His jerk of pleasure causes liquid to leak from the tip of his cock, and I take quick advantage to rub my fingertip along the edge before lightly painting it across my lips in invitation.
"Cat got your tongue?" I taunt, my hand on his cock sliding faster and faster to the rhythm of his hips jerking against me now. The tension in his face makes me realize he's closer than I thought, as he gazes hungrily at my lips again, painted with his own juices.
Wrapping my free hand firmly around his neck, I capture his lips with my own, sucking his tongue in, demanding more, before sliding my hips to the edge of the counter and breaking the kiss.
My legs slide down his body as he grabs my ass in surprise, eventually releasing me as I sink lower until my knees hit the ground.
"Josie," he groans, "you don't have to—" The words stop abruptly as I enclose him in the warm cave of my mouth, sucking hard. Once, twice… Houston, we have liftoff! The warm stream of juices coat the back of my throat as strong hands grip my hair, hips pressing him deeper in my throat until finally relaxing.
"Fuck."
"I'm sorry, I was trying to help you relax," I tease, loving the dazed expression on his face gazing down at my own.
Fingers thread with mine, pulling me to my feet and into a strong embrace, arms wrapped around my back comfortingly, until a sharp slap jolts my denim-clad bottom.
"Relaxed, my ass! Now you've got me all kinds of worked up. And I'd love to return the favor…" His head swivels toward the clock. "But I need to get cleaned up and get out of here."
Ruefully, he drops a kiss on the tip of my nose before grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself as I flip on the faucet to wash my sticky hands. I might be inspired to cook more if there are always rewards like this in the end.
"When will you be back?" I ask as arms encircle my waist and he presses up against my back, semi-hard again. Really? Did I not do a thorough job, or does he really recover that quickly?
Grinding my ass slightly into him, he grunts before quickly stepping back and adjusting himself.
"Stop! I'm already rethinking my career choices. Who needs a TV show when I can drop you on the counter and eat my fill right now?" he jokes, eyeing me hungrily again.
Grabbing the neglected fork and brandishing it like a sword again, I point the tip his way menacingly.
"Oh no you don't! Get your ass on the train, and I'll think of all the delicious things you owe me when you get back. I refuse to have my efforts wasted."
Forking up the last of my eggs and spinach, I muse that suddenly, they taste quite ordinary in comparison to the mini feast of flesh I just consumed.
Maybe I'm already developing a better palate.
* * *
The deep woof startles me as a nose slips wetly into my palm, halting my leisurely gate. Swinging around, I giggle at the tongue tickling my palm, inviting me to play, while Simon just shrugs and grins in the sunlight.
"Sorry, my boy has good taste, and he's as fascinated by you as I am. He saw you half a block away and made a beeline this way! Not that I minded."
His weary smile troubles me. He always looks so tired, his eyes shadowed, like sleep has not been his friend for many nights.
Bending down, I allow the slippery tongue to tickle my cheek as Brutus' body slides against mine, trying to get closer and closer. I feel certain that if I sat on the sidewalk, he'd climb into my lap like he was Daisy's size instead of ninety pounds of flesh.
"How are you, Brutus? Didn't we just have this lovefest a few hours ago?"
"True," Simon agrees. "But unlike most blokes, he's willing to show how desperately needy he is." Simon's wink makes me laugh. "Most of us are too manly to admit just how much we want to be petted by you."
"Well, maybe if you showed as much unrestrained pleasure when you saw us, you'd get better results," I tease him, unable to help myself.
"Really?" Leaning over, Simon drags his tongue up my cheek, nipping my ear as I squeal. I jerk upright in embarrassment when a teenage girl across the street repeats my squeal and takes a picture.
My jaw snaps shut with a click as I realize that not only are we in public, but that I actually leaned into him in that moment instead of shying away. Christ, now I'm acting like some prepubescent fangirl accosting him on the street.
He started it! my inner diva whines as I back away, then stop myself, rescued once again by my sense of the ridiculous. What a flirt! Challenge accepted.
Falling into step with him, I glance sideways and tease, "Well, that's a start. You might want to redirect your tongue next time."
Stopping abruptly in the middle of the street, Simon stares at me until the honking of car horns reminds us to keep moving. What the hell? I just inadvertently followed him home, and now I’m standing in front of Mark's building again, exactly where I started.
As he gazes at me with a question in his eyes, I realize maybe I need to dial back my flirting. I don't know why it just seems to be my natural default around him, like being near him demands that I push boundaries. And that…is a thought to be put away and not examined too closely. Thankfully, he doesn't take the bait, instead glancing uncertainly back at Brutus.
"So, you know where Cliff's clinic is, yeah?"
Surprised, I nod. "I've never been there, but I know where it is. Weren't you supposed to go there yesterday?"
"Yeah, but he had something come up and asked me to come today since it wasn't an emergency. We're heading there now. Do you fancy coming along? I'm not super comfortable driving on the opposite side yet, especially when I'm trying to follow directions and this beast is distracting me."
Visions of the words I should be writing float before my eyes, but I feel Simon's uncertainty radiating from him in waves, and bonus—I'll get to see Heath for a while.
"Sure, I'll be happy to play tour guide. Do you want me to drive or navigate?"
"I'd like to drive to get a feel for the road. I'd be really grateful if you can keep him calm and talk me there, instead of me relying on some stupid app."
The sheer relief in his eyes reflects exactly how much tension exists in that wiry body of his. Yet another one—what's with all these intense guys? I thought that was his normal state, but maybe not. I'd hate to think that I bring out all this angst in them, but it seems like Simon needs to relax.
I wonder how he shows gratitude?
Time to figure out what makes his guitar strings vibrate.
Chapter 23
The Dog Days Aren't Over
I'm a bit bemused by the black, turbo Cayenne parked in the garage as Simon opens the back seat for Brutus to hop in. Simon seems unfazed by the luxury, as does Brutus, but I guess if you're used to a custom tour bus, this might seem like small potatoes. Clearly, I need to try to appear cooler than I am, since no one else seems worried by the thought of Brutus' nails shredding the expensive leather interior.
As we head out of the city, I quietly offer directions on upcoming turns and exits until we hit open highway, recognizing when Simon finally relaxes behind the wheel for the rest of the ride.
"So, you and Mark…?" The question comes from nowhere, my head turning toward him in surprise as I wonder how to answer.
Brutus appears to have appointed himself as my guardian angel, his head popping between our seats to interrupt the conversation as he whines and tries to crawl forward and sit on my lap.
Stroking his ears, I do my best to soothe him, eager to avoid the topic.
"Not now, Brute. We wouldn't want you to get hurt, or for Daddy to get a ticket."
"Did you just call me Daddy?" Simon's smile is gleeful, and I feel a flicker all the way down in my promised land. "Because as someone once sang, I'll happily be your father figure any time you want."
The wicked smile makes me squirm uncomfortably as fire begins to light up all the dials on my circuit board. Danger, danger, danger, I chant my internal mantra before switching to ice, ice, baby is frigid—whoops, ice is melting. Damnit, commence internal head slap!
Reminding myself that we're going to meet Heath, I concentrate on picturing his understanding eyes, then remember the pissing match he and Mark started in the restaurant. Will this be just another round? Damnit, Jezebel, be gone!
Internal exorcism complete, I turn toward Simon and give him my blandest smile.
"Clearly, I'm not a little girl." My hands gesture to my chest and body. "I'm more than able to handle my own affairs. It's been a long time since I needed a daddy, but hey, thanks for offering."
"Well then, let me call you Mum, and maybe I can crawl in your lap and let you make everything better."
I stare at him, momentarily stunned, until my sense of humor reasserts itself once more.
"Daddy, my ass! Now you're being totally absurd. And if you need a mommy right now, you're only a plane ticket away. Now turn left, we're here."
Making a left into the parking lot, I'm more than a little distracted by his low murmur, directed away from me, as he navigates the turn.
"I'll be happy to Daddy that ass, any time."
* * *
The clinic is full, a menagerie of dogs, cats, birds, and—is that a komodo dragon?—scattered in various states of contained chaos around the waiting room.
Taking Brutus' leash, I hold him back from eagerly sniffing a Peekapoo's raised tail as Simon checks in. The receptionist looks dazzled as he pours on the charm, even though he's giving a fake name that has her totally confused. I can tell she wants to call him Simon, but his insistence on being called Ernesto is beyond her comprehension. I can't really blame her. The rock star bad boys always have that magnetism, no matter how long they've been out of the limelight.
An inner door opens, and a vet tech calls another patient, ushering the komodo dragon—whose name appears to be Veronica—into the back with her owner. There's nothing more amusing than sitting in a vet's office and listening to the parade of names. The placid, overweight cat with the spiked collar named Morpheus, or the shaved chihuahua named Bertie—I can feel Daisy's sniff of disdain by proxy.
Heath's shiny head pops around the doorframe, eyes widening as they meet mine, before searching for Simon and gesturing for him to follow. Popping up from my chair, I'm gratified to feel Heath squeeze my waist as I pass through the doorway, people staring in our wake as they finally begin to register Simon's presence.
An arm snakes around my waist, pulling me backward against a firm chest as Heath murmurs in my ear, "What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining."
Tilting my head back to smile into his eyes, I drawl out slowly, "Brutus needed an escort. He's used to having an entourage."
A slight slap on the ass makes me squeal as I'm propelled forward by Heath's hand between my shoulder blades, guiding me to the examining room.
"Brutus needed you?" Narrowed eyes squint at me, before his expression eases and he turns to shake hands with Simon.
"I see you found the place."
"Yeah, mate. Josie took pity on us and showed me the way. Tidy little set up you have here. Thanks for squeezing the Brute in."
"My pleasure. So this is Brutus." Dropping to a crouch, Heath strokes the furry ears, laughing as Brutus sidles closer to me in the corner, trying to nestle behind my knees.
"I know exactly how you feel, buddy." The look Heath directs toward me makes my face flame in embarrassment as I studiously avoid Simon's gaze.
"Jos, try to coax him up on the table, will you?"
Stepping back, Heath gives us room as I stroke Brutus' ears and pat the top of the examining table.
"Come here, Baby, hop up where I can kiss you properly." Brutus follows my snapping figures, eventually lumbering up the small steps next to the examination table to flop on top, tongue lolling, waiting for something to happen.
Leaning down, I stroke his ears, plopping a kiss on his nose, and whispering what a good boy he is. I pretend not to notice Simon adjusting himself, or the bulge growing in Heath's pants as his white coat drifts apart when he reaches for his stethoscope.
"So, tell me what's happening with Brutus." Heath quickly shifts to doctor mode, and I tune the guys out as I twist a plot thread this way and that through my mind, not even realizing that I've been ignoring them until Heath's amused voice finally breaks through.
"Josie. I need him to get down to run some tests, if you could stop stroking him for a bit."
Glancing down, I realize that Brutus is practically snoring in delight, legs kicked in the air as I unconsciously stroke up and down the length of his belly.
Embarrassed, I step away when Heath offers to take Brutus' place later. Although it makes me feel better, I realize sticking my tongue out is childish, especially when both men's eyes linger on my mouth a bit too long.
Clearing my throat, I ask, "I don't suppose you have any coffee lying around neglected?"
Ever obliging, Heath opens the door and gestures down the hall.
"Kath, could you show Josie to where the coffee is and bring me an oscilloscope? I need you to help me run some eye tests."
I brush past Heath, determined to ignore both men, and stop where a tech is waiting to show me the coffee set up, before she grabs the tools Heath requested. Taking my time, I prepare my coffee just the way I like it, letting the warmth fill me as I think about how I could and should be home writing. Instead, I'm here fending off sexual innuendos aimed like hardballs while armed with only a wiffle bat.
It's bad enough that I'm trying to navigate the channel between two men. Am I really acknowledging another guy hovering on the sidelines? The whole situation has gotten away from me, like I'm standing in a thunderstorm holding the metal frame of an umbrella, praying for lightning not to strike me. Who's the idiot now?
Brutus' whoofs from the examination room are followed by the sound of his nails scrabbling against the tile as he makes a break for it, through the open door and down the hall directly to me. Jumping, his front paws rest on my shoulders as he whines, licking my cheek as if begging me to take him home.
"What's wong, Brute? Did the big, bad Doolittle scare you off? It's okay, I'll defend you."
Grabbing his snout with both hands, I kiss his wet nose, finally realizing that both men are staring at my chest with interest. Glancing down, I realize that Brutus' attempts to reach my shoulders have resulted in the V of my shirt being dragged down to expose a large amount of one breast and ample cleavage, framed by the pale lace of my bra.
Abruptly dropping his paws from my shoulders, I shrug to reposition my shirt back to where it belongs, pretending that I didn't just perform a peep show of epic proportions.
"What's the verdict?" I ask as Brutus flops heavily across my feet, as if he owns me. How did I suddenly become the de facto plaything of Simon's dog? Daisy definitely would not approve.
"Pretty sure he has an inner ear infection." Heath smiles at the picture we've created—just a girl and her dog. No! Definitely not. This cat woman is not interested in the dog eat dog world.
A loud snore convinces me that Brutus doesn't care about my finer feelings.
"Here's a prescription for some ear drops." Handing off the paper to Simon, Heath continues, "Bring him back in about ten days, and I'll check him again. If his balance is still off or he's still whining, we'll do some additional tests, but I don't want to go there when I really think it's something simple."
Shaking hands, Simon tries to coax Brutus off my feet as Heath turns my way.
"About dinner tomorrow…"
"You, too?" I groan. "You're already giving me a complex."
"When else have I done anything to give you a complex?"
"Both of you. Mark changed our dinner to lunch to go to a meeting in New York. Although, I should be writing, so I don't know why I'm complaining." I sound petulant even to myself, but if you're going to ask me to rise to the occasion, stop letting the air out of my balloon.
"Lori and Shana made plans with friends and asked if I could take Tracy for the night. I thought maybe you would enjoy coming to my place and having dinner with
us."
The hopeful look in Heath's eyes is endearing, and I'm alternately pleased and terrified.
"You want me to meet Tracy? Are you sure?"
"Sure. She loves books, so she'll think you're cool, and she's a smart kid. She's learned not to ask too many questions. Come on, it'll be fun. I may not be the cook that Mark is, but I promise you'll leave satisfied."
I can't say I'm not a bit intimidated at the thought of meeting Heath's daughter, but considering the way he and his wife parted, Tracy can't be that naïve. After all, she must understand that Shana is Lori's partner. Ashamed, I realize that I never asked Heath how they handled all of that with Tracy. I guess maybe it would be more fun to hear it directly from her.
"So, you and Cliff are having dinner tomorrow?" Simon is a little too perceptive. I can see him twisting what he knows about my lunch today with Mark and my upcoming dinner with Heath tomorrow around in his head as he draws certain conclusions.
"She is," Heath answers definitively without giving me a chance to reply. "It's my night."
Did he just out us? The satisfaction in his face assures me that he just marked his territory once more, ignoring my frown of annoyance.
"You should come too, Simon. Heath's daughter is thirteen. What girl that age can resist a rock star? Surely her dad will get major bonus points for luring you into her web." I smile smugly, noting the quick flare of annoyance before Heath smiles, acknowledging that he's been bested.
"By all means, join us. You can drive Mark's car again, and I won't have to drag Tracy out to drive Josie home."
"I don't want to get in the way of your supper shag." Simon's tone is apologetic, but his look is far from it. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was deliberately baiting Heath, or maybe he's just digging for information.
"Just dinner, with my daughter. No shagging allowed. I'll see you both tomorrow at seven. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dragon to fight." Glancing at me significantly, he mouths, "I'll call you later."
Corsets and Quartets Page 21
