by Conn, Claudy
Through squinted eyes he watched her fight with his shirt to get it on. Amazing. In his mind there were two kinds of women a guy faced after satisfying her. One who stayed and one wanted to go. Damn, he hadn’t pegged her for a runner. No, he would have put bets on her being the Cling-wrap type.
Closing his eyes he pressed his lips together and braced himself for the fall into the cushions. It was going to be a bitch when he landed on his side, but he wanted to look as natural as possible doing it and if he kept up with the slow movements she was sure to notice. One, two…
Jesus. Fucking. Christ. With the whole cross landing in his lap.
When he hit the couch in a stretch the impact moved through him like a fully struck tuning fork, snaking and vibrating right between his leg and shooting up the length of his cock until he had to grind his teeth together to keep from swearing out loud.
He didn’t want her to feel obligated. Hell, he didn’t want this to get weird. He’d told her no screwing and he meant it, but this one-sided messing around was killing him. The breathing helped. The burning started to dissipate, but then the lust came rolling back to the forefront. Not good.
He tried reciting all the U.S. presidents in order, but couldn’t remember the song. He needed to think of something else fast. His tax return. No, all he wanted to do was control his hard on, not turn into sunset Ken and start crying. He needed something. Anything. One thing.
Tuna noodle casserole.
He fucking hated the stuff with a passion. There’d been a time when he didn’t. When it was a perfectly good dish but then it got butchered by Caleb’s first long term girlfriend and now he had post traumatic culinary stress over it. God, he’d dreaded coming home from school on those Tuesday and Thursday nights. The aroma that filled their small apartment was…? Well, he didn’t want to think about it and fortunately he didn’t have to. Clearly, a reminder of that casserole was the kryptonite he needed to literally deflate.
A deep breath hadn’t even fully escaped from his lungs when he dragged another one back in. He’d thought Sidney had straddled his legs with the intent of climbing over him to come and cuddle, but he’d been wrong. His eyes snapped open and his hands clamped over hers. “What are you doing?”
The sight of her naked thighs spread over his knees while his shirt partially covered her, took his breath away. But her hands captured by his, over his belt, brought the air right back with a vengeance.
“I’m undoing your belt.”
“Why?”
She’d turned out the kitchen lights so all that was left was the tree with that one blinking strand illuminating the darkness around them. It was nice. More intimate somehow and when she tilted her head so the bulk of her hair rained down her left shoulder, he was sure she was going to say, “To give you a blowjob” and when she did he’d be all over that idea.
His grip started to ease but then she said, “I want you to jerk off so I can watch.”
His hands involuntarily tightened. He couldn’t help it. He felt as if he was falling. In all his experience he’d never had a woman boldly make this kind of stated demand. His heart pounded as he held her gaze and whispered, “You like to watch?”
She nodded. “I think so—I never—yeah, I like to watch.”
In the quiet that followed he decided one thing. Quirky was being moved to the top of his list of desirable feminine attributes. “Okay.”
“You want to—” she pointedly dropped her gaze to his lap and then shot it back up to look at him, “—let go then?”
Truthfully, he wasn’t sure. This could be really good or really bad, as in embarrassing. There was just no way to tell with the kind of hard on he was sporting. Easing his grip, he forced himself to relax but the second he heard the slow sound of his zipper coming down, his stomach muscles clenched and his pulse picked up speed.
It seemed to take her forever to spread open his fly. A lifetime for her to slip her soft hand into his boxers. Eons before she wrapped her warm fingers around him and squeezed.
“Nice.”
Nice didn’t begin to describe what came after his boxers were down and she was on all fours, bridged over his legs. His shirt gaped and he saw her breasts through the opening at the neck. Frustrated with the obscured view, he was just about to ask her to take it off when she let go of him and grabbed his hand to replace where hers had just been. “Do it.”
And he did.
It was almost surreal. No talking. Each of them in a moment that he had a feeling was new for both of them. He didn’t close his eyes as he kept his gaze trained on her while she kept hers on his lap. He started slow and steady. Easy. Moving in a familiar rhythm that got his pulse rushing. Blood heating as his breath rasped in out.
God, need coursed through him as his thighs tightened, his ball sac lifted and his stomach muscles clenched while he rode the lust that coiled from shoulders to knees before it rocketed back up to his cock that swelled and thickened. The weight felt good in his palm.
And fuck it was great having Sidney watch. It added something sharp, something integral to the experience. Daring him to ride the edge just that much closer and hold off not giving into the ache to finish. As long as she didn’t touch he’d be okay. As long as she didn’t move he’d make it a little longer.
“I love this,” she whispered and those husky words touched a piece of his soul. They stroked a part of him that had never been petted and somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that Sidney did a lot of stripping. With her eyes and her words because right now? He had no choice but to believe her and when he did a shot of euphoria gripped him.
“No.” He held her back with his free hand when she leaned forward to get her mouth on him. “You wanted to watch.”
She didn’t ease back nor did he. He met her every attempt to plunge forward with firm resolve. The harder she pushed, the faster he pumped. It was frustrating, challenging, exhilarating and when he finally gave in with a growl, he added mind-blowing to the list.
“Jesus.” He fell back with eyes now closed and played that last few minutes over and over in his head. Where she was desperate to get her mouth on him and he was determined to stick to the original plan. What a turn on.
He felt something on his abdomen and looked down. She must have brought a towel to the couch earlier because she hadn’t moved but she did have a towel in hand. “That’s okay. I got this.”
She seemed reluctant to let the cloth go. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She sat back on her heels and frowned. “You’re kind of weird for a guy.”
His hand stilled and he shot a look at her. She couldn’t be serious? Out of the two of them, she thought he was the weird one? “I am?”
“Yep. What guy in his right mind turns down a below-job.”
He finished with the towel and grinned. “Is that what you call it?”
“Sure, me and everyone else who knows the origin.”
“A saucy showoff. I like that.”
“Yes, well, no need to be too impressed. I googled it once because—” she stood and stumbled a couple of steps back, “—I mean, I was just curious.”
He finished doing up his belt and chuckled. “I promise I won’t ask. Which is probably worse than you telling me as I’ll be dreaming up all kinds of kinky scenarios that prompted you to do a search about that.”
He moved to sit and she rushed forward. “No, don’t get up.” Grabbing the towel from him, she asked, “Do you like The Three Stooges?”
He nodded. She was nervous. Did she think he was going to leave now? He should, but he didn’t want to and clearly she didn’t want him to either.
“Great.” In less than a minute the TV was on, she’d ditched the towel and was now rummaging through a kitchen drawer.
“What are you doing? Are you going to come and watch the show or what?”
“I’m coming.”
As she approached she had a cheeky expression on her face. It was silly reall
y, and it made him smile. “What do you have behind your back?”
“These.” She plopped down on the couch and held the bunch up as if they were flowers.
“Twizzlers?”
“Perfect, right?”
“Oh yeah.” But he wasn’t talking about the licorice. Although he loved the vines, he loved being with her like this more. And when she lay next to him and snuggled her ass into the cup of his lap, he knew how special felt.
Then when she laughed at Mo hitting Curly over the head with a dumbbell, special wasn’t special enough to describe what else he was feeling.
“Another?”
He sighed and hauled her in close. “I love Twizzlers.”
“Do you have a drawer?”
“Of?”
She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “A Twizzler drawer. Every home should have one.”
“No.”
“No? That’s just sad.” She turned back to watch the show and he silently agreed with her. His life was pretty pathetic now that he thought about it. Before this weekend he’d had no holidays, no licorice and no Sidney Capp.
“My plan was a bust, by the way.”
“What plan?”
She moved her cheek until it rested against his forearm. Then she let out a contented sigh. “The one where I was going to keep letting you get me off until your balls exploded and you lost control and eventually dove on me.”
He blinked down at the top of her head, and then when it sank in he laughed. Deep. Genuine. The kind of laugh he remembered from better times. When he was younger and things weren’t so complicated and he wasn’t so serious. It felt good. Too good. His every instinct was to leave. Go before the good turned bad, like it always did.
“I figured I’d mention it now as another plan is in place.”
That got his attention. “A different one?”
“No.” That came out as casually as if she were speaking about the weather. “The same one. Only this time I’m not going to cave by sliding my hands down your pants and grasping your beautiful cock. I figure if I can keep my palms off your to-die-for body and refrain from licking every square inch of you from top to bottom and back again, maybe stopping to pay some serious attention to certain parts of you by sucking them in real deep, I—”
He squeezed her so hard she gasped. Then he playfully growled in her ear, “Did I call you an angel? I think I was mistaken.” But as he tickled her breathless he knew he wasn’t wrong about that. He also knew he was going to stick around for a while and see where this went. Fuck the bad shit for a change. It was time for some good. And good right now was spelled Sidney.
Chapter Eight
Sidney slipped out from under Riker’s arm and eased off the couch so as not to wake him. It was nine already. She usually never slept in, but after staying up half the night fooling around it couldn’t be helped.
She crept toward the hall. Quiet as a mouse and already planning what to leave in the note after she had her shower and dressed. It wasn’t as if she was going to be gone all day. Three hours tops. Maybe when she got back they could have lunch?
“It’s early.”
“Oh.” She spun around. “You scared the crap out of me. And no, it’s not. I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry up.”
“Late for what?”
“I thought I told you.”
He shook his head and she inwardly groaned as his hair fell in an appealing mess and his dark stubble-roughened cheeks and jaw merely added to the delicious sight of him.
“I’m going to Dunedin. The city is hosting its annual Santa Claus parade and I’m volunteering.”
His expression was dubious. “You’re going to be in the parade?”
“No, I’m chaperoning one of the craft tables for the kids. I won’t be long. I have the shift from ten thirty to twelve. Then I’ll be back.”
He stretched and his washboard stomach was weaving a gorgeous pattern. What she wouldn’t give to call Harry and tell him she was sick so she could get back on the couch with Riker. It was only a pipedream of course, because she’d never let anyone down, especially big-hearted Harry.
“Can I come?”
“But I’ll be working.”
“I could help.”
He said this so enthusiastically she laughed. “Nah, you don’t want to do that, trust me. But—”
“Come on. I can be shaved and showered in ten.”
“I suppose so. I get the good table this year. No glue or glitter. Just markers and plastic ornaments for the kids to color. If you don’t want to sit in the shade and people watch you could always check out the market vendors. They sell some pretty cool stuff. Then maybe we could go for lunch.”
Speaking of glue. Her eyes were glued to his naked back as he walked to the door. The polite thing to do would have been to offer him back his T-shirt that she was currently wearing, but she wasn’t ready to give that up. It was her first man-trophy and if she got her way, she’d never return it.
“Hey,” He stopped and turned. “I thought you had to stick around here for the weekend?”
“Not today. It’s Sunday. There won’t be any mail delivered and if someone gets locked out they can call me. I’ll direct them to the r-rock.”
When he walked back to her, she stuttered over that last word. God, he was so gorgeous she got all jittery inside.
“I forgot,” he whispered as he tilted her chin up with a finger.
“What?” she whispered back.
“Good morning, darlin’.”
The kiss he gave her, although light, managed to touch her deeply. She was still recovering from it when her eyes fluttered opened and she saw him leave. Then, just as she’d done yesterday morning in the laundry room, she fell back against the counter and fanned herself. The guy was a dream and if he had any faults she had yet to see them.
She held onto that fantasy until she got in her car with him. Riker Mitchell was the worst backseat driver she’d ever been in a vehicle with. When he wasn’t telling her which way to go he was slamming on the imaginary breaks. Geez, even after she executed a decent parallel parking job he was still griping about the ride. It was beyond annoying and prompted her to toss him her keys when they got out.
“Hallelujah.”
“I wouldn’t be throwing down the praises so fast. I’m not doing you any favors letting you drive us back,” she said as they threaded through the crowd toward the cordoned off craft area in the center of the park. “This place is a madhouse come noon. As to that, I like to get a few standards before I leave, so you can get the car and I’ll walk up a couple blocks to Beltrees Street. You can pick me up there.”
“Standards?”
“Yeah. The bee lady is always here with homegrown honey and there’s a guy who makes awesome things out of metal. I usually buy a few things from them each year.”
She didn’t add that the metal artist designs “contractor specific” ornaments. She remembered from last year he had hammers, screwdrivers and drills, all of which would look great on Riker’s tree. No ornaments. Who didn’t have ornaments?
“Sidney!”
She waved to Harry, but her cheerful smile faltered as she looked around and a sick feeling started in her stomach. Where were the other volunteers and why…?
“Harry? Why is that woman setting up my table?”
“She’s a newbie, Sid, I can’t throw her to the wolves her first time out. You’re going to have to take one for the team.”
“Oh, no. Not again. That’s what you said last year.”
“And praise be to Aunt Betty Jacks, you brought help.”
When he smiled up a Riker and went to extend his hand, Sidney stepped between them. “He’s not here to help.”
Harry’s excited expression fell flat until Riker stepped around her and held out his hand. “Hey, man, I’m Riker. I’d be glad to help if you need it.”
She gasped and scowled up. “No, you wouldn’t.”
All he did was smile. Damn him. H
e had no idea what he was in for. Which did beg the question… “All right, Harry, since I’m destined to be hijacked again this year and I’m bringing a friend along for the ride, what tables?”
She knew this was going to be bad. Harry wouldn’t look her in the eye. “I, ah, have all of them covered but the Reindeer food. You can show him the ropes. We open for business in twenty. Thanks.” He was gone before Sidney got a chance to protest.
“Unbelievable,” she groaned.
“Oh, come on now. Stop being a Debbie Downer. What’s to handing out a few vegetables?”
“Vegetables?” She swatted his hand away when he went to brush her bangs aside. This was serious and all did was laugh.
“Don’t reindeer eat carrots? When I was a kid we threw them, stalks and all, on the roof.”
“No, no carrots. What kind of craft would that be? Today’s reindeer eat oats and glitter packaged in a baggie and fashioned with a festive ribbon on it.”
He took her hand and rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “Sounds kind of metro-sexual, but not hard. Why the long face?”
Why, indeed? She could stand there and attempt to explain to him the finer points of children and their penchant for Christmas details, but it would only be a waste of time. Even if he got the fact that the reindeer food was the closest thing to a leg-up all these kids thought they’d have with Santa and his four legged buddies if they had a good bag, she doubt he’d comprehend the level to which some of these children would go to make sure that theirs was better than the kids next to them.
Last year, after rationing out the oats as they usually did, one little boy kept complaining his oats were disappearing. When she determined he was right, her first thought was that maybe the kid or kids beside him were taking them. But after keeping a close eye on the situation she found out the truth. The child was stuffing them in his pants. Bad enough, but what was worse was discovering he’d come to this station more than once during the day when other volunteers were overseeing it. At least Sidney figured he had after she saw the lumpy ass he was sporting. By her guess, he’d been carrying a half-pound of oats in his drawers. She hadn’t wanted to think about the glitter.
