Rescue Breathing

by Zoe Norman

  “This is really nice, by the way. Thank you for inviting me over for dinner,” she beams, smiling up at me. She's so close and I am so…happy. With that, she turns back around and resumes chopping.

  I watch her prepare the broccoli for a few seconds and then reach around her, carefully taking the knife from her hands and placing it on the countertop. I spin her around by her shoulders, gathering her into my arms.

  “Ohh!” she yelps in surprise as I start to sway with her side to side, dancing together to the soft music playing from the stereo.

  “I know you dance, Olivia. I watched you at the club in Seattle. Couldn't take my eyes off you. I could have watched you all night,” I say, looking down at her. “I don't dance really,” I continue, “but I just can't seem to help myself. Whatever it takes to be a little closer to you.” I lift my eyebrow and press my cheek to her head, bringing her hand up to my heart and holding it there with my own.

  We sway back and forth to the music filling the apartment, neither of us saying a word. The song ends, and even during the dead space before the next song, we continue to move. The next song has a quicker tempo, and as it starts to build up, we follow suit, doing our own little jig right in the middle of my kitchen. It's awkward, hilarious, and a shit-ton of fun. She laughs as I make a complete fool out of myself. I swing her around, rolling her in and out of my arms, and that's when I notice the smoke billowing out of my grill.

  “Shit! The steaks!” I look back at Olivia with near panic in my eyes. “We'll pick this up later.” I hold up my index finger to excuse myself before running run out the back door to save tonight's dinner.

  As I fight the smoke with my tongs, I look into my kitchen to see Olivia doubled over in laughter. She casually grabs her wine glass, walks to the door leading to the backyard, and leans against the doorframe, watching as I make an attempt to salvage the steaks. As I pull them off the grill, I notice that the steaks aren't burned, just more well done then I would prefer, but still perfectly edible.

  “You saved them. My hero!” she cries, clapping her hands.

  As we sit down to eat, we talk about day-to-day things, work, and some more about our families. The discussion is easy, enjoyable, and most importantly, fun. We have the same sense of humor, and I feel comfortable enough to let out my somewhat lewd side with her, knowing she won't be offended. There are many points in the discussion where we're laughing so hard we have to stop eating.

  A bottle of wine and two helpings later, I am stuffed. Olivia stands from the table and grabs our empty plates to start clearing the table. I start to protest, but she holds her hand up. “You cooked. I'll clean. It's only fair. I grew up in a democratic household,” she says with a humph and a bit of sassiness.

  I watch as Olivia maneuvers around my kitchen like she belongs here. She rifles through drawers and cupboards in search of a clean towel and the dish soap under the sink. After I put away the leftovers, I stand in the doorway, observing.

  “This wasn't exactly how I envisioned getting you wet, Olivia.”

  A dish slips from her hand into the sink with a thud, and I see a shiver travel through her body. I walk over and stand behind her, my body pressed against her back. I move her hair away from her neck kiss along the warm skin, toward her shoulder.

  “Leave the dishes. I'll do them later,” I whisper into her hair. “Come. Have dessert with me.” I slowly pull out the drawer beside her and grab two spoons before I walk over to the fridge to grab a carton of decadent chocolate ice cream from the freezer. I take her hand in mine and we walk into my living room, an idea of how to enjoy the rest of the evening already forming in my mind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Olivia

  I grin as he pulls me toward him on the couch in the spacious living room. The sun has set and the room is lit with candles. It's a romantic setting, and I'm instantly at ease. As he opens the ice cream, I turn toward him and cross my legs. I notice that he stops what he's doing and gets caught looking at my bare thighs.

  “Ahem. I'm up here, you know,” I smile and take a spoon from him. He grins knowing he's been caught staring again. “Chocolate ice cream. You pay attention. I like that.” My mind floats back to our coffee date at Jacques Torres and my daydream about Owen and chocolate. Either he was reading my mind or there is something to the whole “soul mate” thing.

  “Mmhmm. When it comes to important things, I can remember.” He winks at me as he scrapes the spoon along the side of the carton where the ice cream is softest and lifts the spoon to my mouth. “Open up,” he says, inadvertently opening his own mouth as I open mine to take the spoon.

  I slowly slip the spoon between my lips, sucking, and I moan as I close my mouth around it and savor the taste. “Mmmm...”

  Oh God. There is chocolate ice cream, and there is chocolate ice cream. And he has purchased the latter.

  “Mmmm, so good,” I hum and close my eyes as I enjoy the chocolate. When I open my eyes, Owen is gaping at me, his mouth wide open. “You have to try a bite. This is insanely good.”

  I take my spoon and run it across the rim of the container before holding the spoon out to him. He opens his mouth, his eyes locked on mine. I see delight spread over his face as he tastes the chocolate.

  “So good, right?” I say, nodding slowly but enthusiastically.

  “Right,” he agrees slowly. “Good…” And then I can tell a thought crosses his mind. “I want to try something.”

  I widen my eyes in mock surprise as I take another mouthful of ice cream.

  “I like flavor combinations. You know, like peanut butter and banana or lemon and raspberry.” He fills the tip of the spoon with ice cream and quickly looks into my eyes before slowly and seductively smears it across my upper chest.

  I gasp from the cold, but he leans forward, running his hot tongue across my chest, lapping up the ice cream, and I groan in delight. The combination of cold and hot is insane, reaching all the way down to my toes and stopping between my legs for good measure.

  “But chocolate and salt is my favorite,” he growls, and I can feel him smile against my skin.

  I'm leaning back into the couch, a little dumbfounded and a lot aroused. I take the spoon from his hand and place a small amount on my collarbone.

  “You missed a spot. It's not polite to leave a mess behind,” I chastise in a breathy voice. He leans forward with a smirk and slowly drags his warm tongue along my collarbone. He starts to sit back up a bit, but I shake my head. “That was awfully close to my dress. If we're going to keep playing this game, I should really take it off.”

  “Funny. I was just thinking the very same thing,” he says, standing and offering his hand to me, helping me off the couch. I take his hand, and as I stand, he bends down and delicately kisses my bare shoulder as his fingers find the small zipper of my dress. It slides down easily and we both smile.

  “Look at that. No zipper problems,” he announces, proud of himself.

  I snicker as my dress falls to the floor before pooling at my feet. Owen steps back, his face suddenly serious.

  “Goddamn, you're gorgeous,” he whispers as his hands slowly glide down the sides of my arms.

  I can feel that I'm flushed from embarrassment at his endearment and the wine. His eyes tell me that he wants to eat me alive, and I respond by instantly becoming wet. He kisses me passionately and I open to him immediately, happily, purposefully.

  My hands slither up his strong arms, around his neck, and into his hair. I love how he kisses and the feel of his tongue sliding against mine. His hands roam my body slowly, as if he were taking stock of every little thing he touches. I could stay kissing him like this forever. His hand slides over my ass, squeezing it gently, and I moan into his mouth. I pull back a bit, looking into his eyes, grateful that my heels are still on because he is still towering over me.

  “Owen…you won't… There's not… You won't break me, right?” I'm surprised I've said it even as I'm saying it, but the reality is that this has been o
n my mind.

  He looks down at me with a look of confusion that morphs into understanding and maybe adoration. “Never,” he promises, looking me straight in the eyes. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles one by one. “Give me a chance to prove it to you. Come with me to my room.”

  I nod and start to follow him as he walks toward his room. Suddenly, he stops and turns around.

  “And Olivia?”

  “Yes?” I answer timidly.

  “Bring the ice cream.”

  I smile in relief and pick up the ice cream and spoon. As I follow him into the room, Ray LaMontagne's Let It Be Me starts to play and echoes through the apartment.

  We enter his room and I quickly start to survey my surroundings. There is a huge wooden four-poster bed in the center of the room with matching furniture. It's almost majestic and definitely someplace I could see him sleeping...and fucking. An unbidden thought of other women who have been here flits through my mind and I try to push them out. Why does every woman have that thought? It's not as if men can never have had another woman before them. I make a mental note to add that to my list of things to research.

  I place the ice cream and spoon on the end table and put my hand out to him, beckoning him closer. When he walks over to me, I grab him by the belt and tug him closer. I undo his buckle and pull it from the loops, letting it drop to the floor, all the while not breaking eye contact with him.

  “You have me at a very serious disadvantage right now.” I look down at my mostly naked body and look up at his very clothed body. “We need to do away with some of these clothes.”

  I help him pull his polo shirt over his head since I cannot reach quite that far. I undo the buttons of his jeans and start to push them over his hips as he tosses his shirt to the side. He kicks his jeans off and stands before me in just his boxers. His very tight, very full boxers. Don't stare, Olivia. But...wow.

  I look up at him again through my lashes. “There. Now we're even. Everyone is in their underwear.”

  He smiles and gives a silent laugh, his head falling back a bit. As his gaze comes back to mine, my arms run up his arms to his neck, and I pull him down to kiss me. I lick at his lower lip and nibble until his mouth opens for me. I want to show him that this is what I want. That I am here without hesitation, no questions.

  His tongue slips slowly into my mouth and I taste the remnants of sweet chocolate and wine. I moan faintly, encouraging him. Owen steps back and studies my eyes, my mouth, my chest, my stomach, and my sex. He then reaches behind me, and scoops a finger in the softened chocolate ice cream and spreads it across my bottom lip. Before I get a chance to say or do anything, he smiles, bends down, and sucks my lip into his mouth.

  “You're delicious.”

  Like the ice cream, I'm melting. It's cliché but so freaking true. He sucks at my lip with his hand resting lightly at my waist. I pull back a bit, licking what's left of the ice cream off and grin as I grab the container of ice cream. I hold it up, giving him a smirk and a lifted eyebrow. Taking his finger, I dip it into the container, helping him scoop some more ice cream. I bring his finger to my mouth, place it on my tongue, and suck gently.

  “Mmmmm, you taste good too.”

  His eyes widen as I treat his finger like I treated his cock back in Seattle, licking up and down the length, sucking on the tip. He groans. It's an awe-inspiring sound, one that drenches my panties just a little more. I get an idea and step back from him toward the bed.

  “Have you ever seen the sushi geishas? Those women who lay out like a buffet and are covered with sushi, and when it's all gone, they're left there lying naked?” I sit on the edge of the bed and scoot myself back until I'm in the middle.

  He slowly shakes his head.

  “They are geishas who wear usually nothing but panties and sushi. They act like the platter, and well...I wouldn't mind… I mean, I want to be your ice cream geisha,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.

  I reach behind my back and unhook my bra. Owen's eyes look like they might fall out of his head as I unhurriedly peel the straps down my arms and take it off, flinging it onto the floor. I lie back on my elbows, angled so he can see my face with my hair fanned out behind me.

  “Well? Are you game?”

  “I'm happy to play with you any time, beautiful,” he quips. He is quiet for a moment, his breathing heavy, his eyes hooded. He gazes at me, his eyes running slowly up and down my body. I get goose bumps under his intense stare. “I could look at you like this for hours, Olivia,” he murmurs.

  My eyes soften and I run my fingers over the hair on his forearm. We share the moment for a second or two longer, and then he blinks, suddenly coming back to where we are. Enthusiastically, he grabs the container of ice cream and crawls onto the bed. He kneels beside me and eyes my body from head to toe as if determining what part of my body to use first. He takes a small scoop of ice cream and puts a dollop at the hollow of my neck.

  “Ahh! Cold!” I exclaim and I feel my nipples tighten into hard peaks. He smirks and takes another small scoop and places it on my left nipple. I think I'm going to pass out from the combination of it feeling so good and the anticipation of what he'll do to get it off my body. The ice cream starts to slip down over the side of my breast and he quickly leans over my body and licks it off with long, full licks along my breast.

  “Oh God …” I whisper breathlessly. He takes his time licking the remaining ice cream off me and licking and suckling my nipple, the flat of his tongue gliding back and forth.

  “So good …” he groans and he looks up at me, noticing the ice cream at my neck is melting too. He sucks a trail of wet kisses up my chest and licks the chocolate off my neck. I hum and he sits back on his heels, looking pleased with himself.

  “Are you full?” I ask, challenging him.

  “Not even close,” he replies and puts another dollop of ice cream in my navel.

  “Ohh!” I yelp.

  “Too much?” he asks, feigning concern.

  He's teasing me ...but that was sort of the point, wasn't it? I give him a stern look. “I can handle it.”

  Owen laughs and drags a line of melting dessert from my navel down to my panty line. I lift my head up to watch as he puts the spoon in his mouth and sucks it clean, giving a groan and an exaggerated look of pleasure. He plops the spoon inside the ice cream tub and places it on the bedside table before he crawls over my body to suck the melted chocolate out of my navel, his tongue dipping and circling.

  “Ah…” I moan. It feels so good.

  He places his hand on my knee and starts to slide it up the inside of my thigh as his tongue laps the ice cream trail he has left leading to my panties. His fingers draw little circles on the soft skin inside my thigh. The visible shiver he elicits from my body causes him to smile wickedly against my lower belly. As his mouth touches the elastic of my panties, his hand meets the apex of my thighs. One finger reaches out and very lightly rubs once up against the crotch of my drenched panties.

  “Mmmm… Owen…” I breathe.

  The atmosphere in the room shifts from playful to intense in a nanosecond. I swear the lights dimmed and the scene became more seductive.

  “What is it, Olivia? What do you want me to do? Tell me,” he asks, his words muffled by his proximity to the skin on my thigh, his hot breath washing over me.

  “Take… Please… Take them off.”

  He hooks his thumbs in the band of my panties and I lift my hips off the bed to help him remove them. He bends over the bed, positioning his torso between my thighs as his face hovers over my mound. I can feel cool air as he blows over my wet, sensitized skin.

  “Fuck, Olivia, you're doing crazy things to me,” he breathes. Owen twists to his side and grabs the ice cream container, taking a spoonful and surprising me by placing it on his tongue versus my body.

  I watch him enjoy the taste before he swallows and settles between my legs. Using his fingers he opens me and slides his tongue between my folds. My back arches up
from the bed as his cold tongue makes contact with my warmth. It's an unexpectedly wonderful feeling. He places his hand on my inner thigh, holding me open as he licks, sucks, and kisses me.

  I grab a handful of the sheet and arch into his mouth. His cold tongue feels insane on my wet skin. He groans as he licks and suckles on me, cherishing me, devouring me.

  “Owen...oh God,” I moan.

  “What, baby? Tell me. I love it when you tell me,” he almost begs.

  I struggle with what to say. I'm not used to vocalizing what I want in bed. I know I did that with him in Seattle, but I was drunk most of the time or minimally feeling buzzed enough to let some of my inhibitions go. But here, awake, alert, aware—it's very different for me. I decide to be brave, since telling him what I want isn't that different from telling him that I want to be his chocolate ice cream buffet.

  “Fingers, Owen… Use your fingers.”

  He rewards my bravery by slipping two fingers inside me. He lowers his head, latching on to my tender flesh as his tongue flicks rhythmically against me. He hums as he pushes deeper inside me.

  “Yes, oh God...so good,” I coo, unable to control how I respond to how good it feels.

  “I love how you taste, baby. So sweet.”

  I moan and arch against his mouth as I grip the sheets tighter. My orgasm is building as he fucks me with his fingers and sucks on my clit, and I feel like I'm going to fly through the roof.

  “Owen...I'm so close. So close…” I grab a fistful of his hair and arch into his mouth as his tongue goes crazy on me. He's eating me like his life depends on it and it's so fucking sensual. “Owen, baby, I'm coming. Oh God!” I scream into the quiet of the room.

  He slows as I start to come down and gives me light, tickling licks of his tongue. I begin to giggle uncontrollably, an incredibly embarrassing habit I have after I come sometimes.