Some Sort of Love: A Happy Crazy Love Novel

by Melanie Harlow

  “I’ve got it.” I held on to both bags and pushed the door shut behind me. “But you can kiss me again.”

  She grinned and moved closer, putting a hand on either side of my face and pressing her lips to mine. Her kiss was soft and sweet at first, but then I felt her tongue sliding along my lower lip, her mouth opening, head tilting, hands sliding into my hair. Pretty soon her body was pressed against mine and her arms were wrapped around my neck.

  “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I’m getting a little carried away.”

  “No complaints here,” I said, “but I promised to cook for you, and in five seconds I’m not gonna give a fuck about dinner, so if you’re hungry—”

  “Oh, I’m hungry.” She ran her hand down the front of my pants and rubbed my cock, which was quickly turning to steel. “I’m ravenous, in fact.”

  “Jillian—”

  “Shhhhhh.” She put a finger over my lips. “I’m making the rules this time.”

  I dropped the two bags of groceries, pushed her back to the wall, and pinned her wrists above her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I love it when you get rough with me,” she whispered, like she was confessing a secret. “I've always remembered that about you.”

  “And yet you’re trying to make the rules.” My calm, quiet tone was in complete contrast to the violent roar of blood through my veins. “What’s that about?”

  She was panting, her chest rising and falling quickly. “To provoke you. And it worked.”

  I shut her up with a kiss, crushing my mouth over hers and pulling her blouse from her skirt. She moaned when I slid my hands up her chest, covering both breasts and then rubbing my thumbs over her nipples. I could feel lace and wondered what it looked like. “Take your blouse off. I want to see you.”

  “There’s a button at the back of my neck.”

  I found the button and undid it, lifted the blouse over her head, and let it fall.

  “Like it?” she asked, her hand rubbing my cock again.

  “Fuck yes, I do.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed seeing pretty, feminine things on a woman’s body—or maybe it was just that I loved seeing them on Jillian. Her bra was white this time, and almost completely sheer except for a few little flowers or something embroidered on it in white thread. Her rosy pink nipples peeked through the material, begging to be licked and sucked and bitten. I pinched them, enjoying the little gasp of pleasure from her lips, the way her hand stilled on my dick.

  “Leave it on this time,” I told her, glancing down. “The heels too.”

  “I’ll leave on anything you want.” Her hands moved to my belt and worked quickly, then she dropped to her knees and pulled my pants down just enough to free my cock.

  She took it in one hand and angled it toward her mouth, stopping to look up at me, and I can say for certain it was the first time I have ever been tempted to take a dick pic. In general, I don’t think dicks are deserving of portraiture, but mine looked fucking fantastic next to her face.

  Sorry, was that rude?

  Told you I was a caveman.

  Leaning forward, I braced one hand against the wall behind her. I could feel her breath on me, and nearly trembled with anticipation. I hadn’t had a blow job in so fucking long—Alison and I had not traded those kinds of favors—and the fact that this was Jillian, and the lights were on, and I could watch everything, had my cock jumping in her hand like it might jerk itself off if she didn’t get started. I moaned at the first long stroke of her tongue up my shaft, my other hand fisting at my side as she did it again, and again. I growled when she took the head into her mouth but didn’t close her lips, just let them hover there, keeping me in agony. She took it out again and looked up at me, a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “You’re killing me,” I told her.

  “Yes.” She rubbed the tip along her jaw, under her chin, across her cheek. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes. I like watching it, but I came over here to cook you dinner like a nice guy, and now all I want to do is fuck your mouth with my cock, then your pussy with my tongue.”

  She laughed and swirled her tongue around the tip. “Deal.”

  I groaned as she closed her mouth over the head and sucked a few times before sliding her lips as far along my shaft as she could take it. She kept me there for a second before pulling it out and then taking it in again, even deeper this time. I felt the tip hit the back of her throat as she began to pump her hand at the base.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moaned, my vocabulary suddenly reduced to one word. “Fuck.” I slid my fingers into her hair and held myself inside her mouth as I rocked my hips in small, sharp jabs. For a second I wondered how she could even breathe, but that thought disappeared when she began to make little noises like she couldn’t get enough, and my manners went the way of my vocabulary.

  I grabbed her head with both hands and fought like hell against the orgasm that was threatening to choke her. Yet I thrust into her mouth too, hitting that spot in her throat, listening to her gasping breaths and greedy moans, wanting to come in her mouth so badly my body was on fire. Not yet, not yet, I begged myself. Just a little bit longer. Close your eyes or something—make this last!

  But I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Those heels, that skirt, the white straps of her bra, the dark hair spilling through my fingers, her mouth sucking me off. Jesus fuck, I need to warn her, I thought as my balls tightened up.

  She knew I was close, and backed off for only a second. “Do it,” she rasped. “I want it.”

  I had no words, even fuck deserted me. All I could do was growl like the beast I felt like as I tightened my hands around her head and fucked her hot, hungry mouth until I came, my cock surging and throbbing inside it.

  As if that weren’t enough, she swallowed and licked me as if she didn’t want to waste a drop, and I was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

  I dropped to my knees in front of her and took her face in my hands. “Are you sure that was OK?”

  She grinned. “Positive. I hope it was more than OK, though.”

  “Oh, my God.” I groaned and hugged her to me, burying my face in her hair. “Are you kidding me? That was fucking amazing. I’m wondering if this is a dream.”

  She giggled and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Nope. Just Friday.”

  “Fridays are awesome.”

  “I agree.”

  “I want every day to be Friday.”

  She spanked my ass. “Don’t get carried away. Now what did you bring me to eat?”

  “Oh no.” I stood up, pulling her to her feet. “We had a deal.”

  “What?”

  I yanked my pants up just enough to walk, and swept Jillian off her feet in case she tried to argue. “We made a bargain, remember? And I intend to hold up my end of it.”

  She swatted my chest as I carried her into her bedroom. “You can hold up any end you want later. Let’s have dinner first.”

  “No fucking way.” I tossed her onto the bed and quickly zipped up my pants. “I want something better than dinner.”

  In no mood to be patient, I shoved her skirt up to her waist, pushed her knees apart and knelt down between them. She wore sheer white panties that matched the bra, and I couldn’t resist leaving them on. I put my lips between her thighs, letting her feel my breath on her skin, just like she’d done to me. My mouth watered. I reached up to touch her breasts, teasing her nipples into stiff pink peaks through the thin material, pinching them gently.

  She made a little sound of frustration. “Harder.”

  I did what she said, gratified by her satisfied moan. Keeping my fingers there, I put my mouth on her, devouring her through the sheer panties. When they were completely soaked, I yanked them down her legs.

  She pulled one foot out and left them looped around her other ankle. “You’re right, this is better than dinner.”

  “So much better.” I stroked up through her center and circled her clit with my tongue. “Hotter. Sweeter.” I
swept my tongue from bottom to top again, weaving it from side to side, before sucking her clit. “Tastier.”

  Jillian brought her knees up, lifting her heels in the air. I grabbed her ankles, flicking her clit with the tip of my tongue.

  “Yes,” she breathed, lifting her hips. “You’re so good.”

  “You want to come?” I asked her.

  “Yes. I want you to fuck me.”

  My dick was hard again, and I could have, but I wanted something else. I got on the bed next to her and flipped her on top of me so her knees were on either side of my chest.

  She looked down at me. “You want me on top?”

  “Yeah. Of my face.”

  “What?” She tried to scoot down, but I pushed her up and locked my arms around her thighs, so she straddled my face, tight.

  She gasped, trying to move off me. “You won’t be able to breathe!”

  But my arms had her pinned, so there wasn’t anything she could do about it, and she fell forward, bracing her hands above my head. A moment later my tongue was pushing inside her, and within seconds she began to grind against me, unable to hold back. Loosening my hold, I put my hands on her ass, and she circled her hips. Fuck, the way she moved, the way she tasted, the way she gasped for air—I couldn’t get enough. Then she sat all the way up and took her breasts in her hands, playing with her nipples, pinching them the way I had. She looked down at me, her mouth open, eyes wild with desire. It was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen. I moaned and she began to move faster, riding my mouth hard, her breath escaping her in anguished cries. “God, Levi—don’t stop—right there—yes, yes, yes—”

  Her body went still and I pulled her tighter to my face, ravaging her with my mouth. She screamed long and hard as her clit pulsed against my tongue, and I didn’t stop until she begged me to.

  “Please! Mercy!” she said, half laughing, half serious. She fell forward, catching herself on her hands above my head. “I can’t take any more.”

  I helped her wiggle down my body and sat up, holding her on my lap, her knees on either side of me. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks were pink, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “You OK?”

  “Yes. I think so.” She shivered. “That was intense.”

  “Good.”

  She pressed her lips to mine. Then she giggled. “Your face smells like my essential oil.”

  “I fucking love it. I can’t get enough.”

  Tipping her head onto my shoulder, she buried her face in my neck. “I know the feeling.”

  I threw on some jeans and a top and met him up in the kitchen, where he was unpacking the grocery bags. This is so nice, seeing him at home in my kitchen. My romantic history involved a few short flings, one extended disaster, and the occasional one-night hookup, but I’d never lived with anyone or gotten so comfortable with someone that he’d stayed over a lot. Watching Levi work in my kitchen gave me a little kick.

  “Hope there’s no ice cream in here,” I said, peeking into one of the brown paper sacks.

  Levi pulled out a loaf of French bread. “Nope. I like ice cream cones, but they are not beard-friendly.”

  “I never thought about that. You could eat it in a bowl,” I suggested, grabbing the bottle of whiskey I’d bought for tonight and breaking the seal.

  “What’s the point of ice cream in a bowl?” He set a package wrapped in white butcher paper on the counter. “That’s boring. But I will eat it with pie.”

  “What kind of pie do you like?”

  “Jillian pie.” He threw me a grin over one shoulder. “But other than that, I’m not picky.”

  “Well, you’ve already had your fill of Jillian pie for the evening, but I have—”

  “Not true,” he said, pulling out a package of bacon, a bag of greens, and some other vegetables. “My appetite for Jillian pie is never-ending, and it goes so well with bacon-wrapped steak bites. But go on.”

  I grinned and pulled two glasses from a cupboard. “I was going to say, my mother gave me a cherry pie this week. She bakes them constantly. Did I tell you I grew up on a cherry farm?”

  “No. Did you really?”

  “Yes, on Old Mission. Not too far from Abelard Vineyards.”

  “I’d love to see it sometime.” He stuck a few things in the refrigerator.

  My heart fluttered. “Sure. We could bring Scotty if you want.”

  He closed the fridge but stayed facing it, and my brain went a little haywire.

  Oh shit. I said the wrong thing. I’m moving too fast. He doesn’t want me to meet his son. He just wants to keep this casual. Friendly. Nonromantic.

  But then what was he doing here with bacon and steak? That wasn’t like coming over with a pizza and a six-pack. Bacon and steak said romantic. Bacon and steak said serious. Bacon and steak said couple.

  He turned around and looked at me. “You want to meet Scotty?”

  “Of course I do.” I twisted my hands together. “If you want me to.”

  He walked toward me, and my stomach knotted. I couldn’t read his expression at all. “Jillian. I do want you to meet Scotty.”

  “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ there.”

  His jaw twitched, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I wish there wasn’t. I want this to be so much simpler than it is.”

  “Talk to me.” I leaned back against the counter, my hands gripping the edge, feeling unprepared to deal with whatever was coming. “I can take it, Levi. I’m a big girl. If you want to keep your son separate from us, just say it. I mean, I don’t even really know what ‘us’ is.”

  He reached for my hands and held them between us, staring at them. “I don’t either. But I’ve been thinking about this all week, and I know what I’d like us to be.”

  “Which is?”

  His eyes met mine. “I want us to be together.”

  “As in…romantically?”

  “Yes.”

  Warmth flooded me, and I rose up on tiptoe. “I want that too.”

  “But Jillian.” He squeezed my hands. “I have to be honest—I’m a seriously shitty boyfriend.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I can’t give you what you deserve.”

  “Which is what?”

  “All of me.” He shrugged as if he had a load of bricks on each shoulder. “I can’t give you all of me.”

  “Because you have a son?”

  He nodded, his dark eyes sad. “You deserve someone with more time for you. Someone who can make you his first priority. Someone who can offer you all the things you want in life.”

  A lump formed in my throat and I swallowed hard, the reality of what he was saying sinking in. My gaze fell to our hands. His hands. They were so big compared to mine. I loved how mine fit inside them—it made me feel warm and protected. I loved that he was being honest with me and not trying to string me along just because the sex was good. I loved his sense of humor and his dirty mouth and his concern about being a gentleman. And maybe it was superficial or sexist, but I loved how tall he was and the way he carried me around and took command of my body—it made me feel beautiful and feminine and cherished. And I loved the way he loved his son with all his heart—even if it meant there was less of it for me.

  But what was I willing to sacrifice for it?

  I met his eyes again. “Levi, I won’t lie and say this is an easy decision, because I know what you’re telling me. And I’ve been avoiding this conversation because this feels so good with you. So easy.”

  “It does.” He squeezed my hands again. “The feelings I have for you…” He shook his head. “It’s crazy. I feel like I’ve known you so much longer than just the last couple weeks, and ten times a day, I catch myself staring into space, lost in thoughts about you. And I don’t want to ruin this, but I don’t want you to hate me when I disappoint you. Because I will.”

  I shook my head. “Levi, stop. I could never hate you for putting your son first. I understand. He needs you to do that.”

  “He do
es.” His eyes shone. “But what about you? I’m bad at this, Jillian. The balance. I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up.”

  My heart ached. “You’re so hard on yourself, Levi. How do you know what will happen unless we try?”

  “I guess I don’t know for sure. I just know that you deserve more than I can give you, and you’ll realize that eventually. And yet I don’t want to give you up.” He kissed my hands. “I’m selfish.”

  “You’re not selfish. I don’t want to give you up either.” Needing to feel his arms around me, I slipped my hands from his and twined them around his waist. He wrapped me up in his warm, solid embrace, and I laid my cheek on his chest. “I want this, Levi.”

  “I want it too.”

  I loved the way I could feel the vibrations of his low, quiet voice in his chest. “Then let’s try. I struggle with balance too, between my work and my personal life. Maybe we can help each other.”

  He stroked my hair. “Will we ever see each other?”

  “Of course we will. I don’t need all of your time, and you don’t need all of mine. It’s about quality, not quantity. And I don’t need to be your first priority, either. You’re a father, and I know that comes first. But Levi…” Growing nervous again, I pulled back so I could meet his eyes. I didn’t want to ask this question, but I had to. If I were twenty and didn’t know myself so well and just wanted a good time, things would be different, but I was thirty and self-aware and wanted something more.

  I wanted a love story. With a happily ever after.

  “I do need to feel like there’s the possibility of a future for us, at least somewhere down the road,” I said, willing myself to be brave and say the next part. “If you truly feel like we can never get there, even taking our time and going slow, I need to know now. I don’t mind being just friends, but the way I feel about you, I can’t—I couldn’t…keep doing what we’re doing.” I’ll fall in love with you. And you’ll break my heart.

  He took a breath. “Jillian, a year ago, I’d have said there was no way. I thought putting Scotty first meant I had to sacrifice those things, so I never even considered it. If I ever felt alone, I told myself that was the price I had to pay to be a good father to him. But now…”