by Leigh Tudor
Slowly, her vision began to blur and then return with a distinct clarity as the lines of the refrigerator moved into the familiar fractals and lines that distracted her.
Sighing, she took in the room with a different perspective, seeing how all the lines came together and meshed, making it crisp and clear and relatable. She promised herself to remember each line and curve and later transpose it onto paper when she reached the sanctity of her bedroom.
A cold brush on her arm yanked her back into 3-D, and she realized Alec had merely touched her with the glass of brown liquid and ice cubes.
“Thank you,” she breathed taking the glass from his hand and feeling that undeniable spark when their fingers made contact.
Beneath an invisible shroud of self-preservation, Loren’s body hummed with a visceral need to be touched. The ice cubes clinked as she stared into her glass, willing herself to slow her heartbeat and calm the fuck down.
Just take it slow. All in due time. They would get to the sexy part later. For now she needed to hold onto her glass and refrain from jumping him.
Conversely, Alec leaned back against the kitchen counter with his ankles crossed, assessing her while taking a slow drink. It was as if the more anxious she became, the more calmness he exuded.
He took a sip and his Adam’s apple bobbed and she felt her lady parts swoon and then weep. And just like that, she was wet.
Good Lord, she’d have to change underwear just from watching the languid projection of the thyroid cartilage move up and down the olive skin of his suntanned throat.
Nothing weird about that.
He glanced down at his drink, blocking the view of his Adam’s apple, and she almost objected.
“I’m glad that Lenore Sterling apologized to you.”
Taken slightly off guard, she didn’t respond but sipped her drink instead, wondering where she might find the closest bathroom.
He continued. “I wanted to do the same. Tonight, I mean.”
She looked at him, her drenched panties an afterthought. “You wanted to apologize?”
He moved his wrist in a circle, sloshing the ice around in his drink. “I haven’t been very open-minded as it pertains to you and your sisters and I thought taking you to dinner tonight might be a good way to let you know that I was wrong.”
Her heart stopped and then inconveniently lodged in her throat.
She rubbed her forehead, doing her best not to over react or misinterpret what tonight was about.
He took another sip of his drink, which, this time, she failed to notice as she focused on how to cough up the pulsating organ beating inside her esophagus.
Her life had conditioned her for disappointment. When you had zero expectations, you were rarely disappointed.
But she’d had expectations. For tonight.
He nodded. “I was wrong in making character assumptions about you without getting to know you first.”
She felt her heart making a downward spiral from her throat to her stomach. Was this a date or a pathetic excuse for an apology?
He confirmed her suspicions. “I’m sorry, Loren. I was hoping we could start over tonight. Establish a truce.”
A truce.
Funny how his apology didn’t render the same satisfaction as Lenore’s.
Instead, she felt silly.
Humiliated.
She smirked at her clueless self. She’d actually thought he might have feelings for her. Well, enough for a date anyway. But the only feelings she managed to pull out of him were regret and guilt.
Fucking expectations.
Walls erupted around her. Her inner voice could hear them lock into place. Concrete and impenetrable.
She took a long drink, winced from the burn and set the empty glass on the counter.
“Apology accepted,” she said, pushing off from the refrigerator to grab her purse she’d placed on the kitchen table. “It’s late,” she said with a forced smile. “Thanks for getting me out of the house. It’s been crazy lately, what with all of our visitors, but I need to get back.”
“It’s not even ten o’clock.”
“It’s late for me. Early to bed early to rise, you know the drill.”
She hated herself for the tears welling in her eyes.
So stupid.
So gullible.
Her head down, she made her way to the coat hooks by the front door.
He didn’t want to date her; he didn’t want to do kinky stuff with her. He just wanted to apologize.
And here she thought she was going to have to recite a list of “no goes” for tonight’s sexcapades and deliver worthwhile dating tips for Mercy while skipping over the more intimate parts of the evening.
So much for that plan. Her new objective was self-preservation and maintaining what was left of her dignity.
Just as she reached for her coat, a large hand grabbed her bicep. Highly distracted and registering an attack, she instinctively reared back and rotated her arm and palm to set up for a joint lock.
Before completing the move and snapping his wrist, he wrenched himself from her grip causing her to stumble. Momentarily confused she looked up to see Alec holding up both hands in supplication and breathing hard.
“Jesus Christ,” he fumed. “What the fuck, Loren?”
Oh shit, fuck, hell.
What was she doing?
Both of them were panting, and equally discombobulated. But he was now looking at her like she was unstable.
Out of her mind.
One hand covered her mouth, followed by the other one. She stared at him, transfixed, shaking her head; she couldn’t believe it herself. Clasping her hands together in front of her mouth, she said. “I’m so sorry.”
Alec ran his hands through his hair as if trying to make sense of her over-reaction.
She remained ramrod straight, in praying mode, waiting for him to kick her out of his house.
But instead of escorting her to the door, his gaze shifted from confused to soft. “Can I touch you?”
She nodded briskly not daring to speak.
He walked up to her cautiously and wrapped his arms around her.
She melted at his touch.
And then she breathed in the wool from his shirt and the smokiness of the scotch. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled a fragrance she couldn’t pinpoint but made her knees go weak all the same. He needed to stop wearing that cologne or using that soap, or whatever it was that made her have such an insatiable craving for him.
She melted more. Fused her entire length against his body. He felt so perfect. Like stability and goodness wrapped up in a beguiling, manly package. And she had attacked him.
“You know I would never hurt you.” He said into her hair.
Physically? Like she would ever let him. Emotionally? She was defenseless. He could decimate her. Regardless, she nodded, not willing to disengage and content to just breathe him in.
Like stubborn Velcro, he pulled her far enough away to bend down slightly, holding her face in his hands. “I was just trying to slow you down. Stop you from leaving.” He was shaking his head. “What made you want to leave?”
His hands moved to her shoulders, lightly massaging them, waiting for her answer.
Loren felt so tired. Tired of being chronically alert, perpetually skeptical, and consistently heartbroken. The concrete battlements fell away, crumbling around her until she felt vulnerable and exposed. But she was just too tired to do a damn thing about it.
“I thought this was a real date. That we were going to have sex, and I was going to have to lay out some ground rules because I gave the impression that I was promiscuous and maybe a little kinky.” Loren swallowed, laying it all out. “But you just took me to dinner to apologize.”
So much for being mysterious and not pursuing him. At least she wasn’t sweating. If you didn’t count the arousal pooling in her underwear earlier.
She continued, her tone more forceful. “I don’t want nor do I need your apology, or p
ity for that matter. I need a date, a real date with no hidden agendas. I want to have sex with you on this date, not because I’m promiscuous, but because I deserve it. I’ve waited a long time for this and you don’t get to turn my night into some sort of self-righteous, grand gesture apology. That. I. Don’t. Want.”
“Okay, okay.” He said nodding his head. “It was a real date. Is a real date,” he said with a slight smile. “Can’t a guy apologize and ravage a woman at the same time? Does that go against some sort of intrinsic Ingalls’ woman-code?”
She was who she was and that was perpetually skeptical. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “You think I’m spewing a line so that I can”—he searched for the words—“pity-fuck you?”
She rubbed at her temple. “At this point, I really hope so.”
Dimples sprouted on both sides of his upturned mouth, and she felt intense satisfaction in being the cause.
“All right, then,” he said, letting go of her arms and clapping his hands, “let’s get this bedding business out of the way.”
He took her hand, walking backward, and leading her toward the staircase. “Just so you know, if you’re bound and determined to set ground rules, now’s the time to do it.”
“Funny you should mention ‘bound,’” she said, following him without question. “That’s not going to happen.”
He nodded, working his way up the staircase. “Agreed. No tying one another up.”
He was full-on smiling at her and she had to hold herself back from doing a happy dance. Because that wasn’t sexy. And she was going to have sex. With Alec Wilder.
She perked up. “And no rubber balls.”
He stopped. “Rubber balls?”
“Gag balls.”
He stopped. “Why would you think . . .? Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
They reached the doorway, and he pulled her deeper into his room and she took in the sparse surroundings that looked circa farmhouse 1990s. On the left was an outdated bedroom suite, the wallpaper printed with mauve flowers and faded greenery.
“Alright then. No gags, no bondage. Anything else that’s a hard stop for you?”
“That’s a good question. I’ll let you know as we go.”
“Should we establish a safe word?” He asked with a grin.
“What’s a safe word?”
“I thought you watched a lot of movies.”
“Apparently not the same ones you do,” she murmured as she began to unbutton her dress. “Can we just go easy? Do some normal, everyday sex stuff and maybe work our way into things one might classify as more adventurous?”
“Start with vanilla schnapps and work our way up to fireball?”
“Something like that.”
“I can work with that.” He nodded solemnly, watching her fingers working their way down the row of buttons of her dress.
“But don’t be timid,” she added as she shimmied out of her dress and pulled off her boots, kicking them to the side. “I want you to bring your ‘A’ game.”
“Wow, no pressure.”
Loren stood tall with her hands on her hips in a pair of white cotton panties and a matching bra. “Okay, your turn. Show me what you got.”
Grabbing the back of his shirt with one hand, he pulled it over his head. “This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had during sex.”
“Shhh,” Loren said, taking in his perfect chest and abs that resembled corrugated steel. “Let me take this in.”
Alec raised his eyes as if embarrassed by her perusal. She didn’t care. Becky foretold that this would be a one-and-done date, further solidified by the fact that she failed nearly every dating tip Cara had cited from her all-knowing book of dating.
Of course, there was also the counter-attack in the man’s living room. Another potential contraindication for a second date.
If this was going to be her one and only date with her ridiculously attractive neighbor, she wasn’t going to waste a minute of it.
She slowly walked around him. “Take off your pants.”
“I’m feeling a bit objectified here,” he said, unbuckling his belt.
“Sorry, not sorry.” She finally went mute as he shucked his dark jeans and stood straight.
He wore black cotton fitted briefs, the brand displayed on the waistband.
As if possessed by a severely undersexed spirit, her fingers reached out to touch one perfect glute, her fingers gliding along as she walked around to face him.
He looked straight ahead, standing at attention and looking over her shoulder. She bit her lip as she just couldn’t resist moving her fingertips over his rippled abs and into his briefs.
He jumped as her hand wrapped around his length. “Jesus, Loren, how about some warning?”
“Sure. I’m going to feel your penis now.”
His eyes arched. “What happened to starting out slow?”
She moved her hand up and down, mesmerized by how unique it felt. So hard, like it was standing at attention. But then again, so smooth and malleable, like it was incapable of remaining still.
She was feeling a bit overwhelmed, her nipples tightening and her breathing labored. She needed a game plan to help establish goals and gather her wits.
“We’ll go slow during the sex act, but fast-track the foreplay,” she asserted, spinning her forefinger in a circle, indicating the need to move things along.
“Got it,” Alec responded, mimicking her with his own forefinger. “Fast tracking.”
“We’ll move past the part where you slowly remove my clothes,” she rolled her eyes, “So lame. . . and past where you lay me down on the bed like I’m a delicate flower.” She added with sarcasm, “Because, that isn’t stupid.”
“I thought you said you were inexperienced?” He said hoarsely, as she was now rubbing the indent at the tip.
“Do you have any idea how many contemporary romance novels Mercy has read to me?” She bobbed her head side to side. “Well, the sexy parts, anyway.”
She noticed his shoulders hunch as her hands continued to work him.
“My bad,” he said with a gravelly voice, “Carry on.”
“Thank you. We can also skip where you look at me as if you’ve never seen a naked woman before. Which we both know is false. So really, why bother?”
“Right, I mean, I am thirty-two.” He sucked in, as she held him in her hand. He was becoming progressively engorged and she felt torn between wanting to give his cock more attention and getting through her list to ensure a successful sexual experience.
“And let’s not feel the need to recite one another’s names. Please, I already know my name. And hopefully, you’ll have my full attention. So, just don’t.”
“Do I need to write this down?” He choked.
She continued while stroking him. “Skip past you mentioning how wet and unbelievably tight I am. And where I declare yours, the biggest cock I’ve ever seen in my life” She thought for a minute. “That’s it. Instead of all that, I say we get right to the good part.”
His eyes caught hers. “Some might argue those are the good parts.” He hissed, as her grip inadvertently tightened. Realizing she was fisting him, she loosened her grip.
“Please, it’s just a waste of time.”
“So, the men you’ve been with were good with you . . . fast-tracking?”
She took a deep breath and removed her hand from his cock, his big, beautiful cock, to make a long overdue point. “At the risk of being overly-transparent and lacking in ‘mystery,’ I’m not a virgin.”
She bit her lip and forced herself to muster through. “But I might have misled you on my level of experience. That said, if this is going to be good for both of us, we should agree that all of that extraneous stuff is superfluous and kind of silly when the end goal for both of us is to get to the—”
“Good part,” Alec finished for her.
“Exactly.�
�� She grinned. He was going to be a great sex partner. She just knew it.
“So,” Alec said, resting the back of his hand on her cheek. “If I were to touch you like this, it would be a waste of time?”
He moved closer gazing down at her, turning his hand until his palm was cupping her face, his thumb moving languidly along her bottom lip.
She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how good it felt to have Alec Wilder touching her so damn softly and looking into her eyes with such reverence. “I mean, I guess that would be okay.”
His pupils appeared fixated on her lips until she became progressively agitated and began to squirm. It felt as if her lady bits were pulsating in rhythm with her heart.
Speaking of which, was that moisture dripping down her leg? She might need to make a doctor’s appointment. That couldn’t be normal.
Still holding her face in his palm, his lips touched hers, distracting her from her potential medical condition, while he slowly pulled down the strap to her bra. Before she knew it, the kiss ended as he gazed down at her bare breast. His thumb now making the same movement against her nipple that he made to her lip.
“Is this a waste of time?” he asked, before taking the now distended nipple into his warm mouth.
“Um. . . .” Her eyes rolled back in her head, making it impossible to finish a sentence. Then his other hand made its way to her ass, kneading and pulling her against that lovely length of steel pipe hiding beneath his boxers.
She admired his level of stealth as he managed to move and manipulate her body until she was lined up perfectly against him. A moan escaped her lips as he simultaneously sucked on her nipple, while kneading her ass and undulating that beautiful steel rod against her clit.
“You want me to stop?” he asked between flicks of his tongue. “So we can fast-track to the good part?”
“No . . . yes.” She was confused, her mind trying to navigate the pulse points between her ass, nipple, and clit. He was turning her into an unintelligible mass of nerve endings.
“Yes or no, Loren.”
To her disappointment his hand had relinquished her ass cheek. Before she could object, his long, tanned fingers inched their way down the front of her panties and was now using her embarrassing amount of moisture as his personal slip and slide.
