by Ann, Jewel E
“You on your way out?” she asked with a labored breath from crossing the street.
He made a mental note to not get old. “Nope. Just keeping Woody company.”
Her brows pulled together.
“Yes.” He chuckled. “I’m on my way out.”
“Oh.” She nodded, maintaining her confused look. “You’re a funny guy.”
“I try. What’s up?”
“I’m having a party at my house next week, and Jillian said you have a lady friend now. Guess you couldn’t wait forever for Marvin to die.” She winked, but it resembled more of an out-of-control eye spasm or an eyelash in her eye. “Here’s an invitation for you to give her. We’d all love to meet her.”
“Oh.” Jackson took the shiny black envelope, inspecting both sides. It looked familiar. “What kind of party is it?”
“Well, a Lascivo party of course.”
“W-what? Are you serious?”
“Yes. After the ValuPak incident, it’s time to show Marvin that I’m not all dry and shriveled up. I’m still a vivacious woman at heart, even if my body is a little slower and not as flexible. Jillian said you’re never too old to nurture your sexuality.”
Jackson rubbed his chin, nose wrinkled a bit. “She did, did she?”
“She sure did. Marvin can ValuPak it all he wants, because after my party I’ll no longer be requiring his services, if you know what I mean.”
He didn’t or at least he sure as hell didn’t want to, but on a sigh he asked the obvious question anyway. “What was the ValuPak incident?”
“Jillian didn’t tell you?”
Head shake.
Making her usual quick scan as if anyone in the hearing-aid community could really hear her, she leaned in closer to the window. “You know that ValuPak envelope of coupons everyone gets in the mail?”
A nod.
“Well, sometimes there are coupons for bras and other feminine things. So last week I stepped out into the garage to get my flyswatter that hangs by the door, and you wanna know what I saw?”
He didn’t. He really didn’t.
“Marvin sitting in a lawn chair by his work bench playing with himself while he had three of the coupons from the ValuPak stuck to the side of the bench with magnets. One was for a bra sale at Penny’s, one was for a thirty-day trial at a fitness studio, and the other was for Hardee’s. Everyone knows the hot women on those commercials don’t really eat that stuff.”
Jackson would not be eating anything for a good long time.
“So…” he held up the envelope “…I’ll give this to Ryn.”
“Ryn! That’s her name. Jillian told me but I forget. I knew it was a songbird, but all I could think of was Robin. Well, toodaloo … tell her I’m giddy with excitement to meet her.” Greta waved as Jackson backed out of the garage.
*
The Nike slogan played on repeat in Jackson’s mind as he made the two right and one left turn that separated the five miles from his house to Ryn’s. The gusty winds that had ripped the amber leaves from the trees earlier in the day had died down. The blinding angle of the setting sun made it difficult to see pedestrians in the crosswalks as the bars and restaurants bulged with the Friday night crowd. Even Ryn’s street had cars lined on both sides, walking distance from the entertainment district.
Just Do It.
The line between psyching himself up and psyching himself out disappeared, leaving him lost in the blurry middle. Before his brain shifted into overdrive, he hopped out and strode toward her door with the confidence of this guy from San Francisco he used to know.
One lock clicked and then another. Even with Gunner, Ryn kept her doors locked at all times.
“Hi.” She smiled with a bit of hesitation. Her look said “are you still mad at me for laughing at your pathetic advances?”
He grinned. The less he said the better.
“Come in. I ran late at my last job so I need to shower. Dinner is in the oven.” She walked toward the kitchen.
The view of her ass shifting slightly side to side in her yoga pants fed his intentions.
Just Do It.
“Smells good. What is it?”
“Lasagna, but it has about thirty minutes, so maybe I should run and take a quick shower.” She slipped off her oven mitts after pulling the foil from the top of the casserole dish.
“No.”
She froze. Only her eyes flitted from one side of the room to the other, trying to solve his mysterious response. “No … what?”
Just. Do. It.
“One question.” He pulled off his shirt, needing all the persuasive ammunition he could get.
Ryn’s eyes widened.
“And it’s a yes or no answer.” He stepped closer, backing her into the refrigerator. “Do you want me?”
“I-I need a shower.”
He shook his head, inching closer yet. “Try again.”
“I’ve been cleaning houses—”
Another head shake that silenced her. She. Was. His. Once a woman responded to his non-verbal commands, it was equivalent to folding in a poker game.
“Yes … or no?” he whispered in her ear.
Backed into a hard surface with no place to go, breathless, and stumbling for words … that’s what he knew. There was only one word he needed.
“Say it.”
“I probably smell like—”
“Say. It.”
Sliding his hands along the outside of her T-shirt, he stopped and kneaded her breasts with a firm pressure that made her hiss.
“I’m too—”
“Say it!” he growled, pinching her nipples so hard she jumped.
“Yes!” she yelled. “Yes, I want you to fuck me!’
Stilling his hands, he raised his face from her neck and just stared at her for a moment. Her breaths came so fast she could hardly catch them. Ryn looked shocked as if she, too, couldn’t believe those words came from her mouth. He didn’t say it, but he sure did think it: Holy shit! Jillian was right. Ryn wants me to fuck her like the stable boy.
If he didn’t snap out of it, she could change her mind. They both could overthink everything.
Just Do It.
Chapter Sixteen
The oven heated to 375 degrees. Ryn did too. Tomato, oregano, and basil filled the air. A bag of Romaine lettuce waited by the sink to be cleaned and chopped into a salad. The cracked window welcomed the soothing yet dramatic tones of the Japanese wind chime on her back deck, dancing in the breeze. There was the compression bra issue again, but his magic touch managed to draw them out of hiding. The dirt and grime from a long day of cleaning clung to her body, and the shivering fear of everything left her trembling. If she’d had a tail it would have been between her legs.
The problem? He turned her on. Her thoughts couldn’t stop her body from feeling so reckless. Resisting was far more painful—impossible—than submitting.
“My boobs look like pancakes and I’m not well groomed in certain places.” The words were out. It was as much a relief as an embarrassment. The truth felt like a baby in the womb: innocent and destined to come out.
Jackson smirked and she pressed her lips together, hiding her grin. She loved the invisible string between his smile and hers and how they played off each other.
“This is going to be fun … so much fun.”
“Sex?”
“Making it my mission to show you how sexy you are.” He kissed her before she had a chance to argue. Each stroke of his tongue controlling and demanding as his hands curled around the waist of her yoga pants.
She tugged the button and zipper to his jeans. He pulled away, leaving her mouth begging for more as he peeled down her pants until she stepped out of them. The flush of her cheeks intensified at the realization that her panties could not have been any less sexy. They looked like hand-me-downs from her grandma. It had been a busy week and the laundry fell behind. Before he could make a good inspection, she slid them down and wadded them in her hand.
He grinned, looking
down at the bunched nude cotton she fisted. When his eyes shifted to hers, she maintained a neutral look as if to say, “There’s nothing to see here.” There was no way to hide the fact that she removed her underwear in one quick, desperate move. It had been far from graceful or indiscrete. Jackson just stood there waiting for her to do something with them.
Leaning toward him, eyes locked to his, she reached behind her and cracked open the refrigerator door just enough to toss her panties inside before leaning back against it like it never happened. She made a mental note to burn all her undergarments and replace them with rigid underwires and ass-floss panties.
“I need you to hurry up.” She grimaced, locking her knees to keep her legs from shaking. “I’m naked from the waist down and completely coming apart inside.”
Their mouths crashed. He didn’t give her another chance to speak or even form a coherent thought. Moisture pooled between her legs until she felt it drip like lava down her thigh. Her legs pressed together in mortification.
He slid two fingers between her wet folds, stopping her motion. She moaned while he pressed his body firm to hers, as if he wanted to feel her sounds vibrate between them. The only thing sexier than him—which was basically everything that could possibly be sexy—was his physical desire for her.
He. Wanted. Her.
It took a moment in the heat of distraction for that to sink into her brain. When it did, all dignity evaporated and she widened her stance. Yes, she widened her stance. It may not have seemed like much to him, but for her it represented a brazen move. It said, “I need as much of you as I can possibly fit inside me, NOW!”
Three. Three fingers fit nice and snug. His tongue made languid strokes up her neck with his teeth teasing her skin. When his hand stopped moving, she raised onto her toes and lowered back down. For a fleeting moment she felt embarrassed by the desperateness of riding his hand, but when his palm grazed her sensitive clitoris it no longer mattered. As long as he didn’t stop kissing her, touching, needing her.
“Oh … God …” Her eyes rolled back in her head. An orgasm approached the precipice. “Wait!”
As he pulled his hand away, her eyes flew open. Did she dare tell him she hadn’t finished? Half the blood in her body had converged between her legs, like water against a damn. A painful case of pink balls.
Pulling a condom out of his pocket, he grinned. The words teetered on the tip of her tongue. Jackson Knight embodied a godly specimen. However, she’d never reached an orgasm from penetration. That confident grin said he’d be the first, but Ryn had her doubts.
Her teeth made a death grip to her lower lip as he pushed his jeans and briefs down. Steadying herself with one hand on his bare chest, her other hand rested over her heart. She didn’t feel it there until he rolled on the condom and shifted his eyes to her.
His signature take-charge demeanor paused for a moment. He peeled her hand from her chest, inching it towards his face. She looked up as he pressed his lips against her palm, closing his eyes for an eternal second that stopped the progression of time … and her heart.
When he opened his eyes, she felt the pull of a black hole sucking her into something so unknown it sent chills racing along her skin. He guided both of her hands to his neck then slid his beneath her butt and lifted her up. Within a breath he impaled himself inside her … all the way.
She gripped his thick, dark hair and screamed into his neck, muffling her string of curse words. He paused, but only until she silenced long enough to draw in a quick breath. Then he reared back and plunged in again.
Another cry.
Again and again, he repeated the slow rhythm until her cries morphed into moans. Then he picked up the pace—really picked up the pace. Her back threatened to break against the refrigerator door as glass on the inside rattled along with the ceramic jars on top.
After a few minutes the most unexpected thing happened. That abandoned orgasm? It came back to life, building to a mind-numbing intensity with each thrust.
“Harder!” That came from the woman who possessed Ryn’s body because she had never said that during sex, even when that’s what she wanted.
Jackson’s mouth found hers again, and every inch of his body brought unexpected pleasure to hers. The pain in her back vanished as all feeling gathered in one single spot. The spot he’d angled his pelvis to hit every. Single. Time.
“Yes … yes, there … there … there!” she yelled through a never-ending orgasm, the first with a man inside her.
The drain of energy made it hard not to collapse until he finished. They raced in tandem and she just wanted to stop peddling. Instead she held him tight, contracting all her muscles until he groaned on a final thrust, stilling for a few seconds before his body completely relaxed against hers, keeping her pinned to the refrigerator.
His sultry breaths blanketed the skin along her neck in ragged succession. If he’d wanted to stay inside her forever, that would have been fine by her. Once he completely shattered her vagina, which happened in the first three thrusts, they fit together quite nicely.
Jackson lifted his head just enough to move it from her shoulder to her forehead. Rolling it slightly side to side against hers, he grinned. “I’m out of practice.”
That made front page news because if what just happened was a result of him being out of practice, then she was in trouble. Epically huge trouble.
“Can you stand?” He kept his forehead against hers.
She nodded as he kissed her softly on the lips and eased her to her feet. Being fucked against the refrigerator left no room for modesty, but she still crossed her legs and rested her hands over her exposed area as he removed the condom and pulled up his pants.
He grinned, nodding behind him. “I’m going to run to the restroom while you see if your panties have cooled down. Okay, hot pants?”
Rolling her lips between her teeth and closing her eyes, she nodded. When the door to the bathroom clicked shut, she whipped around and retrieved her panties from the refrigerator. She stepped into them and yanked on her yoga pants at lightning speed. The sex and panty retrieval warranted a hand washing before she proceeded to prepare the salad. Gunner sat by the back door looking at her.
“What?” She shrugged, daring him to make her feel guilty. The dog possessed an eerily accurate perception.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You could open that bottle of wine.” Playing he-didn’t-just-fuck-her-brains-out-against-the-refrigerator cool required effort, but she did her best.
He poured them each a glass. “You’re quirky … I like you.”
She laughed, keeping her head bowed, eyes trained to the cutting board. “Really? I think the fact that you asked to ‘swim in my pond’ and then your response after what just happened is to tell me that I’m ‘quirky’ makes you the quirky one.”
“You could be right. I think introverted people can be quirky.”
“You are not introverted.” She slid on the oven mitts and pulled the lasagna out of the oven.
“I am, actually.”
“Both you and Jillian have made reference to your habits with women before you moved here.”
He carried their wine glasses to the table. “I’ve always spent a lot of time on the computer or playing the piano, only recently did I start teaching lessons. Most of my social interaction over the years has been via the internet or quick lays.”
“Quick lays? Wow … that’s …”
“Honest. I told you I’m not good at sugarcoating.” He smirked. “Well, actually I’m pretty good with the women in my neighborhood.”
Ryn dished out lasagna and salad for both of them then sat across from him. “The quirkiness you’re referring to is just my nerves around you. I’m not really an introvert. At least, not by nature. I was very outgoing in my day.”
Shaking his head, he blotted his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t say ‘in my day.’ It makes you sound eighty.”
“Fine, pre-Preston I was outgoing. So basically
as a teenager. I was in the drama club and got the role as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I worked at a daycare part-time after school and on the weekends, and I was an ambassador for Students Against Drunk Driving.”
“SADD, huh? For personal reasons or just because it’s a good cause?”
Ryn stared at her plate for a minute before shifting her eyes to him. “My older brother was killed by a seventeen-year-old girl who chose to get behind the wheel.”
“Ryn, I’m—”
She shook her head. “I don’t talk about it much. The driver was my best friend’s sister. We were thirteen when it happened, my brother was fifteen. He rode his bike home from a Friday night baseball game. We lived just two miles from the school. I was at their house that night. Her parents got a call from the hospital. She wasn’t injured it was more of a panic attack. Just as they were getting ready to pull out of the driveway to head to the hospital, my parents pulled in to get me because the sheriff had already delivered the news of my brother. In a matter of seconds everyone made the connection.”
“Jesus …”
“Yeah. I haven’t spoken to Heather since that night. We saw each other at school and she wrote me a few letters, but it was just too much.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’ve never gone to my class reunions in fear that she’d be there. Isn’t that ridiculous? I know … I’ve always known it wasn’t her fault, her sister’s the one who killed him, but it just hurts to be around her.”
Jackson moved his leg so it touched hers—intimate and kind.
“I’m sure she knows you don’t blame her.”
She nodded. “Anyway …” taking a deep breath then releasing it, she tried to smile “…sorry for the detour from my point, which is I’m not a born introvert so you cannot label me as quirky. Especially since I’m not the one who wears taped glasses. Which by the way I notice you don’t wear them all the time. Are you farsighted?”
Jackson looked down at his plate as he stabbed his fork into the lettuce. “Something like that.”
“I never asked. When you called, what did you want to show me?”
*
The self-professed introvert who occasionally wore glamour glasses, stared at the woman trying to hide her desolate expression. The subtleties in her appearance drew his attention: the way her hair looked messy and sexy at the same time and the way her brows peaked when she gave him a wide-eyed look every time she asked him a question. The tragic story still suffocated the air. Her question evaporated what little oxygen remained in the room. Was she not paying attention to the event that took place against her refrigerator?
