Chapter Seven

Jack’s apartment was on the third floor of a Tudor-style apartment building that had been tucked into a wooded alcove before it had been deemed some sort of nature habitat in the middle of the city.

The small one-bedroom apartment was decorated in comfortable male thrift-store abandon. A brown tweed couch that actually looked pretty sturdy took up one wall—the one that faced the scarred, round coffee table and wall-mounted flat-screen television. His faded green overstuffed recliner and a little round table sat tucked into the corner beside the French doors. A tall floor lamp sat behind the chair and she could almost see him reading the sports page or one of his dog-eared classic detective novels.

Valentine gripped the half-full Styrofoam cup of coffee that she’d gotten to go when they’d stopped for breakfast at the City Diner and tried to imagine the woods in the spring with the trees all leafed out and the little red fox that he’d told her visited every year with her kits.

The man had been pulling out all the stops after he’d realized that she’d meant what she’d said. If they were going to go forward they couldn’t be keeping tabs on who won or lost an argument or a difference of ideological opinions.

“You have quite a view here, Sutton,” she said, still gazing out the French doors while she pretended not to notice that he was straightening the bedroom. “I’d be tempted to marry you just so I could have my coffee here every morning.”

She didn’t so much hear him as feel him move down the short hallway and slide up behind her. When she leaned over to place her cup on the small table beside the recliner, he flowed into the same motion behind her.

“I was hoping to tempt you with something else but if that’s what it takes, I can live with it,” he said over her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her middle.

“So you didn’t bring me here to seduce me with your view?” she asked, straightening into his embrace.

“I brought you here because I thought we could use some privacy. I’m pretty sure we don’t have to draw the drapes if we want to have sex on the living room floor with the sun pouring in over our naked bodies,” he whispered while he slid his hands up over her ribs to cup her breasts. “The only ones tweeting are the birds and I don’t really care if they alert the neighborhood that we’re back together.”

She leaned back and slid her fingertips behind her and over his denim-covered hips. Pulled him closer.

“I haven’t given you a complete tour yet,” he said, nibbling her earlobe and inching her backward. “You haven’t seen the kitchen.”

“We’ve had breakfast,” she said and smiled when he slipped his hands under her sweater and smoothed over the cool satin cups that restrained her breasts, dipped inside and pushed the fabric away.

“But I’m still hungry and there are so many amazing surfaces—solid oak table and chairs or I could set you on the tile counter and slide between your legs,” he whispered suggestively as he alternately tugged and flicked her nipples.

She shuddered, imagining herself spread wide to accept him, still clothed because they were in too much of a hurry. Arching, she pushed her breasts into his cupped palms and ground her ass into his groin, reveling in his groan.

“Before you spread me naked on cold tile, I think I’d like to try out your shower. See if there’s enough hot water to warm up.”

“Cold?” he asked, as one hand drifted down, flicked open the button of her jeans and pushed the zipper down slowly. He tunneled under thin silky panties and covered her pussy with his warm palm, settled one long finger along her slit and separated her.

“Mmmm…not right this minute,” she said and then he began to play, circling and strumming against her already damp flesh. She writhed and ground her pussy against his hand and he quickened his stroke, concentrating on her clit, working it between his finger and thumb until she came, shuddering.

He didn’t give her time to catch her breath before he scooped her up into his arms and turned them around. She smiled when he kissed her and the slide of his lips distracted her from their short journey down the hall and into the green-and-white bathroom with its glass-enclosed shower big enough for two.

She reached for the bottom of her sweater and he playfully batted her hands away, skimming off the red wool and the lacy undershirt beneath. Her breasts were still thrust upward and spilling out of their confinement.

He grinned and dipped his head. The pull of his mouth was exquisite torture as he nipped and soothed both nipples, gently worrying the nubs with edgy tenderness. There was no need to hold him in place but she couldn’t resist running her fingers through his short dark hair as he reached around and unhooked her bra so that she could shrug it off.

He wrapped his arms around her and nibbled a path down, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. The rough glide of denim brushing over her skin was accompanied by kisses along the inside of her thighs, her knees, on each foot as she stepped out of her pants. He stripped them off quickly and was kneeling between her legs before she had time to catch her breath.

She grabbed onto his shoulders when he caressed her ass cheeks and used his grip to draw her closer. He separated her labia with the tip of his tongue before delving into the warm channel and flexing just enough to make her gasp.

“I’m so glad you don’t shave your pussy, I love the feel of your curls against my lips,” he whispered and she almost came again but she bit down on her lip and gripped his shoulders. And then he opened his mouth and kissed her, working his tongue into her slit as if it were her mouth he kissed and she came with a moan that rocked her while he held onto her ass cheeks and feasted.

“You taste like honey,” he murmured, lapping the edges of her fluttering inner lips as her tremors subsided and she began to shake. He didn’t let her go, just slid up her body and opened the door to the shower so he could adjust the controls.

“Let’s warm you up some more,” he said, leading her inside the glass enclosure.

She had just enough energy to reply, “If I was any warmer I’d collapse.”

“I’ll always be there to catch you. Cross my heart,” he whispered against her lips as he enfolded her beneath a spray of hot water and kissed her.

He wanted to go slowly but one kiss and he was as hot and eager as the first time they’d come together two years ago. Only now there was a slight trepidation in her response and for a moment he panicked until she drew slightly away and whispered back, “I know.”

It wasn’t so much a confession as an affirmation and he swallowed hard because anything he said now wouldn’t be half as effective as the words she’d just uttered. She smiled up at him and the steam rolled around and up over her shoulders like a misty halo.

“May I suggest we have a quick wash so I can get you into bed and have my wicked way with you?”

“I have a better idea. How about a leisurely wash while I finish having my way with you?” he countered and grabbed a bottle of shower gel and lathered it between his palms before he smoothed over her shoulders and down her arms, languidly stroking her breasts until the nipples peaked.

She sighed and said, “Great suggestion.”

He swept over the rest of her, paying special attention to her pussy, massaging another dollop of gel into the red-gold curls before turning her around and bending her over. She quivered at the first touch of his fingers as he smoothed over the puckered anus. This was the one place they’d never gone.

He’d never trusted himself before because he hadn’t wanted to take her in an impatient frenzy without being in some sort of control. The experience would be over before it started and they both deserved more than that.

He squeezed out more of the rain-scented gel onto his fingers and rubbed it into the tight ring of flesh in ever widening circles as she spread her legs and whimpered. When she turned her head to face him, she licked her lips and her heated gaze urged him on even before she nodded.

He gently nipped the rounded, creamy mound of one perfect ass cheek and swiveled a finger in just past the first knuckle. She instinctively clamped down on the digit and began to pant as he waited for her to relax and tried not to go insane from the sight she presented him. He blew a warm puff of air against her bottom and tickled her clit with his other hand. She opened and sank down as he added another finger, wringing a moan from so deep inside her that he could feel its escape.

He wanted her asshole sizzling hot and begging for his cock. It was the only way he could be sure the experience would be good and he didn’t want any part of her to go untouched, without a memory of how much he wanted her.

If the water had held out, he would gladly have stayed beneath the steamy spray but he knew it would be running out soon. He tugged on her clit, rolling and manipulating until she reached for him the moment her orgasm shook her.

Valentine sagged, boneless and warm into his embrace. Felt his lips against her hair. “No fair,” she gasped, barely able to speak while she leaned into him and he finished washing up.

At least that’s what it felt as if he was doing. She licked his chest where water droplets clung after he’d rinsed away the suds that covered him. The man was multi-talented. She could barely form a coherent thought until he started blotting her dry with a large fluffy white towel.

She grabbed another one from the rack behind her that was warm from the heating vent it draped over and started at the top of his head, pressing and forming the soft terrycloth into the crevices she could reach as she followed his progress down her body.

Wrapped in towels, they made their way to the small bedroom where he’d left the curtains open. Sunshine streamed into room and over the turned-down bed with its gleaming white sheets. That was Jack, classic to the core.

“Your turn,” she whispered when he unwound her from her towel and dropped his own. His gleaming erection made her mouth water and her fingers itch. She wanted a taste and to feel his hard shaft quivering under her hand.

He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cock against her belly where it pulsed and her pussy clenched with an answering tremor. “We’re not keeping score on anything—remember?” he said, right before he tumbled her onto the soft mattress.

She stretched out on the sheets, cool against her warm flesh, and raised her arms in invitation. He issued an invitation of his own when he lay on his side with his cock mere inches from her mouth and the tip of his tongue poised over her pussy.

Rising up on her elbow, she turned slightly and canted her hips toward his mouth before kissing the tip of his cock head and lapping at the little slit where a pearly drop of pre-cum enticed her.

He hissed but the first swipe of his tongue separated her labia and was a lazy dare that challenged her to draw out his pleasure. She loved a challenge but not half as much as she loved him. She closed her lips over his glans and circled the spongy tip, swiveling it in and out of her mouth and smiling when he gasped against her pussy.

And then it was all she could do to concentrate as he closed his mouth over her clit and pumped it slowly. Her hips began to move to the rhythm and she opened her mouth to allow some of the slickness that escaped his little slit and her own saliva to help with the glide of her hand as she pumped his shaft, swiveling her fingers up and down while she willed him to come.

And jumped when he slid his thumb under the pad of flesh he worked so furiously with his mouth and matched the motion, stroke for stroke until she broke, wailing and falling into her orgasm, laughing even as she accused him of cheating.

He swatted her bottom. “Stop keeping score,” he said but he was chuckling when he said it so she just kept laughing and tried to turn over so she could recover enough to get back at him. She was going to make him howl before the day was over.

And then she caught a glimpse, a flicker of something that shadowed the lightheartedness of the moment. He is worried I’m keeping score. In that moment she became aware that maybe Jack had always been worried that she wouldn’t accept whatever he willingly gave.

Some of it hadn’t been macho posturing at all.

So many things fell into place that she almost heard the perceptible clicks. She smiled. “No more keeping score. Cross my heart,” she said before she tried to finish turning over because she didn’t want him to see her getting teary eyed and spoil the moment.

He placed a hand under her stomach and lifted and she rolled over onto her back and swallowed hard. His smile was tender and open and something inside her felt as though it was breaking apart and coming back together all at the same time. She held out her arms and he sank down, resting his chest lightly against her breast and holding himself up on his elbows.

“It’s about time,” he whispered, feathering kisses against her mouth. His lips were still chapped but she welcomed the rough little slide against her skin and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer.

Yeah, it is. “I’ve missed sex with you,” she whispered in his ear as if it was a secret that only they shared. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

He kissed her thoroughly, deeply, his tongue making forays as if he’d never experienced the softness of her mouth before. Nibbled one last time at her lower lip before finding a spot behind her ear that made her shudder then dragged the edge of his teeth over her nipples until they were so unbearably tight she was positive that it was the most pleasure she could feel before it became pain.

He found pleasure points she didn’t know existed or maybe they hadn’t before Jack worried them into existence, coaxing them from a place she’d kept hidden. She was writhing by the time he tucked a pillow under her and canted her hips so that they rested on his thighs. He raised her legs and rested her feet on his shoulders while she quivered in anticipation.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said, opening her slick inner lips with her fingers, inviting him closer.

“Then don’t touch yourself until I ask you to,” he rasped.

She nodded because she was incapable of speech and slid her hands along his thighs. Her pussy was on fire and she was so close to an orgasm she reached out and clenched the sheet to keep from touching herself. Mesmerized by the play of his hands rolling a condom over his erection, she was vaguely aware of the gold wrapper, metallic against the whiteness of the sheets, and a bottle of lube.

There was an edgy playfulness in his touch when he slid one long finger along her slit, opening her pussy a finger’s width to strum against the ruffle of her inner lips.

He asked if she liked that and she managed a whimper when he replaced his finger with the tip of his condom-covered erection, resting it just under her clit and flicking the sensitive nub, teasing her, drawing out her pleasure until he slid inside, filling her until she wanted to scream at him to move.

“Fuck me,” she demanded and he did—at his pace, gripping her ass when she tried to force him to speed up his rhythm. All it would take to send her over the edge was a flick of a finger against her clit—one touch would have her screaming.

His smoldering gaze narrowed. “Put your hands on your breasts if you want to touch yourself.”

She pinched her nipples and a warning tremor coursed through her until he stilled and let her pussy’s inner walls settle around his cock and withdrew until just the tip kissed her entrance. Shaking, she watched as he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers.

And then he shifted slightly and placed a hand under her hips and she widened her legs to allow him better access. She bit her lower lip while he circled her quivering anus with sticky, deliberate fingers.

“I’d give anything to keep watching your face but I think this would be easier on you if you rolled over,” he said with a sigh that told her just how much it cost him to relinquish the position.

She was almost embarrassed by her eagerness as she rolled over and pushed the pillow under her stomach and raised her ass. She buried her head in the sheets when he separated her cheeks and slicked one finger in ever-widening circles until she pushed against the digit and he slid it in to the first knuckle, added a second when she pushed backward.

“Jack, you’re killing me here,” she rasped, teetering on the edge of something just out of her reach, a pleasure never before experienced and it was going to be theirs together.

“Trust me, you aren’t the only one suffering,” he said and his voice cracked when he dragged the tip of his cock against her hole. She could feel heat through the latex covering his cock and then he was probing gently, working her open, and she closed her eyes as the first bite of pain turned to exquisite pleasure. He eased his cock in slowly and his first stroke ripped a moan from her.

He stilled instantly and she twisted enough to see him hovering with rigid trepidation, sweat pouring down his face and the veins in his neck bulging.

“More,” she whispered raggedly before her voice could fail her. She watched him as he eased into another stroke that fully breached the tight ring of muscle he slid past. “Yes,” she sighed. He petted her ass and told her how beautiful she was as he worked his cock into her slowly until she pushed back and countered every movement.

Until they were both rushing toward something they’d never experienced before. She was almost there when he reached between her legs and worried her clit between his forefinger and thumb at the same time she felt her muscles clench around his cock and she rocketed into a spiraling orgasm so sharp she came, screaming and shaking. His answering roar was still ringing in her ears as the last tremors drifted away. He folded over her and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and told her he loved her between pants.

She didn’t have enough breath to return the endearment but she did manage to turn her head and press a kiss to his hand. She wasn’t going to be able to move for a week. Maybe she’d just lie there until they’d both recovered enough to start all over again. Her body rebelled when he softened and withdrew, then moved away. But she knew he was coming back to bed and they would sleep curled into one another until it was time to talk.

About weddings and where they were going to live and whether or not Moocher would become a permanent fixture in their lives. And when they could do this again.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, sliding in next to her and curling his warm hand around her breast.

“I was trying to figure out the protocol for asking a man to marry me. Do I need a ring? Do I have to get out of bed and down on one knee, which incidentally would probably lead to something that would interrupt the proposal so I’m thinking no,” she rambled, astounded that she could form a coherent sentence.

“Protocol gives me a rash,” he said so seriously that she glanced back at him and smiled.

She wanted to ask “Since when?” but she was drowsy and warm and sated so she simply asked, “Will you marry me, Jack Sutton?” Because calling your lover a liar seemed tacky after just asking him to marry you. And besides, it was very possible that protocol was starting to give him a rash. It could happen.

He grinned and scooted closer. “Just pick a date and name the place.”