All I Want…

by Isabel Sharpe

  He was clean-shaven, though stubbled now; his lips were firm and smooth, his voice deep, mature, his build impressively trim and muscled, no middle-aged spare tire.

  And he loved sex as much as she did. No fumbling, no embarrassment. No shyness. No holding back. Their lovemaking had an intensity to it she’d never experienced before.

  “Is that good?” He kept one hand on her hip, put the other on the back of her neck.

  “Mmm, yes.”

  “Can you take it harder?”

  “Yes.”

  His thrusts became quicker, more powerful. She lifted her top leg, hooked it back over his.

  “Touch yourself, Jane Doe,” he whispered. “Make yourself come for me.”

  She moaned and moved eager fingers to obey. The darkness set her free; she was ten times less inhibited with this stranger than with men she’d dated for weeks.

  “Is it good?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed herself faster, feeling the arousal building hotter, higher. “Oh, yes.”

  “I wish I could see you.” His hands clamped her hips; he moved harder inside her. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. No.” She countered his thrusts, her own fingers stroking furiously. She’d already come twice during the night, was about to again. This was a record for her.

  “Are you close?”

  “Yes.” She was nearly sobbing, out of her mind with excitement. “Yes. I’m close. I’m…I’m there.”

  He pumped harder. Her orgasm burned through her with such strength, she let out a strangled scream.

  “Am I hurting you?” The strain of his excitement cut his words sharp and short.

  “No. Don’t stop.” She could lie there forever feeling him take his pleasure, rough and hard with her body, giving as much as he took. Her orgasm receded, but the arousal stayed high, anticipating the thrill of his climax.

  She didn’t have to wait long. He moaned low in his throat, the breath rasped out and he finished inside her with long thrusts that set off waves of intense pleasure-pain.

  Oh, my word. She, Krista, independent, driven, strong woman, got off as she’d never gotten off before on being dominated by a macho stranger in the dark.

  She came down slowly, her body still warm and glowing, feeling a sudden emotional ache she didn’t want to be feeling. Perfect sex, that was it. Deal with it.

  His hand ran down her back, a lazy, meandering caress. He pulled out carefully, disposed of the condom, then hugged her back to him. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yes.” Had he picked up on her mood change in the dark?

  “I was pretty rough. You sure?”

  “I loved it.”

  She didn’t know you could hear someone smile, but she heard him. He caressed gently up and down her abdomen, into the curls between her legs where her swollen sex still throbbed, then back up, his huge hands deliciously warm on her breasts. “Sorry I woke you again.”

  “Not me.”

  He chuckled and she surprised herself by twisting around to give him two hard, passionate kisses on his gorgeous mouth, all she’d allow herself. Kisses outside of sex were intimate, loving, sweet exchanges. That didn’t belong here tonight, though she couldn’t help stealing those.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  She smiled. It was going to take her racing heart a long time to slow enough for sleep; her racing brain even longer…

  “I’m too revved up.”

  “Hmm, why would that be?”

  “I think my orgasm broke the sound barrier. Tomorrow all the trees around the cabin will have been felled by shock waves.”

  He chuckled again, squeezed her affectionately. And because she was a sop, she found herself beaming at the thought that he got her humor and maybe liked her as well as lusted.

  As if it made the slightest difference for what they needed from each other tonight.

  “We also need to check for cracks in the forest floor. I think mine caused an earthquake.”

  She laughed, a too-loud sound in the darkness. “Lucky we’re so far from civilization.”

  “True. We wouldn’t want deaths on our hands.”

  “Or the resulting lawsuits.”

  She lay in the comfortable silence, savoring the feel of being entwined with a warm male body. Some women seemed able to jump from long-term relationship to long-term relationship. Krista had never managed to do that and she wasn’t sure why. So when she got these pockets of physical contact, of the wonderful deep peace and security of being in a man’s arms, she always concentrated hard on every aspect so she could call it up again when she was back home.

  Though she had a feeling she’d miss more than this man’s arms.

  Her throat tightened at the thought of this adventure being over. What was the matter with her?

  “So answer me this, Jane Doe.”

  She forced a grin he couldn’t see. “What’s a nice girl like me doing in a place like this?”

  “Sure, if you want to tell.”

  “Research.”

  “For Penthouse?”

  Her laughter rang out again. “Not quite. Places couples can go to escape Christmas insanity.”

  “You go insane every year?”

  “Doesn’t everyone? Though actually not me so much. I celebrate with my family. We have pretty calm traditions.”

  “Tell me.”

  Krista wrinkled her nose. Sharing family Christmas traditions wasn’t part of her sexual fantasy. She could jokingly tell him she liked to do three men dressed as Santa all at once, but something about him made her want to give him a straight answer. “We all make Christmas Eve dinner together, drinking sherry, which I think most of us hate, my sister’s boyfriend most of all, but it’s a tradition by now. You know how that is?”

  “Sure.” He responded quietly, respectfully, and her courage grew.

  “Then we sing carols around the fireplace in the living room. My sister plays the piano.” She raised up, wishing she could see him more clearly, touched that he hadn’t made fun of their celebration. “I guess it sounds hokey.”

  “Not at all. My mom and I made hot buttered rum and popcorn and watched The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, like we used to when I was a kid.”

  “You drank rum when you were a kid?”

  “Milk and cookies back then. But I still love the Grinch. You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch….” He sang in a deep rumble, not half bad, and she giggled, totally charmed. Nothing in the world was as much fun as the silly intimacy following a good night of sex. Only this felt more intimate than usual, certainly more unexpected. And the sex had been really good.

  “Is your mom still alive?”

  “No.”

  The syllable was abrupt, but she felt pain behind it, not censure, and couldn’t help rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, even though he hadn’t asked for her sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. So what are you asking Santa for this year, Jane?”

  “Oh, not much.” She smiled in the darkness. “Less stress and hatred among people and nations, more appreciation for the simple and natural and less glorification of crap throughout the world.”

  “Wow. That’s a sackful. No diamonds? Furs? Expensive cars?”

  “God, no.” She laughed. “Christmas should be about love. Though a clean apartment would be nice. How about you—what do you want?”

  “I’m not big into gifts either. Especially since my close family is gone.” He spoke lightly and ruffled her hair. “Right now all I want is for this night to go on a lot longer than it can.”

  Her smile died, replaced by a swell of sadness much deeper than the situation warranted. What kind of sexually free woman was she to be dreading the end while they were still in the middle? She knew it was coming. What more could you expect from an anonymous fantasy come true in the dark? Asking for a name, address or phone number would shatter the perfection of this night.

  She lifted her head as if she could see him to speak to. “Do you do this a lot?”

  H
e snorted. “What, go to abandoned inns, get the wrong key and find hot women lying in bed willing to sleep with me?”

  “Dying to sleep with you. Yes.” She smiled, loving that he was funny as well as sexually talented. “That.”

  “Do I have sex with strangers often—is that what you meant?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. Most of the women I meet these days I work with, and sleeping with coworkers is a very poor idea. I’m not into the bar scene either. You?”

  She couldn’t help the rush of relief. “No.”

  A kiss landed on her collarbone, though who knew where he’d been aiming. Did he feel relief, too? “So what made you decide to have it with me?”

  “I don’t know.” She nestled back more comfortably against him. “You sounded sexy and you smelled sexy and you felt sexy, and if you promise not to think I’m kinky…”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to think you’re kinky?”

  She giggled. “Good point.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Sex with a complete stranger has always been a fantasy of mine. Not someone you meet and talk to all evening and eventually go home with. But someone you meet and go for it right there without knowing anything about each other or bothering to find out.”

  “Not even a name?”

  “No, John Smith, not even that.”

  “Have you tried to do it before?”

  “God, no.” She tucked his arm back firmly around her. “It’s ridiculously dangerous. I might be kinky, but I’m not an idiot.”

  “That’s good to know. Why do you think that kind of sex appeals to you?”

  “Hmm.” She thought it over, wondering why she was talking so easily with him about something she’d only had the nerve to tell her own sister the day before. “Maybe I knew subconsciously how good the sex would be?”

  “You think the sex between us is good only because of the dark?”

  “I…don’t know. Could be. What do you think?”

  “I doubt it’s only that.”

  She swallowed so loud she was sure he’d heard it. Will we ever find out? “Maybe not.”

  “Can I offer advice I’m in no position to be giving?”

  “Sure.”

  “I wouldn’t make a habit of this sex-with-strangers thing.”

  “No? Why not?” As if she didn’t know….

  He started stroking her hair, long, soft, gentle strokes that made her want to purr now and find room for him in her suitcase later. “Because I don’t want to worry about you being found hacked to pieces.”

  She shivered, half in revulsion, half in gooey enjoyment of his protectiveness. “I guess I’ll count myself lucky to have found you and leave it at that.”

  “Sounds much safer. And I’m feeling pretty lucky, too, Jane Doe.”

  She beamed, touched her nose to his warm, slightly prickly jaw, then yawned in spite of herself, overcome by delicious, postsexual fatigue. She listened to his breathing gradually slowing, wondering how her real name would sound in that thrilling deep voice, feeling sleepy but unwilling to sleep yet. Instinctively she knew dawn would come too soon, and with it the end of the fantasy. She’d see him then. Wouldn’t she? Would the sight of each other take them closer to knowing each other or father away?

  “Do you live in Maine?”

  His answer was a sleepy grunt in the negative. No other information offered. No questions asked in return. Message received: No fishing or hunting for identifying details allowed without a permit.

  She should have expected the tiny stab of disappointment. But how was she ever going to go back to her ordinary life after an adventure this spectacular? Back to the endless run of male disappointments. She wanted to bottle the magic of tonight and stow it in her travel bag for all those lonely nights ahead when she’d think back to how right it felt to be with him. How comfortable…

  She knew better but couldn’t help the wistful feeling that if either of them were willing to risk it, they might be more to each other than one-time lovers.

  Maybe in the morning she’d try again….

  When she woke it was light. And John Smith, her perfect fantasy lover…was gone.

  6

  “OH MY GOD, LUCY, it was so amazing. It was so amazing.”

  “Wow.” Lucy cringed hearing her own voice come out so low and tight. But she couldn’t help it. She knew she was supposed to be happy for her sister, happy that Krista got herself massively laid by a stranger she’d never even seen in daylight, but sorry, she was just pissed. Pissed!

  “You don’t sound amazed.”

  “I’m amazed. Trust me.” She picked up the file her boss had asked for and rapped it sharply on her desk. The stupidity. The sheer stupidity. Even as well as she knew her sister’s appetite for diving in without checking for sharks, she couldn’t help being appalled at this behavior. Sex! With someone she hadn’t even seen. Krista should be thanking her lucky stars she was alive, not bragging about every pant and heave.

  “Okay, I’m sensing a serious dose of sisterly disapproval here, Lucy. Just let me have it, okay?”

  “Krista.” She bit her lip. Yelling at people was not her strong suit. “He could have killed you. He still could. He could have followed you home and—”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes and slapped the file back on her desk so hard half its contents spilled out. Right. It was magic. It was fireworks. It was Orgasms “R” Us. Like the last guy and the one before that and the one before that. Though at least Krista got a glimpse of previous men before she slept with them. When was she going to get a clue that relationships were not all fun and excitement and games and adrenaline rushes? “How do you know it was safe? You couldn’t even see him. You couldn’t look into his eyes and see if he was decent or honest or—”

  “I didn’t need to.”

  “This from the woman who writes Get Real? Get real, Krista.” She took the phone away from her left ear. Took a breath and put it back to her right. She was shaking. She was so damn furious she was shaking.

  “Jeez, Lucy, I’ve never heard you like this.” Her sister’s voice quieted. “I’m really worried about you.”

  “You’re worried about me?” She turned her chair toward her computer and bent forward so she couldn’t be overheard by anyone walking past. “You’re off screwing strangers blind and I’m the one who needs help?”

  “I know it sounds nuts. Believe me, I do. But you weren’t there. You didn’t hear him talking. He was a normal, nice, funny, fabulous guy who—”

  “Thought nothing of putting the moves on a woman who could be the next Aileen Wuornos. Clearly he’s never seen Monster. Or Fatal Attraction. What was he thinking? What were you both thinking? Weirdos are out there. Stuff happens. Bad stuff. You have to act responsibly or—”

  “Okay. Look. I’m sorry. You’re right. It was crazy. But you’re also implying that I have no common sense and couldn’t tell a complete lunatic from a guy who got the wrong key by mistake.”

  “And how much experience with lunatics have you had so you’re so sure you’d recognize one?”

  Her boss’s door opened abruptly. “Lucy?”

  Lucy jerked upright and whirled guiltily in her chair. “Yes, Alexis. Sorry. Here’s the Johnson file, I’ll be off the phone in a second.” She swept the file’s contents back into the folder and stood to hand it over apologetically.

  “No problem.” Alexis smiled in that way that told Lucy it was a problem and returned to her office.

  “I gotta go, Krista.”

  “Okay, truce?”

  “Truce. We can talk later.” Lucy hung up the phone, still seething. Damn it. She was sitting there at her perfect desk in her boring, sensible job with a boss who got antsy over one personal call, unable to care enough to move her performing career to the next level, in love with a wonderful man she was losing and fascinated by a sexy one she couldn’t let herself touch.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d been ble
ssed with an older sister to compare herself to who threw herself haphazardly through life, making risky, inappropriate choices and everything magically worked out. What was it, one day after she’d confessed her fantasy of sex with a stranger, the damn thing came true? Who made those odds? Who ordered her world so that everything always fell into place, while Lucy couldn’t make one thing come out right, not her love life, not her—

  “Hey, there.”

  She started, adrenaline rushing like Niagara Falls. “Hi, Josh.”

  “You surviving?” He sauntered around her desk and winked one of his big, dark-lashed Orlando Bloom eyes. “Big boss woman in a mood today, huh.”

  “Shhhh.” She cautioned him at the same time her eyes flicked to her phone and saw Alexis was on a call.

  “Is she being rough on you?”

  “No rougher on me than the rest of my life.” She tried to laugh, to make the tense statement into a big joke, but the laughter fell flat, too.

  “Uh-oh.” He touched her, that gentle two-fingered prod to the shoulder, but she felt the quivers all the way down to her…never mind. “I think you need a drink today, Lucy. Even a small one would help.”

  She swallowed hard. Thought of Link. Of how she hadn’t slept again last night, of his increasing exasperation with her misery. Of the breakdown of their communication, the cessation of their sex life. Of how he’d turned down her invitation to have lunch today. Granted, her office was downtown by Faneuil Hall and his was in Cambridge, but he’d risen high enough in his architectural firm to take more than an hour for lunch if he wanted to.

  If he wanted to.

  “How about this?” He touched her arm again, leaned forward until she caught a whiff of his cologne. Sexy, spicy, dangerously attractive like the rest of him. “You can sit at a separate table, I’ll buy you a cocktail and watch you drink it.”

  That started her laughing—until for a horrible second she was afraid she’d switch and start crying instead. How bad of an idea was it to go out for a drink with this man?

  How much worse would it be to go home to more strained silence and forced conversation and memories of a wonderful, passionate past she couldn’t figure out how to turn back into their future?