It had been spring then, too.
He picked up where he'd left off, with his mouth on hers. His lips skimmed and pressed hers. His tongue penetrated for a quick, hot lick. He danced his attentions along her jaw line and down her neck, causing her to arch her neck backward as she curved into the touch.
The seatbelt restraint abraded the crown of her head, just like it had that night. I'm not sixteen anymore. This wasn't a step to be taken with the joyous abandon of youth.
She caught her breath with an effort and pushed at his shoulders.
"Wait...I'm not--" She panted. Her mind swam. "This is going too fast."
He stopped, as requested. His panting joined hers in painting the windows with a glaze of condensation. In the semi-dark, his gaze reached for hers, but she kept her eyes averted.
"You're nervous," he noted. "Did I ever treat ye harshly?"
"Well, no."
He played with the zipper of her hoodie. The brush of his fingertips against the hollow of her throat brought a shiver.
"Are ye thinking I'd do so now?" he asked. When she hesitated, he tilted his head, as though curious. "I have no diseases or such. I'm safe to ride. Don't ye trust me, Kelly?"
All he asked for was her trust and, hell, she was a grown woman. She owned her own choices, for good and for bad. If she wanted to make out in the back seat of her car, then she could do so. She answered to no one...well, except cops, who could put a stop to the fun.
She checked the garage. No cops.
"Kelly?"
Now Joey sounded worried.
Dear God, how she loved this man. He was dangerous. She knew he would hurt her, however unintentional his actions. He'd break her heart when he left, whether he did so now or hours into the future. It was inevitable.
But it's Joey. My Joey! Here at last. Just like I prayed for and dreamed.
"You would never hurt me. I know that. Just a silly bit of nerves, that's all." She cradled his stubble-rough cheeks and brought herself against him.
This time, she was the aggressor. She pushed herself against his solid heat. He shuddered. His arm muscles bulged and tightened. She noted his strain-fisted hands, and how they opened with a reflexive pulse when she drifted hers down his chest and stomach. Those broad hands reached for her...then hesitated, as though concerned.
She nipped his chin, then canted her mouth over his. His opened. Their tongues touched, stroked, caressed. A groan rippled from his throat. His hands found her body. They stroked her shoulders and ribs. Her nipples tingled and tightened.
Ah, God, yes...
Her mind clouded from the sensual storm--his mouth tasting hers; his tongue caressing hers; his body taut and hot and strained; her body shuddering as the hurricane of impressions swept through her, body and soul.
He drew back and dropped his gaze to her chest. Watching all the while, he palmed a breast, weighed it and plumped it with his clever fingers. When he tweaked a tightened nipple, she jumped from the ignition of sparks that cascaded along her nerves.
A whimper escaped her.
He appeared mesmerized by the sight of his hand caressing her breast.
"So unbelievably beautiful." His voice had roughed with passion. "Still love those bodice-ripping books?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said, then made fists at the collar of her hoodie...and yanked.
The zipper raced down its railroad of teeth with a snappy hiss-zip. He tugged at the metal seam until the cotton fell all the way open. Cool air curled around her breasts. She squeaked. She hadn't put on anything beneath the hoodie other than her bra.
The cool air was a delicious shock.
Not as much as the feel of his hands pushing the hoodie from her shoulders. It fell into a lump at her hips. He yanked it from between her jeans and the back seat. Then he dropped it to the floorboard among her books, papers, and sneakers.
"Joey." She strove to sound condemning, but only managed breathless.
He returned his hand to her. A primal expression carved his face. "Aye, Kelly, it's me, your Joey."
He cupped her breast. Even through the satin and lace, the hot touch branded her flesh and stirred her blood. One thumb tip scraped a nipple, flicked it and played it in a tiny circle. She shivered and whimpered. Her hands tightened on his sweater-covered shoulders.
He stretched a bra cup away from her skin and pulled it down beneath her breast, then released it. Pushed and perked by the fabric, her breast gleamed above green fabric. The impudent nipple became so tight it hurt--so wonderfully.
Cold? No, not anymore. Hot... so hot... Dampness moistened the gusset of her panties.
His tongue went to work on her breasts. He traced arcane designs along her cleavage. She struggled for a coherent thought.
"Security might see us," she whispered.
"Then I'll have him fired," he murmured against her skin, occupied with his project.
She squeaked the protest. "You can't fire someone for doing his job. That's abusive. What if he's the only breadwinner in the family?"
"Then I'll have him promoted."
He brought his other hand into play. Removing it from the parcel shelf, he reached for the clasp between her shoulder blades. A twist of his fingers and the delicate garment dangled at her ribs and drooped from her shoulders.
He slipped both hands beneath the bit of green and cupped her breasts. A flick of his wrists knocked the bra away from her shoulders and onto his wrists. He let it droop away from them both. It joined her discarded hoodie on the floorboard.
He leaned forward and put his mouth to her breasts. There, he licked, lapped, kissed, nipped, with no part of her breasts--either of them--overlooked. With each curve, he paused to make a tiny nip and suckle. The contrasting impressions pushed her toward a brilliant abyss. Her head lolled against the parcel shelf as she gasped, dragging air into her lungs, dazed from the wondrous urgency that tightened her spine and clenched her womb.
Kelly cradled his head as he played his mouth over her, slipped her hands along the strong cords of his neck, and across the broad, brawny landscape of his shoulders and back. Desperate for the feel of his skin beneath her hands, she tugged at the heavy sweater.
Joey gave an audible groan and sat up. He dragged his sweater over his head and stripped it from his arms. Masculine muscles rippled beneath hair-dusted, tanned skin. She splayed her hands across the spectacular width of his muscled chest. His heart beat a rapid tempo beneath her palm.
"You must work out," she managed to gasp.
"Wrestling sheep," he murmured. "Those ewes get feisty."
Her laughter wrenched into a gasp when he pulled her close and they were again skin-to-skin for the first time in fifteen years. His arms were steel cables that tightened around her ribs; his hands warm blades of strength that flattened against her shoulder blades. The landscape of his muscled chest flattened her breasts; his chest hair a delicious tickle. His scent, equal parts spice and musk, filled her awareness and threw her consciousness into another magical place.
"Kelly, Kelly..."
She'd never forgotten the way he said her name when they made love. How could she have? The way it rasped from him like a plea, a prayer, a celebration, was a treasured memory.
He snapped open her jeans and slipped his fingers between the denim and the waistline of her panties. The zipper parted beneath his relentless push. He found her, damp and wanting, and stroked her. An earthquake trembled the fault line of her spine, the epicenter of its intensity the small point he found with his thumb...and stimulated to further heights with a circular caress.
He worked the elastic leg band aside and found the puff of hair shielding her intimate flesh. His fingers traced the cleft then, with a twist of his wrist, he pressed between her pussy lips. One finger--two--probed her, then slipped inside.
She clenched around the invaders. Lights sparkled behind her eyes as he pushed deep.
Now it was her turn to moan his name.
"So wet, so sweet... my
Kelly..." he murmured with a groan.
He rocked his fingers inside her, caressing her from within. The lush sound of her eager body's welcoming clench joined the duet of murmurs, gasps, and wet, desperate kisses. She rode the waves of delight and humped his fingers. They worked inside her, touching ultra-sensitive nerves long unused, his thumb restless on her clitoris, spinning her higher...higher...glory so close...not yet close enough...
"Joey!"
He froze, every muscle hard and trembling. His fingers withdrew. She wailed and twisted, but he only caught hold of her hips to still their yearning jerks.
"Kelly." He grated out, "If you don't want this, then now is the time to stop."
"Don't stop. Please, Joey, don't stop." Desperate, hungry, she curved against him and made restless forays with her hands across the sweat-damped skin of his back and chest.
He dragged her loosened jeans down her body with a hard yank of one hand, then tugged them to her ankles. Her foot was caught and tugged, a thump following...then the other foot.
He'd removed her tennis shoes and dropped them to the floorboards.
Her jeans and panties followed.
Kelly had only a moment to realize she was completely naked before he dragged her off the backseat and across his lap, where her knees framed his hips. The bulge at his crotch against hers caught at her imagination...and her hunger.
He fumbled at the buttons that secured his jeans.
Impatient, unashamed, willingly disregarding the future certainty of loss, she flung herself into the joyous now. She kissed the edges of his parted lips, along his kiss-softened and full lower one, and nipped his chin, letting him feel her teeth.
"Aye, I'm hurrying," he murmured. "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, how I want you..."
How long had it been since a man had wanted her? Had any man wanted her in the way Joey had always wanted her? Wanted her now?
"And how I want you," she confessed. Need surged through her. "Now, Joey."
His cock sprang free of its confinement. He felt the cocktip kiss her belly button. The slightly sticky drops of pre-cum on her abdomen seemed so incredibly erotic. He reached down, tipped his shaft between her legs. The head brushed her pussy lips.
She rose on her knees to aid his goal.
He probed her once, twice, then pushed into her with one long, unrelenting thrust.
She cried out, a high wail of joy as he filled her and filled her. Tight, largely unused muscles clenched, protested, and then gave way to the thick invader. He set a forceful pace. He lifted her; he pulled them together; he rocked; he muttered something wild and dangerous in Irish Gaelic. She rode the storm, clutching his shoulders, meeting each upward push with a downward hitch of her hips. A whirlwind of silver bright rain wound up her spine, tighter, tighter, tighter...
It didn't take long. The orgasmic storm slammed into her with the force of a surging tide. Kelly wailed and trembled, like a tree in a high wind. Waves of splendor crashed over her, smashing her awareness into a glittering kaleidoscope of shining lights.
She clutched his deltoids, carved into the warm marble splendor of Joey as his body locked, his own orgasm bearing down on him. The agony of rapture carved his face and, with a roar, he followed her over the edge and into the storm.
Chapter 7
* * *
Noise from a group of pedestrians walking past the gate to the parking lot recalled Kelly to where and when she was. When: fifteen years beyond losing her virginity to this man in the back seat of his car. Where: the backseat of a car going at it like bunnies.
Again.
Her naked body draped over him like a throw blanket. Her chest worked as her gasping pants slowed in time to the easing beat of her heart. His arms held her close. His hands lay languid on her hips and his head nestled in the curve of her neck and shoulder. His cock pulsed inside her pussy, a masculine drumbeat to the feminine flutters of her own diminishing orgasm.
Heat from their bodies and their breaths had fogged the windows. Sweat slicked the plastic seat beneath her knees. His ejaculate warmed her insides and eased from her body to anoint the place where they were joined.
Joey murmured her name and walked his fingertips up her spine. Delight sparkled through her network of nerves, bringing a shiver. He'd learned a lot about pleasing a woman in the past fifteen years while she... What did she know about pleasing a man beyond her awkward gropes as a teenager?
Not much. Stewart hadn't wanted-- She shoved away the painful memories.
His voice, rich with masculine smugness, interrupted the warm calm between them. "Told you we'd make it work."
Dear, God, what was she doing? Madness.
She bit her lip and extracted herself from his embrace. His penis, still half-hard, slipped free to land against his thigh like a thick rod.
Her breath froze in her throat as she realized she'd been more than incredibly silly.
She'd been moronic. No condom covered that gorgeous cock!
"Oh, shit!" She fumbled for her bra and slipped it on with trembling hands.
All the while her mind spun with recriminations. Selfish. Senseless. Incapable of foresight. All the insults seemed tragically prophetic at this moment.
What if she was pregnant? Glory! Well, except for the lack of a father thing. Her life was on the cusp of something bright and satisfying at this moment. For once in her life she had a golden future. But that future hadn't been planned to include a baby.
He straightened, reacting to her obvious anxiety.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Did you forget an appointment?"
"No," she mumbled.
She found and wiggled into her jeans and hoodie. Well, that went on inside out first, but she fixed it. Then the zipper balked. She managed to set that to rights as well and pulled it all the way up to her chin.
What did she know about parenting, anyway? What family did she have to enrich a child's life? What had her indifferent mother taught her beyond that Kelly's presence in her life was a burden? The Grands had been her only source of love and stability, and they'd passed away before she'd graduated high school, which had resulted in the Stewart period of her life.
Disaster loomed. Abortion was not an option, not for her. It simply wasn't her thing, but what if she messed up the child's life? What if she was as terrible a parent as her mother had been? My God, the miracle of a baby might be the result of this wondrous interlude. The beautiful but frightening thought nearly broke her heart with its exquisite grace.
Joey was occupied rearranging himself. He tucked himself inside his pants and fastened them, then plucked up his sweater and tugged it over his head.
"Someone awaiting you at home?" he asked.
"No. There's no one at home."
And really, that hurt. She had no one and now, atop everything, she might be pregnant. A whisper of common sense prevailed. What were the odds? But if it were true, she would love this child--the little boy or girl--as she had always loved his--or her--father. Joey's little boy or girl...God's most precious gift.
Tears welled as her heart overflowed.
"Then why the rush?" He settled the sweater around his torso and looked her way. His eyes widened as he caught sight of her tears. "You're crying? Shit! I never should've... that is, I didn't think... you're regretting... Oh, hell."
He sounded genuinely horrified. She could handle guilt and recriminations. Lord knew, she'd had enough practice, but that wasn't what she wanted him to remember, if ever he thought of her.
"No, Joey, please," she rushed to ease his torment, by word and by her touch on his cheek. "I'm simply overwhelmed. Nothing more. I don't regret this. I will never regret this." Especially not if there's a child, she silently added.
He leaned toward her and spread kisses across her face, paying special attention to the fans of tear-dampened lashes.
"Please stop crying," he murmured. "Tell me how to heal your hurt. I'll do it. Whatever you ask. I swear it."
He'd always had that special
way of speaking the words in his heart. She gave him a wobbly smile. She could handle this. Her choices, her decision, the consequences, if any, were her responsibility.
"I'll be fine in a moment," she assured him. "It's just all so sudden and..." She hesitated, but didn't withhold the truth. "So beautiful."
In the dimness of the car interior, she could see his doubtful expression. "You want me to punch Spazz again?"
She laughed. Joey, her hero, then and now. She knew that to be a fundamental truth to the bottom of her soul. This man, whom she loved--had always loved, would always love--lived another life away from hers.
She hugged him close, locking away the memory of their interlude into that special vault of her heart called Joey. He returned her embrace. A flood of warmth and affection bridged the past years. It felt like, somehow and for a brief moment of time, the years apart didn't matter.
Of course, that was nonsense.
She pulled away and groped for her shoes, tugged them on, tied the laces. His thoughtful, brooding gaze rested almost tangibly upon her. She struggled to stay composed.
"We should probably get you back to your"--she hesitated--"hotel room? Rental?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he opened the back door, climbed out of the car, and walked around the back to the passenger side. She followed his lead and exited, but caught the handle of the driver's door.
She hauled open the creaky thing and reached inside to slide the seat back into place. When she got in, she realized she'd misjudged the distance. The steering wheel knocked her knees. Ouch.
Joey tapped on the far window, so she leaned over and pulled up the passenger door lock before exiting and attempting to correct the seat's distance from the steering wheel. She made another test.
Good.
She'd forgotten her keys in her back pocket.
Once again, out of the car to fish her keys out of her back pocket. Once again, back inside. Her knees were safe. The keys fit the ignition fine. The engine turned over and sputtered to life.
Ides Of March Page 5
