In Over Our Heads

by CJane Elliott

  He pulled me against him like I was light as a rag doll and crushed his lips to mine, kissing me so thoroughly I was breathless. Now I truly was putty in his large, capable hands. If he had wanted to bend me over the table and fuck me raw, I would have gone willingly. Thankfully for the state of my ass, he led me around the corner to what he called the bedroom but was really just a large bed taking up an alcove divided from the rest by a curtain. Falling onto the mattress, we locked lips and ground together, and the friction of his cock against mine sent me spinning into orbit.

  I was pulled out of my bodily whirlwind when Walter stopped kissing and grinding and drew back. Murmuring protest, I followed him, seeking his warmth, wanting to lose myself in him again.

  “Anthony.”

  “Hmm?” I opened my eyes to find him staring at me solemnly and way too seriously. “What, love? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “Are you kidding me? I want this, you want this. We can figure out the rest of it later, mmkay? Now come here, you.”

  He laughed, and I hauled him against me, sealing our mouths together and letting my tongue play with his. I snuck a hand down his shorts to feel his buns. Oh my. They were way more muscular than they’d been twelve years ago. But we’d been such boys, neither of us having any idea what we were doing. I’d taken the lead only because I was always the impatient one, but even then he’d had a way of putting his hands on me with quiet command, grounding me, melting me. I’d never given myself over to anyone the way I did to him.

  Walter pulled his mouth away. “What’s wrong?”

  His voice brought me out of my memories, and I realized I’d gone still. I ran my hands along his back, savoring the warmth of his skin. “Nothing. I was just remembering things.”

  “What things?”

  “The way you made me feel.”

  He frowned, no doubt worried it was another bad thing he’d done. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, although I didn’t remember him taking them off. Gold flecks were scattered in the dark brown of his eyes. The essence of Walter, hidden to all but the closest observer. Walter was gold—an undiscovered treasure walking around with the rest of us ordinary jerks.

  I soothed the wrinkle between his eyebrows with a fingertip. “It’s good, silly. You made—uh, you make me feel like I can rest. I can let go, stop thinking, and just be. I can even fall apart and it’s okay!” I smiled at his puzzled expression. “See, usually when I get really upset, I’m spinning like a top, and when I get that worked up not even Jonny can calm me down. But you. You put a hand on me and my muscles go limp and I turn into goo.” He continued to stare at me in apparent bafflement. “Does that make sense?”

  “Um, it’s good, then?”

  I laughed. “Yes! It’s fabulous! Now, where were we? Sorry for the interruption.”

  Walter pulled me close and cupped my head, kissing my face all over with such reverent care I could have died. He started with my forehead, placing kisses in a precise line, moved to each eyebrow, then marched solemnly down my nose and over one cheekbone and then the other. His concentration was total, and by the time he reached my lips, all my snarky defenses had melted. Being loved by him was humbling.

  I opened my mouth to him and let him enter. He did so slowly, like he was on a scientific expedition. His tongue passed over mine, tantalizing my nerve endings, and he explored each part of the inside of my mouth as thoroughly as he had my face.

  I was hard and aching to be fucked—I had been since we’d first kissed on the beach. But letting Walter set the pace was giving me the most exquisite experience of time. Time to breathe in my emotions and savor his exploration. It seemed so easy to surrender to Walter. I should have found that odd, given he’d hurt me more than anyone else in my life. But I guess I’d grown tired of protecting myself.

  Walter completed his study of my mouth and moved his lips on a slow journey down my neck. Ahhh. It seemed he wasn’t going to rest until he’d visited every inch of me.

  “Wait,” I whispered, then sat up and took off my shirt and shorts. I reached for him, but he was already removing his clothes. His furry body did things to me, and so did his cock, jutting out of the dark nest of curls. It was bigger than I remembered—big and beautiful. Before I could get my hands on it, though, he laid me flat on my back and was continuing his steady tour of my body.

  “My God, but you’re thorough,” I breathed as his teeth grazed my collarbone, followed by a slow swipe of his tongue.

  “Mm” was his only reply.

  All I could do was surrender, again and again. As he teased one of my nipples, I ran my hands along his back, tickling the light coating of hair and lightly scratching with my nails. The boat rocked from another blast of wind as the storm outside made our bed into a sensual cocoon.

  After mouthing each of my hip bones, skimming his lips over my stomach, and dipping his tongue into my belly button, making me squirm and laugh, Walter became dastardly and skirted my cock altogether.

  “What?” My outraged squawk as he bypassed my dick and started down one of my legs had no apparent effect other than him patting my belly.

  Okay. Walter Elkins—the antidote for my impatience. And seeing as no one had ever traversed the skin on my thighs as ardently as he was doing, I relaxed yet again and gave myself over to the sensation. Fascinating to feel all the ways he found to caress me—like kneading my thigh muscle with his mouth, following each massage of his lips with a playful little bite.

  My cock leaked, but I was beyond caring if I ever got him inside. By the time he’d reached my feet, it was like Walter had already fucked every inch of my body—caressed it, made love to it, teased it, stimulated it.

  “Anthony?”

  His voice recalled me from whatever heavenly plane I’d been floating in, and I opened my eyes. He held my gaze from his perch down at my feet. I smiled to see him so.

  “Yes?” My voice was beyond husky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “What, my dear?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Want?” I shook my head to clear it. Oh. Oh. “I want you to fuck me, Walter.”

  His smile broke out before he could hide it. “Uh, okay. I can do that.” He shifted and hauled himself along the bed beside me, reaching toward a bedside table. Him having supplies at the ready surprised me somewhat, since he didn’t seem to be into casual sex, but it didn’t really concern me. Knowing Walter the Cautious, they weren’t past their expiration date.

  “Of course you can, you sexy beast.” I leaned over and kissed his chest and shoulder and arm—every part of him I could reach from where I was lounging on the coverlet. The effort was languid at best, since he’d reduced me to jelly. “You’re the master, and I’m your love slave. Mm, love the muscles in your shoulders. And your biceps? My dear, they’re to die for.”

  I would have nattered on dreamily and contentedly, but he turned from the table and looked at me. Looked. At. Me. And the words died in my mouth. How Walter had the power to turn a moment from frivolous to practically sacred, I didn’t know—but intense and single-minded purpose poured out of him as he gazed at me. And being the object of this pure attention rendered me speechless. I could only stare back, my cheeks heating.

  He juggled the lube and a condom in one hand and stroked the hair off my forehead with the other. “Relax.” The low command was hypnotizing—I relaxed, collapsed more like, lying flat on the bed with my eyes closed even though my body was quivering.

  Then came a long pause.

  “Anthony.”

  This time his voice held a hint of emotion, and I opened my eyes. He was poised over me, uncertainty tightening his jaw and clamping his lips shut. I sat up and put my arms around his neck, not needing him to say more. I knew when Walter was feeling insecure.

  “Walter. I want you. I want this. I… I don’t think I’ve ever stopped wanting you. It’s a frigging miracle we’re here together. So don’t worry about anything.”


  His dear eyes searched my face, his expression open and vulnerable. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. I trust you.” I smiled to break the tension. “So… are you going to get to work here, or what?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He got right to work in the best way possible, moving down my body and batting my hand away, the next moment taking my cock deep into his mouth.

  As I was engulfed with heat, I felt his finger probing at my entrance and squirmed with pleasure. “God, yes. More!”

  He gave me more. Much more of his finger and his mouth, until I was writhing and on the brink of coming.

  I grabbed his hair and gasped out, “Wait! I don’t wanna come yet!”

  Relenting, he pulled off. His proud little smile just about tore my heart out. So cute! “You ready for even more?”

  “Yes, love. So ready.”

  He put on the condom and slathered it with lube. Precisely, thoroughly. Shivering in anticipation, I let him push my legs back so my knees were up by my shoulders. When his head nudged my entrance, I bit my lip, then let out a sigh as he slowly breached me and pushed inside. This being Walter, I wasn’t surprised by his control as I adjusted around him.

  I’d always been more of a bottom than a top, and taking Walter’s cock up my ass was the ultimate. So huge, so hot, so fucking perfect. When he hit my sweet spot, I moaned and my eyes rolled back. But I opened them, not wanting to miss Walter as he leaned over me, face contorted with effort. I was about to tell him to let go, but he hit that spot again and I lost the ability to speak. Luckily he filled in.

  “You…. Jesus, you feel… perfect,” he said through gritted teeth.

  I huffed a laugh. “You too.”

  I was usually more chatty during sex, but being with Walter had me in awe that life had given us a second chance. Jonathan had been right—this was destiny. A wave of love overwhelmed me, and I almost blurted out those damning three words, but I caught myself. Too soon. Then Walter shifted inside me. I gasped, and he took hold of my cock, and I was done. I came, and came, and came some more, and finally lay limp, amazed at what Walter could unleash.

  He shuddered and let out the first real groan I’d heard from him, gripping my shoulders so tightly I planned to examine them for sexy bruises later, then collapsed on top of me. I let him squash me as our breathing returned to normal. A Looney Tunes smile stretched my cheeks, I was so happy to be flattened by Walter. Safe. Sheltered. Um, okay, and growing kind of breathless from his weight.

  “Hey,” I managed through my rapidly decreasing air supply. “You’re great. But you’re squishing me.”

  His eyes popped open. “Sorry.” He slowly withdrew, rolled off to one side, and gave me a dreamy smile. “You’re great too.” He leaned over to kiss me, then heaved a happy sigh.

  I waited for some negative reaction from Walter—a doubt, a question about what we’d just done. But… nothing. He kept smiling. He stretched like a contented kitty cat, then kissed me again. Then he stretched some more.

  I laughed.

  “What?” he asked as he removed the condom and tied it.

  “You. You just look so pleased.”

  “I am. Hold on, I’ll be back.”

  Still so boneless I couldn’t move, I watched his ass as he disappeared around the curtain. In a minute he was back with a washcloth and proceeded to clean me up, thoroughly and precisely. I sighed with my own sweet contentment.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “I could eat.”

  “I’ve got stuff for an omelet. Okay?”

  “Sure, sugar.” I kept waiting for something more. Shouldn’t we be having a conversation about whatever had just happened besides the great sex? Because, great sex aside, Walter and I were back together. Or were we? My mind buzzed as Walter bounded from the bed, pulled on his shorts, and went to the galley.

  The gentle rocking of the houseboat lulled me, but my thoughts were not so soothing. Walter and I had ended where we were inevitably headed as soon as I’d walked into his gin joint—in bed. Our sexual chemistry was undeniable. But what about the rest?

  Twelve years ago we’d been so young, and clearly one of us—with the initials W. E.—couldn’t handle being together. That was unfair, of course, given what a mess I was half the time. The odds on my handling a serious relationship that early in life were pretty slim. But now… here we were. Old—thirty was old, right? Mature. Having jobs and responsibilities. Living thousands of miles away from each other. Yeesh.

  Before I could get any more into my head, Walter called from the galley. “Anthony! Food’s ready!”

  I pulled on my pants and padded around the curtain. Walter was a gorgeous sight standing at the small stove, his furry chest on display. Yum.

  He turned, two plates in his hand, and a breathtaking smile lit his face when he saw me. “Hi. Have an omelet.” He thrust one of the plates toward me, then seemed to think better of it and, taking the one step he needed to reach the built-in table, set it down and put the other one next to it. “Let’s eat.”

  “They smell divine, doll. When did you learn to cook?” I sat on the bench rather gingerly. His forearms were distracting me. I was addicted to the black hair on those forearms.

  “I learned in grad school. Lived in an apartment by myself and got tired of carryout.”

  “And being a chemist, I bet you came up with all sorts of concoctions, yes? Hmm, I wonder what weird combinations you invented?” I cut into the omelet, which appeared to be a run-of-the-mill cheese one, and pretended to eye it suspiciously.

  He chuckled, but inside I was yelling at myself to cut the bullshit. I could spin this stuff twenty-four hours a day. Playing with words to create a pleasing effect was not only my livelihood, it was the way I’d survived anything negative, scary, or uncomfortable. I’d create a gossamer cloud of snappy phrases and get people to laugh. Oh, it had its merits. That’s how I’d reeled Walter in at seventeen when I was a gawky beanstalk with not much more going for me. But the real me behind the curtain wasn’t worth much, in my estimation.

  The self-disgust churning inside turned my bite of omelet into sawdust, and I set down my fork. “Walter.”

  “Yeah?” He, on the other hand, was shoveling down his food with gusto, still wearing that pleased little smile.

  “We have to talk.”

  “What about?”

  “What about?” I squawked. “About us! About what all this means. I mean, this isn’t casual, right? You don’t do casual. I’m the one who does casual. But I can’t with you. I can’t sit here and eat omelets and shoot the breeze like I usually would after a hookup, because you’re not a hookup! You’re Walter!” I was getting more and more agitated, and he was sitting there like a lump, smile replaced with a puzzled frown. “And I’m Anthony!” I practically screamed at him.

  “Okay. And?”

  “And? And? What are we doing here together? How did this even happen? I can’t believe the universe engineered this freaking act of destiny! I mean, I don’t believe in fairy tales—not for me. Jonny, yes. Other people, yes. But not me! So how come I’m sitting with you, the only guy I ever lo—um, really cared for, on the cutest houseboat in Key West, having just had the most incredible sex ever, and eating an omelet you made? How is this possible?” His befuddlement made me want to shake him. “You’re the scientist! Don’t tell me you believe in miracles.”

  “Miracles?”

  “Miracles! Because that’s what this is. It’s a miracle, damn it! And I don’t know what to do about it! Miracles don’t happen to me. Not me—Anthony the schmuck.” I clamped my mouth shut, trying to stem the flow of nonsense and sent him a wordless plea—help me!

  “Why not? You deserve miracles.” He lifted his chin in defiance of any argument.

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Because you’re Anthony, and you’re not a schmuck. You’re amazing.”

  “Wh-what?” I squeaked.

  Walter pinned me with a burning stare that engulfed me in fire, and said the n
ext words like a sacred vow. “You—Anthony Vallen—are amazing. One of a kind. A shining star. And the only one for me.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. Then laid my head on his shoulder, picked up my fork, and proceeded to eat every bite of his delicious omelet.

  Chapter THIRTEEN

  WALTER JOLTED awake and raised his head. Anthony made a protesting sound and snuggled closer to his side. He took in Anthony’s bedhead and smiled. A night having sex pretty much nonstop would do that. Then the wind howled and the houseboat rocked alarmingly, recalling Walter’s attention to what had woken him. It was still and dark inside as the boat creaked and shuddered. Outside sounded like… hell, it sounded like a hurricane out there.

  He scrambled out of bed. “What?” Anthony asked sleepily.

  “Go back to sleep.” Walter grabbed his phone. No battery? Cursing himself for forgetting to charge it the night before, he plugged it into his external charger, then gaped at the number of texts and voicemails since earlier that morning. Fucking God, what had happened? What was happening? He told himself to calm down. He knew what was happening. The hurricane must have veered to Florida.

  A few hasty steps took him into the living room, where he peered out the window. The sky was dark as night, but a disbelieving glance at the battery clock said it was already ten in the morning. Rain lashed against the glass while churning waves battered the marina. He needed to get Anthony out of there. Hurricane shutters were no guarantee against what could happen to a houseboat in an actual hurricane. Then he had to go secure the other boats. Why hadn’t he done it yesterday? He’d known a hurricane was threatening, even though all reports were that it had headed out to sea. How could he have been so careless?

  He opened his computer, but the wireless was down. That’s when he noticed the electricity was out. Grabbing his phone again, he tried calling Back Bay in the faint hope that someone was there tying down the boats. No answer. He called Cap’n Otto’s.

  Bootsie answered on the first ring. “Cap’n Otto’s.”