Her Real-Life Hero

by Vicki Ballante

  “What’s here?”

  He came right to her. “The model I’m working on. Help me tonight.”

  “With?” Visions of him squirming beneath her touch sent flames to her cheeks.

  “The model. I helped you with your writing.”

  “Okay.” She couldn’t back out. Returning favors was part of her upbringing. Being near him would be torture with her sexual nerves already on full alert.

  Saliva surged to her mouth. Her nipples hardened beneath her shirt, and her pussy tightened inside her panties. Tonight will be a long night!

  “You need more water in there, or else it’s going to burn.” He pointed to the steaming, crackling curry.

  “Oh no.”

  In an instant, he’d grabbed the kettle and poured the dregs of water inside into the pot.

  “Thanks.” She sniffed for a burnt smell. “I think you rescued it just in time.” She switched the heat under the rice on and turned down the chicken then set to chopping vegetables for a salad.

  “I’m going through to the dining room to set out the model. Seems to be the only large space you have.”

  “My study is too cramped, I know.”

  “You should see mine.”

  He left the room, and she waited for the arousal to leave. The sexual stirrings didn’t simmer down at all, like the chicken curry had when she’d lowered the temperature. She needed a switch to control her body. What was going on with her cool restraint? She should have tried harder to get rid of him before her feelings had become involved.

  The salad preparation finished way too fast and the rice, too. She dished their food and yelled, “Supper’s ready,” like she used to do when her sisters were at home. Heck, she’d missed making them food and having someone eat at the table with her.

  Theo hurried into the kitchen, a large grin filling his face. “Yum, smells great.” He touched her hand, shooting current through her arm.

  She sat opposite him and tucked in, begging the simple action of eating to cool the forest fire inside her. She listened while he chatted about the model, glad for an opportunity to calm her wild thoughts down to a whirlwind. “How can I help?”

  “Hold parts for me while I glue or screw. Chat and keep me company.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You know what, Joanie? This is all new to me, too. Acting the part, pretending we’re a couple who enjoy each other’s company. I’ve been a loner for years. Yeah, sure, I wanted a wife. I wanted to ease into it, though.”

  “Don’t you think the magic will cotton on we’re not genuine?”

  “I thought of that, but maybe by acting the part, it will start to become a part of us.”

  “That’s the whole problem. I don’t want it to.”

  “I know.” He glanced down.

  “You do?”

  “I’m pretty open to it. I can’t deny the attraction between us is electric. You’re a beautiful woman. You’re fun, spunky….”

  A strange lump formed in her throat, so she cleared it.

  “You’re not the romantic type, then?” He lifted the fork to his mouth. “Yet you write romance.”

  Something prickled inside her. “What’s romantic about an arranged marriage?” Her voice came out harsh. Her body cooled. At least with anger pulsing through her, she didn’t feel the need to ravish him as much.

  Ill temper could be the best douser of the fire. Maybe she should keep it up. Spar with him all the time.

  He rested his bare foot on the top of hers. Oh no. That doesn’t help. His toes wriggled, playing sweet music with the nerve endings on the sensitive spot.

  “What is your dream for finding love one day? I know you didn’t want anyone yet. Were you hoping to be single the rest of your life?”

  She shrugged. He didn’t need to know.

  He scraped his plate clean with his knife and fork then took it to the sink.

  He set to work on the dishes, much to her dismay. She’d hoped he wasn’t the kind gentleman he made out to be. Maybe he put on a front—a façade to earn her approval. It wouldn’t work. She would see through it all sooner or later. He would grow tired of the role. Maybe he liked something in the beginning when everything was new and exciting, but when it came down to hard slog and boring daily routine, he would give up.

  How long would she have to live with him until he quit? When would the magic cave in? Prickles of sweat ran down her neck.

  “Don’t do that. I’ll do it. They’re my dishes.” She pushed him aside.

  “Hey, cool it. Just want to help a bit.”

  “Don’t be all sugary sweet. It’s not going to work.”

  He glared at her, his mouth a thin line. “I don’t do general decency to win you over. I do it because it’s something I’ve always done.”

  “Go sort out your model. I’ll finish here.”

  With an angry jerk, he flicked the residue of detergent off his hands and onto her face.

  She scooped a huge wad of bubbles and flung it at him, hoping to mar his perfect good-boy image. He blinked and spat soap out of his mouth, but the grim expression remained.

  He scanned the area. His gaze locked on the tomato sauce bottle on the table.

  He wouldn’t, would he? She dared him with her gaze.

  As he made a grab for the bottle, she tried to stop him, but he moved like lightning. The lid popped off with a sound that echoed through the room. Heat stung her core. Raging hunger soared through her. What could be sexy about knowing you were about to be doused with ketchup?

  She closed her eyes as the sensation of cold, sticky, thick liquid ran over her hair, onto her cheeks, and down her front.

  She opened her eyes, facing up to the gunk, to find something in the kitchen that would surpass his prank. Something worse than tomato, something sticky and hard to wash off. A substance that would make him hate her forever.

  Aah! Perfect. She dashed for the peanut butter jar in the pantry and fumbled for a spoon from the drying rack. All the while, her back itched like crazy. He was up to something behind her. He wasn’t going to win. Discarding the spoon, she scooped the sticky butter with her left hand. With her right, she grabbed a handful of flour from a Tupperware container. The grains sifted through her fingers onto the floor, mixing with the tomato sauce into a globby mess. He scrounged in her pantry for something, syrup she suspected, and she smeared the peanut butter on his head and down his neck. She grabbed his shirt and smeared more onto his bare back. He spun around before she could add the flour, the syrup bottle poised above her like a weapon.

  Before he could squirt, she tossed her handful of flour at him, praying it would meet with the peanut butter, somehow. “Tarred. I got you tarred.”

  He spat and spluttered while she knocked the syrup bottle to the floor. The plastic lid shattered into several pieces, and syrup oozed out into a golden river.

  At least the cleanup would keep her busy for hours, keep her hot thoughts at bay. Maybe she would be so exhausted she wouldn’t want sex.

  She lunged forward with the last dollop of peanut butter in her hand. Her foot slipped from beneath her. The syrup!

  Just before her face hit the tiles, Theo caught her then they both tumbled to the floor, sliding in the syrup. She landed in his arms on top of him. Their lips locked.

  He tasted of curry, peanut butter, and tomato, yet she wanted more.

  She plunged her tongue into his mouth, reveling in the sensation of sharp teeth contrasted with soft flesh. She groaned as his hands slipped under her shirt, teasing her sides with smooth glides.

  His arousal pressed against her, making her breathing heavy. She swept her fingers through some syrup on the tiles and plastered it on his face. Then she licked.

  He groaned and ripped off her shirt. His mouth dove for the peaks beneath her bra.

  “Take it off,” she begged.

  “My hands are sticky. The bra looks expensive.”

  He was way too considerate. The garment was a mess anyway.

&
nbsp; She kneed him on the thigh, not too hard but enough to make him jerk awake. “Now.”

  He grinned wide, a wicked glint in his eyes. How come he loved her directness, and how come she was comfortable enough with him to say what she needed? All she knew for sure was she liked it. A lot.

  With sticky hands, he fumbled for ages to get the bra off but couldn’t unclip the tiny hooks and eyes. She growled with frustration, all the while grinding her pelvis into his crotch.

  “Maybe I should help you, seeing as you’re so inept.” She winked and, putting her weight on his hips, fiddled with the clasp. In a moment, the light-blue garment landed in the syrup on the floor, and her face heated as he took full advantage of the view. Shyness swept over her. But he didn’t seem to notice as he reached for her breasts, no longer teasing her but going straight for the target. His touch was pure ecstasy.

  She stood. “I’m not carrying on until you get those stupid pants off.”

  “And lie in the goop? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I’ll wash you afterward. The one-sided me showing you all while you hide away doesn’t cut it for me.” Turning to hide her embarrassment, she snatched her bra and slipped the straps on to show how serious she was. Her body rebelled against the sticky residue on the garment, but she continued to dress.

  “Fine. If I must.” He gave an exaggerated sigh while standing. “Let’s go to the bedroom, though.”

  “What? And have to wash the bedding, too? The mess stays in this room alone. And maybe the bathroom later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He proceeded to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. A part of her wanted to run, but the part moving headfirst toward a new, crazy destination watched in interest. She’d never seen a naked man before. In pictures, yes. Never in real life.

  Would it be revolting? Off-putting? What if she had to pretend she liked him but instead found him ugly?

  He turned around as he dropped his pants, appearing as shy about undressing as she’d felt, and tenderness caught her throat. I like that about Theo. Very much.

  The sight of his tight derriere caught her breath, and she reached to run her hands along the muscles. They were hard but the skin soft. A perfect combination. He contracted his glutes as she stroked him more, allowing the nakedness to sink into her system.

  Thank you, Theo, for understanding I’m not a tiger. I’m a quaking newbie.

  Quaking yet ravenous.

  Filling her hand with the one cheek, she squeezed. Desire bulleted through her, making her tongue pop out of her mouth to wet her lips. Needing to lock it on some part of his skin, she rose and moved behind him.

  “Good tone,” she whispered to him, brushing his neck with her tongue. “Where did you get such a hot bod?”

  He twisted around and kissed her, slow and tender. She sensed the gratefulness in his kiss. She was pleased she didn’t have to see him yet then sensed his naked cock against her, hard and long. She liked the feel of him, the contrast of male against female, something new and powerful to her.

  Time to remove my pants. With trembling hands, she removed the last layer between them, all the while stepping around the mess on the floor. As she removed her bra again, she chanced a quick glance at the forbidden fruit.

  She suppressed a gasp. His cock stood erect and strong, bold and alive, unlike the tentative reticence in his expression. The whole vision of Theo with no barriers in the way sent ripples of heat right through her. “Oh goodness,” was all she could say. Then she removed her panties in a flurried, clumsy movement.

  Once she’d stripped, confidence or even fervor took over him, and he grasped her in his arms, stroking her shoulders and bare torso, and brought his fingers toward her moist folds.

  Much to her distress, he stepped away then he lifted her with ease and placed her on the edge of the kitchen table. Her heart thudded with anticipation of what he’d do with her next.

  Gone was the fear. Theo’s tender passion had swiped it all away.

  Dropping to his knees, he placed his head between her thighs. She giggled with the brush of his stubble against them and withdrew. So soon. Next instant, his tongue pressed on the fluffy hair at the top of her mound.

  She gasped aloud. “Huh?”

  “Hey, tiger, I’ll have you purring in no time. Relax. I won’t hurt you.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at his tender promise and at his current agreeable lack of restraint. She leaned back on her hands, pushing a placemat aside, and closed her eyes. He plunged his tongue straight into her soaking pussy. Good thing she’d used several vibrators before and was used to the feel of something in there, but the soft and flexible nature was very different to a hard plastic mechanical device.

  Why had she wanted to wait several years before experiencing this?

  She reveled in the blissful fullness inside her as he continued to plunge her with his skillful softness.

  “Aah,” she moaned. “That’s so good.”

  He came away and spoke. “Play with your nipples.”

  “I….” Somehow his instructions made her feel safe. She hadn’t thought she would like him bossing her around. “I need to keep myself up with my hands at this angle.”

  “Let’s go to the bedroom.” He lifted her, placing her on the floor then took her hand to lead the way.

  She shook her head, afraid the moment would be broken.

  “I’ll wash you.” He winked at her. “There’s much more space on the bed. Having sex on the kitchen table is overrated.

  “But I was enjoying it.”

  “Have you had it any other way?”

  She stared at him, unable to let out that he was her first proper lover—though she suspected he knew already.

  “Come.” His warm, liquid voice filled her belly. She nodded, and they slid their way to the bathroom off the main bedroom, leaving nasty brown footprints all the way down the hallway.

  He went straight to the shower and turned the water on. She stood back, waiting for him to get the temperature right, admiring his body without his scrutiny. She loved the way he tapered in from wide shoulders to narrow hips and a little out at his bottom. He wasn’t ripped like a body builder or pro sportsman, but she liked the contrast of firm, naturally built muscle with a measure of softness. Just the way she wanted a man. Not hard and intimidating, but not soft and girlish.

  He was human, reachable, and, for a short time, hers. The thought brought a thrill she’d never experienced before.

  “Come.” He beckoned her with his hand.

  She walked through a portal, into another world, where mysteries and new experiences existed. If she stepped into the shower, she would forever be changed. She hesitated. His gaze held her, gentle and coaxing. Water ran over him, his face, his chest then down his still-hard arousal. The pure virility of his manhood sent shivers of longing through her so overwhelming she couldn’t resist. For a second, she wanted to take in his visage, drink it in because soon he would be gone…. Should I stop before I go all the way?

  His beauty drew her. The warmth of his gaze, gentle yet hungry, shot a bonding string between them, binding her to him, her body, and reluctantly, her heart. Just for now. Although her pulse thudded like crazy, she couldn’t stay away from him any longer.

  She stepped into the shower, feeling the warm spray, and he took her in his arms, solid muscle along the rounded curves of her body. His wet skin sliding along hers chased away the fear and brought back fresh, ferocious need.

  Dropping his mouth to hers, he kissed her. She sensed love in the way his lips swept over hers. Lust, too, yet emotion seeped from the contact. At first, she tried to pull away, unsure how to handle his feelings, but then the tingle of his body touching hers kept her within his embrace.

  His tongue shot inside her, and his cock pressed hard between her thighs. He thrust against her legs, the friction a foreign sensation, a good sensation. What would it feel like to have him inside me? His tongue is heaven. How much more glorious would his
cock be? She couldn’t remember much of the awkward grappling from years back, that’s how empty it had been. Her pussy throbbed with yearning.

  “Are you game?” He pulled away, placing his hands on her breasts. The contact with wet hands was a bit too strong to bear so she retreated. “Let me stimulate you.”

  She nodded. Time to listen to him. She closed her eyes and allowed the sensation of his fingers on her nipples to swirl inside her senses. The sound of rushing water mixed with the scent of wet hair and wet skin filled her being. He lathered his hands with soap to make them slick then ran them over the full swell of her breasts. That softened the movement, sending pleasure of new proportions through her.

  “I like. More.”

  He grinned and lathered some more. He sent pure sweetness through her by fondling her breasts. When he pinched her nipples, she groaned and almost shouted out, unable to contain the height of the feelings pulsing through her.

  “Wait a minute.” He stepped out of the shower and, turning his back to her, put a condom on he’d had in his jeans pocket.

  He brought his cock between her legs again and pressed her into the cold shower wall then edged into her.

  She gasped at the lack of control. She was used to easing in a dildo. All of a sudden, he plunged into her. She liked his dominance, his power over her, even though it hurt a little. He pumped vigorously as he fiddled with her wet, slick nipples. The moisture in her pussy eased away all the pain and sent her into overdrive.

  She took his play with gusto and grasped for his mouth, engulfing it. He let go of her breasts yet continued to thrust. His wet chest rubbed on her nipples, turning them into hard balls of happiness. The combination of their melding and friction in three areas sent her over the edge, making her loud groans rise above the sound of running water.

  She squirmed and pulsed, every part of her taking part in the experience—even her toes curled. He cupped her bottom cheeks and pulled her hard onto him. She wasn’t sure when he had an orgasm because wetness encompassed them, but they stood under the spray in each other’s arms for a long time afterward. She tucked her head into his chest, the water cascading over her, warm and comforting, and the strength of his arms wrapped around her woke something inside her. Something scary, vulnerable, and raw. She needed this in her life. More than she’d ever known. How would she keep what they had and have her freedom at the same time?