Sliding Home

by Kathy Lyons

  That was weird for me. Because honestly, with any other bedmate, it was all about making her just happy enough that I could get off. Sure, it was mutually fun, but deep down, it was all about me. Except this time. Suddenly, I was thinking about her. And she was clearly freaking out.

  I took a breath and spoke slowly. I was afraid if I said the wrong thing, she’d bolt. “I thought it was different in a good way. But you obviously don’t.”

  She turned to me, and I could see it was hard for her to explain. But I was thankful that she tried. “I’m not a wild person. And I’m not a selfish person, either. But there was a time there when…” She swallowed. “Jake, I wasn’t thinking about you. I just wanted…everything. I was all need. Like an animal.”

  Ah. Now I understood. “And you’re someone who always thinks about other people. You never let yourself get greedy, not caring about anyone but yourself.” Her gaze slid away, but I touched her chin and brought it back to me. My tone was gentle, but I wasn’t going to let her run away from this. “You think you’re a bad person because you enjoyed sex.”

  “Not true! I like sex. It—it’s fun.”

  “But you went so far outside of yourself this time, you gave no thought to anyone else. You just felt.” I started to feel a grin grow. I knew she wouldn’t appreciate it, so I tried to fight it. But frankly, this felt like I’d just won an Olympic sex medal.

  “I was like an animal,” she repeated.

  “Ellie, that’s a good thing.”

  “No. Not like that. Not so totally…”

  “Outside of your own head?

  “Yes.”

  “Again…a good thing.”

  She stared at me, and I could tell she didn’t believe it. Well, not totally. But there was a quiet hope in her eyes that belied her fears. She wanted to think it was good, but part of her just wasn’t okay with being selfish. Even for a few minutes.

  It must suck to be a good girl.

  “Does it help when I tell you that I loved every second of it? That I didn’t feel neglected for one moment?”

  Her cheeks pinkened, and she nodded. “Yes, I’m glad.”

  “What about when I tell you that sex is best when you let go like that? When you take and I take and—”

  “No, it’s not!” Her voice was emphatic. “That’s just… just…”

  “Raw, primal passion?”

  She swallowed. “I’m not like that.”

  “But you were, and that bothers you.”

  “Maybe.” She sighed and burrowed her face in the sheet.

  I stroked my hand down her cheek, and this time she didn’t flinch. Her eyes drifted closed and she let me caress down her jaw, to her neck where I tugged the cotton lower. I exposed her bare shoulder and moved my fingers along it, then farther down.

  “Jake?” she said. “I don’t think I can go there again.”

  “So we won’t. How about we try it differently? Gently. Quietly. With lots of respect and thoughts of the other person?” I flashed her a mischievous grin. “We can compare the two afterward.”

  She chuckled. “Aren’t you tired? What about your ribs?”

  I took a deep breath, making sure not to react to the pull in my side. “I’m fine. But what about you? Sore? Tired?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Then how about we try?” As a way to coax her, I slipped my hand under her elbow. With the tips of my fingers, I teased the side of her breast. And when she let her arm ease forward, I pushed underneath to brush my finger over her nipple. Then she touched my chest with her fingers, stroking across my pecs, near enough to my nipple to make my dick jump.

  “But what about you?” she asked. “What do you want?”

  To worship you.

  The words leaped into my brain, but I didn’t let them out. They were too startling for me to voice. Because never, ever had I wanted to worship anything, much less a woman. Not even baseball, though it was undeniably my passion. And yet here I was, loving the silky smooth feel of her skin. Memorizing the shift in her breathing when I pinched her nipple. Inhaling deep so I could smell her scent while my mouth watered with the desire to taste her.

  Crazy. I never acted like this. And the awareness of it freaked me out. But not enough to stop.

  Pretty soon I was pushing her onto her back and licking my way to her nipple. She was all soft and sweet, gasping as I sucked and running her hands through my hair.

  The sheet was in her way, pinning her legs down beneath it, and she quickly kicked herself free. That was my signal that she wanted to try again, and she proved it by lifting her leg and rubbing it up along my thigh. She had muscles in her legs that flexed against me, and the hot pressure shot a pulse of hunger into my dick. I was more than ready, but I needed to go slowly.

  So I spent a great deal of time with her breasts. And when she was panting and grasping at me, I pulled away to kiss back up to her lips.

  “Do you know what’s special about making love to you?” I whispered into her lips.

  It took her a moment to focus, but in the end, she smiled. “What?”

  “You respond honestly. You aren’t faking anything. Not in your body…” I caressed her breasts. “And not in your reactions.” I pinched her nipple, and she gasped.

  Her smile softened, and I knew I’d touched her. “You know what’s great about making love with you?”

  “What?”

  “You make me respond honestly because you don’t hold back.”

  I arched a brow, then thrust against her thighs. “I’m holding back. Believe me.”

  She chuckled. “Fair enough. But…” She stroked my hair off my face. “I feel like you see me. Like it’s not about humping and bumping as fast as we can.”

  “Not fast,” I said as I nipped her lips. “This one is slow.”

  “Yeah. So how come I want to speed things up a bit?” she asked as she reached down between us. I felt her hand coming, but was in no way prepared for the way she fluttered her fingers across my penis. It wasn’t a grip or a tease. More like tapping in rapid succession, and I felt each impact like tiny explosions up my spine. It had my hips pulsing forward and my breath caught on a gasp.

  “Uh,” I finally managed to say. “I’m okay with faster. If you want.”

  She suddenly stopped, a wicked grin on her face. “No. I can wait.”

  I couldn’t. I wanted to be in her so badly. But I held myself back, though I dropped my forehead to her shoulder and just breathed. Eventually I was able to kiss her collarbone. Nuzzle her cleavage. Then tease my way down her chest.

  She let me, and as I descended on her body, she lost touch with my penis. I mourned that, but I also knew if she kept up what she’d been doing, this would be over sooner than we both wanted.

  I ended up encouraging her to flip over so I could stroke up and down her backside. I paid attention to every hill and crease, every dimple and dip. I found out where she was most ticklish and where her muscles ached. I teased the back of her knees with my fingers, then gave her a hickey on her right butt cheek.

  She cried out at that, but I held her down, and pretty soon she was laughing. And then I spread her legs and ran my fingers through the moisture between her legs. She was wet and open to me, but I wasn’t going to end this too soon. Especially since she abruptly sat up and shoved me backward on the bed.

  “My turn.”

  And so it was. I lay on my back with my penis pole straight and throbbing while she took an almost clinical inspection of my body. Torso first, then arms and legs. She poked at scars and kissed bruises. I had plenty of both, and she pressed me for the story of each one. If I answered quickly, she’d reward me with a gentle, intimate stroke. If I frowned and said I couldn’t remember, she sat back on her heels and tempted me with the sight of her full breasts and pert nipples.

  And then, suddenly, she stretched past me to the open bedside table drawer. I lifted up long enough to see that she’d grabbed a condom and was now ripping it open wit
h her teeth. It was quite the sight. Her clean white teeth pressing down on the foil packet. Her hands weren’t shaking—at least not that I could see—and when I reached for the rubber, she batted my fingers away.

  Then she enfolded my penis with her hands while slipping the cold latex down. I struggled to process all those conflicting sensations: hot hands; cold, wet latex; a gentle stroke; a tight glide. In the end, I gave up categorizing and just felt. And when her hands slid up my chest, I went to touch her face.

  I don’t know what I was going to say. The sight was just so beautiful, I was robbed of words. Her face, flushed and happy. Her eyes alight with hunger, and her hair in glorious disarray.

  Then she straddled me. The movement was graceful, and I was mesmerized by the jiggle of her breasts while she positioned herself. She didn’t even use her hands. Those were still braced on my pecs, spread wide and kneading me slightly. But her hips were apparently a lot more flexible than mine. She settled herself just where I wanted her to be, and then…

  Oh, glory.

  She lowered herself down, inch by delicious inch.

  I meant to stay still, but I couldn’t control myself. My ass tightened and my hips thrust up. She took me easily, so wet that I barely felt any friction. But the heat and the grip were amazing, as was she as she flowed up and down, lifting and lowering in slow, undulating movements.

  God, I was so glad that we’d already done this once. I wouldn’t have lasted otherwise. The way she moved—rolling up and down—with her face softened in delight and her breasts and hair flowing free…it was something I would remember until the day I died.

  I had to touch her. I had to caress her skin, knead her breasts, connect with her in a way that wasn’t just man inside woman, but heart to heart.

  That thought should have scared me. Getting my heart involved when I was just at the beginning of my pro baseball career wasn’t smart. I didn’t have room for anyone or anything in my life but baseball. Or so I’d once thought.

  Right now, I didn’t have room for anything in my life but her and the way she moved on top of me.

  I was beginning to lose control. The fire in my loins was throwing sparks up my spine and down my legs. My breath came out in harsh gusts, and my hands were clumsy as they touched her.

  I let go of her glorious breasts and slid a hand down between us. I needed her to feel as ragged as I did. Fortunately, she was moving in such a way that I could reach.

  I slid a thumb between us. It was awkward, but I managed to push between her folds. And every time she bore down, I rolled up.

  I felt her reaction in the sudden gripping inside. A squeeze that shot stars through my vision. And still, we moved together.

  She came down, I rolled up. I didn’t thrust, though God knew I wanted to. This was her show, her pace. All I could do was add that pressure when she descended. A push as she rolled down. A pull before she could lift up.

  Down up. Push pull.

  Tighter. Faster.

  Her breath began to stutter. Her eyes had grown wide. And I had no thought except for what she did.

  And then she broke.

  A single shudder that seemed to grip me from inside and out.

  She cried out, fully arched even as she ground down on me. And inside, her body tightened around me like a fist, pulling me inside, again and again.

  I don’t know how long I stayed suspended in that place. Where everything I was poured into her. And she, moving above me in her own erotic dance, continued to arch and lift as her orgasm spurred on mine, and vice versa. It was an erotic dance that I never wanted to end.

  Until my phone rang.

  I didn’t even hear it at first. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what the discordant sound was.

  Darth Vader’s theme music filled the room, dark and ugly. It was like a taint on the entire experience and if I could, I would have smashed my phone into a thousand pieces. But I couldn’t reach it. It was on the other side of the room, close enough to hear, but not close enough to destroy.

  But eventually, Ellie heard it, too.

  She came back to herself with a hot flush of embarrassment. A blush stained her cheeks, her chest, and even down to her flat belly. I touched her arm, furious that her experience had been cut short.

  “It’s my phone. Ignore it.”

  She chuckled. “I think I was.”

  She’d stopped contracting, and I was milked dry. But I still didn’t want her to move. It was too perfect, and I wanted to linger as long as possible.

  Thankfully, the ringtone ended. Finally.

  I smiled up at her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize for the best sex of my life.” She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to my lips. “Both times.”

  I clung to her, trying to keep her close. She was already back to being herself, while I was still half dazed. I wanted to say something special that matched what we’d just done. But I didn’t have the brainpower, much less the words. And while I was still groping for an answer, my phone rang again.

  Darth Vader, take two.

  “Damn it!”

  “Somebody wants you awful bad,” she said. Then her eyes narrowed at the clock beside my bed. I didn’t have to look to know that it was well after midnight. But I could see her nurse’s mind putting together possibilities, and suddenly she straightened. “You better answer it. It’s probably important.”

  “It’s never important,” I groaned, feeling small without her.

  “It’s after one.” She climbed off the bed with startling energy. I felt like I hadn’t the strength to lift a finger.

  “Don’t—” I protested, but she’d already picked up the phone and was bringing it to me.

  I grabbed it with a sigh. And since I knew that my brother would keep calling until I answered, I thumbed it on with a grimace.

  “I am going to kill you,” I said by way of greeting.

  My brother answered, his voice slurred but intelligible enough. “I can’t carry him. We saw the video, hero. Come rescue us.”

  “Go fuck yourselves.”

  “Can’t. I’m not my type.” And then he hung up.

  I dropped my phone on the floor, too pissed to do anything else. Ellie was watching me with serious eyes. Finally, when it was clear I wasn’t going to say anything, she prodded in a typically Ellie fashion. Direct but with humor.

  “So that was a short conversation,” she said. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes.” I heaved a sigh. I didn’t want to say more, but right now, I was so open to her that words just came spilling out. “My dad’s drunk and needs help.”

  “That was your father on the line?”

  I could tell she was thinking that I’d just told my father to go fuck himself. She was shocked by that idea, and I hadn’t the heart to tell her that I had said much worse to the man. So I clarified.

  “That was my brother, Larry, who is equally sloshed. They need a ride home.”

  “Oh.” She looked around for her clothes and started pulling them on. “Okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay!” I snapped, but I was also shoving myself upright. I had been planning on snuggling up to a beautiful woman for the rest of the night. Not dragging my father’s sorry ass home.

  She touched my cheek, gently pulling my face up to hers. “Don’t worry,” she said as she dropped a kiss to tip of my nose. “We’ll have plenty of time to…um…compare sexual styles after we take care of your family.”

  “I don’t want to compare styles, Ellie. I want to find more styles. And do them all with you.” Then I caught her mouth with mine, kissing her as deeply as I could. It was swift and hard, and she accepted it with a hum of delight. But then she cut it off, stepping back with a firm stare.

  “Get dressed. I’ll drive.”

  I jolted upright. “No,” I said as firmly as I could. “Absolutely not.”

  She looked up as she was buttoning her jeans. “It makes sense. I have to drive home anyway. I’ll take you ther
e and help. Then I can drop you back here. Or you can stay there. Whatever you need.”

  I shook my head. “You are not going with me.”

  “Why not?”

  I could hear the hurt in her voice, so I tried to explain. “Look, it’s not about you. It’s about my asshole family. I don’t want you there with them.”

  “Because you don’t want me to see them drunk? Jake, I’ve dealt with lots of drunks. I’m a nurse. There’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  But I couldn’t handle it. She’d been looking at me with such joy. I didn’t want to think about what her opinion of me would be after she met my alcoholic family. Pity? Disgust? I didn’t want that from anyone, but especially her.

  “No, Ellie. Trust me on this. I can handle it alone.”

  “But you don’t have to. That’s what girlfriends do, right? They help during family emergencies.”

  “This isn’t an emergency.” It was a fucking routine.

  She folded her arms, plumping her breasts. But even that couldn’t distract me from the narrow annoyance in her expression. “I can help.”

  Damn it. She was hurt and pissed now. This was exactly how I didn’t want this evening to end. “It’s not about you. It’s about—”

  “Them. Yeah, I got that.” She stepped back up into my space and poked me with her finger. “I’m going with you. You’re still hurt. I can help. And—” She spoke louder because I’d opened my mouth to argue. “And I expect you to say yes.”

  “No.”

  She sucked in a breath. Then she stepped back, her expression shuttered.

  “Ellie—”

  “I’m going. Even if I have to follow you to the bar, I’m going.”

  And damn it, I could see that she meant it. Which meant that I was going to have to let her see more of me than I’d shown anyone in the past decade.

  Hell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ellie