Law & Beard

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “But you also have a five-year-old.” He pointed out. “And an ex-husband that is a part of his life. I’ve done my civic duty…and I’m honestly over the ex game. Trust me when I say, I’m too old for you. Too jaded. Too set in my ways.”

  I grunted but didn’t call him on his bullshit.

  “Just…I need my shirt, okay?”

  I realized that the matter was closed, and we wouldn’t be discussing it anymore…at least tonight.

  Okay, then.

  “Okay,” I called. “But I can wear it right now?”

  He slammed the door closed.

  “Yeah,” he yelled through the door. “Do you want me to leave the shower on for you?”

  I moaned. “No. I already took one while you were getting dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  Then the shower turned on and I guiltily opened my laptop once again.

  The webpage I had up was a blog that I loved to follow.

  It was composed of two mothers around my age, both of whom were hilariously funny.

  Today’s topic of conversation was blow jobs.

  I’d never been good at blow jobs, and honestly, I didn’t have to be. Why? Because Matt didn’t like them.

  Yes, I know. It was weird. What guy didn’t like blow jobs?

  I’d tried to give Matt a blow job once and only once, and he’d started to freak out because my mouth was too close to him.

  See, Matt had a fear of mouths.

  Yes, you heard that correct.

  Mouths.

  He was grossed out watching me brush my teeth. He didn’t like kissing me. (And, from what I’d heard, he didn’t mind kissing Slut-Bag Angelina, which chafed.) He abhorred going to the dentist because someone was going to be doing stuff in his mouth, and the icing on the cake was his incessant need to get away from me—or our kids—if it even looked like they were going to open their mouths near him.

  Dear God, there was this one time that Matt had been holding Cody when he yawned near his face. I still remember it like it was yesterday instead of years ago.

  He’d been sitting on the couch, Cody—who’d only been a few months old at the time—resting on his chest. Cody had lifted his head, brought his face almost directly into Matt’s, and then yawned.

  Yawned.

  That was all he’d done.

  And it was like Cody had projectile vomited down his throat instead of just doing a normal bodily function.

  He’d practically thrown Cody across the couch.

  I still remember the bounce he’d done before almost landing on the floor.

  Had Conleigh not been there, catching him before he could continue his roll, he’d have landed face first on the corner of the coffee table.

  Fucking Matt.

  I’d never, not once, had the pleasure of giving a blow job.

  Yet, I wanted to give one.

  I wanted to give one to Steel.

  Jesus Christ, did I want to give him one.

  The man turned me on in ways that I had no clue were my turn-ons, yet here I was, wondering what it would feel like to give the man a blow job.

  My curiosity got the better of me as I googled more tips—which they’d said they’d done as a comparison—and then I got lost in the World Wide Web.

  My first stop had been Cosmopolitan!

  My second had been some random Joe-Blow (literally, that was the name of the website) blog that gave the men’s top ten best blow job tips—according to men.

  1. Maintain eye contact.

  2. Tie your hair back, it shows your dedication.

  3. Allow him to put his hand in your hair and control the movements.

  That, I could do! In fact, the idea of Steel putting his hands in my hair and controlling all of the movement was downright arousing.

  4. Use your hand as well as your mouth. Twist it side to side lightly as you pump and suck him.

  Okay, pump, suck and twist. Check!

  5. Don’t use your teeth. Ever.

  I shivered at the thought. That would suck, accidentally biting Steel’s dick. He’d probably never let me near him again and kick me straight the hell out of his bed. Though, I had to get in his bed first…

  6. Drop down so he’s standing and you’re kneeling. There’s nothing more arousing than watching a woman get on her knees.

  That thought made me shiver. Would Steel like me on my knees?

  I sure the hell hoped so. I’d love to get on my knees for him.

  Then again, I was doing good with my rehab…he still might have to help me back up.

  I winced. Maybe I should just get on the bed between his splayed thighs…yes, that was how I’d do it.

  7. Suck his balls.

  Suck his balls? How the hell did I put those in my mouth? There wasn’t enough room!

  8. Go slow. It’s not a race.

  9. Swallow.

  Well, that was self-explanatory. But I didn’t know if I could swallow. I’d try, but what if I gagged?

  10. We like it when you gag.

  Did they? What if I accidentally threw up? That would completely ruin the mood.

  “What are you doing?”

  I squeaked and jumped as Steel came out of the bathroom.

  After our first night together, he hadn’t bothered to be modest around me in the least.

  If we weren’t working, I quickly realized, Steel would rather be shirtless.

  I quickly shut my laptop and smiled.

  “Reading,” I lied.

  Well, I guess technically it wasn’t a lie. I was reading. What I wasn’t doing was reading a book.

  I flushed.

  “Hmmmm,” he said. “You ready for bed?”

  I nodded.

  We were in a hotel room in the outskirts of whatever city we were in. I couldn’t remember which one it was at this point seeing as we’d been to so freakin’ many over the last two days.

  We were lucky to find a hotel room, to be honest. Yesterday we’d slept in Steel’s truck in a convoy of other rescuers, on the side of the road.

  I’d slept like a freakin’ baby.

  “Yep!” I lied.

  I wasn’t ready for bed. Not even a little bit.

  But tomorrow was going to be another long, exhausting day. Then we had to drive home because Steel—as well as I—had to return to work.

  Steel moved around the room turning off lights as I snuggled deeper under my blankets.

  I shivered, wondering again why it was so cold in here.

  The air wouldn’t turn off. We’d tried. Multiple times.

  And, sadly, it wasn’t one of those window units where you could just unplug it. Nope, not this hotel. It was fancy—and by fancy, I mean four hundred dollars a night fancy.

  Yes, I’d almost swallowed my tongue at hearing that price come out of the concierge’s mouth.

  However, they’d expressly informed us that they were having problems with their air conditioning systems—not that they would be comping the room for us or even reducing the price because of it, mind you.

  Luckily, we were informed, that we got one of the rooms with air. Apparently, about half the hotel didn’t have it due to surges in power during the storm.

  However, what air the other half of the hotel wasn’t getting, we were.

  Meaning it was a chilly fifty degrees up in this bitch.

  “You want my blanket?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  Also, along with the fact that it was cold, there weren’t any extra blankets to be had. With the hotel being so close to the area of disaster, people had flooded the hotel with their families. In some rooms, I’d noticed how there were as many as ten people in it. Obviously, they’d gotten the extra blankets.

  This also meant that we were left with what was on the bed only.

  A single white sheet, a small waffle-pleated blanket, and two pillows per queen bed.

  Two.

 
My bag had dropped out of the truck earlier into a puddle of muddy water, and because of that, I was wearing a pair of my panties and one of Steel’s shirts…and nothing else.

  All of my other belongings were now being washed and dried—promised to be returned by morning—by the hotels extremely high-priced laundry service department.

  “Are you sure?” He pushed.

  “I’m fine.”

  I wasn’t fine, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to take Steel’s blanket when it was fifty fucking degrees in here.

  Dammit.

  Without argument, he turned off the light.

  Then I heard him stripping his pants off, the belt clinking against the ground as he dropped them, and then the bed squeaking as he climbed under the covers.

  I licked my lips, wondering if I’d ever work up the courage to touch the man.

  I’ve seen the appreciative looks he’d send me, but since he apparently thought I still needed time, he was giving me the space that he must have thought I needed.

  Space that I didn’t need.

  Not at all.

  Not anymore, anyway.

  Not after knowing Steel Cross for the time that I had.

  I wanted him.

  I liked how he took care of my kids. I liked how he took care of me—even when he tried to act inconspicuous as he did. And I liked him.

  A lot.

  He made me laugh. He humored me when I did things I probably shouldn’t want to do—like this trip with him to the hurricane-affected area for example. He also took care of me even when I didn’t think I needed to be taken care of.

  He was an all-around great guy.

  But he also had a streak of bad boy in him.

  He was a president of a motorcycle club. He was brash, hard, and unforgiving.

  I’d watched him take down a criminal—right in the middle of our street—who had been trying to break into my car.

  Seriously, I loved the good guy part of Steel Cross, I truly did. But I needed the bad boy in him. I needed him with the power of a thousand suns.

  In my vagina.

  Soon.

  I just had to find a way to let him know that.

  And, as my eyes closed, and I thought about anything but the freezing temperature of the room around me, I realized that I would have to flat out tell him that I wanted him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t make the move.

  He’d actually said he’d have dated me in a different lifetime, before our lives had gotten so complicated, on our drive down.

  Maybe I needed to show him that we didn’t have to make it more complicated than it already was.

  Maybe we should uncomplicate things.

  Shivering even harder than I already was at that thought, I closed my eyes and felt my eyes grow heavy.

  I didn’t fully drop off into sleep.

  Couldn’t. Not with my teeth clattering together every couple of seconds, and chills racing over my body making the bed springs underneath me squeak.

  My dreams, however, were beautiful.

  I closed my eyes and drifted, thinking of him.

  Somehow, I found myself warm despite my knowing I shouldn’t be.

  I didn’t care how. Didn’t honestly care why. I just cared that I was deliciously warm, and was finally able to get to sleep.

  ***

  Hours later, my eyes opened.

  A sound had woken me…what had it been?

  Another sound, a bump from the room toward my head, sounded again.

  The bed.

  A bed was hitting the wall that our bed was on.

  Our bed?

  That’s when I noticed that I was no longer alone in my bed.

  I had a distinctly male body practically underneath me.

  My leg was thrown over one strong thigh. My head was resting on the strong, slightly hairy chest, with a strong heartbeat beneath. My panty-clad pussy was pressed up against a distinctly male hip. One of my arms was crossed over a very hard belly, and finally, a strong fist was tangled in my unruly hair.

  I was in Steel’s bed. Laying half on top of Steel’s very hard body with my own. Holy shit.

  My knee was about halfway across his hips, resting lightly just above where the waistband of his underwear rested.

  I moved my calf slightly to the right, bringing my foot to rest directly between his thighs on the bed. It also meant that my calf was now pressing against his dick.

  His dick that was currently soft, yet still hard…if that made any sense at all.

  I could feel it there, and all of a sudden, I wished I had nerve endings in my calf like I did in my fingers.

  I tried to feel his cock. Tried to imagine what it looked like.

  And then I shifted.

  I couldn’t help it.

  I brought my leg farther down until it—his cock—rested against the side of it.

  Then, ever so slowly, I moved my hand as if I was still asleep. It came to a rest right above his boxer briefs and stilled.

  Two fingers were resting on the band itself, and the other three were resting on his skin. Skin that was covered in a soft trail of hair that led the way to where I most wanted my fingers.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  The heat between my legs grew, and suddenly I could feel myself getting wetter, something I’d never before accomplished outside of when I was reading a really good smutty book.

  Oh God.

  This was torture.

  My fingers itched to move.

  I wanted them somewhere else so bad that they actually twitched.

  My middle finger slipped under the waistband and came to a halt.

  Everything inside of me screamed.

  I hadn’t meant to do that, yet I couldn’t move them again.

  What if he woke up? He was going to wake up. He’d have to wake up.

  Oh God.

  I squirmed inwardly, wanting to grind myself against him at the same time that I also wanted to shove my hands down his pants the rest of the way.

  The bed hit the wall again and then again.

  That’s when I felt Steel stiffen.

  Both in body and in cock.

  I was unsure how our position came to be, but I assumed that Steel had either moved me to his bed, or he moved to mine.

  I couldn’t see any light in the room due to the blackout curtains, so I couldn’t even tell where we were in the room.

  But I could feel Steel all around me.

  His arm tightened slightly around my shoulders and then dropped.

  His hand met bare skin, which was when I realized that my shirt had somehow ridden up.

  And when I say it rode up, I meant that I could feel my bare breasts against his very hot chest.

  Oh, fuck.

  Goddammit, I was horny.

  I didn’t dare move.

  Whatever had gotten us into this mess was a Godsend.

  That’s how I took it, anyway.

  I’d needed a way to get closer, and he’d practically given it to me by crawling into bed with me.

  I couldn’t help that my body was attracted to his, drawn to him like a magnet.

  He tried to move away from me slightly, and I did what any sane woman would do in this situation.

  I moved, acting like I was still asleep, and practically rolled straight over on top of him.

  He didn’t move for a long minute.

  I didn’t, either.

  Couldn’t, really.

  I was sure, any second, he’d roll me off of him. My heart was thundering in my chest, and I could feel his cock—which was definitely getting harder by the second—against my inner thigh.

  My breasts were now fully pressed against his chest, and I was right.

  He had chest hair. Quite a bit of it, actually.

  Saliva filled my mouth, but I didn’t dare swallow.

  He’d know. I knew it. If I so much as did anything overtly obvious, he’d roll me off and tell
me this wasn’t a good idea.

  So I stayed still.

  It was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

  His cock, also, never deflated.

  In fact, I almost wanted to say it got harder.

  It took everything I had not to grind myself against him.

  My clit was throbbing, I could feel my wetness saturating my underwear, and I knew that soon, it’d be obvious to not just me but him, too.

  His hand came up and he fisted my hair again, tugging it lightly.

  I couldn’t help it.

  I moaned and rubbed myself against him.

  He froze again. For long, drawn out seconds, he paused and didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.

  Then his hand—the one that wasn’t fisted in my hair—came down to rest on my ribs.

  His thumb came out and swept down, swiping all the way along my outer breast.

  My nipples pebbled.

  He did it again, and this time I couldn’t help but squirm on top of him.

  His hand moved down the length of my back to my leg that was resting between his thighs, and he pulled it up until it was resting on the outside of his other thigh.

  I moved then, re-centering myself on his body until my breasts were in the middle of his chest, my head tucked up underneath his chin, and my pussy centered directly over his very hard cock.

  And that’s about the time that the people on the other side of the wall really started to go at it.

  It was also when he realized that I was no longer even remotely asleep.

  “Awake?”

  I swallowed, then nodded.

  “Thank fuck.”

  I grinned and brought my head up, searching blindly in the dark for his mouth.

  His beard was the first thing my lips touched, and then his hand was there, guiding my head until I was lips-to-lips with him.

  “There,” he said against them.

  I kissed him then, relishing in the act.

  Matt hadn’t ever let me do this.

  But Steel?

  He owned my mouth.

  Fucking. Owned. It.

  He dragged my mouth to his, took what he wanted and didn’t let me go.

  Not until I was out of breath and grinding against him in desperation.

  But I wanted to do something. I wanted to do it so bad that I actually said what I wanted.

  And he didn’t argue.

  Not even a little bit.

  “I want you in my mouth. I want it so bad.”