Heart Signs

by Cari Quinn

  “Like you were wearing yesterday.”

  “Yep.” He cleared his throat as an image of her slick mouth working his shaft again infiltrated his mind. “What about you?”

  “No panties. I don’t wear them to bed.”

  “Do you…ahh, dress that way when you have a lover too or just when you’re single?”

  She was single, right? She wouldn’t have responded the way she had if she were seeing someone. He hoped. It had been so long since he’d been a part of the dating scene that maybe anything went now.

  “It depends. I don’t usually have lovers stay over. But when I do, if they’re new, I have a couple little baby doll nighties I wear. You know, the kind that are more lace than fabric.”

  “What colors?”

  “One’s peach, one’s purple. Light peach, so that my nipples show through.”

  “Oh.” Shit, shit, shit, he had to touch himself. He’d gone as rigid as an iron brand and if he didn’t get some relief soon…

  “The purple’s dark. Can’t see anything through there except skin.” She let out a breath just as he closed his hand around his cock through his jeans. He couldn’t stop the groan. “Are you…”

  “Yes. I had to.”

  Her audible swallow went a long way to settling his nerves. “Are you hard?”

  “Yes. Have been since I heard your voice. And now imagining you wearing peach lace, I’m like a damn baseball bat.”

  “You’re close to that long. Not quite as wide at the fullest point.”

  He had to laugh. “Join me, why don’t you? Slide down your shorts and tell me how you feel.” His hand flexed. “In detail.”

  “I can do that.” For a long moment silence filled the line. Then she made that soft sound deep in her throat and his cock jumped. “Everything’s wet. My panties, my curls, my fingers when I move them in and out. And my clit’s swollen, though I don’t really know why. We’ve just been talking. Could be your voice is an aphrodisiac.”

  “Yours too,” he muttered, gripping his erection. But somehow the sight of his own fingers around his length cooled his jets a little, a visual reminder of what he was about to do. What he had to do to get off, since he wasn’t the man he’d once been.

  Not yet. Maybe in time he’d find his way back. In the meantime, he’d just turn off the light.

  She spoke just as he settled back against the cushions in his now darkened room. “So if I were there and on the floor in front of you again, what would you do? Tell me.”

  Her whispered question triggered a hot rush of pleasure. He squeezed his forefinger and thumb around the base of his hard-on and relaxed his spine, determined to make this last. Tonight he intended to give her a great orgasm. Yesterday’s had been good but he was greedy. He wanted to make her come apart at the seams. Completely and totally lose her mind.

  “I’d tell you to spread your legs first,” he murmured, wondering if his voice sounded rusty to her too. “So I could see the pink, wet flesh between your legs while you sucked on me. The light would have to be bright enough that I could watch your inner thighs start to glisten. Knowing all that would be waiting for me when you finished. Then I’d sip from you, circling my way into the very center of your creamy Tootsie Pop.”

  He expected her to laugh. Tootsie Pops and oral? Really? Jerk. She’d probably grade him minus ten for creativity. But the line remained silent except for her jagged breaths.

  “Then what?”

  Sam swallowed over the dryness in his throat. Shit, was she getting turned-on? Her voice sounded thin and thready, as if all the energy in her body was already pooling in the place where she had her fingers. “Do you like it harder or softer?”

  Now she laughed. “You’re supposed to be controlling the scene,” she chided playfully. “I’ve given carte blanche to boss me around and do whatever you want to me. Or you can make me do whatever you want me to do to you. Like suck your cock so deep that it reaches way, way down, making my muscles ripple with the effort not to gag. But even that feels good. You can feel my throat locking around you and your balls are getting tighter, aren’t they? I bet you wish I could get down between your legs and suck them too. Just take them in my mouth, roll them around and—oh shit!”

  “What?” He jerked up on the sofa, his hand falling away from his damn near throbbing shaft. Thank God he’d turned off the lights. Bad enough to react like a kid caught masturbating but at least he couldn’t see himself act like a dumbass. “What’s wrong? Rory?”

  “I almost came. Like…so close.” Her muffled giggle teased out his own smile. “I sort of got into it and then I realized I’d almost ruined our fun.”

  “So you stopped.”

  “Not entirely.” Her tone turned sly. “I’ve still got the tip of my finger in. Keeping the home fires burning, you know?”

  “Yes. I know. Since my home fires are about to scald my hand if I don’t stop thinking about you fingering yourself. God.” He hissed out a breath and let his head fall back against the sofa. “You’re so damn tight. And when you get close, everything sort of seizes up, holds my fingers inside…”

  “Yes. Your fingers are inside me, moving slowly. In and out. Making me so wet.”

  That same breathy quality returned to her voice, letting him know she’d likely begun using more than just the tip of her finger. He fought not to groan. “You like to be touched slowly?”

  “Not all the time but yeah, until I find out if a guy knows what he’s doing. Some of them just jam inside and go to town. That’s not sexy. I don’t want to feel like my man’s trying to make a touchdown so he can move on to the good stuff. You wouldn’t be the type to do that though,” she added. “I can tell you’re the kind that takes their time. Yesterday you spent longer touching me than some guys do on sex.”

  He winced for both of them. “You know, talking to you makes me feel better about not having sex for years. Since apparently I’ve been saving some hapless woman from my poor techniques.”

  “Your techniques yesterday worked just fine,” she said quietly. “And I totally killed the mood, didn’t I?”

  With a quick look at his erection, he shook his head. “Not hardly. If I was there and you could show me how to touch you…”

  “I’d take your hand and bring it to my breasts. Just have you cup them, hold them in your big, rough palms. You do a lot of work with them, I can tell. On cars and maybe other stuff too.”

  Stupid to feel pride over something so basic, but there it was. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

  “And then I’d have you pinch the tips, gently at first then harder. Maybe even twist them a little. They’d stiffen up and I would bring your mouth down and push one between your lips. Then you’d bite them, like you did yesterday.”

  “Only one. I don’t think I made it to both.”

  “But both felt it, believe me.” Her sigh gratified him in more ways than he would ever understand. How could such simple appreciation do so much to make him feel…well, normal again? Not like a living, breathing, moving shell. “You have great suction. And when you pulled, the throb in my clit was so intense. Like right now.”

  Almost without realizing it, he began to stroke his cock. Slow, hesitant brushes of his hand that gradually sped up to match his quickening breaths. “Where are your fingers?”

  “Inside. All the way in. Two of them now, slipping on all the wetness.” She gasped. “Talk to me. Let me hear you. Where are your hands?”

  “On my cock. One of them is. The other’s holding on to you.” Well, the phone, but he didn’t correct himself. “And I’m thinking about you kneeling in front of me yesterday, how big and gray your eyes were. Like you’d never done that before and you couldn’t wait to learn how it would feel to—”

  “What? Sam, tell me. Please.”

  It wasn’t weird. It shouldn’t be weird. He just had to close his eyes and keep sliding his hand and it all would fall into place. “You looked as if you’d never sucked a man before. But then you reached for me and your to
uch was so much more sure than your face that I knew you were nervous for a different reason. The moment your tongue met the head of my cock I almost fucking lost it right there. Just looking at you made me so hard.”

  “Like you are right now?”

  The hope in her tone made him smile. “Yes. Believe me, baby, I’m like steel for you and I only have a memory and your sexy voice to guide me.”

  “Touch yourself faster. Pretend it’s my tongue, scraping over every inch of you, up and down, getting you slick. Like my pussy is right now. I’m so wet for you.” Her statement ended on another gasp, this one broken. “God, feels so good. I don’t think I can hold back.”

  “Don’t. Rory, it’s my lips on you. My tongue moving in and out, tasting everything you want to give me. Want to feel you gushing in my mouth.” He pulled on his cock, his grip unsteady. Already the ache in his groin had intensified to the point of agony. His balls felt like they would shatter if he didn’t finally get to come. But first he had to get her there. “I need it, baby. Every bit of you, so hot. Let me have it.”

  She whimpered but he knew she wasn’t ready yet. He’d have to up his game.

  “Then when I finished drinking you down, I would pull you up, spin you around until your hands are flat on the back of the couch. I bet you have a beautiful back. I’d take your ass in both hands, run my thumbs between to feel all that wet you’d made for me, then I’d pull back and slide in you. Not fast. Not the first time. You deserve slow and deep.” Her moan cut straight through him and he sped up his jerks on his cock, wanting to be right there with her. “I’d grab your hair and pull you back, but I wouldn’t rush. Your pussy would clench me, holding on so tight.”

  “Yes. I’m on fire for you. My fingers are inside, but they’re not enough. Not thick enough. Not hard like you’d be, driving in and out. Sam, shit, I’m almost—” She broke off and let out a cry. “I’m coming.”

  “Yes.” He kept talking as she panted and groaned, his dual mental images of her making herself orgasm and him fucking Rory against the couch making him wild. Roughly he surged into his fist, again and again. “You’d cry out my name when I reached around to flick your nipples, to grip one of your soft, perfect breasts in my hand. God, Rory,” he whispered, his hips rising off the sofa as his orgasm bolted through him and out in hot spurts into his hand, squeezing through his fingers. “Baby, I—fuck!”

  “Do it, Sam. Come for me. All for me,” she murmured, goading him on, somehow extending the spasms twisting through his body.

  When his shudders finally abated, Sam rolled his neck and let out a long breath. He was still trembling like a strung-out addict but sanity was returning. Unfortunately. With it came embarrassment.

  His damp, sticky palm taunted him, a disturbing reminder that he hadn’t managed to come when she’d been with him. Had he been reduced to this? Coming alone in the dark with a woman he barely knew on the phone?

  “Sam?”

  Don’t. Don’t fuck this up. “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Better than.”

  “Me too.” Her happy sigh prodded him out of his recriminations and even made him smile. What was his problem? He’d just had his first orgasm in who knew how long. That was something to celebrate. So what if he hadn’t done it with a woman in person yet? He’d get there. With Rory.

  “You’re so good at that. I don’t come that hard even with my vibrator. No fantasy I could make up touches the sound of your classy, deep voice caressing dirty words.”

  His laughter flowed out, and with it, the leftover questions about his competency. Fatigue drenched him, just as if they’d had real sex. It hadn’t been his imagination. They’d come together. Separately, but still together. “Glad it worked for you. You, ah, worked for me too.”

  “We should probably go clean up. Not that I really need to much, but you…”

  And so the awkwardness returned. That it had taken longer to descend, he counted as a minor victory.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Rory.”

  “No, thank you. You’ve fueled my dreams for a month.” Her wine-slurred voice wound around him, deepening his exhaustion. He could just close his eyes and sleep. No nightmares. No ghosts. Just blissful oblivion.

  “So I’ll see you Saturday,” he said, surprised by how much he was looking forward to it. “Meet you there at seven?” The game would already be in full swing by then but he’d be stuck at the shop for a while.

  “Saturday,” she agreed. “Bye, Sam.”

  Chapter Seven

  Dani,

  I saw a woman who made me think of you today. She smiled and I fell back in time to that place where love was new and you didn’t look at me as if I was a stranger. Then she asked the date and everything slid back into place, like a time warp straightening out. She wasn’t you. But that was a welcome thing, because I’m not the me I was when I was with you anymore either.

  ~ Sam

  Saturday came sooner than Rory expected. Before she knew it she was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, futzing with her hair and hoping she’d struck the right note with her gray jeans and hooded pullover. Not sexy, not date-like. Just friends catching a game and having some wings together.

  After having amazing, incredible phone sex five nights in a row.

  She hadn’t expected him to call last Friday night. She’d assumed he would need a buffer of at least a few days to assimilate what had happened. Apparently not. Pam had taken that day off so she’d stayed to cover office hours until 8 p.m. She’d only just made it home after stopping at a diner for dinner when the phone rang. And there he was, waiting for her on the other end of the line.

  They didn’t jump right into the naughty stuff. They’d talked about their days first. About Junior and how the weather had turned drizzly. Normal, breaking-the-ice conversation. By the second hour, when innuendoes turned to outright suggestion, she’d been squirming and ready to go.

  She’d called him the next night and since then they’d alternated. As if by mutual agreement, they’d only talked over the weekend, no nudity on either side. But by Monday night, when he’d whispered, “Are you feeling what I’m feeling?” she’d been so eager to hear his dirty commands that she’d practically come the first time he’d said the word pussy.

  Rory grinned and leaned forward to slick more gloss over her lips. They looked full and pouty, and she’d added a sweep of dark blue shadow to her eyelids. She might be casually dressed but her makeup said she wanted to impress. So be it.

  It had been years since she’d had a crush. The heat of it seemed to beat inside her, fluttering between her legs whenever she thought about Sam and his deep, sexy voice. She didn’t want to think about what would happen tonight after they left Loki’s but it was hard not to. He made her want in ways she never had before.

  “Damn unattainable men,” she muttered, capping her gloss and slipping it into the fringed purse she slung cross-body.

  Twenty minutes later she sauntered into Loki’s and glanced around, locating her usual table of pals near the pool tables in the back. She slapped hands with a few of the guys, laughed through a round of hugs, exchanged a couple hip bumps with two of the guys’ girlfriends. All the while she kept an eye out for Sam.

  It wasn’t seven yet but she’d wanted to catch more of the game. She’d already missed part of it with her primping.

  Guess she was more of a girl than she gave herself credit for.

  “Patriots are fuckin’ killing ’em!” Josh yelled, pounding a surprisingly small fist on the table. His skinny body didn’t match his booming voice.

  “Yeah and your guy’s been mugging right and left,” Pete said, leering at Rory. “You almost missed him at his sweaty best.”

  Rolling her eyes at Pete, she nevertheless directed her attention at the closest TV as she grabbed a handful of popcorn from the communal bowl. She and Pete had hooked up a few times, as had she and Josh. At different times, of course. They’d been her friends for several years
and she’d never hesitated to go for the benefits part of that equation. Why not? They were just having fun. But she definitely didn’t want Sam to get the wrong idea.

  “So,” Pete said a few moments later, coming up behind her and lightly resting his hands on her hips. “Haven’t seen you around this week.”

  Discreetly, she tried to keep one eye on the door and one on the TV. “Yeah, been working and,” she flailed for an excuse, “uh, staying home.”

  “No kiddin’.” Pete pressed closer and used his nose to push back the hair near her ear. “You been staying home alone, Ror?”

  “Yes.” That at least she could answer honestly. As for any other questions, Sam and what she and Sam were about was off-limits. For one, she had no clue. Secondly she wasn’t going to gossip. Not about Sam.

  “Sure about that?” One of Pete’s hands drifted up her rib cage, fingers stretching toward her breast.

  “Yes,” she said again, taking a deliberate step away. To cover her need for distance, she grabbed one of the barbequed ribs dripping all over a platter in front of Josh and teasingly held it over her mouth until the sauce hovered at the end of the meat.

  “Oh yeah. Lick that, baby. Don’t forget the special sauce.” Josh laughed and again she rolled her eyes, biting into the tender pork. She was used to the guys and knew they meant no harm, but she didn’t want to encourage them tonight. She didn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable.

  Or make him hightail it out of here, once he thinks you’re a slut that sleeps with all your friends?

  She wasn’t a slut. Far from it. In fact, she could count her lovers on two hands. Even if they’d numbered more than that, she had nothing to be ashamed about. She always used protection, kept things honest and made sure both parties had a good time. Married guys were off-limits, no exceptions, and—

  And Sam’s married. Or he might as well still be.

  The thought made her frown down at the rib still in her hand. Josh poured her a beer from the pitcher and shoved it toward her, sloshing a healthy amount onto her sweatshirt in the process. Two wet splotches appeared disturbingly close to her nipples and her pal Aaron chuckled and handed her some napkins. When she grabbed them, a glob of sauce joined the beer.