air.

  She slid down his body until her butt was on his knees and her breasts were resting on his upper thighs and her tongue…hot damn her maddening tongue…was lightly flicking over his tip. She grasped his shaft with one hand, cupped his balls in the other.

  “Jesse,” she murmured. “I had no idea you were so big and juicy and beautiful.”

  He propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch her swirl her tongue around him. She glanced up, and her eyes locked on his. She winked, flashed her dimples, then ducked her head. The intensity of sensation quickly grew too much for him to fight against and he just sank back on the rug and let her have at him.

  She toyed with him a moment more and then she drew him into her mouth, taking him as deeply as she could.

  Jesse moaned as the heat escalated inside him. Her rhythm picked up. Her hands slid all over his body. Indescribable, this intimacy. His chest expanded, tightened. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. This took the meaning of sex to a whole new level for him.

  “Yes,” he hissed as she moved back and forth, her hair a silky glide beneath his fingers. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  Flynn worked her magic, with her fingers, her tongue leading him into uncharted territory. He was on sensory overload as she gently guided him to a paradise he’d only dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream. The warm wetness of her mouth, the sweet taste of her lingering on his tongue, the heavenly smell of her feminine scent, the sound of her raspy breathing. This new awareness of him, of her, was breaking up his outer shell. All the old failures and disappointments fell away.

  Her mouth moved over him without caution or fear. She pushed him past his knowledge of himself. He had never before been so physically possessed. His knees were quaking and he was as loaded and hot as he could ever be. Past thinking, with no coherent thought residing in his head, he was nothing but cock and ass and balls.

  Relentlessly, Flynn pushed him forward. He was aching, gushing, throbbing, beating. He threw back his head and let loose with a primal cry, pleading for release from this magnificent torture, for the ecstasy he could almost touch.

  Tingling. Pounding. Rushing.

  He had no idea she was capable of wreaking such havoc. And then, just like that, it was upon him. Jesse tumbled. Jerking and trembling into the abyss, hurtling across time and space. Lost in the wonder of her awesome tongue.

  He peered down, blinked. He could barely see. He lay there sweating, shuddering, panting for breath.

  Flynn was sitting at his feet, smiling coyly, her lips glistening creamy and wet. She winked at him and swallowed his essence. She curled up on the rug beside him, spooned against his back. For a long while they just lay there together, not speaking, waiting for him to recover.

  And then her cell phone rang.

  She moved to get up. He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t go, don’t answer it.”

  “It might be important.”

  “I’m important. T
his is important. We’re important.”

  “My family,” she said.

  When she gave him a look like that how could he deny her? He waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

  She scrambled off the rug, went for her purse, snagged up the phone. “What’s up?”

  Jesse rolled onto his side, watching her. In his eyes she was the most beautiful woman on earth.

  “Okay, don’t panic. I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone, started putting on her clothes. “Oh crap, look at my blouse. You’re hell on clothes, Calloway.” Her blouse hung open, buttonless.

  He grinned sheepishly. “Take my shirt.”

  She scooped his Harley T-shirt up off the floor, wrestled it over her head.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. “For now it will have to stay Flynn one, Jesse one. They had a water main break down at Froggy’s and my father is flipping out. Gotta go. See you later.”

  “Wait, wait.” He got to his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

  Flynn shook her head. “Nah, that’s okay. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “But maybe you could just use the company.”

  “Relax,” she said. “Bask in the glow.”

  Without another word, she plunged down the stairs, leaving Jesse feeling as if he was nothing more than her dirty little secret.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Which Bridge to Cross, Which Bridge to Burn” by Vince Gill

  —Twilight High class song of 1999

  Ten minutes later, Flynn pulled into Froggy’s empty parking lot. Her father’s car was there and so was Carrie’s. The outdoor neon sign was switched off, but inside the lights blazed. Floyd must have closed up and sent everyone home after the water main break.

  Feeling edgy and breathless, she pushed her fingers through her hair and let out a sigh, her mind webbed with thoughts of what had just happened in the Yarn Barn.