by A. C. Arthur
“Sit down,” she heard Ethan say.
He’d walked downstairs with the others to lock up after they’d filed out of the building. Portia could see down the stairs that the lights had been turned off on the lower level. Up here, the lights on the side of the cigar bar and in the center of the room were also off. He was telling her to sit on the stool at the bar where she’d sat when she first came up here hours ago. She did as he asked.
He went behind the bar to pick up a remote control and pushed some buttons on it. In seconds music blared throughout the room once more. This time it was a slower tune, a sexy song that she immediately recalled. Destiny’s Child Cater 2 U was one of the many songs burned on the slow jams CDs that Portia played as a teenager each night she lay in her bed to go to sleep. Those nights when she’d dreamed of having the courage to perform the same erotic dance that the members of the singing group had in their video, with Ethan.
He came around the bar and buried his hands in her hair when he stood next to her. The feel of his blunt-tipped nails scraping over her scalp was sexy as hell and sent tingles of pleasure cascading down her body.
“Chapter 8,” he whispered and lowered his face to hers. “Touch. Intimacy can be deepened through the art of touching.”
Her words. Ethan was once again reciting her words to her. They were familiar and at the same time unknown. Spoken in his voice, they were erotic and mesmerizing.
He cupped her face, tilting her head slightly so that she seemed to be waiting for his kiss.
“I’ve wanted to touch you for longer than I can remember,” he told her.
“Why?” she whispered and then quickly licked her lips. “I mean, why didn’t you? Back then when we were younger?”
“I didn’t know how,” he told her. “Or if I should.”
That was nonsense. In Portia’s book Ethan had known how to do everything. He’d always been so self-assured and courageous. Those were just a few traits that had drawn her to him.
“Now,” he said, his gaze falling to her lips, then lifting back to her eyes. “I do.”
“Then do it,” she said and heard the almost pleading sound of her voice. “Touch me, Ethan.” Because she really didn’t want to play any games or waste any more time. She wanted his hands on her, consequences be damned.
He moved his hands to slide along the line of her neck, rest on her shoulders and then move down her arms. When they came back up, he was unfastening the top buttons of the short sundress she wore. The feel of his strong fingers as they brushed along her skin was like heaven and when he had the three buttons undone and dipped a hand beneath the material to cup her breast, she sighed. It was the touch she’d dreamed about and so much more. The warmth that immediately soared through her body was indescribable and the knowledge of him holding her in his hand was intoxicating.
He wasn’t giving her words tonight. He was simply touching her, just as she’d described in her book. Wrapping her mind around the concept she’d written being put to action on her may have been the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.
When he’d massaged each breast, giving equal time to each aching mound and their now stiff nipples, his hands moved to her waist. She gasped when he suddenly lifted her from the stool and turned her so that he could sit her on the bar. Her hands dropped to his strong shoulders, kneading them through the material of his shirt. There was more to Ethan than brute strength, she knew that. Had seen it tonight as he’d interacted with his friends and their customers. Yet the feel of his taut muscles beneath her hands was enticing, arousing.
Ethan flattened his palms on her thighs. They were half covered by the material of her dress, but a part of his skin touched hers. He moved his hands slowly, pushing the material up until it bunched at her waist. In a quick motion that she was certain he’d practiced before, he removed her panties, dropping the wisp of silk onto the stool where she’d been sitting. His hands rested on her thighs again.
The song changed to Usher’s Burn just as Ethan moved his hands upward. His thumbs rubbed along her inner thighs as he applied enough pressure to have Portia spreading her legs wider. When there was no place else to go, he used the pads of his thumbs to press against the plump folds between her legs. She couldn’t help it; she squeezed his arms then yanked her hands away to rest them on the bar behind her as she lifted slightly to his touch.
His head was bent as he looked down at her. Heat infused her cheeks at the knowledge that he was staring at the most intimate part of her. His thumbs moved up and down the smoothly shaved skin for endless moments before finally parting her folds. Cool air hit her sensitive skin just seconds before Ethan pressed the pad of one thumb to her exposed clit. Portia almost leapt from the bar at that moment, her scream echoing along with the music as desire so quick and sharp caused her body to quake.
On a ragged moan, Ethan lowered his head and replaced his thumb with his tongue. For Portia, it was over when it had only really just begun. Her entire body trembled at the touch of his moist, hot tongue to the tight bud of her clit. An orgasm so strong it knocked the wind out of her then ricocheted throughout her body and left her panting.
But Ethan didn’t stop.
He moved his tongue masterfully over her clit, up and down her slit and to her waiting core, as he had when he’d kissed her mouth. Her fingers gripped the smooth surface of the bar as her legs shook around him. And just when Portia thought she would definitely come again, Ethan pulled back.
He looked up at her, green eyes blazing with the same heat that roared through her body.
“Stop me now,” he said raggedly. “If you’ve had enough, or if you’re done here. Stop. Me. Now.”
Permission. Another topic she discussed in her book with regard to intimacy and pleasure. The acquiescence of each partner came first with permission.
“Don’t stop,” she said with a shake of her head. “Please, don’t stop.”
Ethan moved quickly then, undoing the buckle of the belt at his waist and the button of his pants. Portia heard the rasp of his zipper easing down just as another song came on. This one was what her godmother had called an oldie but goodie, Prince’s Adore. She wondered briefly how Ethan knew all the songs she’d listened to while dreaming of him, but then she heard the tear of a condom packet and her mind was immediately back to the here and now.
Her gaze dropped to see that he’d removed his shoes, jeans and boxers and now stood with his erection jutting forward just beneath the hem of his black shirt. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his hot hardness in her hands, but he sheathed himself quickly with the condom. When he was done, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to the edge of the bar before crashing his lips into hers.
This kiss was pure heat. Like molten lava pouring slowly into her, each stroke of his tongue ramped up the temperature in the room. Her hands went around his neck, flattened on the back of his head and held him there. He sucked her tongue and she gasped at the blatant eroticism of the act. She pressed her aching breasts against his chest and moaned in a way that she hoped translated her need for more.
With one arm tightly around her waist, the other at her back, Ethan eased Portia off the bar top. He turned them slightly and just when Portia thought he was going to sit her on the stool again, he moved her only until the tip of his cock pressed firmly against her opening. She’d wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles in place, as he pressed into her. She was tight and he was thick. The pleasure pain sensation spiraled through her as he pushed deeper inside, until their bodies were locked together.
He tore his mouth away from hers at that moment and groaned as he rested his forehead on hers. Portia closed her eyes, letting the feel of his thickness throbbing inside her resonate. She was just accepting that Ethan Henley was buried to the hilt inside of her when he began to move. Driving into her hard and fast, he pumped fiercely. She dug her low-cut nails into his shoulders through his shirt. She arched her back and let her head fall back as wave afte
r wave of glorious pleasure overtook her.
And minutes later, when she came this time, Ethan was right there with her. His thrusts came slower as he slammed into her those final times before a gut-wrenching moan ripped from his throat. She was in her own hazy vortex of pleasure, but she held on tightly to Ethan and to this moment. She opened her eyes in time to see his face contorted with a mixture of glorious relief and a sense of wonder that she believed mimicked her own. He stumbled back, sitting on a bar stool and still holding her close. Their bodies remained connected, her legs still around his waist, his dick still inside of her as Ethan rested his head on her chest and Portia held him there. She closed her eyes and wished, as she had so many times before, that this was real. That it was forever. That her dreams had finally come true.
Ethan closed the door to his truck and circled around to the sidewalk where Portia was already standing. Suddenly she looked young and vulnerable again, like when they were in school. A small purse sat at her hip, and the black strap crossing over her chest was darker against the short light purple dress she wore. Her shoes were flat and she’d pulled her curly mass of hair back into a ponytail while she was in her car. It had been out and wild as he’d held her in his arms, pumping into her with every bit of desire that had been swirling inside of him.
Coming to a stop in front of her, Ethan couldn’t help but think of what they’d just done at the bar. Hell, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since she’d eased off his lap and hurried to the bathroom. Minutes later they’d both come out of separate bathrooms together and stood in the small hallway staring oddly at each other. He hadn’t known exactly what to say to her, since sex at the bar had been the farthest thing from his mind tonight. Yet it happened, and he wasn’t a bit sorry about that.
“Thanks for following me home,” she said after clearing her throat.
“It’s late,” he told her. “I would’ve preferred to drive you myself, but as long as I can make sure you’re safe, I’m cool with it.”
She nodded and silence ensued once more.
It shouldn’t be this weird. Ethan had been with plenty of women before and a good number of them had been one-night stands. There’d never been this type of uncomfortable silence. Probably because he’d always been sure to set the ground rules before any action could take place. He hadn’t been able to do that with Portia and wondered if now was too late.
“I’m leaving Monday night,” she said abruptly. “Rod says the work will be complete by then and my book tour continues on Tuesday.”
“Where does the tour continue?” Ethan asked because he didn’t know how else to respond. He’d known that she wasn’t in Providence to stay, and up until this moment that had been fine by him. Now, he wasn’t sure how to react.
He should‘ve felt relieved. There was no need to have a conversation about no strings, just sex, if she was leaving in a couple of days. But that’s not what he felt at all.
“New York,” she answered. “Then Boston before I head back to the West Coast. It’s a seven-week tour which will end in Portland and then I’ll head back home to Seattle.”
“You live in Seattle?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. “I didn’t know that.”
“I know,” she said with a nod.
It was almost four o’clock in the morning and they were standing on the sidewalk in front of the brightest colored house on the block sharing small talk.
“You should get inside. It’s pretty late.”
“Yes, it is.” She took a big enough breath that he could see her shoulders rise and fall with the exhale. “Thanks again…for everything.”
Ethan shook his head. “Stop thanking me,” he said. It was making him feel very uncomfortable.
She’d thanked him when his cheek was pressed against her chest and he’d been trying to catch his breath after that whirlwind orgasm. The words had been quiet and he presumed she thought he hadn’t heard them because seconds later she’d moved off his lap. But he’d heard, and the words made him feel like they’d just completed a sex-for-hire transaction. Now she was thanking him for seeing her home, as if she didn’t expect him to have that much decency, and it was irritating the hell out of him.
He stepped closer and took her hand, staring down at it for a few seconds before moving up the walkway. She followed without a word, coming up onto the porch. If this were the end of a real date—and not so late at night—this may have been the time for the goodnight kiss. She would go into the house and he would get into his truck and head home. Maybe there would be a call the next day to schedule another date, or maybe not. There probably would be another date because Ethan felt like he definitely wanted to see Portia again.
“Get home safely,” she said as she pulled her hand from his and opened the screen door.
The handle was fixed now, and she quickly found her key and opened the front door. She was stepping inside the house by the time Ethan found his next words.
“See you later,” he told her.
Her response was a curt nod and a small smile before she ducked inside and closed the door behind her. Ethan cursed all the way down the steps and the walkway to his truck at his stupidity. See you later. Who even said that anymore? And what the hell did it mean? Was he going to call her tomorrow and ask her out on another—well, a real date? Or would he just pop over here again with some other excuse to see her?
He slammed the door upon getting into his truck, started the engine and pulled off knowing there was a high probability that he wouldn’t do any of those things. And there was no need in feeling guilty if tonight had been their one-night stand, because Portia wasn’t here to stay. It was working out perfectly.
Even though he lay in his bed twenty minutes later feeling the same longing to hear her voice and to touch her as he had last night and the night before.
9
“Hey there! Long time, no see.”
On Sunday afternoon, Portia looked up from the spot where she’d been sitting on the front lawn going through a box of CDs to see Camy Greer.
“Oh, hi,” she replied.
Camy’s smile was genuine as she lifted her sunglasses from her face to prop them on top of her head. She wore white shorts and a pink tank top as she knelt down across from Portia.
“So it was nice to see you last night at the bar. I was just driving past on my way from the store and saw you out here,” she continued.
“The bar was a change of scenery for me,” Portia said. “I’m glad I went.”
She was more than glad she’d decided to go to Game Changers last night because, it had, in essence, been a game changer for her. It was the first time in her life that she’d had a rewarding sexual experience. She’d thought about that fact all morning and now well into early afternoon.
“Good. If you’re not too busy around here today, I’d like to invite you over to my place. I’m having a cookout so there’ll be lots of food and drinks and just casual company.”
Casual company and an invitation to a cookout at someone’s house. More things Portia had daydreamed about while growing up here. She’d brought these boxes outside to go through because the smell of fresh paint inside the house was giving her a headache. But while picking through each item she’d been flanked by more memories than she could handle. Memories of her time in Providence, of the loneliness that she thought would someday kill her and the things she’d used to try to keep her sanity.
She’d thought things would change once she got to college, but for the most part it was still the same. There’d been no pledging sororities for her. A group of girls judging her on any number of things wasn’t really her idea of friendship, and while she could accept that for some people the experience was much different and bonds were made in those groups, she hadn’t been willing to try. Her mostly solitary status continued as she finally found a home in Seattle and after a while she’d started to think it wasn’t so bad.
After being gone for twelve years, she’d bee
n back in Providence for a little over a week and she’d not only had sex with her high school crush, but was now being invited to an event she was fairly certain Ethan and his friends would also be attending.
“Come on, say yes,” Camy prodded. “It’s a beautiful day and we’re going to have so much food and music. Lance wrote this song and I’m going to sing it and then we’ll maybe play some cards or just sit around eating and drinking until we’re ready to fall asleep.”
She laughed and Portia smiled. Camy had always been outgoing and cheerful. While Portia hadn’t spent as much time at the church, in the school chorus or in any of the other circles Camy had run in, she recalled seeing Camy around town a lot and admiring her for the way she made it look as if being friends with someone was so easy. Portia had Sunny and her college roommate who’d married and moved to Germany with her military husband, but that was it. Back in Seattle, her relationship with her downstairs neighbor was pretty cordial, but she wasn’t totally sure she’d call Bethany a close friend.
“I should really get this packing done,” she replied to Camy and watched as the woman’s mouth turned down at the corners.
“Girl, you don’t want to sit here all day working. I can see it in your eyes. You’re itching to get up from here and do something fun. Lucky for you that I came along,” Camy told her.
Camy also took that moment to reach into the box and pull out a CD. “This is the old Mariah Carey. I used to love this CD. I sang Vision of Love so much my mother wanted to hurl me and my CD player out the window. I know I was just a baby when this released, but my mother always said I was an old soul.”
