by Ruby Laska
“But…there’s nothing to eat. And you know what they say, the way to a man’s heart’s through his stomach. Or something like that.”
Griff watched her slur her words, balanced her carefully as she listed suddenly to the right…and suddenly sensed that Junior might have already found the way to his heart. And it had nothing to do with his stomach. No, it was something else entirely. Something to do with her bravado, at odds somehow with her sudden brilliant smiles. And it was her ridiculous clothes that couldn’t come close to covering up her long, lean, body; it was her energy that kept her in near-constant motion.
And most of all it was the way she was looking at him right now. Eager to please, and damn it, really, really happy to see him.
Griff decided right then to make her one extremely satisfied woman.
“Junior,” he whispered, tracing her hairline with his fingertips. “I’m not hungry. I want you. I want to make love to you. I’m pretty sure it’s going to take us all night. Honey, it’s going to be good. Hell, it’s going to be magic.”
“Magic,” Junior repeated dreamily, looked deeply into his eyes…
and hiccupped.
“Oh,” she said, eye round with surprise. She pressed two fingertips daintily to her lips. “I had a little drink,” she added.
“Yeah. I gathered.” Griff released her, lowered her carefully back into her chair. “Look, how about if I make you a cup of coffee, okay? I brought wine, so maybe I’ll have a glass and we can meet in the middle. You got a corkscrew?”
“Yes!” Junior said brightly, and leapt to her feet. She didn’t appear too terribly unsteady as she opened drawers, Griff noticed, with some relief. It really wasn’t his style to take advantage of women who were too drunk to participate.
She came up with the corkscrew and a dusty wineglass, and Griff found the coffee without too much trouble and got it brewing. Junior had wandered out of the kitchen, but he could hear her bumping around in the next room, as strains of B.B. King came on. He followed the sounds and found Junior stretched out on an overstuffed couch.
“You sure don’t like to keep your feet on the floor, do you?” he asked. Junior had her bare feet up on the ancient trunk that served as a coffee table.
She narrowed her eyes and regarded him like a cat staring down a mouse.
“Is that your idea of a line?” she purred.
Griff reddened as he got her meaning. She was such a mix of contradictions, wearing her excitement like a little girl one minute, then playing the temptress the next.
She had to be nervous. Who wouldn’t be, on the brink of losing their virginity? He sure had been, though he’d been considerably younger at the time.
Maybe that was it—she was embarrassed by her lack of experience, and was trying to cover it up with this attempt at brazen seduction. Griff’s heart suddenly tugged at the thought. No woman should have to hide her inexperience, not even with a new lover. Not even with—he grimaced inwardly—a one-night wonder of a lover, who rolled into town one day and left on the morning train.
He’d had many one-night encounters before, but none had ever bothered them like this. In fact, he made sure that the women whose beds he shared were just as happy with the arrangement as he was. In his experience, there were plenty of commitment-phobic women out there; women who weren’t looking for anything more than a good toss and a fond farewell.
Of course, none of them were virgins.
Griff pushed the thought out of his head. He felt bad about it, but he was giving what he could, what she wanted. And he’d make it good for her. That, at least, was in his control. He knew how to satisfy a woman, had spent years perfecting the art.
“Junior,” he said softly, and eased down next to her on the couch. “I want you to just be yourself tonight. Don’t be afraid. I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. We’ll take our time, go slow.”
She slid over to him, tucked her knees up and put her arms around his neck. She gave him a crooked grin, and he was surprised by the urge to gather her in his arms and just hold her, breathe in her sweet-seductive smell, rest his face against her crazy hair.
“You’re sweet,” she said, and ran her fingertips along the nape of his neck, the sensation distracting him from his thoughts, especially as she let her nails trail up around his ear, tugging gently at the lobes.
“I mean it. You don’t have to, you know, put on any kind of act for me. I know this probably isn’t exactly what you dreamed of, for this night.” Griff searched for the right words, words that would prove to her that he cared, even while he understood what she was going through. “Women want it to be with—with a man they love—-”
Junior interrupted with a sound very much like a snort.
“Ha,” she said.
Startled, Griff paused. Well, she had a right to be bitter, if what he’d heard was true. Rejection stung, the few times he’d experienced it. It could take away your confidence, erode your trust.
But hell, how could it be? What was wrong with the men of this town, to overlook the ripe beauty of Junior? Granted, she could clearly be a pain in the ass when she wanted, but most men would put up with quite a bit to get a woman like this into bed. A night with Junior would be quite a notch in the bedpost.
He winced again, angrily pushing the thought away. There it went, his conscience, invading every train of thought with a reminder that he was going to spend one night with this incredible woman and then leave her behind. Something that had never given him pause before, but now was threatening to tear him up before he’d even done anything to feel guilty about.
“Junior,” he whispered, “You’ve been hurt before, I know, but I want you to forget about other guys you’ve known, for tonight.” And realized he did want her to forget, very much. For some reason it was suddenly very important to him that it was his face she remembered, his name she tasted on her lips in the morning.
“No problem,” Junior agreed.
Then she bit him.
It was just a little nip, on the sensitive skin at the base of his jaw, but so unexpected that he jumped, even as her touch sent white-hot rockets of sensation along his nerves.
“Hey, take it easy,” Junior said. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, it’s just—”
“Okay, ‘cause I think we’d better get down to it. Don’t you?”
Griff opened his mouth to protest, but could think of nothing to say. And when Junior melted her body’s curves into his and began unbuttoning his shirt, his conscience eroded into smoldering rubble, and he forgot what he’d been trying to say.
When she bent to kiss her way down his chest, her lips and tongue exploring in the wake of her nimble fingers, he very nearly forgot his name.
“Oh,” he muttered. Her masses of curls fell against his chest, tickling his skin, sending needles of sensation along his nerves. He plunged his fingers into her curls, twisting handfuls as her tongue darted against him.
“You like this?” Junior’s voice was muffled; he felt her fingers at his zipper and felt his control slipping dangerously away.
Not here.
It was a muffled protest, true, from the depths of his brain, but even in his state he knew he couldn’t take her here on the floor of her living room.
“Hey,” he said, his voice shaking. He hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her gently, but firmly, up. “Let’s slow down a bit, what do you say?”
Junior shrugged. A few strands of hair were plastered against her flushed cheeks.
“‘Kay. Wanna go upstairs?”
Griff bit his lip, buying time. It was crazy. He’d been with women who were eager to get to the action before, but never a virgin.
And she didn’t kiss like a virgin either.
“Cause that’s where the bedroom is,” Junior added. When he still didn’t answer she pointed up at the ceiling. “Upstairs.”
Griff nodded, swallowing hard. He wanted to go upstairs. Wanted to more than anything. The way she’d kisse
d her way halfway down his body had him hard and aching with desire, the kind of ache he hadn’t felt since he’d been a teenager, nearly excruciating.
When Junior stood, taking an extra step to balance herself, Griff quickly followed and adjusted himself to accommodate his raging excitement. Junior took no notice, but instead yawned.
She took her time, stretching her arms and arching her back, then gave herself a satisfied shake before starting up a set of creaky wooden stairs.
“We can, you know, make out up here,” she continued as he followed her. “My brothers were always trying to sneak girls up here, but they usually got busted.”
She led the way down a hall punctuated with doors, stopped at the last one, and turned to face him in the door frame.
“Nobody around to catch us tonight, though, is there?” She smiled at him, and stepping closer, clasped his hand in her smaller one. She wound her fingers through his and nestled against him, and Griff held her to him, feeling her strong heartbeat through the thin material of her tank top.
A pang shot through him as he matched his own heartbeat to hers. It was so steady against him. She stood nearly as tall as he did and her skin was so warm, her scent so intoxicating. How could she be sick? How could she be…dying? Griff fought the urge to curse as he pressed her a little closer to him.
He looked over her head into her room, and was at once taken aback and not surprised in the least. It was a small room and he somehow knew it was the same one she’d grown up in. The walls were papered in old-fashioned roses, and from the center of the room hung a fussy crystal light fixture. The iron bed was made up with brightly colored quilts, and several china vases held bouquets of cut flowers.
At the same time, much of the antique furniture was draped in what he took to be her wardrobe, gauzy skirts and blouses tossed next to Indian madras and Mexican embroidery and a host of other textiles he’d never seen before. A bureau held a collection of beer steins; on the wall hung a dozen or so photographs of a motley assortment of smiling people, at least half of them red-heads.
It wasn’t a little girl’s room any longer. And it was unmistakably all Junior.
“I like it,” he said simply.
“Good.”
Junior held his hand and walked slowly backwards, her steps sure and nimble on the smooth wooden floor. When she bumped against the bed she sat gracefully down and then pulled him down beside her.
He landed with less grace. The room. The bed. Her perfume. It was all he could do to keep from rolling on top of her and taking her, he wanted her so badly.
No. This night was for Junior.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, and she met his lips eagerly. She twined her hands around his neck and hooked a leg between his, and before he could catch his balance, he found himself somehow on his back.
Junior rolled on top of him and fit herself against him, and it was a good fit, a very, very good fit.
Except for one thing.
“Junior—” he grunted, easing a hand down to lift her away from his erection. “I’m sorry, I can’t really help it—”
She pushed his hand away impatiently and replaced it with her own, and Griff nearly lost control when he felt her settle her fingers on him.
And squeeze.
“Nice,” she said, admiration in her voice.
Geez, she was like a kid in a candy store, checking him out. Her fingers explored, gently caressing, and Griff fought to stay focused.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I thought I could…touch you…slowly of course…”
He managed to maneuver himself safely out of the way of her explorations. Junior obligingly allowed Griff to switch places with her, stretching luxuriously in the rumpled bed linens. For good measure Griff grabbed her hands and held them up above her head, out of the way of trouble.
He looked down at her, and the moonlight played over her skin prettily, dusting sparkles along her arms, her throat.
He tentatively placed a palm over her breast, felt her nipple harden in response. Gently he eased a thumb in a slow arc. She arched against him and moaned deep in her throat. He experimented with his touch, slower, softer, faster, and she matched him with delicious murmured responses.
Griff caught his breath. She was amazing, incredibly sensitive, and unafraid to give herself up to pleasure. Not many woman responded like that. It was his dream come true, and Griff had to have more.
“I want to kiss you,” he said, his voice hoarse, “your breasts. Let me help you take off your top.”
But she beat him to it. In one smooth yank she had the stretchy white fabric over her head, and flung it across the room.
So much for asking permission. Griff bent to taste her, and as his tongue laved circles at her nipple, she laced her fingers in his hair and guided him.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she moaned. “Like that. Uh huh. More.”
Her running commentary was turning him on beyond belief, but at the same time questions nagged at him. Junior knew what she liked, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it, but where had she gotten all that experience? Griff decided she must have made her way around the bases pretty damn often for never having scored a home run.
The high school metaphor flashed through his mind, trailing shame. He was pawing at her just like a kid in the back seat of his father’s car. Griff choked back his desire with a groan. Slow down. He forced himself to concentrate on her face, her heavy-lidded eyes clouded with desire, her lips parted slightly as her breathing quickened.
“Don’t stop now,” she whispered.
Before he could fully enjoy her sweet, hot words she slid her legs apart and eased his torso between, rubbing against him in tempo with his attentions.
“Your turn,” she murmured, tugging his shirt out of his waistband. “Fair’s fair.”
And things got away from him. He meant to pause, to take a little time out, re-gain control of the situation. But somehow she had turned the tables on him, and he found himself caught up in the pull of her, like a leaf in a whirlpool, speeding out of control as it approached the core. Griff allowed her to yank his shirt off, shrugging out of the sleeves, and this time when her fingers found his zipper he didn’t have the wherewithal to protest. Instead he found the waist of her skirt and gave a tug, and she wiggled her hips and slid the gauzy fabric down.
Griff paused. Nearly choked.
“Where…” he began, then stopped. Junior looked up at him expectantly, lips parted slightly.
“Where are…your panties?”
“Oh, that.” Junior laughed. “Didn’t wear any.”
Griff shook his head. He couldn’t have heard right.
“You didn’t—”
“Well, because, I knew what all we had planned tonight,” Junior went on. “And you just can never tell where you’re going to end up with something like this. Besides…”
Her eyes narrowed, and a distinctly feline shrewdness lit her expression.
“…I thought you might like it.”
Like it! Griff was nearly going to lose it, like a teenager, with his pants around his knees.
“Yeah, I like it,” he growled. “God damn, Junior, have you got any idea what you’re doing to me? Of course you don’t, but that almost doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse.”
Junior smiled sweetly and pressed herself against him. She rocked gently, and he felt how hot and wet she was and nearly moaned in pain.
“So, are we gonna do it, or what?” she purred.
And he didn’t exactly dive into her so much as just give in to her wiggling, and the fit was wonderful. As he eased into her she made some very appreciative murmurs that quickly grew in volume.
“Am I hurting you?” Griff said anxiously, using all of his power of concentration to hold himself still.
Then she arched against him and shook her head and pulled on his neck to take him in the deepest, hottest kiss he’d had yet, and there was no more holding back.
&nbs
p; He went deeper, deeper, and still she bucked against him and demanded more. She broke the kiss only to moan against his shoulder, her teeth against his skin igniting fresh currents of pleasure.
“Junior. I want you to…” He wanted her to come, wanted to feel her explode around him. But it was her first time.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying again, trying to slow down his pace and stave off the inevitable. The way she writhed against him, it took all his concentration not to just let himself go. “I can—if you just maybe slow down a little—oh Jeez…”
He was momentarily derailed as Junior shifted under him and tangled her long legs around his. But she didn’t stop, oh no, she didn’t stop rocking and demanding and wiggling.
“If you let me maybe, let’s roll over, Junior, and I can, can—” Can stop reciting the Hail Mary just to make sure I don’t go out of my mind right this second.
“Nope.” Junior smiled at him, a little crookedly, and arched against him again, running her tongue slowly along her lower lip. “I mean, no offense or anything, but I just don’t think it’s going to happen for me tonight. It’s not you, it’s me, really,” she said, giggling as though she found herself very funny. “I mean, it’s that damn champagne. But you go ahead, now.”
Griff’s head was spinning, from the concentration of trying to hold back in the face of a fresh onslaught of sensation. Somehow Junior had managed to work her slim fingers between their bodies and was caressing him in time with the rhythm of her thrusting, finding the incredibly sensitive place at the base of his shaft and—
“Unnnngh,” Griff moaned. “You don’t—but this was supposed to be—I mean I wanted—”
“Shhhhh,” Junior whispered, her lips at his ear. “Honey, don’t give it a thought. I know exactly what you want.”
And, as it turned out, she did.
CHAPTER FOUR
Griff popped the top on another diet soda and squinted out the window. It was finally getting lighter out, no doubt about it. He checked his watch: 4:40 am, a time when the only people awake in the world were on their way to the early shift, like waitresses and truck drivers.
