by Bonnie Dee
Ryan hadn’t told Tim about his job at Labors of Love. He shrugged. “Exams, work, money trouble, my grandma, the usual.”
“It’s that phone sex job, isn’t it? I knew it was a bad idea for you.”
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who pushed me into it.”
“It was a bad idea. You’re too nice for that kind of shit. I should’ve known better.” Tim tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth and crunched them down.
Ryan grimaced. You have no idea how not nice I’ve become.
During the past week he’d had three more sex assignments which gave him an increasing feeling of being covered in the soap scum that wouldn’t come off a tub no matter how hard you scrubbed. Meanwhile, the only woman he’d wanted to hear from hadn’t called, until at last she had and they’d set another date. This should’ve made him happy, but instead he felt guilty. He was doing this one on his own not through the agency, which is why he’d given Monica his personal number. He didn’t want to charge her for something he wanted to do and didn’t want their arrangement to be strictly business any longer, but he was too afraid of her reaction to tell her. She must have wanted a no-strings-attached relationship or she wouldn’t have contacted an escort service. It was unprofessional of him to have any feelings for her.
Yesterday, he’d called Labors of Love and given his resignation. Mrs. Darrow hadn’t expressed surprise. Maybe, like Tim, she thought he was “too nice” too.
“You should quit that phone sex gig if it bugs you this much,” Tim said.
“Maybe I will.” To distract Tim from more personal talk, Ryan made a comment about the game then swigged his bottle of beer while Tim babbled about point averages.
On top of Ryan’s concerns about the sex trade and Monica, he was also worried about Gram’s respiratory infection. The doctor said it could easily cross the line to become pneumonia. The Rose Arbor staff was professional and caring, but it bothered him that someone else was taking care of his grandmother while he could barely make the time to go over and see her once in a while. The only good thing he could focus on was tonight’s date with Monica, a bright spot that made him feel more hopeful overall.
Rising from the bar stool, he clapped Tim on the shoulder. “Hey, thanks for covering my shift tonight. I owe you.”
“No problem. I got nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than talk dirty to people. But what are you up to? I don’t believe you’re studying. You said your exams are done. Besides, this is not the face of a guy who plans to hit the books all evening. You’re meeting someone. One of those little campus hotties, right?”
“No. No co-eds.”
“Ah-ha, but you are seeing someone. Please don’t tell me it’s some woman you hooked up with on one of your sex calls. That’s so unprofessional, plus you have no idea what she’ll really look like. Don’t go there. I’m telling you.”
“You sound like you’ve tried it.”
“Just once and believe me, it was scary. So, who’s the girl?”
“An old friend from high school.” He was getting amazingly good at thinking up lies fast.
“Well, all right. About time. I never knew a guy your age who partied less and worked more. You get yourself laid tonight, buddy. You could use it.”
“I’ll be sure and take care of that,” Ryan said dryly, but as he left the bar and drove off, he thought that getting laid by Monica was exactly what he needed tonight.
*
Ryan’s noisy Jeep pulled up in front of the house and Monica’s heart fluttered wildly. After a ten-day absence this felt like a first date all over again. She was ridiculously nervous and knew it was because she was treating this like a real date instead of a business transaction. She had to stop doing that.
“Don’t let me act stupid, kitty.” She scratched behind Amber’s ears then pushed the cat off her lap. “Ryan’s nice. We get along great and the sex is wonderful, but no matter how sweet he is to me, it’s only business. I have to keep it light.” She brushed white fur off of her black pants. “Got that? If you see me starting to swoon, you dig your claws into my ankle and ground me in reality.”
Amber was already strolling for the front door even though the bell hadn’t rung yet. Her sensitive hearing had identified a foreign presence approaching and rather than running to hide, she seemed eager to greet their visitor.
Monica answered the door with a shy smile. She was struck anew by how drop-dead gorgeous Ryan was. Tonight he wore a plain black T-shirt and faded blue jeans. He wore no jacket and his muscular arms were bare. Seeing those sculpted biceps, triceps and whatever other ‘ceps, Monica flashed back to how strong his arms had felt when he lifted and carried her. Those were good pair of arms to have around.
She dragged her eyes away from his arms and reached out to take the bouquet of flowers he was handing her. Her heart melted at the profusion of daisies, tulips and daffodils, perfect for a spring evening.
“Thank you! This is so sweet,” she cooed and broadcast a mental message to Amber, twining around her ankles. This is swooning, you idiot. Dig in your claws and stop me.
“Come in.” She gestured Ryan through the door.
“What’s on for tonight?” he asked then stooped and petted the cat. “Hey, Amber.”
Her back arched into his hand like she was his best buddy.
Pet me, Monica thought. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“Always.”
“Good, cause we’re having a picnic.” She turned to lead the way toward the kitchen.
Ryan snaked his arms around her from behind and pulled her against him. “A bed picnic?” He burrowed his face against the side of her neck and nuzzled.
She twisted her head away from his tickling mouth, but didn’t try to escape his arms. “No. A real picnic in my backyard.”
“Outside? I thought you didn’t go out?”
“Lately I have been. I’m “reclaiming my life” as Dr. Brewster calls it, an area at a time starting with my yard.” She pulled a vase down from above the fridge and arranged her flowers. She handed him the wine bottle and glasses and she carried the hamper of food.
Ryan followed her out the back door to the beautiful bower she’d created out of her tiny yard. She’d spent the afternoon hanging mini-lights on the hedge and the small plum tree. It was early for very much bloom, but the crocuses, daffodils and hyacinths were starting to open in the bed near the house. The hyacinths emitted a strong, sweet perfume that filled the air.
Monica had resurrected the wooden arbor that had blown down in the wind over a year ago. It was a little tipsy, but still sturdy enough to stand and it too was wrapped in lights. She had cleaned grime and bird droppings off the hexagonal picnic table. Although warped, it was almost as good as new and covered with a red and white checked tablecloth. A decorative oil lamp at the center of the table illuminated the area.
It was really too chilly for a picnic but comfortable that her light jacket kept her warm. The yard was sheltered with a privacy fence that cut most of the breeze.
“Are you going to be okay wearing only a T-shirt?” she asked Ryan as he poured wine into the glasses.
“I’m very hot-blooded.” He winked and grinned. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”
“Please stop. Smarmy doesn’t become you,” she teased.
After unloading sandwiches, deli salads, fruit and cookies from her basket, Monica set service for two on the table and offered Ryan one of the napkins. “Cloth, not paper. See how you rate?”
Ryan loaded his plate with a ham and cheese sandwich and big servings of the various salads then dug into the food with gusto. Monica wasn’t very hungry but enjoyed watching his unselfconscious pleasure in eating.
“Good,” he said between bites of potato salad. “Homemade?”
“Only if you consider a deli somebody’s home. I didn’t bake the cookies either but I did make the sandwiches. Two slices of ham to one slice of cheese, generous portion of mayo is my secret recipe,” she said conspir
atorially.
“And they’re great.” He took another huge bite of the sandwich.
Monica was distracted watching his jaw work. God, the clench of a man’s jaw was sexy. “Uh, thanks.”
He swallowed and glanced at her sheepishly. “Sorry, guess I was hungry.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed everything.”
Ryan pushed his empty plate back. “So, what have you written this week?”
“Nothing you’re likely to read unless you subscribe to Today’s Homemakers or Whole Body Fitness.” She summarized the articles and explained how the freelance process worked—querying a publisher, having her idea accepted then meeting a deadline. “It gets easier once a writer is established. Editors know my style and that I’ll complete the work in a timely manner.”
In return, Ryan told her about an incident in one of his classes involving a petty tyrant of a T.A. and how the class had revolted. “Considering the cost of tuition, you’d think classes might be taught by the actual professors whose salaries we’re paying. I’ve had more assistants than professors.”
They worked their way through the bottle of wine and discussed current events and likes and dislikes in food, music and movies.
“I suppose we should go inside,” Monica finally said. “It’s a little cold.”
“Or we could lie on a blanket and I could make love to you under the stars.” Ryan glanced up. “Or clouds.”
Monica considered the prospect. Naked, outdoors, under the great open expanse of sky. Last week the idea would have been unthinkable but after spending time in her garden every day and with Ryan beside her tonight, her anxiety was at bay. Outdoor sex sounded lovely. “I’ll get some old quilts.”
They walked toward the house with the remains of the picnic, passing through the tilting arbor. Ryan shook it lightly. “I can fix this for you. I could probably do it quickly right now if there were enough light, but I can come back another day.”
“Really? That would be...” Monica hesitated. She could afford to pay him for the repair, but they way he said it sounded almost like he wanted to do it as a favor for a friend. Whatever he meant, she wanted him here again and the arbor was an excellent excuse to have him come around. “That would be great.”
She dug up some old quilts that had been among her grandmother’s possessions. They were too worn to use around the house, but she wouldn’t thrown them away since her Grandma had made them.
Back outdoors, Ryan helped her spread the thicker one over the cold ground. They kicked off their shoes and huddled together under the top quilt trying to get warm.
Wrapped in Ryan’s arms, pressed against the length of his body that radiated heat like a stove, Monica soon lost her chill. The ground was hard but the scent of flowers and soil wafting through the air made up for any discomfort,
They lay face to face, foreheads resting against each other. In the darkness underneath the quilt, she couldn’t see Ryan’s face, only feel him pressed against her.
“I used to go camping with my friend Steve’s family.” As he spoke, Ryan’s breath brushed her lips like a kiss. “Every summer. It was like my family vacation only with somebody else’s family. It was fun though.” He chuckled. “Especially the summer when Steve’s sister, Melanie, suddenly grew tits. We used to sneak out behind the garbage dump in the campground, a more romantic spot than you’d think, and make out for hours. Of course, once we were back home she ignored me like before. There were older boys paying attention to her and I was back to being her kid brother Steve’s annoying friend.”
“What did Steve think about it?”
“I never told and he always wondered where I kept disappearing to that summer.”
“My family went camping once,” Monica said. “It rained and rained, took a break to drizzle and then rained some more. We sat in the tent and shivered until my mom declared she’d had enough. My dad wrestled down the tent in a thunderstorm. It wouldn’t fit into the bag so my sister and I rode home with yards of dripping wet, nylon on the floor of the car around our legs.”
“So no campfires or S’mores? Then you haven’t really camped. I should take you some time.” Silence followed Ryan’s words as each remembered the nature of their relationship.
Monica quickly changed the subject. “Did your grandmother take you on any vacations?”
“The beach, same cottage every summer. Gram loved the ocean.”
“How is she doing?”
“Not too good this week. She has a respiratory infection. She’s living at a really nice facility, but I can’t get over there as much as I should. It sucks watching a person who was so sharp and strong deteriorating into a stranger right in front of you.”
Monica hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t imagine living through that with one of my parents.”
“I’m depressing the hell out of you. This is supposed to be fun.” He kissed her, long and deep, then pulled away. “Are you warm enough to get naked under here?”
“I will if you will.” She slid her hand up his back underneath his T-shirt, feeling the hard ridge of his spine and the smooth muscle. She stripped the shirt over his head and Ryan pulled down the quilt to fling it onto the grass. Then he started to work on her.
In moments their clothes were stripped off. Monica shivered more at the novelty of being naked outdoors than from cold. They were actually quite warm under Grandma’s flowered quilt?
Ryan pulled Monica on top of him. She straddled him, quilt draping her shoulders, his hands gripping her hips, and gazed down at his face. His eyes reflected the twinkle lights decorating the garden. He regarded her so intensely she could almost imagine some strong emotion arching between them. She forced herself to repeat her mental mantra, sweet guy, good sex, but no strings.
Monica sat straighter and the quilt slid down, leaving her torso naked. The breeze caressed her skin, chilling her and tightening her nipples into hard knots. Her areoles puckered and every bit of exposed skin was covered with gooseflesh. But even with that discomfort, she was aroused by the sensation of being naked under the night sky.
Ryan’s eyes were trained on her breasts.
Monica stretched her arms above her head then laced them behind it, thrusting her chest forward. She pouted her lips, playing pinup girl.
Ryan slid his hands up her sides, leaving trails of fire on her cold flesh, but he couldn’t quite reach her breasts, which she kept just out of reach.
He pulled her forward. “Come down here,” he said gruffly.
She laughed and leaned down. He cradled her breasts, warming them in his hands and sending sparks shooting through her from the nipples he pulled and twisted.
Monica moaned and leaned lower to press her lips to his. She tasted the sweetness of wine and a trace of salty ham and under that, simply him.
His tongue warmed her mouth and his body warmed the rest of her. He reached down and drew the quilt over her back again, cocooning them in warmth. Monica rocked against him, her pussy ground against his rigid cock.
Their mouths were fused together in a passionate kiss, which Monica ended only to kiss the line of his jaw and down his neck. She felt the vibration of his groan as her mouth skated over his throat and down to the hollows above his collarbone. She nibbled each hard nipple, earning from him a sharp intake of breath. She kissed all the way down his body, over his taut, hairy stomach and down to his cock, solid and hot against her lips.
He touched her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” She took him in her hand and sucked the weeping tip into her mouth. His cock was so ready for her, hard and pulsating with energy. She engulfed him in her mouth, swallowing him as deeply as she could. Ryan groaned loudly at the sudden deep-throating and she hoped her neighbors’ windows were closed. Monica sucked strongly as she rubbed her hand up and down his shaft.
Ryan groaned again and lifted his hips. He thrust into her mouth and hand, his body arching in pleasure. “God, that feels so good,” he murmured
.
Pride filled her at the knowledge she was giving him pleasure. There was something wonderful about holding a man’s cock and controlling him like it was a joystick. She enjoyed having the power to please.
At last he tugged on her hair, pulling her off him. “Stop now. Your turn.”
He lifted her up then flipped her onto her back and disappeared under the quilt.
She looked down at the lump moving beneath the quilt and smiled at the sight. Then she gasped as his fingers parted her folds and his tongue touched her clit. He licked lightly, swirling around and over bud. The heat and wetness felt so good, she couldn’t contain herself and soon she was moaning and writhing beneath him.
He held her hips down not allowing her to thrust and abandoned from her clit, to dip his tongue inside her pussy. The penetration felt good, but not as fantastic as having his tongue on her clit. She whimpered in frustration and wiggled, but he continued to pin her down. Then he approached her clit again, licking and sucking until she was close to the edge. She squeezed her eyes so tight, sparks flew in the darkness behind her closed lids.
Ryan stopped again, pulling away.
She whined. “Don’t! Please finish it.”
He chuckled and then his mouth moved on her once more. With a few deft twists of his tongue he brought her right up to the edge again and then over. She bucked and cried out as she fell through space. She continued to thrust for several moments, riding the diminishing waves of pleasure until she was grounded once more.
Ryan moved from between her thighs, left her alone for a moment, and then he was back again. He laid beside her and once more pulled her on top of him.
Monica reached down and felt his condom-covered cock. She guided it to her entrance and pushed onto the thick, heavy length. She rose up on her knees and sank down on him. She sighed at the sensation of fullness that satisfied the empty yearning inside her. She moved on him, rising and falling, slowly at first then faster.
Ryan seized her hips and guided her up and down as he thrust. Monica looked down at his face, contorted in ecstasy. His eyes flickered open and met hers.
