by Inez Kelley
“You,” she answered honestly. Lust trampled down the barriers between her brain and her body and gave voice to her innermost thoughts. “I’m wondering why you haven’t tried to kiss me since I walked in the door.”
“I can fix that right now.”
His lips were gentle but insistent. His tongue slipped between her lips and she sighed. It was like coming home. It felt so right, so perfect it was nearly painful. Every nip, every lick, every nibble was like a firebrand, marking her as his. She opened herself and basked in his attentions, giving as much as she received. Her pebbled nipples ached with want and her nether lips grew slick with cream.
Dear Gawd, thank you for the invention of foreplay. Sincerely, Frannie.
Whispering her name, he sank his hands into her hair and pulled her closer. His chest was a wall of stone and she arched, thrusting her breasts against it. Delicious currents zinged through her tight nipples. His mouth shuddered under hers at the contact and she grew intoxicated with his taste, with his touch. She needed more. Straddling his hips, she pressed her heaving chest against his again and deepened the kiss to a level she never thought possible. Under her control, he let her take until her breath rasped out in loud pants. His hands raked up her back, down her spine, across her hips and up to her tummy. She leaned back slightly and his fingers danced over the soft flesh of her stomach. It wasn’t enough.
Desperate to feel more of him, she pulled at his shirt until he ripped it over his head and tossed it somewhere behind him. He reclined deeper into the couch and brought her body more firmly to his. Capturing his lips once more, she slid her silk-covered breasts across his chest, delighting in the puckering male nipples. He groaned into her mouth. He didn’t seem bothered by her small-bustedness and it strengthened her confidence.
The air licked at those apple-sized breasts when he parted her blouse and trailed hot kisses down her neck. The slight scrap of lace hiding her flesh from him became an instrument in his play as he tongued a throbbing tip through the white fabric. A moan sliced through her and escaped into the room. A sharp tug of his hair drew his mouth back to hers. Using his fingers, he rolled each nipple through her demi-bra cup, plucking passion from her like a harpists plucks a tune. Hard thighs and a harder cock bit into her flesh and she unabashedly circled her hips, riding him through his zipper.
He bucked beneath her and a pure feminine power flooded her veins. Hands braced against his chest, she scooted farther back, closer to his knees and pried her lips from his. He opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut when her fingers found his fly. Onyx eyes locked with hers and her tongue trailed across her kiss-swollen bottom lip.
The button of his jeans popped like a cork and the sound reverberated in the room. There was no other sound except for the crackle of the fire and the ragged catch of his breath. Frannie watched him fight for control and grew drunk with her own lust. Her fingers found the metal tab and each tantalizing slow downward click of the zipper tested his restraint. Wantonly licking her lips, she relished his jaw’s clench. She slowly parted each side of his opened jeans. Muscles twitched along his cheek but he didn’t move, letting her take him to wherever she wanted to go.
His cock lay buried beneath blue cotton underwear, pushing for release. She slipped off his lap and knelt between his spread legs, laying her body against his. Her lush body touched every inch of his exposed burning skin. The small peaks of her covered nipples bit into his hard chest and her bare stomach pressed against his, hinting at how sweet flesh on flesh could be. His growing erection strained against her tweed skirt, urging her to free it.
Without warning, his arms crushed her to him. His mouth was frantic, his tongue trying to taste every crevice in her mouth. She pulled back again. Agony painted his face, his hand trailing in her hair as if he didn’t want to let her go. She sank to her knees and Jinx groaned in anticipation. Seated between his legs, she slid her hands up his calves, over his thighs, on each side of his gapped pants. The firelight bathed him in dancing hues of orange and gold, highlighting his unbridled arousal. Her mouth found the dip of his navel and made his stomach quiver. Heat emanated from his crotch and she teased her tongue along the blue elastic band.
Sinking his hands into her hair, he pulled her up gently until she left a wet hot trail from his stomach to his chest. Her sharp teeth nipped at his left nipple and a shocked intake of breath ripped through him. With an arduous growl, Jinx hauled her back to straddle his lap. He shoved his hands up her skirt, gripped her ass and pulled her against him. Her wet panties crashed against his cock. She gasped into his mouth at the fire building within her. She rocked on his throbbing sex, her clit pounding with need.
They feasted on each other’s mouths, trading fire for fire as the desire built to a fevered pitch. His hands kneaded her ass, stroking her against him. His steel glided over her wet core, teasing her. Larger and harder, her clit grew as she rode him. I’m going to come. The realization stunned her and she circled her hips to get even closer to him, to nudge the nub into its release.
The phone rang, its tone loud and jarring, breaking into the cocoon surrounding them.
Pulling her lips a hair’s breadth from his, she stared into his eyes. His heart thudded in time with hers. They exchanged the same labored, lust-filled breath. Like an endless night sea, his eyes pleaded with her. Don’t answer it.
Frannie struggled with indecision. She sat on his lap, her skirt up around her waist, her blouse unbuttoned, ten seconds from an orgasm that promised to be earth-shattering. The phone rang again.
Did she answer the phone or did she move from love interest to lover?
{
Too much caffeine combined with a small bladder and a frigid winter morning did not make an enjoyable experience. Frannie pressed her thighs closer together. Damn, I have to pee. She buried her hands under her thighs and did a little seated dance, peering out over her steering wheel. Snow had completely transformed the world into a picture-perfect wonderland. Smoky exhaust streamed from her parked car and she jacked the heater up a notch trying to stay warm. A strong cramp hit and she tightened her butt muscles. Damn you, where are you, Jinx? I really have to pee!
She could admit it. She was grumpy. Sexually frustrated is more like it.
She had no one to blame but herself. When she answered the phone last night, shattering the sexual heat that had raged between them, Jinx had dropped his head back against the couch and blew out a frustrated sigh. She wrapped her opened blouse across her exposed body while Tracey rambled, taking some small satisfaction in watching Jinx zip his pants with difficulty. Lust still blazed in his eyes as he reached for his shirt. It burnt her. It would have been so easy to drop the phone and throw herself into his arms.
But she hadn’t and he had left before she hung up, leaving only a chaste kiss on her brow and an unspoken promise of later. Under a pulsating shower she had reached a solitary unsatisfactory orgasm then tossed and turned most of the night.
Oh, don’t think about running water!
Jinx wanted her to stop by early to help prepare for his dinner party so here she was, dying to pee in the freezing cold. Now where the hell was he? Scanning the empty, icy street for the tenth time in as many minutes, she bounced up and down in her seat.
Oh, screw this. What’s good for the goose is sauce for the gander. She thrust open the door and sprinted up the drive. She hopped from one foot to the other as she shoved her hand into his small door-side mailbox. When she found the taped key, she pried it loose and turned the lock with a loud, cold click.
“Jinx? Hello?” Her voice echoed into the empty cavern of his living room. The ceiling soared twenty feet above her head in a sharp pitched angle. A row of floor-to-ceiling windows was bisected by a cut-stone fireplace hearth that screamed elegance. Not bothering to look further, she hurried through an open dining room. There had to be a bathroom somewhere.
The soles of her boots clicked on tiled floors before she found a half bath off a laundry room the size of h
er kitchen. She barely made it before wetting her pants. She washed her hands and reentered the eerily quiet kitchen and smiled. Jinx had left a newspaper scattered across the speckled granite counter top, as well as a coffee cup and the crumbs from some toast. An empty orange juice box made her think he drank it straight from the carton.
She shed her coat and hooked it on the back of a tall bar stool and went exploring. Attached to the kitchen was a formal dining room with a gleaming table for eight. Her face shone in the polished surface, making her wonder if it had ever been used. The chandelier sparkled in the harsh morning sun, sending prisms of light across the deep cherry finish. The living room, now that her eyeballs were no longer floating, seemed very masculine. Like a gentleman’s club, with its heavy furniture and brass accents, it oozed grandeur. It was pristine with not a speck of dust or personalization around. Even the fireplace was dust free and swept to picture-perfect cleanliness. The logs beside it dared not shed any bark.
Frannie fingered her lip in confusion and ventured down the hall. Does he even really live here? The next room answered her question.
The master suite was huge and Jinx had definitely been here. Crumpled in a heap beside the rumpled king-size bed were the clothes he had worn last night. The dresser top held loose change, a few pens, a set of keys and several folded pink message slips. Socks spilled out of an opened drawer. His unique scent lingered in the air and the room felt like a home. From the hallway, she turned to the left. A huge den held his monster-sized TV and audio equipment. On a wall-sized computer desk, two flatscreen monitors displayed screen-saver balls bouncing out of rhythm. For someone whose company’s opposed to technology, he sure has a lot of it.
The house reflected his confusing personality. Its formal grandeur hid the slob who left towels in a heap on the bathroom floor, like his outward face hid his down-home normalcy. Was he like the architectural elegance of the living room or was he the everyday TV room with the stray popcorn kernels in the seat cushions?
Her attention was snagged by a long narrow shelf holding treasured family photos. Frannie easily picked out his parents and siblings. One old photo showed a family of four adults with a dark-haired imp peeking from behind his father’s shoulder. Jinx was an adorable child. Happiness and mischief beamed in his bright face.
A small frame shoved in a corner showed a younger Jinx, thinner and on the brink of manhood, with his arms around a blond girl who should have been modeling shampoo. A prom picture, judging from the cardboard background and the girl’s formal dress. Two other pictures showed the couple in later years, each grown into the promise of their youth. They had apparently been together a long time. Who was she?
Touching the picture, Frannie sighed. Whoever she was, she was beautiful. This was the type of woman Jinx deserved, the type he would be content with throughout his life. His type deserved models who ate nothing but lettuce, debutantes who lunched and volunteered, American princesses who wore the latest Paris fashion. Not some bland, brainy accountant who made meatloaf and had a narcoleptic cat.
“So I like beautiful women. You make it sound like a crime, Fran. There’s only so much vanilla a man can stand when the world’s filled with thousands of exotic flavors.”
Her chin shot up in defiance at Mark’s memory and she pulled herself away from the photo shelf. That picture decided things for her. She wanted to grab what happiness she could before he left. She hoped Jinx had eaten his Wheaties along with that toast this morning because tonight she planned to give him an erotic workout.
{
Shoulder pressed to the doorframe of the laundry-slash-mudroom, arms folded in peaceful contemplation, Jinx watched Frannie. Oblivious to his return, she lay flat on her back on his island countertop. Her knees bent, one delicate foot bounced in rhythm as she softly, and off key, sang along with her iPod. First she sang “Sweet Home Alabama”. When she broke into a chorus of “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot he fought a laugh. He liked Frannie when she was being silly. Unguarded, she had no inhibitions and held nothing back, letting the music dictate her actions. Her butt wiggled and her shoulders shimmied in a private horizontal dance. With a low chuckle, he kicked off his shoes and tiptoed toward her. He crept beside her and grabbed her knee.
Frannie let out a strangled cry, kicked out and her heel connected solidly with his nose. Head knocked back, Jinx saw the blood fly before searing pain darkened his vision.
“Damn! Frannie, it’s me.”
“Oh my Gawd, don’t do that!” She ripped the earphones from her ears and jumped off the counter, her face a curious mixture of shame, irritation and concern.
“Don’t do what, bleed on the floor?” His sarcasm was muffled by the hands cupped against his nose. He reached for a paper towel but Frannie was faster. A dishcloth lay on the counter. She snatched it and pressed it to his face then guided him to the barstool. With her hand behind his neck, she tilted his head back. His pain ebbed away but her outrage was still vibrant.
“What in the hell were you thinking? Never sneak up on a woman like that. We freak out.”
“No shit,” he sneered.
Her lip curled sarcastically upward and she pushed on the cloth harder. The sharp stabbing pain returned and his eyes watered. “Ow! Are you trying to break my nose?”
“Sorry.”
Through blurry eyes, he saw her face soften. Her fingers left his neck and stroked his hair above his collar. The feel of her touch, caring and soothing, distracted him, removed the sting. It made him feel cherished, special and totally loved. At this moment, every smidgeon of her attention was focused on him. The simple act touched him in a powerful way and was worth every drop of blood.
After a peek beneath the dish cloth, she smiled. “It’s stopped bleeding. Let’s see it.”
Jinx pulled the cloth away. She stared, turning her head this way and that, looking at him from all angles. Water rushed with a loud echo in the still room as she wet the cloth corner and wiped at his sticky nose and lip.
“There. The blood’s all gone. It doesn’t look broken. How does it feel?”
“Fine.” He swallowed, unable to say more. Curling his hands around her hips, he pulled her to stand between his knees.
She laid the bloodied towel aside and circled his neck with her arms. “I’m sorry. You scared me. I didn’t hear you come in and just lashed out.”
“That’s the second time you have drawn blood.” His chest rumbled with the depth of his voice and he cocked one eyebrow. “Don’t you want to kiss and make it better?”
With a small exasperated shake of her head, she smiled and leaned toward him. Her lips grazed the tip of his nose. He pulled her close and took her mouth in his.
As he drank in the taste of her kisses, his cock leapt into awareness. Last night she had tempted him, teased him, taunted him. If the damned phone hadn’t rung, he would have pulled her panties aside and buried himself inside her. When she slid away, his libido had roared in protest. She had wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could feel it. Taste it. Smell it.
Just the feel of her firm breasts touching his chest now did amazing things to him. Her fingers in his hair felt like tiny electric currents, zapping him, sending shockwaves down his spine. Her tongue skated across his teeth before diving into his mouth. After one last hard kiss, she laid her head on his shoulder and pressed tight to him. He knew she felt how hard he was growing. Her hips were planted snugly against him.
“We need to talk about last night.” Though soft and quiet, her words held awesome power and his breath froze. That didn’t sound good.
“Okay. Let’s talk.”
She pulled back to look directly into his face and bit her lip. Her fathomless brown eyes, so much like smooth southern whiskey, stared into his soul. A voracious thirst consumed him and he craved the blissful oblivion of her love. Please believe, Frannie. Her fingers walked up his chest, crossing his pounding heart, where a few drops of drying blood rested. She looked so serious.
Uh-oh.
“Things kind of got out of hand. I—we need to slow down a bit.”
Jinx mentally heard an old-fashioned record slam to a stop, skriiiitch, its needle grating across the grooves. Slow down. She wanted to slow down. As in slow down. As in slow. Down.
“Slow,” he repeated as his balls sank in stunned rejection. He was so damned hot for her he could pop and she wanted to slow down?
Before he could say anything more, his heart stood up and smacked him in the head—both of them. If she needed slow, then slow is what she would get. He had the rest of his life to make love to her. The prolonged delay before the first time would make it much sweeter when he finally delved into her.
“Slow is good. We can go as slow as you want.” He hoped he sounded convincing. Although he didn’t want to push her too fast, it didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed. He foresaw a lot of frigid showers in his future. Her beaming smile was almost enough to make him feel better. Almost but not quite. “I’m glad you used the mailbox key. How long have you been waiting?”
Glancing at the microwave clock, Frannie calculated. “Oh, about three hours now.”
“Three hours? Damn, Frannie, when I asked you to come over early I didn’t mean the asscrack of dawn. I must have just missed you. I left a bit after seven.”
“Yeah, I wondered where you had gotten to. I figured maybe you had another girlfriend and stayed over at her place.”
He started to protest but the stiffness she had to force into her lips to hide her smile must have given her teasing away. His brows almost met in the middle from an exaggerated frown but he could not maintain the pretense. One long finger tapped her on the nose as he laughed. “Of course not. I went to the gym early and then had a few errands to run. I thought I’d be back sooner but traffic’s a bitch.”
“Hmm, ’tis the season, you know,” Frannie murmured absently, dismayed how pleased she was he hadn’t been with another woman. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her until she used it to bait him. She had no rights to him, told herself she didn’t want them. Still, his denial had sent waves of joy through her. Her relief should have scared her. It might have if she took enough time to examine it. Instead, she changed the topic.
