Man Of Few Words

by Whistler, Ursula

  She laughed. “Duff, it’s not the seventies.”

  He kept bumping the side of her hip. “We can start a trend. C’mon. Try it. You used to be good at hip bumping.”

  With his next jut of his hip, she matched it. “I still am.”

  He winked. “Knew you had it in you.” Together they laughed.

  She moved to the front of him and grabbed around his waist. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she leaned forward. “No more moves like that. Regular dancing.”

  His arms wound around her back. He pushed his hips forward. “Are you aware of what they call dancing now? We might as well be naked.”

  “Call it practice, then.” When she didn’t draw away from his full cock pressing on her belly, he relished the moment. Maybe he had a chance at making this more than a night of revelry in a crowded bar.

  After two songs, she took his arm. “I can’t stand this one, and I need a drink. You were right about the stamina part.” Her coy look encouraged him.

  “Let’s go to the piano bar, then. Quieter.” He could snag a table in the corner and convince her to leave with him. He took her hand and led her out of the room. Never had he longed to hold someone against him like this. Even when they’d been a couple, he could barely fight the desire during the times they were with friends. Tonight, though, she gave him reason to hope that the night promised more. She glanced at him with lustful eyes and dilated pupils. Her voice rasped when she spoke, signaling to him that she felt more than she admitted. Every touch of her hand on his arm sent fire through his veins, filling his shaft. Possessing her was the only way to quench it.

  “Not that place.” She tugged him down a long, dimly lit hallway to a brick courtyard. “It’s like the central hub of desperate men and women looking for a hookup. I don’t want that.”

  As they emerged into the January air of north Florida, a chill swept through him. She felt it as well, evidenced by the pebbled nipples underneath her lavender shirt. He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “There’s a heater over there. If you grab a seat, I’ll get drinks. What can I get you?”

  “Don’t laugh, but just water. I don’t drink much lately,” she apologized with a smile and downturned eyes.

  “Gotcha.” That had changed about her. All kinds of questions to ask came to mind, but he wouldn’t ruin the mood by asking them. Hell, there were more than a few situations that he didn’t want to explain.

  In a few minutes, he returned to where she sat beneath a patio heater, rubbing her hands together. He set the plastic cup of water in front of her. “Are you sure about that piano bar?”

  “Trust me. Have you been in there lately? Those people are sad to watch, or at least I get sad.”

  “You come here a lot?”

  “No, just once last year for a bachelorette party, and we ended up in there to watch a friend of a friend perform. He was great, but…”

  A wave of sadness splashed across her face and the sparkle of her blue eyes diminished. He wanted the delightful cheer back, not some melancholy moment. “Don’t go on. Obviously not a good memory, and tonight is about celebrating. Just what is it that we’re happy about? You said a job.”

  “All those years of slaving away in a lab and thinking that I was barking up the wrong damn tree paid off. I got hired as a professor at the new college here. It’s not new, but it just became a four year college.” She shook her hands. “I’m talking too much. So, I’ll start over. I am a professor of chemistry. Finally.”

  “Congratulations.” He held up his beer to toast her and the return of happiness to her face. By far the most intelligent woman he’d ever dated, she would cut short a date with him to study for a test. He once offered to quiz her as she lay on her stomach crossways on his bed, but she said he distracted her, and he always tried after an hour of her studying. With a tickle of her feet, he’d begin the seduction, letting his hands travel up her legs. She’d smack him once, playfully, barely a sting, but she’d give in to temptation when his hand dove under the hem of her skirt to massage her ass. He lost himself in the memory of when she’d let him take her from behind without any foreplay. Her pussy had been so tight, so wet.

  “Hey, Duff!” A familiar voice echoed off the brick wall behind where they sat. “Good to see you out this evening. Not moping around the apartment tonight. That’s a step in the right direction.” Mark Stone approached them like he was landing in a battlefield zone—direct and with bravado. They were both flight instructors and, although they’d known each other for years, they’d never been the best of friends.

  He stood to greet Stone face to face. The man was known as a lady charmer and had stayed single throughout his entire naval career, something many servicemen never managed. “How you doing, buddy?” They shook hands before Duff introduced him to Kirsten. “This is Kirsten Tanner. She’s a chemistry professor. This is Mark Stone. He’s Navy and also an instructor.”

  “Damn. Congratulations, then.” Stone turned on what others called his blinders, which meant he smiled with teeth so white they glowed. “I couldn’t ever figure that stuff out well enough. You teach?”

  Oh, dear lord. One of those. Kirsten thought as she raised her hand just enough to wave. She’d reached a mental place where she was entertaining the idea of revenge sex, and this new guy was a complete, unwanted interruption. For appearances sake, she’d be as nice as possible. “I do. An intro course and three lab courses.”

  Stone elbowed Duff. “Are you going back to school? Flying isn’t working out for ya?”

  “Shut up, Stone. Kirsten and I know each other from when I was a student. We realized we were in the same place and decided to do some catching up.”

  He lied, but only Kirsten knew that. She couldn’t believe that Duff was banking on her Marine upbringing keeping her from embarrassing him with the truth. Family members understood the Semper Fidelis motto, too. He stepped behind her chair, marking his territory against the invader or reminding her who she knew better. She wouldn’t get her revenge like this. “It’s been a nice, intimate time, even in this loud place.”

  “I never thought this place was good for a cozy conversation. Maybe I should have gotten here earlier, though, before the young ones made their appearance. Seems like ages ago since we were students.” Stone turned fully to Kirsten. “How could I not have met you then? I really should have been paying more attention to the locals.”

  “Did you pay attention to anything back then?” Annoyance laced Duff’s voice. She imagined Duff puffing his chest. She wouldn’t sneak a peek to see if she were right.

  Gone was the joking voice of earlier, when he danced with her like a man in his twenties, fully showing his sexual interest in her. Part of her felt like a girl in a song, stay or go. Sex or no sex. Purge the anger with a roll in the sack or leave him wondering. Revenge or try again. How the hell was she to decide? “Now, boys. No need to show off for me.”

  “Only if it had to do with the physics of keeping an aircraft in the skies.” Stone kept talking, as if he were unaware of Duff’s chilled attitude. “Wait. I remember now. You were with him when we got our wings.”

  She shifted in her seat, not remembering him at all. She brushed her hair from her face. “Yes.”

  Duff seemed to pick up on her discomfort, putting a hand on her shoulder. Stone kept talking like both of them were laughing hysterically with him. “Well, hell, we’ve got a reunion going.”

  “It wasn’t in the plans. That’s for sure. In fact, I’m ready for that dessert you said you had at your place, Duff.” She stood beside him, desperate to get away from Stone and to a place where she could figure out her plan of action tonight.

  He took the bait. “What the lady wants, she gets. Catch you on Monday, Stone.”

  “Yeah. Have a good evening. Hope you cleaned your apartment.” With a wink, Stone left and sauntered over to hold the door open for a group of women.

  Fucker, she thought. Thinks he knows what we’re about to do. She wished she were that conf
ident.

  She glanced at the beautiful man beside her. And, holy fuck, if Duff wasn’t glowing with confidence, too. Goddamn Marines. Didn’t they know that they couldn’t always win?

  “Are we really leaving?” Duff whispered to her.

  At least he showed a little bit of uncertainty. Kirsten threaded her arm around his, and sparks ignited throughout her. Holy hell in a hand basket, she wanted him. Not to keep, but to have for one hot and heavy night. She eyed him, wondering if she could do it, fuck him once or twice before giving him an unceremonious send off like he’d done to her. “Well, did you clean your apartment?”

  Kirsten didn’t know why she asked that question of Duff. It was as if her body warred with her rational self just like the heater battled with the chill in the air that carried the scent of salt from the Gulf of Mexico. She’d given herself a choice—leave him as soon as she got outside or she could do just as she did all those years ago, which meant straddling his lap in the front seat of his sports car.

  Her thoughts traveled through time as they navigated the growing crowd at the bar. She had broken her own rule the night she met Duff. At just nineteen, in this same bar, using a friend’s ID, she’d caught Duff’s attention. She still couldn’t explain what about him attracted her. His brown hair and eyes were like so many others, yet she encouraged him, flirting with him and forgiving him when he spilt beer on her.

  He had taken her home that night to a boring brick ranch house with rented furniture, but they’d fallen on the striped sofa practically mauling each other with kisses. Duff had released a sexual being that she didn’t think existed. His few more years of experience made a huge difference. He didn’t grope. He caressed and poured attention on her, caring if she was ready for his cock to push into her heat. From that moment on, she wanted no other man. Duff, over the year that they dated, broadened her sexual horizons.

  He still had that hold on her libido as evidenced by the definite throb that happened between her legs the moment she’d heard his voice. It became undeniable as she studied his back while he made a corridor through the people entering the bar. He’d clearly decided that they were heading to his place. Even knowing that her mind made all their sexual encounters better than reality, she wanted him naked as she rode his thickened cock. She hated that she would consider doing it again despite how he had left her without any words of love or encouragement.

  But, it was John Duffy. Everything about his physique and his face and his personality pulled her to him. She was Odysseus listening to Duff’s siren song, but no one had tied her to the mast. With a word, maybe two, she’d say yes to spreading her legs, granting him entry to her already wet pussy and letting him take her to that moment when she forgot anything else existed. She craved that oblivion, because it gave her emotions a place to go—deep inside her—where she could ignore their cries for resolution. She closed her eyes when they stepped onto the sidewalk outside the club. The strains of a song asking if she should stay or go drifted through the door.

  Chapter Three

  Fuck this indecision. I’m going with him.

  “It’s not like Stone is watching us. If you want to bug out, you can. I’ll use the standard line that a gentleman doesn’t talk about such things.”

  Duff’s words surprised her. He never used to turn down an opportunity for sex, and she’d left the option open. Talk about role reversal. She’d become the lusty one. “You can use that line, but let’s give you something to withhold.” She waited for him to answer with her hands on her hips.

  He stared at her with his mouth agape.

  “Look, Marine. When you gain tactical advantage, you don’t stand around. Where’s your car?” She wished she’d driven, then she could be the one leaving him laying in bed wondering if she’d call. Because that is what she planned to do. Her brain had clicked to the place that felt right, good, and perfect. Maybe it was Stone bringing up the past, or maybe it was the chance to enjoy herself without any guilt. Whatever it was, she was heading for a hell of a night. One romp. Nothing more. Love him. Leave him. No getting involved.

  “Right.” He shook his head as if he cleared his disbelief. “This way.” He pointed to a parking lot to the left. As her high heels clicked on the brick sidewalks, she heard him ask, “Are you serious about this?”

  “Yes. If your place isn’t clean, we can try this inn up the street.”

  He pulled her arm so she had to look at him. “Kirsten, I’m having trouble believing you.”

  She didn’t blame him. From giving him the cold shoulder to inviting herself back to his place was a huge leap. She wasn’t going to explain her thought process though, mostly because she couldn’t explain it to herself. Knowing he used to appreciate action, she reached into his pocket and grabbed his keys, leaving him no room for disbelief. “Do you still drive a sports car?”

  “Had to go for something with a real backseat. I have a—”

  She put her hand over his mouth. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it unless you are about to tell me that you have a wife, in which case, I’m not interested.”

  “No wife.”

  Relief released the coils that had formed in her legs. She’d been ready to run inside. “Good.” She pressed the keys into his chest. “Shut up and drive.”

  He took the keys, unlocked the doors, and they both got into the car. After they exited the parking lot for the road that fronted the bay, he asked, “Mind if we make a stop?”

  For the love of Pete. Doesn’t he understand expediency? “Where?”

  “Some place to buy protection.”

  “No need.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the strand of condom packs that Suzy had given her for making professor. Her roommate had used the always be prepared reason for the gift. “This should be enough.”

  “You came prepared.”

  “I’m tempted to let you think that. You happened along on the night that my best friend wants me not to act like a stuffy professor. Not that I am, but I know how to play the role.” Tonight would be a role of control—not dominatrix, but certainly not the follower. She smiled at being the person on top and calling the shots.

  “Very glad of it. One less obstacle.”

  As he slowed to pass through the toll booth to the beach, she cleared her throat. This night had to be about sex, only sex, no delving into past thoughts or emotions. Especially not emotions. “I have rules.”

  “Should I be scared?” He guided the car past the vehicles bringing people to the bars along the small boardwalk.

  “You’re tough, or you used to be. I think you can handle these. They’re simple—no talking about the past or asking too many questions about life. I want this to be a fantasy.”

  “Not thinking about what we once did will be difficult. I drive by the place where you got drunk on strawberry daiquiris every day. You undressed in the car and threatened to stand up through the sun roof unless I let you go swimming.”

  She only remembered it because he told her what had happened the next day. “We had sex on the beach. First time for both of us.” Her laugh erupted as a huff. “That came out wrong. You know what I mean. That was obviously not our first time at sex.”

  “Just on the beach, with sand, and the tide coming in over our feet.” Duff had drawn out the telling of the story to her on their next date, while all the time being amazed that she hadn’t remembered any of it. “I thought the cops were going to find with how loud you were.” Of how she’d run into the water and then run out, jumping into his arms and locking her legs around his waist. She pressed her lips against his and demanded sex. “You had no shame that night.”

  “That’s what happens when a girl has too much rum.” Part of her wished she had real memories of that night. Because she’d still lived at home when they’d dated, their sexual escapades usually happened in a car or in a borrowed bedroom during a party. Quickies. Good ones, but still nothing long and elaborate.

  “What about tonight? This isn’t due to rum.”
>
  “No.” She weighed the pros and cons of telling him her reasons for going home with him while she stared at the beach houses as they drove down the two lane road. Even under the orange light of the streetlamps, the bright purples and corals of the condos and rentals stood out. On the list of reasons to have sex with him was that she’d be guaranteed a night she’d remember. They could take as long as they wanted. She was tempted to put that in her rules—long-slow fucking, changing positions at least three times.

  Then, she had the long list of cons. Although she told herself she wouldn’t have any guilt about leaving him, she wasn’t a jerk and would have a difficult time taking on that role even for a short time. Revenge sex had consequences, mainly regret, and she didn’t do well with that.

  She wouldn’t tell him the biggest reason to fuck him silly tonight before leaving—closure. She doubted this would give her any, but perhaps she’d gain some strength and a will to make a real search for a man who wanted to stay in one place.

  Duff eyed her from the driver’s seat, wondering why she wouldn’t elaborate, and what that could mean. Kirsten stared out the window, disinterested in him. Alarms went off, but he ignored them. The only danger to him were the crazy flight patterns his thoughts were taking. He shouldn’t care why she wanted to go home with him. He should be happy that she’d said yes after such a chilly hello. She’d granted him a chance to win her affection again.

  From the first moment that he recognized her standing at the edge of the bar, he marked this occasion as special. No lieutenant colonel of a father intent on controlling his daughter’s future stood in his way, not after all this time. The night had to be wonderful for her. Every touch should send her into rapture so that she’d return for more. Then he’d worm his way into her heart and finish what he started when he was younger, getting her to be a permanent part of his life.