by Marie Jermy
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, fresh smelling and presented in clean clothes—beige chinos and a white button-down shirt for him, jeans and an indigo sleeveless shirt for her—they were strolling down Beaverhead Street to Rendezvous, located on the corner of Main and Second.
Though he wanted to, Rex refrained from holding Ramona’s hand, but, and even if his life had depended on it, he couldn’t have stopped the eruption of laughter the moment they stepped across the restaurant’s threshold. With instrumental love songs playing over hidden speakers and tastefully decorated in soft, muted tones of brown and yellow, each table adorned with candles and a vase containing a single stemmed red rose, Rendezvous had “romance” stamped all over it.
“Ramona,” he whispered close to her ear as a thickset man with a thicket of white hair and rosy cheeks, and who reminded Rex of Santa Claus, approached them, “if I blow out the candles, everybody will be eating in the dark.”
“Ramona Anderson!” the man greeted, a wide, welcoming smile creasing the lines on his aging face. “What a lovely surprise. We don’t often see you in here.” His friendly eyes then turned somber. “I heard about Samantha. If there’s anything Barbara and I can do, then please ask.”
Ramona smiled. “Thanks.” She turned to Rex. “Rex, meet Clive Fraser. Clive, Rex Latimer.”
“We have met.” All the same, Rex shook the hand Fraser held out and then glanced around the busy interior. “I guess we should have booked.”
“You’re in luck. We have a free table. Follow me.”
With Ramona’s hand clasped in his—he couldn’t help himself—Rex followed Fraser to a table set in the corner of the far wall. He smiled as Fraser held Ramona’s chair out before sitting down himself. Their table seemed the most romantic in the restaurant. He picked up the menu, half expecting oysters, asparagus, chocolate, strawberries, and champagne to be the main fare. Instead, what he saw listed was a wide and varied selection of meat, fish, and vegetarian dishes.
“What would you like to drink?” Fraser asked, taking a small notepad from his shirt pocket.
Rex perused the wine list. He knew Ramona drank wine, but then reminded himself this was neither supposed to be romantic nor a date. He looked across at her. “Do you like beer? Two beers then, please,” he said at her nod.
“Any particular kind?”
He caught the mischievous glint that Ramona threw his way. “Budweiser.” Once Fraser had left, he relaxed back in his chair and glanced around. He noted the glances of sympathy being directed at Ramona from the other diners. “I guess everybody knows about Samantha.”
She nodded. “It’s a small town. News travels extremely fast.” She idly fingered the cream linen tablecloth. “Don’t get me wrong, Rex, I appreciate everybody’s support and kindness, but I just wish…”
“Wish for some space?” Rex offered when she trailed off.
“Yeah.”
“Would you like to go home?”
She looked up and smiled a little too brightly. “No. This is good. I’m good.”
Yeah, of course she was.
* * * *
Was she good? Ramona couldn’t give a definite yes or no answer to that question as she studied Rex’s rugged and unshaven features over the flickering candlelight. His “weekend whiskers” gave him an edgier quality to his already sex-on-legs masculinity.
Strange yet true, but ever since Rex had had his hand entombed within Storm’s rear end, she’d been in danger of turning slushy on him. Then he had really surprised her. Not only had he once been married, but with the admission for that split was because he’d wanted a family and his ex-wife hadn’t, Ramona had had the sudden need to comfort him. She wanted to let him know she was there for him, as he had been for her, and all because for a while he’d ceased to be a smug SOB.
It had been obvious that Rex held his ex-wife Stacey with the utmost distaste. She’d seen his pain, felt it, too, in the stables, then in his bed, and with his reluctance to talk about it, she’d quickly deduced he was still hurting. Not that she would cause him further pain, but despite knowing she had finally found a faithful man, she was scared of falling for him and not knowing what came next.
“Are you?” Rex asked, regaining Ramona’s attention. “Good, that is. I mean, I know you don’t do romance, but this…” He gestured around at their surroundings. “This is romance.”
“Then blow out the candle,” she quickly countered.
He laughed and did exactly that.
Unfortunately, it was at that time that Fraser appeared with their beers and re-lit the candle. “Are you ready to order, or would you like more time?”
Though Ramona knew Rex was doing his best to accommodate her wish for their meal to be unromantic, his manners were still on show when he handed her the menu and said, “Woman’s prerogative. You choose.”
Once she had made the selections, all with the explicit instructions for no garlic, and Fraser had disappeared through a set of double swing doors, Rex raised his beer glass. “Am I permitted to make a toast?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether it’s romantic or not.”
He laughed. “In that case, I make this toast to Greg.”
She tried her hardest to ignore the flutters his warm, rich, rolling laughter had on her heart rate. Thank God the decidedly wicked glint shining in his darkening toffee-brown eyes made her pussy clench and cream otherwise she would be in trouble. She flashed Rex a teasing smile. “Greg?”
“Yes, Greg. Without him, I wouldn’t have experienced ‘You-Tarzan-me-Jane’—No, hang on a minute, let’s swap that round. ‘Me-Tarzan-you-Jane-jungle-jump-sex.’”
She burst into laughter and in that instant decided she definitely wasn’t good. Not by a long shot.
* * * *
At Ramona’s peal of sweet giggles, Rex not only felt his cock stirring, but knew in his heart that he was in love with her. He loved her so true, so deep, it went beyond anything he’d felt for Stacey. It was a pity that Ramona didn’t do romance. Otherwise, he would have dropped to his knees and pledged his life to her. Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t call her darlin’.
“So, to Greg, yes?”
“To Greg,” she agreed, chinking her glass to his.
Rex placed his glass down and, totally disregarding everybody around him other than Ramona, misplaced dining etiquette rules by putting his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands and simply stared at her.
“What?” she asked as the seconds ticked into a minute of silence.
“Darlin’, can’t I look?”
“Yeah, but I may have to start charging.”
“Name your price.”
Before Ramona could respond, Fraser’s wife, Barbara, a matronly looking woman with salt-and-pepper bobbed hair, breezed up to their table, carrying their starters.
As she placed her plate in front of her, Ramona smelled the air and made sounds of approval, while Rex’s mouth watered. Yes, the button mushrooms in a coriander and lime pesto looked divine, but the strap of Ramona’s electric blue lacy bra slipping from her right shoulder was heaven on earth.
His cock pushed against his zipper when Rex remembered she wore matching lace panties. Well, actually “panties” was not quite the description he would use, more like a triangle of scrap material held together by two pieces of string.
“Mrs. Fraser, this looks delicious,” Ramona commented, taking another sniff of the air and laying her napkin in her lap. “Don’t you think so, Rex?”
“Mmm, delicious,” he agreed, his eyes glued to that bra strap.
“Move your elbows or you’ll get your starter over your head,” Ramona told him.
Rex looked up. An amused twinkle in her kind eyes, Barbara was waiting patiently. He quickly snatched up his napkin and put that and his hands in his lap to spare the woman’s blushes. “Sorry. I was miles away.”
“Quite all right. Enjoy.”
“Oh, I’m
sure I will,” he murmured. Once Barbara had breezed away, he once more became glued to Ramona’s bra strap. This would not do. He preferred to eat his food while it was still hot. And cold mushrooms were so not appetizing. “Darlin’, may I?”
“Don’t you dare!”
His eyes flew upward and met hers. “Dare, what?”
“Start singing.”
“Now there’s a thought.” He laughed at her scowl. “No, seriously, I was going to do this.” Rex reached across the table and pushed her bra strap back up to its rightful position. “That’s better. It was rather distracting. As are you, darlin’.”
“Darlin’,” she retorted, mimicking his Southern drawl to perfection, “quit with the romance!” Her eyes flashed wickedly. “I know you’re hard, so if I drop my napkin on the floor, say by accident, can I blow you?” He choked on the mushroom he’d just popped into his mouth. “Lick me, Rex. My pussy’s so wet.”
“Only if you let me serenade you, darlin’,” he tossed right back.
The teasing continued throughout their meal. Only the appearance of Fraser, who seemed to pop up almost out of nowhere, curbed them. Finally, though, when Ramona queried if they could have fruit salad for dessert, Rex felt that neither he nor his pants zipper could take the strain any longer. “We’ll have the pecan pie.”
“Ice cream? Or cream? We have single, double, and whipping.”
At Ramona’s stifled giggle, Rex kicked himself for walking straight into that one. “Thanks, but no to all.”
“Coffees?”
“Black, no sugar,” Rex hastily replied before Fraser could pose the “cream” question again. Once Fraser had gone, his eyes flicked to Ramona. “Don’t even say it!”
“What, that I actually wanted cream on my pie? Oh, well, I s’pose you could always jerk off on my plate. Will you do that for me?” Ramona slowly ran her tongue over her lips and reached for his hand, entwining her fingers through his. She then must have realized that that constituted as “romantic” because she hastily snatched her hand away.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Why not?”
“Because I’d rather jerk off in your mouth. Are you a spit or swallow girl?” He grinned at her mock shock. “Not such a gentleman anymore, am I, Ramona?” Then, with a flick of his wrist, he grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Still a romantic, though. When we leave here, I’m gonna take you home and make slow and sweet love to you, Ramona, my darlin’.” If her down-turned mouth made him wonder if he’d gone too far with his endearment, then her words made it a certainty.
“It’s only sex, Rex.” She didn’t even smile when she realized her words rhymed. “Besides, I’m staying with Sammy again tonight.”
Fraser’s timely arrival with their desserts and coffees stopped Rex from becoming uncharacteristically selfish and making the comment, “Not again.” He knew Samantha needed Ramona more than what he did. Compared to Samantha’s ordeal, his love life was of little importance. He had no doubts that if he chose to complain, which he wouldn’t do anyway, Ross and Matt would take a knife to his balls and force-feed them to him, not giving a fuck he was a vegetarian.
Rex ate his dessert, savoring every piece, then asked Ramona, “How’s your pie?”
“Yeah, good,” she mumbled around a mouthful. “Yours?”
“The same.” He frowned. Okay, so he’d called her “darlin’”—something he was going to curb from now on—and she’d pointed out it was just sex between them, which had stung, but surely that wasn’t sufficient to kill the mood, was it? “Actually, it was delicious. Just like you in the stables earlier, when you came in my mouth.” His playful compliment fell flat. It was definitely a dead mood. “Since this is not a date, we’ll go halves. Okay?”
This time, she avoided eye contact altogether. “Okay.”
Fan-fuckin’-tastic! The mood was not only dead, but six feet under, too. And to make matters worse, Ramona’s bra strap slipped again. Rex curled his fingers around his coffee cup, sincerely hoping it wouldn’t shatter at his crushing grip. But then he checked himself. She’d warned him she didn’t do romance, so he should be grateful for her honesty, not feeling pissed at his bruised male ego.
Still, they finished their coffees in relative silence. And yes, he’d felt the loneliest man on earth when he accompanied Ramona to her parents’ house and returned home alone to an empty bed, very much aroused and stiff, but Rex told himself because of his love for her, he would just have to live with it.
Besides, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t jerked himself off before.
Chapter 10
Naked and spread across the middle of the bed, the comforter heaped on the floor, the cotton sheet tangled around his feet, Rex slept soundly. Standing in the doorway, watching him, Ramona felt a little aggrieved that his night had been uneventful and that he’d found sleep easy.
Unlike Samantha, who, after experiencing another nightmare, had taken a couple of sleeping pills, Ramona had tossed and turned all night, her mind always on Rex. The various sex sessions they’d had, including the five-second-treatment-table episode, each one played out in vivid Technicolor complete with audio. Then there was his admission that he’d once been married. And, of course, the meal at Rendezvous.
Aside from the setting and that she hadn’t been too crazy about being called “darlin’”, nothing could have termed the evening as romantic in the slushy sense. She’d talked dirty. Rex had talked dirty. They’d done highly suggestive things with the vegetables of their second course. Then he’d spoiled it by telling her he was going to take her home and make slow and sweet love to her.
Yes, at some point during her hours of tossing and turning, she’d come to conclude she’d fallen halfway for him, but that didn’t mean she was ready for complete slush. She needed to take baby steps. She needed time to adapt. That was why she had told him it was just sex between them. And, okay, that might not have been the smartest thing to say—she’d sensed that remark had hurt his pride—but he’d come straight back with the rejoinder that they should go halves on the meal.
At Rex’s low moan, Ramona approached the bed. He was still sound asleep, yet his familiar smug smile was beginning to emerge. She wondered what he was dreaming about. But then a developing hardness from the springy mass of brown hair covering his groin told her exactly what. “I only dream of you.” Wasn’t that what Rex had said? It must have been one hell of a dream because his cock was now fully erect and seemingly beckoning to her.
Seeing an opportunity for a quickie, Ramona kicked her Nikes off and wiggled out of her jeans. Her electric blue panties she kept on. It was only a scrap of lace and could easily be tugged to one side. She climbed on top and straddled him, the solid length of his cock nestled sweetly against her wet pussy.
Rex didn’t even stir.
She leaned forward. Warm heat flushed through her when his cock prodded her clit through the lace of her panties. She moaned loudly and repeated the movement, generating more heat and more wetness.
He still didn’t stir.
Ramona frowned. Here she was, getting all wet and ripe for a quickie, and Rex… Well, all right, his smile was smug, his cock the size of Montana and as hard as one of its winters, but other than that there were no other signs of life. She should have been pissed about the lack of interest, yet she wasn’t. No, she was pissed about that full-blown smug smile.
And she knew exactly what to do about it.
* * * *
Rex was having one hell of a hot, vivid dream.
Half-naked, Ramona was sitting on top of him, sliding her sweet and juicy pussy along his cock, moans of pleasure bursting out of that luscious mouth of hers. Then she was leaning down, her lips pressing against his, her tongue sliding between his teeth, her moans vibrating hard and heady in his mouth…
Hang on a minute. This felt too real to be a figment of his imagination. Rex blinked his eyes open and stared straight into a vivid green sea that sparkled and exuded sexual energy. He
began to drown, and he lifted his hands, resting one on the curve of her hip, the other to cup the back of her head and angle her mouth for a deeper kiss.
The minutes ticked by as Rex made love to Ramona’s mouth. A couple of times she tried to break away, but he wouldn’t let her, his harsh breathing mingling with her equally harsh moans. Finally, he turned his head and nibbled on her earlobe. “Mornin’.”
“Morning to you, too. Let’s have a quickie,” she suggested and eagerly shoved her panties to one side.
“Let’s not.” He left her ear and nibbled kisses down the gentle slope of her neck to the open collar of her indigo-colored shirt, his nose drinking in a different smell. It wasn’t fruity, but flowery—roses if he wasn’t mistaken. “Have you been for your customary jog this morning?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You neither look nor smell like you’ve been running. You smell like a rose.”
“Oh, well, not only did I borrow a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from Sammy, but after my shower I used some of her perfume. So why can’t we have a quickie?” she asked, going back to her original question.
“Because I want to make slow and sweet love— Er, I mean, have ‘me-Tarzan-you-Jane-jungle-jump-sex’,” Rex quickly corrected himself. He started to unbutton her shirt, but then became aware that Ramona was wiggling her hips and a warm, wet sheath was enveloping his cock. The little sex kitten was going for a quickie. Before she could wedge him in deep, he grabbed her hips and lifted her to rest on his thighs. “No, you don’t,” he said, making a low growling noise in the back of his throat.
She giggled. “You sound like my dad. He used to make that sound whenever I was naughty.”
“Well, I’m not your father, but you are naughty.” He grinned, and then before Ramona could react, he kicked the sheet from his feet, flipped them over so she was on her back and he was above, staring down into her eyes. With one hand, he caught and held her wrists above her head, and with the other, he continued undoing the buttons of her shirt. He pulled the material apart and bared her electric blue bra to him. “Very naughty.”
