by Lavinia Kent
Fuck, she was beautiful.
Her index finger stretched out, sliding about her entrance.
His dick more than twitched. It grew.
His legs still wouldn’t move, but it wouldn’t be long now.
A lone finger slipped inside, thrust slightly and pulled back, then returned to her clit, working hard now.
Her head came up. She stared straight into his eyes and even with the wonder happening below all he could do was return her look. He was her captive.
She worked harder, pressed, stroked, pinched.
The flush came up her chest, reached her cheeks. Her mouth opened and he saw it take her, saw the flash of wonder and pleasure and joy. And still she held his gaze, even as her whole body tightened, again, and then again.
And then, peace. He knew that look; he felt that look.
“Thank you,” he said.
It took her a moment, but then she asked, “For what?”
“For letting me see that.”
She blinked. “But you watched me at your apartment.”
“I know, but this was different. That was a show. This was you. I felt like you were showing me a secret.”
Her cheeks were already flushed, but now they reddened. “Oh.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“So thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her eyes darted as if she wanted to look away, but she held his gaze, letting him see into her soul.
God, she was incredible.
“I don’t suppose you have food, do you?” he asked, feeling a need to lighten the mood, before he risked too much.
Her head turned toward the door to the house. “In the kitchen. Almost anything you’d want. Even though I live alone, I’m always well stocked.” She didn’t move.
“I don’t suppose you have magic food that will just appear before us?”
“That would be a dream, but no. And no staff to bring it to us, not that I’d want staff here at the moment.”
He grinned. “How long do you think it will take us to be able to move?”
“A month?”
“I was thinking a year before, but watching you seems to have restored some life to at least part of me.” He glanced down at his dick.
“Can he can fetch me a cookie and a cup of tea?”
“Ah, powers even my dick does not possess.”
She sat up, sighing. “I was okay before you mentioned food, but now I’m famished.”
As if in response, his stomach growled. “Perhaps more than one part of me is awake.”
Rolling slightly, she came to her knees and then stood, bringing a towel with her. She wrapped it about her waist, leaving her breasts free.
Suddenly, he was feeling even more energy.
She turned and strolled toward the main house, hips swaying.
He still might not be able to move, but somehow he knew he’d follow her anywhere.
* * *
—
“I will talk to Phil Bradley to see how he’d feel about helping with your project,” Clay said as they walked out the front door and headed toward his car.
“To be honest, that might be a bit premature. It’s still just an idea,” Jordan answered, pulling a sweater tight about her chest. The afternoon and night had been long and wonderful, but Clay needed to get back to the city. She’d never intended for him to spend the night, the whole point had been to make it look like a possible business meeting, but there had never been a right time for him to leave, a time when she wanted him to leave. No, she’d been very happy to linger over dinner and then to cuddle up in bed.
But now it was morning and a new day must be faced.
And yet she didn’t regret it, didn’t regret having him stay.
Clay stopped and turned. “Just an idea? That’s not how you sounded last night. I was pretty sure this was something you really meant to do. There didn’t seem to be any doubt about it.”
“I’m good at putting on a brave face. I’ve had practice over the years. And yes, I do really mean to do it, I just meant that I should probably find out more about how to begin actually setting it up, find out who to help. It’s hard to give jobs to kids who don’t exist.”
“But you know they do exist.”
That was all too true. “Yes.”
“I imagine that through your foundation and charity contacts, you’ll be able to find people who know how to help you get started.”
“I had thought of that, yes.”
“And when you start school, you’ll have even more people to help. If I remember correctly, professors and staff were always excited to help their students with real world projects.”
He didn’t even say “if” she started school, the way she still did in her mind. Clay might not know her well, but already he had more faith in her than she did in herself. Yet despite her expressed doubts, she didn’t worry. If she really wanted this she would make it happen.
Like with Clay, she wanted him and…Nope, not going there. He needed to get back to the city and she needed to start her day. “I do hope so. I confess I go between extreme excitement and absolute terror.”
“That sounds exactly right.” He walked back to her and, placing a hand behind her head, gave her a kiss, long and deep and full of promise. But not demanding more in the moment, rather it was a pledge of what was to come. The wonderful scruff of his beard tickled her and she found herself hoping he didn’t shave it off.
He pulled back, turned and walked away, whistling.
She stared after him, dazed.
She should have insisted on a goodbye, a commitment on when they would see each other again, but his casualness was a statement in itself. They didn’t need to make immediate plans because there was no question that they’d be together very soon.
* * *
—
“I’m afraid I might be starting to actually like him,” Jordan said the words almost in a whisper. “Ever since he left yesterday morning, all I can do is think about him. It makes it hard to concentrate on any of the plans I need to make—or even to just think.”
“Really? I’ve never known you to be distracted by a man,” Veronica replied, tucking her feet under her. “I mean, I knew you liked him, but he must be really amazing in bed.”
“No, I’m talking like him like him. Sure, the sex is good—amazing, actually—but it’s more than that. I know I don’t know him that well, but I feel better about myself when I’m with him. And yes, I know that’s silly and that I should be happy with myself without someone telling me I’m good enough, but…” Jordan gazed about Veronica’s living room, admiring the crisp black and white with the occasional pop of fuchsia. Most people would have chosen scarlet as the contrast, but Veronica had always added that extra bit.
“I’m not sure I agree. I think it’s important to have people in your life who have faith in you, who help build you up. And it’s far better if a man builds you up than tears you down. However, the ‘like him’ stuff makes you sound like you’re fifteen.” Veronica sipped her coffee. “But I guess that explains why you showed up at my house at the crack of dawn.”
“I don’t know a better way to say it than ‘like.’ I’m certainly not talking about the other L word. Also, ten o’clock is hardly the crack of dawn and I know you’ve been up for hours. You were probably out running at six.”
“Six-thirty. Baxter let me sleep in this morning.”
As if in answer to his name there was the scrabble of claws on the floor and a more than slightly portly basset hound came into the room and struggled up on the couch beside Veronica, laying his head on her thigh.
“In any case, my point remains. You’ve been up for hours. I simply wanted a neighborly visit.”
Veronica scratched the dog’s ears. “Which you hav
en’t done in quite some time.”
“I’ve been very remiss. Besides, most days, you leave for the office at the crack of dawn. For all you know, I’ve stopped by daily and not found you home.”
“I guess it’s possible.”
“I only stopped by today because you said you were working from home this week.” She sipped her own coffee. It was probably her fifth cup of the day, something unusual, but despite having excess energy already, she felt the need for the warmth and comfort.
“I’ll let you get away with that, but not without saying more about ‘liking’ young Clay. You don’t sound panicked or upset by it and that surprises me. And no denial. Very strange. I’m still not sure he’s right for you, but it’s good to see you really showing an interest.”
“I know. I know. I think that’s why I’m here. If I were still trying to figure out an excuse not to see him again, I’d know what to feel, but this is strange. I think I might be having fun.”
“Yes, that is strange.”
“Oh, stop it. You know exactly what I mean. You’d probably run a mile if you met a man you liked.”
Veronica was quiet before speaking, “You may be right. But I haven’t exactly been on a dating marathon despite all the perfectly eligible men I meet. I hear women complain about a dearth of men, but that’s never been my problem.”
“Maybe that’s your internal defense mechanism. And I’ve admitted to the same problem before Clay. I didn’t meet a lot of men, but those I did just weren’t right, they didn’t make me tingle.”
Veronica blushed slightly. “No, I don’t think that’s quite my problem—lack of tingle. You were probably right the first time. I’m running every time I meet somebody eligible. I’m only interested in men who are completely inappropriate.” For some reason she looked down at her dog and gave him a knowing smile.
“Well, are you going to tell?”
Veronica looked back up. “Not at the moment. My story’s complicated and yet at the same time there is really nothing to tell. I want to hear about you and Clay—as I talk about only being interested in the inappropriate. Are you really interested in him beyond the sex?”
And wasn’t that putting it bluntly? She paused, having a hard time admitting it even to herself. “Yes, or at least interested in finding out more. Despite what I just said, I don’t know him well enough to know if I truly like him or if it’s just the afterglow from the sex.”
“So what’s the problem? Just give it time and see.”
“The problem is that you’re right, he is inappropriate. He was in high school with Amelia. I don’t want to have feelings for him beyond the physical. I don’t want him to be important to me and then have to confront all the problems. But for some reason I don’t care, or at least I don’t care enough when we’re together. I enjoy being with him and that’s all that matters. I mean, I still want to keep it quiet, but I can’t stop myself from wanting to spend more time with him, to see what happens. And I know I’m being incredibly confusing, because I’m still so confused.”
“Let’s get back to the heart of the matter, the afterglow thing. You need to decide if you like being with him or ‘being with’ him. I think once you know that it will all make sense.”
“You’re probably right. I wanted the sex. I was ready for the sex. I convinced myself that just the sex was okay, but I never thought I’d want to spend time with him merely talking. When I’m with him I’m not always worrying about how to change my life; I’m happy to just live it. I mean, I still want change, but with him I feel like it will come naturally.”
“He’s certainly made you come out of your shell.”
“He has done that. Of course, part of it may be the timing. I was ready to move on with my life and Clay happened to be there; but I know it’s more than that. I would never have slept with someone else so quickly. There is something about him that really draws me, despite my insecurities about how different we are.”
“I do understand that, and I’m sorry for my comments. It’s really not that big an age difference. If you’d just introduced him to me now, I’m not sure I would even have remarked on it.”
“Thank you. It’s good to hear you say that. And that leads to my next concern. I’m not sure what to do next. It’s not like I have experience dating, not since high school. And it’s not like I can send him notes in homeroom or gossip about him to my girlfriends. Although, I suppose that’s what I’m doing now.”
“You’re not gossiping, you’re seeking advice. I only wish I had more to give.”
“And here I was sure you’d have a dozen things to tell me.”
“I think you need to figure this one out on your own. Only you can know how you feel and what you want to do about it. How long was it after you met Mark that you knew you wanted to marry him?”
It had been fewer than three months, which Veronica knew very well. “Point taken. I guess the next step is that I call him and invite him over again. I wish it wasn’t so far to the city. It makes it hard to be casual when you have to plan everything.”
“And yet, somehow, I think you’ll manage.”
* * *
—
Jordan walked about the house, restless. Normally, she was happy alone here for hours, even days. There was always a book to read, a walk to take, straightening to do. It wasn’t like she needed anyone else for company, although that puppy might be nice. She’d enjoyed watching Veronica and Baxter, even if Veronica had complained about not having time to walk him herself and having to pay the walker or he’d get fat. As far as Jordan was concerned he’d always been fat, but that was simply how bassets were supposed to be.
Maybe she could go out and cut some flowers. There were still some late-blooming roses in the garden. She looked over at the overflowing vase of tulips that the housekeeper had left. There was also a mixed vase in her bedroom and a single peony by the bath. Still…
Maybe she could rearrange her books or sort her clothes. It had been months since she did a closet purge and then that would be an excuse for some online shopping. She’d seen an ad for a cashmere sale. She could always use a new sweater. Plus she had too many shoes. It was high time she got rid of the ones she hadn’t worn in a couple of years and…
Or she could go for another walk on the beach. She’d already taken one, but that never stopped her.
Or she could go into town to the pet store and start to figure out what she needed for this puppy, because deep in her heart she knew she would be keeping her. That was probably the most sensible of the things on her list. From what Clay had said it wouldn’t be long until she arrived.
Clay…She brushed that thought away. She could go a day without talking to him, without thinking of him.
There must be a way.
She could go for a swim—no, that wasn’t going to keep her from thinking about Clay. All it did was make her body want him, as well as her mind.
Roses. She would pick the roses and maybe trim down the canes. There weren’t any flowers in the kitchen and she’d always liked flowers there. And then she could write a shopping list. It was true the fridge was kept well stocked but there were always special things she needed. She had a hankering for chicken piccata and she didn’t think she had any capers.
She wondered if Clay would like that. She’d never cooked for him. Well, not more than bagels and coffee—and he’d made her those mouthwatering steaks. And it wasn’t like she’d baked the bagels. But she was a good cook. It had always been something she enjoyed, even when she was young. There had been long afternoons spent with her mother, learning all the family recipes.
And chicken piccata had always been her favorite.
Maybe she should just give in and make it for Clay? It was clear that every thought she had was going to circle back to him. She could invite him over for dinner tomorrow. She had plenty of wine and it would be
easy to go out and get the capers. She knew she had lemons, chicken and parmesan cheese. And surely there was pasta in the cabinet. It would be easy to have everything prepped and ready so that she could put it together quickly while they shared a glass of wine. Then afterward perhaps she’d suggest a swim. All she had to do was think about the pool and she found herself getting hot and sweaty. Or perhaps she’d simply light a fire and they could sit on the rug and…Or maybe they should head straight to her bed. It was a nice four poster and she’d had her own fantasies about those posts. Or…Or…
Hell, she couldn’t even choose a fantasy.
She had been so determined to stop being indecisive, but her mind and her emotions were in such conflict that even her fantasies weren’t straightforward.
Although, maybe she should take a more positive attitude and view it simply as having a multitude of fantasies rather than failing to choose one. She had to admit that it was wonderful to have so many choices, to let her mind wander from one to another.
With that thought in mind she picked up her phone. There was no point in delaying. She’d invite him over for tomorrow and that would be that.
Thumbing through her contacts she looked for his information. She pushed the call button, not giving herself time to think further.
It rang twice and then went to voicemail, Clay’s voice politely telling her he’d call her back as soon as he was available.
She quickly left a message, saying she knew it was a long drive and that he’d just been here yesterday, but she’d love to see him again tomorrow evening or whenever was next convenient. She hung up, pulled in a deep breath, slipped the phone into her pocket and turned to pick up her gardening shears and a wicker basket to put her flowers in.
She headed for the door and stopped.
Hanging by the garden door was a picture of Amelia taken the summer after her high school graduation, only a few weeks after Clay had broken her heart. She would have to ask him more about that, about what had happened. Amelia’s explanation of their breakup, forcing herself to confront what she really wanted had made sense, but Jordan wanted to truly put the whole issue to bed, once and for all. If she was thinking about really doing this thing, she needed to know the past was truly the past.
