by Jewel E. Ann
Swarley has gone in the house and left my towel covered in dog hair. Thanks for that. I shake it out and flip my head down to dry my hair.
“Oh God!” I jerk up and whip around. Why did I turn around? I don’t know. I caught an upside down glimpse of what was behind me; I didn’t have to turn around. But here I am, staring at naked Lautner and his … man thingy is … Oh. My. God! I’m not sure what’s most bizarre about this situation: Lautner being so casual and comfortable with exposing himself to me, or that I cannot peel my eyes off of … it.
He’s wringing out his underwear as leisurely as if it were a shammy he used to dry off his car.
“Wh—what—” My mouth is dry, utterly parched.
“Oh, this. Well, Syd, you can’t wear that string bikini mere inches from me while grabbing my junk and not expect me to have a raging hard-on.” He drapes his underwear over the back of the chair and slips back into his shorts. My eyes, which will never be the same again, climb up his body to his face.
“So what should we do now?” he asks, fastening his pants.
All words have escaped me. I take my margarita and gulp down every last drop.
“Shit!” I grimace and rub my temples. Brain freeze!
Unsuspecting hands cradle my face and hot lips meld to mine. The warmth of his tongue heats my mouth and my brain freeze evaporates. He pulls back and rubs his nose against mine. “Better?”
Lautner is flat out crazy and unpredictable. He’s too much to handle, yet I can’t get enough.
“What was that? Brain freeze CPR?”
“Worked, didn’t it?” He winks and grabs his shirt slipping it on. “What do you think about remote control airplanes?”
I wrap my towel around my waist. “You’ll need to elaborate.”
He slips his keys, phone, and wallet back in his pocket. “My friend Caden is taking his little brother to fly remote control airplanes not too far from here. He invited us to join them.”
He’s done it again, flipping the switch from cocky to sweet. The truth is, Lautner is all sweet. Even his cocky side is more playful than anything else.
“In that case, I think I should go change. Want me to throw those in the dryer?” I nod to his wet boxer briefs.
“Nope, I’m good.” He grins.
“Of course you are,” I mumble as I turn and walk to the house.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
*
I choose black capris and a lilac racerback tank top. Predicting windows down, I pull my hair back into a high ponytail then dig through my shoe bag, that I still haven’t unpacked, and find my Keen sandals.
Lautner is waiting on the front porch in an Adirondack chair. I shut and lock the front door. He stands and gives me a slow perusal and an appreciative smile.
“So damn sexy.” He shakes his head.
I sense a warm blush surfacing on my cheeks and neck. He reaches for my hand and leads me to his 4Runner. Opening my door, he looks to the sky. “Hope we don’t get rained on. Clouds are moving in.”
He gets in and buckles up.
“Should I grab an umbrella?” I ask.
“I’ve got one. We’re good.”
On the way to the flying field, Lautner rests his right arm behind me. This time it’s on my neck and he caresses the tips of his fingers over my skin. The windows are open and Jeffrey Gaines is singing my favorite Peter Gabriel song, “In Your Eyes.” I close mine and drift off with the lyrics that have me lost in blue irises. “The light the heat … I am complete.”
There are about a dozen cars in the lot when we pull in. I see only two kids in the field and one is a girl so I think it’s going to be easy to find Caden and his brother. As we approach, the boy who looks about ten passes off the remote to the guy standing next to him then he rushes toward us.
“Sully,” he yells.
“Hey, Brayden.” Lautner opens his arms and Brayden embraces him.
Sully?
Lautner didn’t mention it, but I notice Brayden has Down Syndrome. He has the characteristic flat facial profile, upward slanted eyes, and protruding tongue. His speech is slightly impaired but not enough to cause any communication problems.
The guy with the remote walks our way with the plane in his other hand.
“Sully, my man.” He and Lautner perform an unusual series of handshakes. “And this must be Sexy Sydney.”
I raise a brow with a sideways glance at Lautner, whose jaw is clenched, lips set in a less than appreciative smile at his friend.
“I never called her Sexy Sydney.” Lautner shakes his head.
“True. But he did say you’re the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. I coined the term Sexy Sydney, and look at you, rightfully so. I’m Caden by the way.” He holds out his hand and I return a firm shake.
Sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on? Crap! I’m in trouble.
“Nice to meet you. You’re the first of Sully’s friends that I’ve met.” I look to Lautner again.
“Sully’s my nickname.” He shrugs.
“Yeah, because his favorite movie is Monsters, Inc.,” Brayden adds enthusiastically.
I cock my head to the side with wide eyes. “Is that so?”
Lautner playfully messes Brayden’s hair. “If Brayden says it’s so, then it’s so. Brayden, this is my friend Sydney.”
“Sexy Sydney,” Brayden says it as if it’s my full name.
I roll my eyes, giving Caden a playful squint. “Nice to meet you, Brayden.”
“Bray, the sky’s not looking too promising. If you want to show off your aviator skills for Sully and Sydney, then we better get going.”
Brayden is quite good with controlling his plane. Lautner and I sit in the grass and watch while Caden supervises the path of the plane.
“His fine motor skills are amazing. He’s doing better than some of these adults out here,” I comment.
“Their mom is an occupational therapist, so he’s more advanced than most other Down Syndrome children his age. Brayden is a great kid. He’s the water boy for his school’s football team, and he has dreams of being a wide receiver someday.”
“Why wouldn’t he? Rumor has it he’s friends with a college legend.”
Lautner picks at the grass between us. “Someone’s been doing her homework or research.”
“Not this time. But Dr. Abbott sure knows your stats.”
“Yeah, well I’m sure he also gave you the speech about what a ‘disappointment’ I was to football fans when I chose med school over the NFL.”
“Why did you?”
“I thought I’d quit while I was ahead, and by my senior year my heart just wasn’t in it. I was behind in school…” he looks over at me “…because premed requires a lot of difficult classes, not because I flunked anything.” He nudges into my side.
I nudge him back, remembering my comment about his age.
“The money and fame aren’t worth the risk of early arthritis in my joints or possible brain damage. Don’t get me wrong, I love the game, but that’s all it is for me … just a game.”
My eyes scan his bare legs and I notice a faded scar along his right knee. I reach over and trace it with my finger. He tenses, his eyes following my finger.
“And this?”
“Torn ACL.” He doesn’t elaborate.
“Is that why you stopped playing?”
His eyes remain on my finger still tracing his scar. “It’s on the list.”
I bend down and press my lips to it. He sucks in a quick breath. Sitting up, I’m met with firm eyes and a tense brow. I take his hand and run his finger along my scalp just above my forehead. I let go of his hand, and he continues to feel the raised area of skin under the pad of his finger.
“Soccer injury?” he asks.
I shake my head and grin. “First time surfing.”
The sparkle returns to his eyes as he smiles and leans down to kiss my head.
“Brayden is done, so we’re taking off,” Caden says
as they approach us. “Besides it’s looking like the clouds could open up at any moment.”
The sky is getting darker. We both stand. Lautner gives Brayden another hug. “Great job today, buddy. Later, man.” He puts his hand on Caden’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “Remember, next weekend party at Sydney’s.”
I eye Lautner because we hadn’t actually had a discussion about a party, even though I did invite Dane to this supposed party when my sister comes next week.
“Looking forward to it. Nice to meet you, Sexy Sydney.” He grins and they walk away.
I turn and cross my arms over my chest. “So, Sully, why do I get this feeling that you and your buddy have spent a fair amount of time talking inappropriately about me?”
Lautner mocks me by crossing his arms over his chest. “Now why would you think that?”
A rumble of thunder distracts us from our standoff and with barely a moment’s notice we’re pounded by rain.
“Oh, shit!” I squeal.
Lautner grabs my hand and we make a mad dash for the vehicle. He’s shoving his hands into his pockets but coming up with nothing. I’m drenched. At this point I don’t know what the hurry is.
“My pockets are too damn wet. I can’t get my hands down in them to get the keys!” he yells. “Maybe you should try. You have smaller hands.”
“What?” I squint my eyes against the rain, looking up at him. He can’t be serious. They’re flipping cargo shorts for goodness sakes. They’ve got like … twenty pockets on them. Why wouldn’t he put the keys in one of the outer pockets on the legs instead of his hip pocket.
“Ugh! This is ridiculous,” I reply.
He holds his hands up in surrender. I shake my head and stick my hand down in one pocket.
It’s empty.
Then I stick it down his other pocket, but I can’t feel his keys.
“Maybe you should move it around a little more.”
What?
I hear the double beep of the doors unlocking. Looking up, I see the keys dangling from his finger and he has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.
“Why you son of a—”
He puts his finger to my mouth. “Now, now … that’s my mom you’re talking about.”
I swing open the door and slide in, slamming it behind me. If he didn’t already have the keys I’d lock his ass out. I’m soaking wet and water is dripping and pooling all over his leather seats.
Too damn bad!
He gets in and shakes the water from his head like a dog. I think it would take an act of God to wipe that smile off his face. “That was fun!”
I scowl at him and turn away.
“Buckle up,” he says.
I don’t budge.
“Sydney, come on. We’re not leaving until you fasten your seat belt.”
There’s no way in hell I’m acknowledging him right now. He leans across and tries to grab my seat belt. I ram my shoulder into him.
“What the hell?”
My response is a firm glare. Our faces are a breath away and the crackle of lightening surges untapped emotions that are charged and out of control. My angry eyes fall to his lips a split second before I claw my hands in his hair and pull him to me. I’m not asking. I’m taking. My demanding tongue reaches for his.
Heart pounding. Breath quickening.
My clenched fingers tingle with need, and my flesh burns for his touch. He grabs my waist with both hands and drags me onto his lap so my knees are bent straddling his. His eager lips continue to attack mine as his left hand fumbles the side of the seat. It inches back until it won’t go any farther. I move my hands to the hem of his shirt and claw at it. Tugging and pulling it until he leans forward allowing me to peel the heavy wet cotton off him. We break our kiss long enough to pull his shirt over his head. It slaps against the back seat as I toss it aside. My lips feel bruised and numb, but I don’t want him to stop. This craving is insatiable.
After a few moments, I sit back and we pause, completely breathless. My hands are aching to touch him, so I ghost my fingers down the bumps and curves of his firm, defined chest and abs.
“Lautner …” I whisper. “God, you’re so …” I’m not sure what the words are.
His hands are on my hips and he inches them up just enough that his fingers are skimming my abs. It’s a searing touch. I cross my arms and curl my fingers around the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. He adjusts his hips and the slight shift has his large erection straining against his shorts pressed between my legs. A slick warm sensation floods my core.
Lautner’s gaze fixes on my breasts. His hands skim up my sides and his thumbs trace the skin under my bra. The rise and fall of my chest escalates with building anticipation. His patience is agonizing. I watch his eyes as I unlatch my bra in the front. His eyes meet mine for a quick moment as his lips part and his tongue slides out to wet them. His gaze returns to my chest as I pull the pink satin and lace away from them.
“Sydney … they’re … fucking perfect.” His raw voice makes my nipples pebble as my skin craves his touch.
I’m waiting, eager for his next move. His hands are static, just hovering below my breasts. I feel him twitch between my legs. At last, both of his hands move up to my breasts.
“Ah … oh, Lautner,” I moan and close my eyes, arching my back. My breasts feel full and heavy in his large hands as he begins to knead them in his firm, sensual grip. A soft whimper escapes me when his thumbs graze my nipples. I sit up on my knees a little more and thread my fingers through his hair, pulling his head closer. He flicks his tongue over my nipple and my whole body jerks.
“Lautner! Oh my God!”
He flicks his tongue over my other nipple then sucks it into his mouth. My clenched fingers yank his hair harder. He releases a guttural growl. I sit down and devour his mouth. His hands continue to give my breasts the sweet torture I’ve been dying to feel. My core is engorged and on the verge of an orgasm. It’s almost painful. I start to grind against him and he grabs my hips, digging his fingers into my flesh.
“Christ, Sydney, what are you doing?” he groans into my mouth.
His firm grip stops my motions.
I don’t want to stop. I can’t stop. My fingers fumble with his pants. He grabs my hands.
“Sydney, stop. This is going too far.”
I brush my lips along his jaw and run my tongue down his neck. He tastes so good and my hunger for him is ravenous.
“Please … don’t stop.” I beg. I can’t believe I’m begging.
He brings my hands up and sets them on his shoulders. Then he unfastens my pants.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks.
His tongue swipes over my nipple again.
“Sometimes,” I breathe out.
He stills and pulls his head back. “Sometimes?”
I graze my nails along his shoulders. “Most of the time … except when I forget. Don’t you have a condom?” I can’t hide the agitation and neediness in my voice.
“Jesus, Sydney! No, I don’t have a condom.”
“Why not?” I sit back. My body is buzzing, heart pounding, and I’m breathless.
He rolls his eyes and sighs in exasperation. “Because I don’t make it a habit of having random sex in my car.”
Random sex?
My chest is bared to him, but it’s no longer sensual and erotic. I’m now nervous and aware of my exposed chest, and the shift in conversation is embarrassing. I pull my bra over my breasts and hook it.
Were we on the verge of having random sex? If so, does that bother me? I’ve known this guy for four days. Is it too soon? In the scope of what can only be a thirty day relationship, day four is like two months if we had a year. Most people have sex by the time they’ve been dating for two months. I mean, surely a guy buys a pack of condoms by the second month, right?
I grab my shirt and put it on. It’s wet and cold, but that’s probably what my libido needs right now.
“You’re right. We need to
slow down.” Lacking any sort of grace, I maneuver myself to the passenger seat.
Lautner reaches back and snatches his shirt. As I put on my seat belt he rests his hand on my leg and squeezes it.
“Are we good?”
No, we’re not good.
I feel like a total hussy for throwing myself at him. He must think I travel around and sleep with random guys. God, I can’t believe I stooped so low as to beg him to have sex with me. I was pleading. Could I be anymore pathetic?
With a quick sideways glance, I smile and give him a single nod. The ride home is uncomfortable. We didn’t say much on the way either, but the air wasn’t thick with uncertainty and insecurity. The rain has let up by the time we pull into the drive. I leap out of the vehicle before he gets it in park.
“Sydney?” he calls chasing after me.
I’m shivering in my cold, wet clothes, and my fingers won’t cooperate as I fumble to get the key in the lock.
“Sydney?” Lautner clutches my arm and turns me around. “What’s wrong? I thought we were good?”
I jerk out of his grip. “I lied. We are not good! I feel like a complete idiot. I’m embarrassed … and … angry … and …” I whip back around and unlock the door then slip in the house and slam it behind me, locking it with quick fingers.
He pounds on the door. “Come on, Sydney. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do? I’ll go get some condoms.”
The nerve—
I lean to my left and shoot him my most menacing death glare through the window. “Go. Away!” I march upstairs without looking back.
CHAPTER FIVE
June 7th, 2010
Greetings, monthly friend. I stand by my belief that I had every right to be upset with Lautner yesterday. However, I will concede that my reaction may have been a little … extreme. The tinge of blood on my panties this morning may be a plausible explanation. It’s 5:30 a.m.—too early—but I can’t sleep. The dull pain between my legs has me awake so I might as well take Swarley for a walk before his breakfast. Exercise seems to help my situation. I also would like to avoid a certain vet who conveniently jogs by the house between 6:30 and 7:00 every morning. In fact, given my current state, mixed with yesterday’s embarrassing fiasco, I declare the next five days men-free.
