by Fawkes, Sara
He could dine at the Y and have a lovely meal.
Wiggling her shoulder, Josie tried to get out of his grasp. He rather liked this, the muscled
difference between his body and hers making this unanticipated encounter more masculine, more
animalistic, than any they'd had before. He knew she enjoyed his dominance in the bedroom, but it had
been a more genteel, modern-era dominance.
Right now he wanted to go all-out Don Draper.
After all, she had transgressed, right? Cockteasing him, interrupting his call, misbehaving and all
that.
“You've been so bad,” he whispered, running his tongue up the side of her neck, sucking her
earlobe with his wet, warm bottom lip, then biting as she groaned. His fingers were slick with her heat
and response, and he used his thumb to stroke her swollen nub in soft, unyielding circles. Her grinding
against his hand was all he needed to know.
If she pushed her soft, naked body against him much longer, he'd come in his pants.
Time for no pants.
As he removed his hand from her vulva, she cried out with frustration, then leaned forward to kiss
him as he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped himself. There wasn't much time – for a change their dinner
plans were at a place with atmosphere, and a dinner bill that would probably equal a day's pay—a
place where tables were by reservation only. No time like the present, then – especially when your
girlfriend offered herself up like something out of a Penthouse fantasy letter. If she wanted to shift the
power balance by sending him off kilter with her nudity as he struggled to maintain composure on the
phone with Laura, two could play at the unequal game.
Before she could react to his releasing her hands, he lifted her easily into his arms, walked to the
couch to grab an afghan, then carried her to the door.
“What are you – ALEX, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she shrieked as he juggled a flailing, nude
girlfriend, a front door knob, and his own sliding trousers. The blanket began to fall off his arm, and
one move and the house of cards would come tumbling down.
That was fine.
As long as someone came.
“We're having sex on the porch!” he said in the same tone one might use to say, “We're getting a
popsicle from the ice cream truck!”
“Are you crazy? I'm naked!” she squealed.
“Should have thought about that,” he answered – squeezing her ass with more force than was
needed for a turn on, knowing the added pain would help bring her to the edge – “before you started
that dicktease.” Six months of sleeping together had given him considerable experience in getting
Josie to express her boundaries. It turned out they were as flexible as she was – in bed.
“Stop it!” she hissed.
He froze.
“If you're going to do this, you have to be naked, too!”
A deep chuckle rose out of him as he laid her gently on the porch swing he'd helped to install a few
months ago. The November chill made her nipples turn to pink peaks in seconds, a fine gooseflesh
beginning on her arms and thighs. God, he could stare at her body forever.
Oh, how his erection said otherwise. Now now now now.
Grabbing the afghan, Josie threw it over her naked form and a laugh burbled up. “Seriously? Now
we're air fucking on my fucking porch? You got a thing for having the mailman look at your naked
ass?”
What amazed him – what made him love her – was that she wasn't horrified, or angry, or offended
that he'd just assumed she'd be fine with being poured onto a very public piece of furniture and be
fucked outside, in broad daylight, where someone might find them.
She'd questioned whether he should be naked, too.
But hadn't questioned the premise of danger sex one.tiny.bit.
Could he love this woman any more?
“Not my naked ass,” he murmured as he pulled his pants down so that his eager cock was laid bare
for her. Sitting carefully, he pulled her into his lap, holding one of his hands to her mouth. She sucked
on two fingers, taking her time as her tongue ran down the sides of his index and middle finger, the
sensation making his abs tighten. Something had to go rigid – if his erection were any more taut it
would slingshot off his body, hit the moon, and land somewhere in the Indian Ocean, tracked by
NASA.
A shift of his hips, a nudge of her perfect, round ass and then he felt himself at the edge of her
deep warmth, her body leaning into his as she straddled him, the afghan a warm, thick, knitted cover
he draped over their bodies. She was on the pill and for the first time in six months of being together
he felt a tug as that detail floated through the periphery of his mind, a hint of a life not yet lived. Cars
lolled by and dog owners played across the street in the dewy, foggy late afternoon as the touch of sun
wisped away into gray.
Sliding in her, he felt the cool air against his neck, her hot breath setting his ear on fire, his hands
under the blanket caressing her breasts, each fitting perfectly in one of his palms with room to spare.
With one foot braced against the porch floor be began to gently rock the hanging swing, his motion
met with a throaty laugh from Josie, who lifted her hips up, then slid down, impaled by him and yet he
was the one pinned in place by sheer lust and overwhelm.
And then she tightened.
If kegel muscle control were an Olympic event, Josie would be the US team captain, on the cover
of Wheaties boxes every four years. For life. The feeling was brutal and glorious at once, as if he were
being milked by a hot, wet cave of Josie's love.
“I love you,” he murmured in her ear, her pants of concentration and shifting hips his only answer.
When she was this close – and they both were, really – she stopped speaking, fingers digging into
whatever part of him she touched. Bare breasts pressed against his clothed chest, and his pants pooled
around his knees as she writhed, nude, on top of him, the curve of her shoulder under the wool blanket
blending with his heated gasp, white clouds of condensation lifting away from them as if moans could
take actual, tangible form.
She licked his neck, then suckled, the pull attached to a sinew and muscle trail straight to the base
of his cock, like a line she discovered and played with impunity. “Oh, God,” he shuddered, her own
orgasm so close he could taste it.
How he wished he could.
Something to save for later.
A shattering clamp was her response, twinning with the suck of her mouth against his jugular, and
all the blood flowed to his arms and legs in a great whoosh, receding back and pounding into his core
with a rhythm and crescendo that became so insistent it lost definition, growing outside him, blending
with the air, the trees, the sky, and with Josie's trembling form. Only she could bring him to this, in
this way – sitting under a blanket, rocking lazily as passersby strolled on, unaware that their world
imploded and transformed through a joining borne of connection and shared risk.
And kegels.
Verbal, linear thought eluded him as he became an expanse of skin and nerves, centered at his
heart and the base of his shaft, connected by her body. So sweet. Being in her was the ultimate
welcome, an invitation to join with a woman so special he couldn't imagine living without her
, a love
that would transcend her lifetime, lingering on in children and grandchildren imagined, in an
extraordinary choice to embrace something more than either of them could be without each other.
Thrusting up, ever so incrementally, as she plummeted down on him, the micromovements
managed for social respectability, controlled by structure and discovery, each push into her felt like a
pilgrimage to some holy place, a chapel of love and trust where acceptance and blind need all mixed
together with passion and lust to form this thrust.
And this groan.
And this gasp.
And then, just when the feel of her fingertips on his neck was like fire, as her lowered head and
parted lips blended with her thighs pushing against him, at that moment when she levered him deeper
in with her bearing down – it was then that his climax took over, all red and white and black and grey
behind his eyes, the white-hot star of explosion and disbursement a sweaty, fevered affair that hit him
not like waves but, instead, on one giant crack of decision.
All of her on him, his whole being in her, the rasp of his cheek against her neck, the scent of pussy
and her soap filling the air between them – and the soft slushy sound of car tires wheeling by, mingled
with horns and trains and carefree calls of owners to dogs said one, singular thing whispered through
the lips of this gorgeous woman stretched over him, jellied limbs around his neck, spent nerves
twitching in little residual movements:
“I love you, too, you pervert.”
He chuckled and squeezed. “We both are.”
Peeling herself off his chest, the afghan slipping and threatening to bare her back to the guy
getting out of a cab across the street, he reached for the cloth and pulled it back up, cocooning her.
“We're a perfect match.”
“I could get used to you.”
“After six months, you haven't broken me in yet?”
Squeeze. He was spent and fading fast, but the thrill of her enveloping him made blood rush down
again. “I can just peel this off you right now and – ”
The press of her lips against his caught him off guard, the heady feel of his hands and body and
mouth overflowing with Josie like a second climax. Her tongue parted his lips and he drank her in, her
hands buried in his hair, lips nipping at his. She planted a cute little kiss on his nose.
“How about that Greek place?”
“We probably lost the reservation.”
“How about take-out Thai and we spend the night with The Determinator?”
“The what?”
She flexed her arm and made the wrist flick quickly back and forth. “The Determinator. My new
toy.”
“What does it determine?”
A sly grin from her. “That's what we need to explore.”
The steady clomp of footsteps startled him, Josie's arms snaking about him and pulling tight
against his chest to hide her naked front. Instinct kicked in and he pulled the cloth around them both,
covering any hint of her nudity. While their position was a bit less dainty than might be appropriate, it
was nothing close to what a full reveal under covers would expose.
“Good day,” said the mailman cheerfully.
“Hi,” they replied together, Alex's voice stronger, Josie's hampered by a giggle fit. Burying her
face against his neck, Josie bit his collarbone, the vibration of barely repressed laughter jolting
through him.
With a weak wave of his hand he tried to create a modicum of decorum, and when the guy turned
the corner Alex exhaled slowly, with relief. Standing carefully, he let Josie wrap her shaking legs
around his hips as he rolled them both in the afghan and guided them inside.
“You're crazy,” she chided.
“I'm adventurous.”
“You're awesome.”
“Awesome enough to move in with?” the words came out so fast he surprised himself.
She said nothing.
Shit. And then:
“Awesome enough to babysit Jillian for a night and see how we do together in domestic harmony.”
“Really?” Surprise infused his voice as a warmth spread through him. Even agreeing to such a
thing was a huge leap for Josie. This tango they danced recently – he pushed, she pulled back – had
become wearisome enough that he was beginning to wonder if this would define their relationship.
Always surprising him, he found this sudden shift a sign that perhaps he had been hasty in judging her
intransigence.
“And you can bring a toothbrush you can leave here.”
Double surprise.
“Why don't you just get my name tattooed on your breast? A toothbrush? Wow.” His words were
sarcastic, but there was a ring of truth in it.
Josie looked down at her chest. “Not enough room,” she mugged.
“Enough for me.” One palm stretched out to fill it with her soft flesh. She inhaled sharply. Too
soon? His cock grew – not too soon for him...
“Take it or leave it, porch sex boy.”
He dumped her on the bed with a satisfying plop, her arms and legs splaying out like a daddy long
legs.
“I'll take it.” He stripped down quickly.
“What about dinner?” she asked, turning on her side, her hip jutting up, breasts calling out for his
mouth.
His palms ran up the length of her calves, over her knees, opening her to him. “I'm coming for
seconds right now...”
Mike
No amount of meditation would make his erection subside. Visualizing the Dali Lama, Pema Chodron
and Thich Nhat Hanh – nope. Imagining suffering – nope. Conjuring images of dancing teddy bears
and foam fingers – OK, that helped...
The doorbell rang. Josie and Alex. All five adults had jointly decided that the best approach to the
overnight would be for Jillian to stay at the home she was most accustomed to; uprooting her to
Cambridge for the night might add to the potential for disaster. All of the baby items that Laura, Mike
and Dylan used to manage one twenty-pound infant filled the cabin to the brim, from a bouncy seat to
the high chair to the crib that the baby never actually slept in. It was currently filled with clean, folded
laundry and a six-foot bunny rabbit Dylan had bought on a whim. Yesterday.
Orchestrating this night away had involved a logistical operation worthy of a five star general.
Convincing Laura had been the hardest part.
“You what? You want to what? I can't leave her overnight!” she'd protested, though a flicker of
interest, barely noticeable, flashed in her eyes. He had struggled for the past few days not to say
anything about her reading habits. A quiet calm descended over him, his way of processing the new
information. On the other hand, his libido screamed with the knowledge of what she had been reading,
making his mind chaotic with questions, so many they threatened to burst from his veins.
Twenty mile runs didn't really help.
Nothing, he suspected, would help until he and Dylan had her naked and alone for nearly an entire
day.
They would all have to fight the urge to sleep. Sleep had replaced sex as their preferred bedroom
activity. He stopped that line of thought cold – if he kept being so pessimistic, what he thought would
become what he lived. No. Absolutely not. Of course, it already had become what he lived, but he was
not going to let his thoughts rule h
im.
Mind over matter needed to become hands over thoughts. Hands over Laura's sweet, creamy skin.
Her fingers wrapping around his shaft, their lips mingled in a kiss as his palms explored her body,
loving the woman who had brought him so much joy.
Not thoughts of sleep. Fuck no.
His will was stronger than his worry.
When had life become so odd? Even Dylan seemed...diminished somehow these days. Less cocky.
Tired. Beaten down. They all were, and as much as he wanted to blame it on the transition to
parenthood, something else accounted for it. Even the discovery of Laura's BDSM reading couldn't
quite make everything add up.
Something deeper was troubling Laura, and the preparations for Josie's and Alex's arrival had
helped him to understand more.
She was altered. Different. Completely consumed with Jillian and yet it was more than that, as if
she were consumed precisely because she was running away from something. It was familiar to Mike,
of course – he literally ran away from problems. Pounding feet on pavement took his worries and
troubles away. At least for the time he was running.
Laura's form of running was the baby.
And when you were away from the distraction you used to escape your problems, they all came
back in one full, enormous rush.
Were he and Dylan doing more harm than good with their crazy scheme? He hated overthinking
plans, but right now his mind raced as he watched Laura talking with Josie and Alex, Jillian resting in
her baby wrap on Laura's hip, reaching out to play with Alex's sleeve. Serious and frowning, Laura
was explaining something about how to warm up breast milk without using a microwave while Josie’s
deer-in-the-headlights look visibly increased. Alex was charmed by the baby, whose hair was the exact
blonde shade of her mother, Jillian’s little bow lips pouting as she concentrated on accurately
grabbing a button on Alex's cuff.
Mike could watch Laura forever. How could someone so beautiful and loving have found her way
to them? Being given a second chance and, now, an opportunity to parent seemed more surreal than
becoming a billionaire. The horrors of Jill's cancer and death seemed somehow cleansed by the baby,
as if her little soul were here to wash away grief and sadness. Rich beyond his dreams, deliriously in
love, and content with a family of his own making, he found himself pausing and pulling back,
