by Pamela Clare
My throat tightened.
Don’t let me fall.
And then he was kissing me, holding me—no, he wouldn’t drop me. He turned me around, so that the spray of the shower fell on my breasts. From behind he roamed the curves and dips of my body. I reached my arms up to rest in his hair, anchoring myself to him.
Both his hands cupped my breasts, his fingers massaging my nipples. They felt swollen and sensitive, like they had after Bailey had been born. The tap, tap, tap of the water on my breasts fused with his touch. Pleasure tipped over into almost pain and wrung low moans from me. His cock lay slick and warm against my ass, but it never pressed me. No, it was my hips that rocked back, desperate and wanting.
Please, they begged.
Have patience, his leisurely caresses admonished.
His fingertips traced the lines of my belly and down. Down across the crease where the gentle curves of femininity leveled into the velvety skin of sex. I was bare. I’d shaved myself every day since I’d moved in, instead of just in preparation for my date nights. I’d had more sex here with Colin than I’d had in the sum of all my date nights. Years’ worth of sexual experience overwritten in a week.
His hands on my sex were familiar now. They knew me, what rhythms pleased me, and how I liked to be touched. The knowledge was an intimacy so much greater than the fitting together of bodies.
The shower decorated my skin with droplets. Colin lapped them up with openmouthed kisses to my neck and shoulders. I felt luxurious, sensations assailing me from both sides. I felt worshipped, Colin’s hands and mouth revering my skin. I felt protected, wrapped tightly in his arms, his shower, his home. God, I felt loved. This was love. Fuck.
Suddenly that bursting feeling felt all too literal. There was too much. Too much happiness, too much love. Too much fear. My body shook as it struggled to contain the explosion. However it would come, it wouldn’t be pretty—I never was.
I turned in his arms, needing the intimacy of face-to-face. He resisted at first, wanting to continue his assault on me, but I was insistent. It was his turn. Or really it was mine. Nothing felt better than pleasuring this man.
The air was thick with moisture—that had to be why my breaths were shallow and my eyelashes wet. His eyes were the potent black of a lake, drowning me, but his arms rested at his sides. I surveyed his body like an explorer does a map. I wanted to visit each place if only I could decide where to go first.
I sprinkled my fingertips across his shoulders, then trailed them lower to his flat, brown nipples. Leaning forward, I licked one of them, then nibbled across to the other. I started to kiss my way down. I knew where he wanted my mouth, of course. I wanted it there too.
I flashed back to when I’d tried to go down on him the very first time we’d had sex. He’d stopped me. I hadn’t understood what he was about, then. He’d wanted to give me pleasure; that was nice. But he didn’t want to receive pleasure, and that was just perverse, especially for a man.
I realized something. He’d been respectful and generous, not things I’d expected nor even wanted from a guy at the club. But something he hadn’t been was open. He’d kept himself closed off from me, piercing my walls but not letting me in himself. I’d been so distracted by his invasion, his domination of me, that I hadn’t noticed his own reserve. It had been okay, then. We’d been strangers.
But not now. Oh, he’d let me blow him now. I’d already done it several times, and I was sure I’d do it again tonight, but he still held himself back from me. As horrible as the last time we’d had sex had been, at least I had reached him inside then. Of course, I’d reached him through pain and shame in a way that neither of us wanted to repeat. Could I reach him this way, through pleasure? I could try.
Tugging on his arm, I made him turn around. He looked a little bit confused and a little more frustrated he wouldn’t be getting what he wanted. Have patience. I grinned at him.
I placed his hands against the wall at the back of the shower so that his body canted forward. And then I did what I wanted to do, hoping it would please him too. I licked along the seams of his muscles, starting on his back as high as I could reach on my tiptoes, and making my way down. I took my time, stopping to explore every path, every route, sometimes backing up to taste another. I used my hands to mark my progress along his backside, occasionally slipping them around front to stroke his erection, like an erotic compass.
I roved over his ass, tracing the indents at his side and even slipping my tongue in the crease. Then lower, across the backs of his thighs. I knelt behind him, a supplicant with all the power. Above me he shook and groaned into the wall, but I barely heard him over the rush of water in my ears.
I had just reached his calves when he snapped.
Without warning he turned. One hand behind my head and the other on his cock, he guided my mouth to him. He pushed his cock inside, held it there, and then pulled back. Then again. In and out, he thrust. I rested my hands on his thighs and let him use my mouth.
And Colin, my taciturn, reserved Colin, spoke to me in words of sex and love. “Fuck, yes,” he said. “I love your mouth. Jesus…Fucking…Christ, take me. That’s right. Deeper. Christ, Allie. Fuck!”
I could feel the shudders that worked through him, telling of restraint, but he wasn’t gentle. I felt no respect or generosity, kneeling here on the hard tub bottom as he fucked my mouth, but he’d let me in. This was Colin, harsh and demanding. Open and beautiful.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. “Jesus! Beautiful. There, suck on the tip. Now open, deeper. All the way, hold it. Yes.”
The words tumbled out of his mouth. I’d opened the floodgates. Even though I knew they’d close again eventually, this was as close as I’d ever be to him, here with his cock in my mouth.
“I want to hold it in,” he said. “Just for a little while. Take a deep breath. Now, there. Ahhh, Jesus. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Fuck…fuck.”
He pulled me back, and I sucked in breaths. I’d gagged, and tears had streamed down my cheeks, but thank God, he hadn’t stopped. We did it twice more, my nose to his groin while his cock pulsed inside my throat. There could be no greater gift than my breaths. No greater sign of trust than my life in his hands.
Then he was pulling me up and out of the shower. We both dripped buckets onto the floor, but neither of us cared. He tossed me onto the bed, and I laughed. Then he spread my legs and put his mouth on me—yes, there, down, lower, yes!—and I forgot everything.
He’d lost any tenderness, but with rough strokes and kisses edged with teeth, he made me violently come. Before I could even see again, breathe again, he was over me and inside me. Our still-wet bodies rammed together, too hard and too fast, making squishy sounds that would have been embarrassing if I could think.
He fucked me so hard I couldn’t have said a word, but he was talking again. In between thrusts and on his exhales, he gave me more.
“Allie…you’re…so…fucking…beautiful…I…never…want…to…stop…fucking… you.”
The only response I could muster was to relax my hips even more so that my thighs spread open farther. It was more than an invitation; it was a plea. The pressure built until I came. He rode it out, and I waited, blissfully mindless for him to come.
But he didn’t.
He thrust into me again and again until I lost track of the hour or the day. I came again.
And he didn’t stop.
“Can’t,” I gasped. “Can’t…anymore.”
“Yes,” he said. “You can. I’ll show you.”
And fuck, he did. I lost count, but by the end my orgasms were nothing more than a small spark. He groaned long and hard, and I thought then that if there were anything left in me, I would come just from the sound.
His body collapsed over mine, the only movements between us his heaving chest and the small twitches of his cock as it settled.
I couldn’t breathe, but then I’d already decided to give it all to him, even my breath. I’d been so sur
e I would never trust a man again, and here I’d trusted Colin more than should be possible. With my life and my future, even with Bailey. I trusted him more than I trusted myself, though that wasn’t much of a compliment.
He rolled off me but kept me with him, pulling me into a tangle of limbs. We shared the same air as we both caught our breath, neither of us willing to relinquish the intimacy for space.
I opened my eyes to find him watching me. I watched him back. Neither of us said anything. Sex was a pure form of communication, maybe the only honest one. I’d known that from my first time, painful as the lesson had been, and I’d sought the same honesty from each date night. But what we’d unveiled here tonight was so much more lovely than anything I’d found on my date nights, more than anything I’d imagined. I came for the adventure but found a bounty at the end.
His stomach grumbled. I smiled, and he smiled back. I’d learned he got hungry after sex that very first time. Only this time we wouldn’t be driving away from a motel separately but sharing a late meal in Colin’s home. My home too.
“I’ll get us something.” My voice resounded through the quiet. “Stay here.”
I slipped on a T-shirt and then realized it wasn’t my nightshirt but one of his white undershirts. It was shorter, almost to the top of my thighs, and my still-hard nipples poked out indecently, but it matched my mood. I padded downstairs, flipping on only a lamp in the living room so as not to disturb the night too much.
The refrigerator shone brightly, and I blinked until I could see the contents. Leftover chicken potpie from last night. An uncooked lasagna I had put together in anticipation for tonight. Ingredients for sandwiches. It was all wrong. The blackberry cheesecake beckoned, but it was for the restaurant. And besides, I couldn’t get away with eating sweets on an empty stomach. I wasn’t a kid anymore.
The squeak of the pantry door alerted me that Colin hadn’t listened. That wasn’t a surprise, of course. Colin could be extremely obedient…so long as he wanted to be. Any docility he displayed, it wasn’t so much an act as much as it was a complete lack of show. He’d do what he wanted. Sometimes the rest of us would like it, sometimes we wouldn’t, but his actions were his own, without any of the pomp and circumstance of rebellion or pride.
I liked to think we had that in common. I was happy to obey him when I could.
That he’d pressured Rick because of me, well, I didn’t like that. But that was Colin, and I had to accept it if I wanted him. I wouldn’t be so vulgar as to try to change him.
And me talking to Jacob, well, Colin wouldn’t like that. But I’d had to do that, and I wished he could accept that too. If only he’d heard me when I’d had the courage to tell him.
He held up a box of pancake mix and quirked his eyebrow in question. I supposed he’d used up his allotment of words.
“Sure.” I held out my hand.
He walked past me and got a bowl. I rolled my eyes. Stubborn man.
I heated the griddle and greased it with butter—liberally, because these hips didn’t fill themselves out—while he mixed the ingredients. He poured the batter, and when it was time, I flipped them over.
We made six pancakes, split two for me and four for Colin, and had just sat down to eat when Colin’s phone rang. I pushed back the resentment. At ten at night, it would only be Philip.
“Hi,” he said. “No, not sleeping.”
I made a face at him.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said.
With a wicked smile, I trailed my foot up the inside of his leg. If he was going to take calls during dinner, at least I could have a little fun.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “You can ask her.”
He handed me the phone, paying me back twofold for my little tease. Damn.
Not really having a choice, I took the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Allie. This is Rose.”
My eyes flew to Colin’s, but I said, “Oh. Hi there.”
“Listen. I wanted to apologize for giving you a hard time when we met. And I was hoping you’d all come over for dinner. Bailey too.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it. How could I get out of this? It wasn’t a rhetorical question. My eyes beseeched Colin. He shrugged. Useless, stubborn man.
“I’d love to,” I said.
She laughed. “It won’t be that bad. I promise.”
I didn’t quite believe her, but it didn’t matter. “I’ll be fine.” Pray that it was true.
“Okay,” she said. “You’ll see. How about next Saturday night at seven?”
“Sure. Sounds great.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Oh, and I’ll host it at Philip’s. You’ve already been there, and it encourages him to come if we have it in his house.” She laughed. “See you there.”
“Bye,” I choked out.
“She wants to have dinner,” I told Colin.
He nodded slowly.
“At Philip’s house,” I said.
He gave me a sympathetic grimace.
I suppose that was the best I could hope for. Perhaps this “meet the family” would go better than the first time around, but it could hardly be worse. My issues with Philip were mostly over now that Jacob was out of the picture. And besides, I doubted he would spend much time talking to me, judging by last time. Rose had apologized and offered this dinner as an olive branch, if I’d understood correctly. Maybe it was even a sort of welcome.
It wouldn’t exactly be fun, but this was part of a real relationship. A family dinner, I mused. It was almost quaint in its normalcy.
I narrowed my eyes at Colin. “If I’m going to deal with all that,” I said, “you’d better put out.”
He gave me a small, mysterious smile before he took a bite of his pancakes.
Chapter Twelve
The week that followed was a honeymoon of sorts…if you subtracted wedding vows and an exotic locale and added a toddler. But then I’d always done things ass backward.
Colin took us to Navy Pier, where we visited the children’s museum and gorged ourselves on corn dogs and ice cream. A fearless Bailey demanded we ride the giant Ferris wheel, and Colin indulged her. Only after the pair emerged from the cab covered in upchucked corn dog did he admit that perhaps I’d been right after all. We visited the aquarium, where Bailey squealed as she touched a prickly starfish and dragged us all to the splash zone. Colin even got us tickets to a community theater production of Mary Poppins, though we discovered Bailey preferred to sing her own soundtrack and left at intermission.
It was amazing. Really, it was. If I felt an undercurrent of frantic energy, then it was just relief at my newfound freedom. And if it seemed that Colin was desperate to experience everything, to give us everything we wanted, it was just due to the newness of our happiness. It had to be.
Philip called constantly. At first Colin would answer, excusing himself to speak in tense, hushed tones. After a while he turned his phone off.
“Will it be okay?” I didn’t know how much we really relied on Philip, especially financially. “I know you do work for him…”
“Don’t worry,” Colin said. “He’ll get over it.”
When I looked at him for more, he ran his thumb along my lips. A tender shut up.
That eased my worry—somewhat. It seemed we could get along just fine without Philip, but if there was major damage to their sibling relationship, Colin might regret his time with me.
The dinner party was still set for tomorrow, so we’d see then just how angry Philip was. I doubted he took well to being ignored.
I’d offered to make a dessert to bring with us. Colin suggested wine, but I thought dessert would be more personal. Make it clear I was willing to put in an effort. Besides, that way Rose wouldn’t have to worry about making it. Colin had chuckled at me then, but he’d agreed to text Rose and let her know.
I pulled the packages of fresh strawberries from the paper grocery bag. Since we’d witnessed the first tendrils of spring, I’d decided on a strawberry-rhubarb crumble.
>
From her high chair Bailey chomped on a bowl of diced strawberries while I went to work on the rest. A knock on the door stopped me midchop.
I peeked out the window beside the door and saw a short, wide person standing there. I unlatched the chain, flipped the dead bolt, and opened the door a foot. “Hello?”
“Oh, hi.” The woman wore an overlarge white shirt with a picture of a kitten on it and tight, black leggings. Her hair was in disarray, a mop of ringlets, and her face crinkly. Despite all that she managed to look fresh and bright, her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling merrily like some ginger-haired Mrs. Claus. “I’m looking for Mouse, my cat Mouse. I haven’t seen him in…oh, it’s been a full day now, and—”
She paused when I opened the door wider to reveal the orange cat sprawled on our ottoman.
“Mouse,” she cried. “You horrible cat, look at you, making yourself right at home.”
Ah, so Mouse had a home, and it wasn’t here. That couldn’t be disappointment. I had no desire to keep a cat, and definitely not this one, so presumptuous and rotund. Not very mousy, either. Well, I told myself, thank God for that. To the woman I said, “He just started coming around, so—”
“Of course,” she said. “You wouldn’t know he was ours, what with us being so new here. I haven’t even had time to come around and say hello to you guys. Oh! What am I saying? I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Linda. What was your name, dear?”
“Allie,” I said quickly, feeling like I’d been sent to the nurse’s office. Not that she was examining me or sending me home or anything, just that was the last time a woman had really spoken to me.
“Allie,” she said. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? I hope you don’t think I was too rude, just moving in and not saying a word, and then coming around to find my cat on your furniture. He knows better than that. You know better than that, Mousy! That’s what cat trees are for.”
