Cross Drop

by Elizabeth Hartey

  Nikki opens the door while I’m still struggling to strap on the nylon belt which holds my water bottle.

  “Come in for a minute. I have to get my running shoes. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen. Help yourself.” She exhales a long breath. Her apparent exasperation doesn’t escape me.

  Ahh. The smell of fresh brewed coffee is a welcome distraction. I’ve been living off instant since Batt left. Even though we all try to help out, he’s kind of the master chef. I guess having an Italian mom who believed it was her duty to feed as many people on the planet as possible at their kitchen table helped him hone his skills.

  “All set?” Nikki walks in the kitchen as I take a gulp of the delicious brew. “Or you want to just stay here and have a relationship with that coffee you’re moaning into?”

  Little smartass.

  “No thanks. I’m good. Been missing the taste of fresh brewed. I’m all set.”

  “Okay, Juan Valdez. Let’s go. I want to get this over with. I’ve got a shit ton of stuff to do today,” she says and walks out.

  Nice. Can’t get over how thrilled she is to be spending time with me.

  I finish my coffee with one more savoring swallow and hurry after her. When I get outside I make a piss poor attempt at stretching and warming up my muscles. I’m a little preoccupied. I can’t take my eyes off Nikki as she stretches. She’s got on her usual spandex running shorts and a Ninja Turtle tank top. As she bends and touches the ground with her hands and then stretches each leg in front of her the spandex clings to every curve of her body. I’m pretty sure take me I’m yours just flashed across her ass. No. It may have been my mind the words were flashing across.

  I don’t want to go running with her. I want to carry her back inside, lay her across her bed, and use our 98.6º furnaces to warm each other up. But she almost didn’t agree to go running with me, so I’m fairly certain she’d say ‘fuck off’ to sex.

  We head toward the combination bike and running trail around the harbor. Our feet point us in the direction without our brains giving it a thought. It’s the same place we ran almost every day when we were together.

  The weather is perfect. The sky is such a clear, vivid blue with the bright sun climbing the horizon, it’s the perfect panorama for a picture postcard. A slight ocean breeze is blowing in from the dark blue water of the harbor and a matrix of swaying, anchored sailboats complete the picture. The seagulls squawk over our heads in easy conversation. Makes me wish humans could converse as easily; tell each other exactly what’s on our minds without hesitation.

  It was that easy between Nik and me. In the past, we completed each other’s sentences. Now there’s this brick wall of uneasiness separating us. I don’t know how it got there, or where it came from, but I plan on demolishing it today over breakfast. It’s not the ideal place to have the conversation, but I figure if we’re in public she won’t be able to kick me in the balls for trying to have a serious talk with her.

  Will she?

  “Having a hard time keeping up, hockey boy?”

  I jump out of my thoughts to see Nikki running backward several strides ahead of me. “Ready for those pancakes?” I ask, picking up my pace to catch up to her.

  “Fine by me if that’s as far as you can go. Like I said, I have a lot of work to do today.” She stops running. She’s not even breathing hard. And while my t-shirt is drenched, she hasn’t even broken a sweat. Guess my dripping shirt is the reason she thinks I’m done. Although, we were together long enough for her to remember how I sweat during vigorous exercise and how long I can go, double entendres intended. She’s just trying to get under my skin with her taunting.

  I don’t protest her comment insinuating I’m too tired to go on. I don’t tell her I could go another ten miles if she wants, because I don’t want. What I want is to get her back into my life as more than a running companion.

  “Yeah. That’s it for me today.” I stop next to her and pull my wet shirt over my head, using it to wipe my face and chest. I don’t miss the way Nikki’s eyes follow my shirt as it moves over my pecs. It’s the perfect opportunity to play with her a little. I drag it in a slow, suggestive circle down my abs to the edge of my running shorts. Her I’m-going-to-eat-you look, which drives me wild, flushes her face.

  “I’m so hungry.” My honeyed tone emphasizes my actions. “Looking forward to those pancakes.” Her ogling gaze jerks back up to my face. “Batt wasn’t here to make our usual Saturday morning breakfast and I’m starving.” I lick my lips to add an extra tease and she closes her eyes for a second. I could swear I hear her whimper. This is good. The brick wall has an apparent fissure. She doesn’t completely dislike me.

  “Fine.” She huffs out a long, frustrated breath. “Let’s run back to our houses and take showers before going to breakfast. You look like you need one.”

  She runs ahead of me toward the house. Yes. After the way I just teased her, I need a shower. A very cold shower.

  ***

  “Fuck.” When I reach into the nylon belt which holds my water bottle and cell phone and is supposed to hold my door key it occurs to me, in my hurry to get to Nik’s this morning, I forgot to take my keys. I cup my hands around my eyes and peer through the window on the side of the front door. There they are, minding their own business, hanging from their hook, just where they shouldn’t be right now.

  I head back over to Nik’s, but when I knock a couple of times there’s no answer. I send her a text.

  Me: Locked out of my house.

  After a few seconds a message flashes across my screen.

  Her: So what do you want me to do about it?

  Me: I’m at your front door.

  Her: I’m in the shower.

  I stand there staring at the screen like a mesmerized idiot. Like she’s going to send me some kind of visual confirmation.

  Her: Just a minute.

  I can almost hear the annoyed tone in her text. Two minutes later the door opens and she’s standing there wrapped in a white towel, all five feet five inches of dripping wet gorgeousness. I will my eyes to stay focused on her face and my dick to calm down. I can’t allow myself to linger on the thought of what’s underneath the towel. I’m already pushing the limits of restraint here when it comes to being this close to Nikki.

  “Can’t you just climb in a window or something?” There’s the I’m-so-happy-to-see-you tone she loves to greet me with.

  “They’re all locked and I don’t want to break one. The landlord will lose his shit.”

  She shrugs and steps back, opening the door wider to let me pass. “You can take a shower in Tracey’s and Dak’s bathroom. I’m sure Dak has something that will fit you. You guys are about the same size,” she says and gives me another hungry once over.

  “Uh, thanks. I’ll figure out how to get in my house after breakfast.”

  I follow behind her up the stairs.

  When she gets a couple of steps ahead of me her short little towel is leaving nothing to my already overactive imagination.

  Fucking hell.

  “I have to finish washing my hair.” She turns and comes to an abrupt stop when we get to the top of the steps. I wasn’t expecting her to stop and I plow into her. My hands automatically reach out to grab her arms to keep her from falling. The sweet weight of her towel-covered breasts is pressed against my bare chest. Christ. She smells so fucking good, like fragrant strawberries on a warm summer day. She’s trembling and there’s no way to will my cock to calm down now. He’s totally not interested in calming down. All he wants, what we both want, is to be back home inside this woman.

  “I…I’ll be out in a minute,” she whispers, glancing up at me. I think it’s the first breath either one of us has taken.

  When she walks away I’m still not sure I can remember how to breathe.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Nikki

  What the ever-loving hell?

  My heart is a fool. I suppose its inability to keep itself from reacting to his fantasy
body, head turning face, soul penetrating eyes, and Gigantor cock is understandable. No mere mortal heart can keep itself from beating like hummingbird wings when confronting a combo like that.

  I’m not unaware of the inordinate number of women who have fallen victim to Dalt’s god-like physical attributes. But you would think after the way he drop kicked my stupid heart, I would be able to see beyond his fool’s paradise exterior beauty.

  When I fell in love with Dalt, I thought he was beautiful inside and out. He impressed me as being warm and caring, and even loving. Then I witnessed the cruelty lurking underneath the stunning exterior. In Dalt’s case, beauty is evidently only skin deep. Good, common survival sense should tell me to back away and stay far away from him.

  Pacing the floor in my bedroom, still wrapped in my towel, the ever-present ache for him thrums through me, pummeling my common sense into submission. The devil and angel sides of my subconscious clash. The devil’s tempting need swirls and whispers to me, You can’t go on like this, especially not now when he’s ten feet away from you and naked in the shower. The angel argues, There’s so much more you want from Dalt than the incredible multi-orgasmic sex. She’s a very liberated angel. The devil snaps back, You can’t have it. He’s already promised those things to someone else.

  Argh. I can’t deal with this inner conflict any longer. It’s making me crazy.

  Take what you can get, the devil taunts. Use him to fulfill your need just as he used you and then move on. I don’t give Miss Goody Two Shoes time to respond. I jump in Mr. Id’s corner and decide I can play pump and dump just as well as Dalt can. Jesus. I may have taken one too many psychology classes for my own good. Whatever. I can do this, use him and toss him away. This time I’m going to be the one in control. I’m going to fuck him right out of my universe and walk away.

  ***

  I don’t bother to knock. When I walk in he’s standing in the middle of the bedroom, also wrapped in a towel, his back to the door. The towel is hanging low on his hips and one glimpse of those broad shoulders and the outline of his tight, round ass, has my heart beating like it’s trying to get out of my chest. The sight of his massive body and drool worthy muscles standing in Trace’s flowery pink and white bedroom would almost be comical if I wasn’t as turned on as a nuclear power plant. I think I just ovulated.

  When he turns around, the way his surprised expression quickly morphs into a half-lidded gaze filled with oceans of simmering lust would dissolve my panties—if I were wearing panties. The teasing rivulets of water slide down the hills and valleys of his supernatural eight-pack, disappearing under his towel. My gaze follows their journey. In my mind the droplets look a lot like my fingers. I force myself to remember what I’m doing here, remember I’m the one in control.

  “We need to talk.” I step further into the room.

  “Talk?” The word catches in Dalt’s throat and comes out in a constricted squeak. I can’t miss the gigantic pole tenting his towel. Well, that was quick.

  “After.” I drop my towel and plant a defiant hand on my hip. Dalt takes a long gaze up and down my naked body.

  “Holy fuck, Nik. You’re my perfect Strawberry Bud.”

  Where does he get the unmitigated nerve to call me that bullshit nickname? Wait ‘til Tracey hears that one.

  He crosses the room and is standing in front of me before I can blink. “God. I’ve missed you, baby.”

  I smack his hand away when he reaches out for me. “I told you not to call me baby.”

  “Ookay.” Dalt runs his fingers back through his wet hair like he’s unsure what to do next. The move only succeeds in making his thick black hair more disheveled and his appearance more fuckably hot.

  I remind myself how perfect this is. I’m succeeding in making the normally adept sex-god feel a little unsure of himself. I’m the alpha male in this hookup today….I mean alpha woman. Alpha person? Whatever. I’m controlling this little get together today.

  Use him and toss him away, my devilish mantra.

  I slip two fingers into the waist of his towel and pull it off. His long, thick, porno-size cock springs out in front of me. Christ. His body parts are too good to be true. They belong on a Tumblr page for Hot Men We’d Like To Fuck. I hold back the groan working its way up my throat.

  He gives me a cocky half-smile like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. When he leans in to kiss me, I turn my head away. His long, hard shaft grazes my stomach. Sliding my hand down between us, I wrap my fingers around his thick cock—almost, because my fingers can’t reach all the way around Gigantor. With as firm a grip as possible, I pull him closer to me.

  “Fuck. Take it easy ba…uh…Nik or I’m going to come before we even get started.”

  “Losing your stamina, baby?”

  “No. I can go all day and night with you, hon…Nik,” he smiles.

  Smiles.

  Why isn’t he as strung out as I am? He tries to kiss me again and I turn my head once more. If I let him kiss me, I’ll be unable to keep this up. I’ll melt into his arms and overwhelming willpower.

  “Is everything okay, Nik?” He leans back and gazes down at me from under his impossibly long black lashes. My eyes linger on his for just a moment but it’s long enough for a tremble of anticipation to move through my body. I ward off the sensation and force myself to appear indifferent to his sexy bewitchery.

  “Everything’s fine,” I say curtly, bringing one hand up to his shoulder. “I want you to go down on me.” Using the hand still clenched around his cock and the one on his shoulder I push him down to the floor. Unfortunately, as he drops to the floor Gigantor pops out of my grip, because not even he is long enough to cover that distance.

  “Are you kidding me?” He leers up at me from his kneeling position between my legs and chuckles.

  “Don’t you want to?” I spread my legs a little wider right in front of his mouth. God. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this Fifty Shades of control thing up. I can already feel the imminent orgasm clutching at my insides as he glares up at me through eyes filled with liquid desire and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

  “Want to? The only thing I want more than eating you is to be balls deep inside you. But you seem a little…I don’t know…angry?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. Forget it. I’m not going to beg you to—” I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence. Dalt scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I punch his back and kick my feet in protest as he walks toward the bed. The thought occurs to me to pinch his perfect, lickable bubble butt in retaliation. Um, no…bite it.

  Mmm. Yeah. Bite it.

  If I could reach it.

  He flips me onto the bed and all thoughts of what I want to do to his delicious ass fly out of my dirty little mind.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I snap at him.

  “Same thing I was going to ask you,” he gibes right back. “What the hell are you doing, Nik?” He grabs my ankles, pulls my ass to the edge of the bed, and bends my legs.

  “Stop it, Dalt.” I try to drop my legs but he’s still got my ankles in a firm grip and won’t let me move them.

  “Oh. Now you want me to stop?” He drops to his knees in front of me. “Isn’t this what you want?” He takes one long stroke at my center with his tongue and I’m on fire with the heat of a million stars.

  “Ooo. Mmmm. Yeess. I mean no.”

  “No? How about this?” He uses his thumb to rub slow, teasing circles over my clit.

  “Oh God. Yes. Dalt.” I push my hips forward. I need more. It’s been so long. I need him now.

  “I want that too, baby,” he whispers and stops touching me.

  Why is he stopping? Don’t stop!

  When I open my eyes, he’s standing between my still bent legs. Gigantor is throbbing, apparently angry and straining to explode.

  “Dalt. Please.” I reach out for him, all remnants of me being the one in control gone. I don’t care w
hich one of us is the alpha person, I just want him inside me. I want the overwhelming sensation of the way only he can fill all the emptiness I’ve felt since he left me. And yes. I do mean literally and metaphorically.

  He climbs over me, placing his knees on either side of me, and wraps his hands around my waist, sliding me up the bed, then gently pushes a pillow under my head. Stretching out over me, he pushes himself up on his forearms, one on either side of my face. I can still feel his cock throbbing with angry, unfulfilled pulsations on my stomach.

  Every part of my body is lit up with the electricity generated by Dalt. “I want you,” I whimper and wriggle underneath him in an attempt to position him where I need him. But his powerful body is pressed so firmly on top of mine I can’t move.

  “I want you too, Nik. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But this isn’t happening until you tell me what’s going on, and why you’re so angry with me.”

  Seriously? At a time like this he wants a dissertation on the Most Disgusting Way To Dump Your Fuck Buddy—Or How to Get Your Douchebag Father To Do It For You?

  “Is it really necessary for me to have to explain why I’m angry?” The bitter memory of his past actions floods my thoughts, extinguishing the raging fire between my legs. “Did you think what you did wasn’t going to destroy me and make me hate you? I’m not like you, I’m not made of stone. I’m just mortal flesh and blood.” I punch him in the shoulder in an attempt to make him move. “Get off me.”

  Another colossal mistake. What was I thinking? Being here like this isn’t going to erase Dalt from my life, it’s only going to make the remaining roots of my love for him wrap around my heart like tentacles and obliterate what little fragments he’s left of it.

  He doesn’t budge when I punch his shoulder. He just keeps piercing me with those limpid blue eyes.

  “What did I do, for chrissakes?” he persists.