It's Complicated (21 page)

It had its own timeline.

“Cats,” she said slowly against his mouth. “I have two. One hides nonstop, but the one you’ve met is Dotty.”

“Dotty,” he murmured.

“Yes. Dotty and Crackhead.”

“Crackhead?” he sputtered, wiggling his hips almost enough that she could have dry humped him and walked away with one of the best orgasms ever. It was, however, in her best interests to stick around and go for the more mature climactic approach. The way he moved
juuuust
enough to set her right on top of his erection told her he was thinking the same thought. Her lust twin.

How convenient.

“Now that you know their names,” she whispered against his mouth, “are we done with all the ‘not sex’ parts, and can we move to the ‘sex parts’?”

“I like your sex parts,” Alex sighed, sliding one hand up to cup her breast, the nipple responding to his touch.

Her hand found his erection easily, though it was blocked by clothing. “I’d like yours more if I could see them,” she teased.

“At your service, Ms. Josephine.” Nearly falling to the ground as he stood, Josie found herself the only customer at a private striptease as Alex unceremoniously unbuttoned his shirt, his fingers precise and efficient. As the shirt hung open at the chest, she realized she’d only caught glimpses of his nakedness in the handful of romps they’d had, illicit moments stolen in an on-call room, an outdoor trail, an elevator.

Time for the big unveiling.

Big.

Alex couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much
fun
getting naked for a woman. Toppling Josie out of his lap had been tough, but necessary, if it meant he could take the lead and show her what “sex parts” really meant.

You want ’em? You got ’em.

The cat—was that Dotty? Or did she say this was Crackhead?—sniffed with pretentious condescension and headed for the living room.

Good. The only audience he wanted was Josie.

As he slid his shirt off and slung it over the back of a kitchen chair, she joined him, to his delight.. She reached down with both hands and pulled her knit top off in one intensely erotic motion, throwing the light piece of cloth onto a little bench behind her. The silken lilac bra underneath was so feminine, so achingly delicate, that he wanted to take it off her with a savage grace. Holding himself back, he took her in with his eyes while she returned the favor.

They both seemed to like what they saw.

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

She frowned, hands on hips now. “Go ahead what?”

“The bra.” He stood before her, shirtless, filled with a thrumming that blocked out the rest of the world.

“What about the bra?” she asked, looking down at it. 

“You need to take it off or I’ll rip it off with my teeth.”

“You can’t!”

“I have very strong teeth.”

She lowered her eyelashes as if thinking of a retort, but after a moment, her arms slowly reached behind her, for the clasp. And then, before his mind could process what she was doing, Josie spun and darted down the hall, screaming,“Only if you can catch me!”

God, she was fast.

Running, his legs constrained by all-too-tight pants, he chased her. He reached the door of her bedroom as she was laughingly turning back to it, her elbows still winged out as she wiggled the hooks free. “I beat you,” she was gleefully crowing, but before she quite finished the taunt, he caught her, caught the loose strap as it began its slide down her left shoulder, and pulled the bra from her grasp.

Her laugh cut out as she caught her breath; she panted a few quick breaths as their eyes locked again. He slid the bra off entirely and momentarily looked away for a place to toss it.

The bedroom was nicely decorated, homey, with rather large bedside tables and a multicolored silk scarf suspended from the ceiling, covering a light fixture. The last of the day’s light poured in from the windows, but soon dusk would make it too dark. He planned to be here through the stillness of the summer night.

And into the bright light of the sun’s wake-up rays.

Her gaze pulled his eyes back to her and he let the bra fall to the floor.

He said, “I will always catch you.”

Why did he have to be so damn hot?
she wondered, standing next to her bed, stripped down to her panties and trying to play off at least a little of how much he overwhelmed her. As if she routinely played tag with men with washboard abs and faces like models, routinely ending the game in her bedroom half naked.

Like that happened
every
Tuesday.

Maybe it can
, a voice whispered in her head.

Roadhouse blues floated through the air, the smoky tones of scratched vinyl mixed with saxophone foreplay adding to the perfection in the room. Dusk settled the edges of the window’s harsh daylight glare into a more modest tone, but still she felt illuminated and on display as Alex’s eyes hungrily ate her up.

She returned the favor as he revealed himself, stripping down to boxer briefs, the fluid lines of his powerful thighs making her even wetter and more ready—as if that were possible. Naturally olive-toned skin peppered with curly hair where it ought to be, thickening right where she remembered. The boxer briefs clung to his upper thighs, ass, and manhood exactly the way they should, as if female appreciation was woven into the contours of the cloth, directing the fibers to hug his body exactly as Josie wished.

She really could have watched him all day.

He had other ideas.

I will always catch you.
Did he really just say that? She shivered with arousal, gooseflesh taking over her exposed arms, chest, and breasts, her nipples tightening. Before she could continue her mind’s inner chatter, Alex had crossed the room like a lion leading a pride, his nearly nude body pulling her onto her patchwork quilt that covered the bed. The comfort of worn cotton invited her to stay awhile, the hot press of his chest against hers a sensation she could bathe in forever.

His kiss was slow and seeking, with a barely restrained urgency that made her back arch, breasts pressing into his bare pecs. So much flesh touching. Quite different from their first rushed moments. The completeness of it made her skin tickle, and the heat that emanated from their entwined bodies seemed to pool between her legs. A shift of his hips and his hard cock pressed into that heat, the frustration of two thin swaths of cloth enough to make her gasp.

The song ended, and an Etta James croon came on, enough to make him smile through a kiss. Alex propped his head, elbow on the bed, and looked at her with delight, taking his sweet time to survey her body. Immodest, she reveled in it, flouting all the chick-magazine-y rules on how to behave in bed with a man.

“Behave” wasn’t in her vocabulary right now.

“Obey”, however…might be, depending on what Alex had in mind…

He was exquisite, and her hands took the liberty of running over his chest, down to his waist, where a sharp inhale told her what he wanted. No rush, right? As he dipped his head to watch her hand memorize each pore, every skin cell, that led her to what she really wanted to touch, he gripped her wrist and forced her to pause, his knuckles pressing into the soft flesh of her belly, inches above where she really wanted
him
to touch.

“No rush,” he said, letting go, then sliding his palm along her hip. The slow journey up the curve of her waist to the edge of her breast, then to her shoulder, was like a long lick up an ice cream cone in August. She was, like the ice cream cone, dripping.

And then he rolled her onto her back, eyes taking her in. “Beautiful,” he whispered as his mouth took one budded nipple and rolled it between his tongue and lower lip, the ache for completion driving her to arch up into him, begging him wordlessly for more. His calves brushed against her thigh as he changed position and angled his mouth at a better degree, spare hand sliding not down, but up to her jawline. This would be slow, wouldn’t it? Could she make love at the speed of Alex? It was a physics formula that jumbled into a potpourri of letters and words as his lips brushed a line across the valley of her breasts to give equal attention to both, as if the symmetry mattered.

What was he thinking, taking all the time in the world to explore her, the newness of him as foreign and exotic to her as she must be to him? Was this really about “sex parts”? If so, this would be enough. The chase was over. She was firmly caught. An all-body hum began the slow build inside her as his mouth now turned south, blood rushing to her ears and clit.

Peeling her panties from her hips, he took the time to caress her legs as his nimble fingers dispensed with the thin wisp of cloth, throwing it somewhere in the general direction of her vanity. Now the symmetry was broken, for she was bare. Time to make things even again.

“Fair is fair,” she murmured as her hands slipped under the waistband of his boxer briefs, sliding them down to his feet with a deftness that belied her normally clumsy nature. Both fully nude, they paused, taking each other in. Neither was self-conscious. The mutual appreciation made her laugh, a low, throaty sound that sounded far too bold and sophisticated even for her.

“You see something that makes you laugh?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked as he looked down at their naked, interwoven bodies.

Really?
He made it so easy to wisecrack, to hide. Fifteen different sarcastic retorts fought against her lips. Taking the harder path, she just smiled and said, “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s just…”

“Joy,” he said simply, brushing a lock of her hair off her cheek.

“Joy? What is this ‘joy’ of which you speak?” she joked. Except she wasn’t joking. Joy? What was that? Who talked like this? Happiness—sure. Contentment—okay. Pleasure—no problem.

Joy?

“It’s a feeling,” he whispered, moving down to her navel, his tongue slowly tracing circles around her belly button, making joy pour out of her body in the form of muscle spasms that needed him inside her to grip against.

“Oh, I’m feeling,” she gasped, fingers reaching for his hair, working hard to fight against the tidal wave that splashed against her V. The last of the daylight flirted with the horizon, little touches teasing the clouds. Cooler night air wafted in the windows, making the room perfect.

“I want you to feel joy, Josie. And this, too.” Closing her eyes, she knew what came next, the unhurried movement of her legs sliding apart on the coverlet, how her ass filled his hands, his forearms under her, the rush of his warm mouth on her clit, the slowness speeding up so suddenly, the world cracking at the edges and turning from a sphere to a relief map, all laid out on her skin for Alex to explore.

Joy? Oh, yes
. Heart swelling in tandem with her sex, she took in his shoulders, lifting up to meet the gift of his tongue. The way his hands had touched her earlier, every time, had told her he enjoyed women.

His tongue confirmed it. As he explored her body’s joy and desire through his mouth on her hot clit, stroking and tuning her to a new frequency, she faced a layer of intensity that she’d never experienced before with a man. The accumulated moments before this one all a nuanced tapestry in her mind and flesh, the knowledge that Alex liked her, that he wanted her, that someone so steady and hot and focused and real could be in her bed right now, naked under her palms, laving and giving without pretense—knowing it was more erotic than his actual touch.

And then there was his body. Opening her eyes, she allowed herself to see what he was doing to her, to watch rippling muscles in his arms as he took care of her first. Panting, her breath coming in little gasps, she felt the wave push into and out of her at once, hips bucking, as if the
thought
of what this meant for her and Alex was enough to take her into orgasm.

More than this, though, she wanted him above her, in her, driving home the connection and surrounding her with his scent, his heat, his light, and the sound of his own pleasure when it mingled with hers.

Her hands clawed at the bedsheets, pulling them from the corners and twisting as her body twisted, too, Alex coming up to kiss her with such certainty, her taste on him and now in her own mouth, his mouth so soft, hands on her breasts. Suddenly aware of how little she had focused on him, she moved past her own pulsing pleasure and reached down to stroke him, finding him hard and ready.