Dead End Road

by Lori Whitwam

  “I don’t think so. I’m not sure why I had tequila at the Shamrock. Should’ve stuck to beer.”

  “What about coffee? Tea?”

  “Coffee’d be good.”

  Abby set the coffee brewing, and put a mug of water in the microwave with a lemon teabag. After the day she’d had, she didn’t think excessive amounts of caffeine jangling her nerves would be wise. And she didn’t think she’d need any extra assistance to stay awake tonight. Not considering how hot Seth looked stretched out on her couch, flipping channels on the television.

  While she waited for the coffee, she read her mother’s note. It included specific instructions for reheating the chicken and noodles in the oven, but Abby mentally disregarded them. Why would she waste time on the oven when she had a perfectly good microwave? The note also included information about Dilbert’s whereabouts, which was helpful. With the rain pelting the French doors, she’d begun to worry about him.

  “Mom says Dilbert’s over at Walt and Trudy Nygaards’.”

  “Inside, I hope,” he said, thumb still on the remote control.

  “Yeah. Trudy called and told her he was on their screen porch with a fresh bone. He’ll most likely stay the night.” She poured the coffee, remembering from the morning—had it really only been this morning?—Seth took his with cream and no sugar. She added honey to her tea and joined him in the living room. She was pleased to see the movie where he either stopped flipping or the batteries died was a comedy she’d seen many times. She didn’t need any more horror or drama in her day. After a sip from her Deadlines Amuse Me mug, she set it down and sank back onto the couch.

  “This is where I’ve wanted to be all day,” she sighed.

  “Me too. This morning we thought we’d have the whole day to ourselves.” He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck.

  Abby glanced out the French doors and assessed the level of sunlight still detectable through the rain-laden clouds. “It’s not quite over yet, thankfully.”

  “No. And you’re forgetting the best part.”

  “Which is?”

  “We also have all night.”

  The mere thought made her stomach surge in the best possible way. She melted into his kiss and let all the stresses of the day melt right along with her. It was surprisingly easy. The cloud-shrouded light and the steady hiss of the rainfall, combined with the barely audible sound track from the television created a soothing sense of total isolation.

  The jeans she wore were far less convenient than her yoga shorts, but Abby didn’t want to waste time changing. Seth deftly unhooked her bra, and she used her favorite trick to slide the straps down her shoulders and pull the undergarment off through her sleeve. She dropped it to the floor, then had a thought. “Hey, make sure I pick that up,” she mumbled against his lips. “You know. In case Mom comes by tomorrow.”

  “She’ll probably make a point to check the couch cushions after this morning.”

  “I’m not letting her in unless she brings croissants.”

  Seth laughed softly and pulled her closer, his hands performing wondrous acts beneath her shirt. She unfastened the button on his jeans, tugged down the zipper, and dipped her hand inside. She readjusted him into what she hoped was a more comfortable—and definitely more accessible—position, and was delighted to feel him become even thicker and harder in her hand.

  “Darlin’, one thing about tonight,” he murmured.

  “What’s that?”

  “Tonight, we linger.”

  “I’m a big fan of lingering.” She knew exactly where she wanted to start. She drew her fingers lightly up his ribs, catching his shirt and taking it off over his head. Allowing her lips to drift slowly across his cheek, she kissed the warm, musky spot just below his ear, and spent a moment letting her lips and tongue toy with his earring. It was so entertaining she moved to his other ear and repeated the process.

  She trailed kisses down his neck, past the prickly rasp of razor stubble, and tasted the hollow of his throat above his silver chain. She delighted at the vibration of his hungry growl on her tongue.

  As she moved further down his body, she discovered he’d grasped the hem of her shirt, and her progress was causing it to ride up her back. She straightened her arms and allowed him to whisk the shirt off to join the growing laundry pile. She pressed her skin to his, reveling in the sensation, and kissed her way to the center of his chest.

  There was a lot to be said for lingering, but there was also a lot to be said for moving along. On that note, she meandered from the light covering of hair on his chest toward the thinning line guiding her downward. She had purposely kept her hands on his torso following her earlier detour to assist him with his jeans. Now, though, she needed to make further, more significant, adjustments.

  Before she totally committed herself, she glanced up at his face. The intensity of his gaze sparked. She wondered if he was beginning to think lingering was overrated. He looked as if he’d like to throw her over his shoulder, toss her on the bed, and forget all about taking their time. Not that she’d object, but she really, really wanted to finish what she’d started.

  She’d see how long he’d let her linger.

  She slithered to the floor, and an instant later he kicked his shoes under the coffee table. His socks followed suit, and she prodded him to lift his hips so she could edge his jeans and boxers out of the way. The laundry pile was reaching Everest-like proportions. As were other things. Excellent.

  Now she had him naked—at long last—and allowed her eyes to make a quick but incredibly scenic tour up his body. The flat, firm planes of his abdomen stretched before her, but in the immediate foreground was a rigid, tongue-tempting form demanding her prompt attention.

  His hands clenched, his blunt fingernails making a scratching sound on the sofa upholstery. “I can’t reach you.”

  “Reach me later. I’m occupied.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Lingering.” He managed to inject a note of wonder into his hoarse comment.

  Abby brushed her hands up his thighs and over his hips as she leaned toward him. Her proximity brought her breasts in contact with his thighs, and they tingled at the sensation of the light, coarse hair they encountered. She applied a feathery brush of her fingertips up his length and saw his stomach muscles contract. Whether it was taking pity or showing no mercy, she finally allowed him the touch of her tongue, but she started at the juncture of his legs, savoring the velvety skin. Only then did she work her way upward.

  He watched her every move, and she knew it. She wanted him to. She needed him to. She loved knowing he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her tongue swept up him from base to tip, and she marveled at the sensation of soft, hot flesh over the powerful hardness beneath.

  She swirled her tongue around the ridge below his apex, allowing him to see the moist tip of her tongue and the glistening trail it left in its wake. She licked her lips, and swept them across his crest, gathering the creamy droplets beaded there. He shuddered and cautiously brought his fingertips up to comb through her hair. She took note of his reaction every time she touched or tasted him in a new way, filing the information away so she’d always be able to recall exactly what he liked best.

  Her lips parted, and she drew him in as slowly as she could bear. Her own arousal was reaching critical mass, and the need to abandon her jeans was almost maddening. She took more of him into the wet heat of her mouth, swirling her tongue firmly over the sensitive glans. A little more deeply, a little more pressure, a little more moisture, a little more stroking of her hand, until he was fully seated at the back of her throat. Her lips wrapped around the girth of his base, brushing the wiry thatch of hair surrounding it.

  His fingers gripped her hair more tightly, but she didn’t mind. She withdrew, almost allowing him to glide free of her mouth, before clutching him firmly with one hand and sliding her lips down over him again. While he filled her mouth, she used her tongue to massage him, swallowing his taste. She retreated again, giving him the op
portunity to enjoy the sensuous sight of her lips, teeth and tongue as she devoted her full attention to pleasing him.

  He grew even thicker and more rigid, and she detected the occasional tremble from the muscles in his thighs. She began moving more quickly and forcefully, reveling in the lush, swollen sensation in her lips.

  His hands left her hair abruptly and grabbed her hands where they rested on his hips. “Abby, I need you. Now.”

  She sat back on her heels and licked the moisture from her lips. “No more lingering?”

  He let out a laugh that was almost a cough. “Lingering might have been the worst fucking idea I’ve ever had.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, testing it for tenderness, as she stood. She peeled down her jeans and pink lace bikinis and climbed on the couch to straddle him. She knew she was soaking wet and ready, and an exploratory caress from his fingers confirmed it. She draped her arms across his shoulders, bent to kiss him, and eased herself down on him until he filled her completely. She was still for a moment, then began rocking against him, not withdrawing, but creating friction and pressure of a different kind. His hands found her breasts and teased the already-erect nipples to even tighter, nearly painful peaks before he took one, then the other, into his mouth. He worked magic similar to what she had just performed between his legs, and she thought she might shatter into her individual molecules from sheer pleasure.

  Seth pulled her tightly against his chest and buried his face in her hair. “Darlin’, I’m voting we move to your room. I have this image of you under me, your hair across the pillow, and if I don’t see it in the next fifteen seconds I’ll lose my mind.”

  She started to rise up on her knees in preparation for separating herself from him, but he stopped her. One arm around her back and one under her bottom, he hoisted them both from the couch without breaking their intimate contact, and carried her into the bedroom.

  Seth placed a knee on the bed and eased them down, still buried inside her. She settled on the pile of pillows with him above her and lifted her face to receive his kisses. She lost herself in their rhythm. She twined her legs tightly around his, but soon shifted them higher, around his waist, as high as she could so he could plunge even deeper. As the thrusts intensified, she imagined it would be somewhat painful if it didn’t feel so incredible.

  The tension at her core built until it could no longer be contained. Bursting, fragmenting, a bright prism of sensation engulfed her. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she pulled him to her, burying her face in the curve of his neck.

  The intensity of her climax took him over the edge as well. The feeling of him so deeply inside her, straining and pulsing, as he whispered her name extended her own pleasure beyond anything she’d ever believed possible.

  They lay on top of the comforter instead of in the tangled, sweaty sheets they’d envisioned earlier, but Abby didn’t mind. First priority at the moment was to get her breathing and heartbeat steady. They collapsed on their sides, facing each other, still joined.

  “I…You…” Seth had not yet completely regained control over his breathing.

  “Real poetic in the afterglow department, are we?” Abby teased, licking the tattoo on his shoulder.

  “I think you destroyed my power of speech.”

  “Maybe it’ll come back.”

  “I sure as hell hope so, because I have a lot of things to say to you.”

  They rearranged themselves into positions more conducive to recovery, though the caresses they shared suggested recovery would soon lead to further exertion. Abby listened to the rain on the roof, and thought she had never been more content than she was at that moment.

  After a while, Abby pulled back the comforter and they slid beneath it. Their combined moisture rushed between her legs, and decided she didn’t care one bit about the condition of the sheets or the comforter.

  Seth’s touch became bolder, and Abby pressed her body against his.

  “Just so you know, there’s going to be more lingering,” Seth said, one hand gently parting her thighs.

  “I thought you were done with lingering.”

  “This time I’m going to be the one doing it.”

  By the time they were both spent, she was starting to think perhaps she should have objected. At this rate, it would take a week before she could sit up, let alone stand. She was a sweaty, exhausted, limp puddle of utter satisfaction. Then again, looking at Seth, she could easily imagine rewinding to around the time she took off her bra, and enjoying the entire experience all over again. Soon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seth

  Seth replayed the evening’s activities in his mind and began devising variations to be acted upon as soon as he could manage. “I think I’m dehydrated.”

  “I’m not apologizing,” Abby said, running her hand across his chest.

  “Not complaining. Just making an observation.”

  “Your coffee’s probably cold by now, but the pot’s still on if you want some.” Her hand migrated from his chest to his stomach, and if she went any lower his dehydration would rapidly reach clinical levels. And he wouldn’t mind a bit.

  “I was thinking maybe some IV fluids.”

  “I’m fresh out, but there’s plenty of Coke in the fridge, thanks to Mom.”

  “It would require getting out of bed. And walking.”

  Abby laughed. “Yeah, it would.” She withdrew her hand, something about which he had extremely mixed feelings, and rolled over. “But I’m going to have to get up anyway, at least for a while.”

  “As long as it’s only for a while. What do you have to do?” He raised himself on one elbow as Abby swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. He immediately had impulses to nibble her right in the perfect curve where her thigh met her ass, and to grab her by the waist and pull her back into bed. Since he couldn’t make a decision, he did neither and just watched her walk across the room and pull a pair of shorts and a top out of the dresser.

  “I remembered I was supposed to send my editor the revised synopsis for the third book. Yesterday. I probably have a dozen e-mails from her, threatening to come out here with a cattle prod if I don’t stick to my deadlines. I haven’t even turned on the computer since yesterday morning.”

  He gave himself a mental head slap. “Guess I forgot just because I’m on hiatus doesn’t mean other people don’t have work to do.”

  “It won’t take long. I just have to read over it and send it. I might get some writing in tomorrow. Or the next day.”

  “Now that you mention it, I should send some sort of announcement to our website manager. He’s probably getting tons of messages from people who heard about what happened.” In fact, if he didn’t take care of it pretty soon, Victor would most likely join Abby’s editor in the cattle prod brigade.

  Abby flipped her hair out of the neckline of her shirt. “If you want to grab something to drink, I’ll go fire up the computer and the laptop so we can get everything taken care of at the same time.”

  He was in favor of anything that took care of obligations so he could verify the amazing things she’d recently done with her tongue weren’t just wishful thinking. He rose and walked to the dresser where he took a pair of navy boxers from the pile of freshly folded laundry. This was all the clothing he intended to put on, in order to make its later removal as simple as possible.

  He followed Abby to the kitchen, where she selected a diet root beer from the refrigerator. He grabbed a Coke because he figured the sugar and caffeine would come in handy. Abby started up the stairs to the loft, and he detoured to the living room to turn off the television and make sure the doors were locked. They were. It was now full dark, and though the rain had slackened, it was still coming down steadily.

  “Oh, holy hell!”

  Abby’s shout sent a bolt of fear straight through him, and he ran for the stairs. He stumbled into the loft and found Abby staring around the room with wide, disbelieving eyes. Not a single deranged killer in a hockey
mask was to be found.

  “Jesus, Abby, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack! What’s the matter?”

  “Look!” Damned if she wasn’t hot even when she was screeching and waving her arms around.

  Seth looked. The loft was perfectly tidy, and he couldn’t see what the problem…Oh, wait. It was tidy. When he was up here yesterday, it looked like someone had turned it upside down and shaken it.

  “My. Mother.” It sounded like it took a great deal of effort to get those two words past her clenched teeth.

  “She cleaned. Isn’t that a good thing?”

  Abby swung around and stared at him incredulously. “She touched. My stuff. My. Stuff. She not only touched it, she moved it, and I’m willing to bet she threw some of it away!”

  Realizing he was not qualified to judge the enormity of Marilyn’s transgression, Seth retreated to the armchair and took a huge swallow of Coke.

  “My stacks are…stackier. The debris field has been cleared, and she even washed my ashtray. How am I supposed to work like this?” She whirled to face the whiteboard. “At least she didn’t erase the murder board. So I don’t have to put her name on it.”

  “Didn’t you have e-mail to check?” He hoped to get her back on task. The caffeine was kicking in, and he wanted her distraction-free.

  She took a deep breath and let it out with an exasperated growl. “Yes. Let me plug in the laptop for you.” She reached for the computer on the shelf by the printer, yanked a power cord from a desk drawer, and plugged it into an outlet near Seth’s chair. In moments it was chiming a welcome, and she logged in and brought up a web browser. “Do whatever you need to do. I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes or so.”

  Seth pulled up his e-mail, deleted a bunch of spam, and noticed at least three dozen e-mails from people with subject lines like “Are you okay?” and “What’s going on?” He ignored those for the time being. He sent a message to his webmaster briefly detailing the situation and giving him the standard press release to post to the band’s website. When he was finished, he sat back and enjoyed simply watching Abby at her desk. She kept grumbling about how it would take her weeks to get everything back the way she liked it, and he had to smile when she methodically elbowed a pile of file folders until it gave in to the forces of gravity and spilled across the desk.