Mayday (21 page)

Breathing hard, she gazed helplessly at the top of his dark head. Without warning, he looked up and caught her gaze on him. A wicked, satisfied smile spread across his face as he read the desperation in her expression.

He bent his head and gave her pussy a soft lick. If he hadn't placed those strong hands on her knees, she'd have collapsed at the feel of it. The pleasure. Then, with a low sound in his throat, he buried his face in her and got to work. As his tongue flicked at her sex, his hands slid from her knees up to her ass and brought her closer to him.

At his first gentle suck of her clit, she started shaking so hard that he raised his head to look at her again.

“Bed,” he ordered, getting to his feet.

Backing up until she felt the cotton comforter against her thighs, she sat down with relief. His eyes gleamed gold in the lamplight as he followed her and came to a stop between her legs. Without another word, he nudged her back farther onto the bed, until her head was on the pillow and she was sprawled flat. The faint scent of roses surrounded her, made her even dizzier.

His possessive hands pushed up her knees and spread her thighs wide. Slowly, he lowered his mouth, licking her clit in an unhurried rhythm. She rocked her hips in response, moaning helplessly in pleasure. Each restless movement pressed her pussy against his face, but he didn't seem to mind. His lips and tongue didn't falter for even a moment.

One of his hands coasted up her body, finally reaching her breast, where he circled and pinched her nipple until she couldn't stifle her whimpers. Desperately, she clutched the pillow beneath her head and tried to hold on to a little bit of her control.

After only a couple of minutes, her whole body began to stiffen as her orgasm approached. Reaching down, she tugged at his hair.

“Inside me,” she gasped. “Please.”

He lifted his head, his mouth slick from her. For a moment, she could see him debating what to do. Then he crawled up the bed and reached into the nightstand, pulling out a condom. She helped him roll it on, and he settled between her thighs.

His eyes never left hers as he braced himself on his arms and pushed inside. There was no discomfort this time, only slick pressure and heat, and her eyelids grew heavy at the sensation. He adjusted his position, moving higher over her. Slowly, he slid out of her, and then back inside, grinding his hips against her at the end of the stroke. At the friction against her clit, she gasped and circled his hips with her legs.

“Good?” he asked.

In the lamplight, she could see the determined set of his jaw, the intensity with which he watched her every reaction. She nodded, and he did the same thing again, only harder. Her head fell back on the pillow as she fought for breath, but only for a moment. He lifted a hand from the bed by her shoulder and cupped her cheek, turning her face back to his. Staring into her eyes, he pumped and circled his hips again.

Even without words, she understood. He wanted to see her pleasure, to know at every level that this experience was good for her. So when he moved his hand from her face, she kept looking at him, even during each burst of sensation as his cock filled her.

He was sweating, groaning every time his cock plunged into her and their flesh slapped together. Soon, she was crying out with every stroke, raising her hips to his so he could thrust harder. But even though the pressure built and built inside her, but she couldn't seem to release it.

Supporting his weight on one shaky arm, he lifted himself slightly. She moaned at the altered angle of him inside her, and then gasped when she felt his hand delve between them. Digging his knees into the bed, he kept pumping into her as his skilled fingers slid over her clit, circled it, gave it a little slap.

She couldn't help it. Her head fell back as every muscle in her body drew taut, her back arched, and her legs spread as far as she could get them.

“Wes,” she panted. “Oh . . .”

He slammed his hips against hers, rubbing her clit relentlessly as his cock pushed deep. Then everything in her brain went white as the pressure released and she came with a cry, clawing at his hips to bring him closer, further inside her. He kept up his rhythm as she climaxed, pushing through her clamping muscles with a groan of mingled pain and pleasure. His finger stroked her clit, making sure he dragged out the pleasure for her as she pulsed around his cock.

Finally, the last twitches of her orgasm faded, and she collapsed back onto the bed. His hips slowed, and then came to a halt.

“Wes?” She eyed him with dazed confusion. Yes, she was still kind of new to sex, but even she could tell he was still hard inside her. The tension on his face, the clench in his jaw as he held himself back, would have been obvious to anyone. He hadn't come. But why?

She whimpered when he pulled out of her, both in worry and at the lost sense of fullness. Was he giving up on her? Had she been so bad in bed that he didn't even want to climax inside her?

Then he flipped her over, and she could feel him positioning himself between her legs again, pressing against her entrance.

“Wes?” she repeated.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice striving for a tone of casual inquiry.

“You don't have to . . . you know.” Her cheeks turned even hotter than they already were. “I already came.”

He gripped her hips and pushed inside her swollen pussy again. At this angle, he could go even deeper, hitting a spot that made her let out a little sob. “I know. But I said I'd make you come again and again, until you begged me to stop. Once isn't again and again. And I don't hear you begging. So I'm going back to work.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Ten minutes later, the intense pleasure of Wes inside her and her own fingers against her clit pushed her over the edge again. And this time, he went with her, clutching her close and calling her name as he shuddered wildly and came deep inside her.

Then he flipped her over again and used his mouth to bring her to another orgasm. She came with a hoarse scream that time, every muscle in her body shaking with pleasure and exhaustion.

At that point, she'd have begged. She really would have. When she stumbled to the bathroom on shaky legs for a quick cleanup, she was already bracing herself for the loss of pride and his inevitable gloating. From the look of pure male smugness on his face when she crawled back into bed, he knew it too.

But in the end, she had the last laugh. By the time he came out of the bathroom, she was already asleep. And, thank God, he took pity on her and let her stay that way.

E
ven though Lesley had agreed to cover for him at the pool that day, Wes's eyes still blinked open before dawn. Maybe out of habit. Or maybe because he wasn't accustomed to feeling another source of human warmth in his bed, hearing the gentle soughing of breath in the dark beside him. Even during those years when his sense of desperation, his need to forget himself, had driven him to hook up with near strangers on a regular basis, he'd never let those lovers stay the night. And he'd certainly never slept at their apartments or houses either.

Helen wasn't just a random body in bed, though. He figured his brain wouldn't let him sleep anymore, despite his exhaustion, because a part of him simply couldn't believe it. She was here. With him. And at long last, he'd exorcised the memory of his poor performance and asinine behavior during her last visit to his bed.

As quietly as he could, he shifted onto his side so he could face her. Only to find that she was already awake, watching him.

He immediately moved closer, drew her into his arms. “Can't sleep, baby?”

With a sigh, she cuddled against him. “Not used to being in bed with anyone else.”

He'd promised himself he'd never ask, figuring it didn't matter anyway. And it seemed so unlikely. But he just couldn't help it. He had to know.

“That first night we were together, were you . . .” He paused, nuzzling her hair with his nose as he thought twice about asking the question.

Her soft body went still. “A virgin?”

“Yeah.” He began to stroke her back with slow, measured sweeps of his hand, ignoring how she'd stiffened against him.

A forced laugh. “That bad, huh?”

“No. God, no.” Keeping her clasped tight against him, he lifted his head enough to see her face. “You were amazing, then and now. But that night especially, you seemed . . . I don't know. Uncertain. And you said the other night you'd never given a hand job before. I just wondered.”

She didn't say anything.

“Never mind. None of my business,” he said.

Her lips quirked. “True. But I guess it doesn't matter anyway. Yes, I was a virgin.”

His arms spasmed, pulling her even tighter against him. She was right. It shouldn't matter. It didn't. He would have loved Helen just as much if she'd regularly serviced a fleet of sailors before sleeping with him. But from the dimmest recesses of the deepest, most lizard-like portion of his brain, satisfaction came roaring through every nerve in his body.

“So I'm your only one?” he ventured.

“No.” She didn't say more. Didn't sound apologetic about it, which he respected, even as a sharp twinge of jealousy and regret tightened his gut.

His fault. If he'd gotten his head out of his ass earlier, she wouldn't have had anyone in her bed but him. Ever.

He forced himself to relax and resume stroking her back. “If I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, anything you're unsure about, let me know. And if you have any special fantasies or I do something you particularly enjoy, let me know that too.”

She raised her head from his chest, an expression of wide-eyed interest on her face. “Like what?”

“Let's find out.” He grinned at her, and his fingers slid to her ribs for a brief tickle.

Then he rolled his giggling girlfriend beneath him, doing his best to erase the memory of every other man in her life but him.

 

An hour later, he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. “Jesus, woman. You may look sweet and soft, but you're an insatiable lust-beast.”

Displaying a disgusting amount of energy, she patted his face and managed to shift them both to their sides. She appeared very pleased with herself. “Like a succubus? That's awesome. I read a story with one of those the other day. When she finished with the guy, his penis just—”

He groaned and closed his eyes. “Don't want to know.”

After a minute of silence, he opened them again. She hadn't moved, and was just looking at him with a big smile on her face.

“Put those dimples away,” he told her. “You shouldn't look so happy after sucking every last bit of energy from an old man like me.”

“Poor baby.” Her hands trailed down his damp back. “Did I wear you out?”

He rolled his eyes and told her the truth. “I've completed an Ironman Triathlon. I run miles, swim dozens of laps, ride my bike for hours, and barely sweat the whole time. And after one night with you, I'm dehydrated. I think I pulled a muscle in my back. I may need a walker of some sort once we get up.”

“Why don't I go get you a glass of water?” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I can grab the morning paper too, if you'd like. We can see how they covered last night.”

“No.” The word came out much louder than he'd intended. With a sigh, he tried again. “Not yet. I don't want to know.”

With gentle fingers, she traced the furrow between his brows. “All right.”

She lowered herself back down next to him in bed, and he nestled his head between her neck and shoulder. The skin there felt smooth and warm against his cheek, and the musky scent of her sweat comforted him somehow. He inhaled deeply, wanting to draw her into his lungs and keep her there forever.

Her hands cupped the back of his head. “Tell me.”

She didn't need to say more. He knew what she was asking.

“If the articles focus on the hiccups, the problems we had”—he tightened his arms around her—“I don't know what I'll do. Bea will make her decision today, and I can't stand the thought of her rejecting me and taking away my shot at a future outside Niceville. Not after all these years of being stuck.”

“That's important to you. Leaving Niceville, I mean.” Her soothing fingers delved into his hair, rubbed his scalp.

“I don't remember a time when I didn't imagine leaving here.”

It was true. From his earliest memories, his parents had talked about their unfulfilled dreams of a wider world outside Nice County. The acting career his mom had wanted. The out-of-state colleges that had begun to scout his father and observe each of his football games. Eventually, those conversations at home had drifted from his parents' pasts to his possible future. The universities that might offer scholarships to a swimming star. The international competitions and the records he could set on a world stage. His mind had filled with the ways he'd achieve what they hadn't, make them proud and atone for what his presence in their lives had done to them.

Then, after the surgery, those conversations and thoughts had ended. He wasn't going anywhere. They all knew it. Until now, with Bea's offer.

Helen stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. To explain why the thought of reading critical newspaper articles scared him so much, why he couldn't stand the thought of Bea turning her back on him. To expose himself as he'd never done to another soul on Earth.

“When my swimming career ended, I told you how lost I felt. I moved back home and started working at the pool, since they knew me there. They felt sorry for me. And then I spent the next decade or so of my life fucking around, not doing anything important.” His eyes closed at the shame of it, the emptiness. “I drank too much. Slept with women whose names I didn't know. Others whom I didn't much like. Anything to empty my mind and help me forget I was going nowhere.”

He felt her body flinch against his at the mention of those other women, and he hugged her tighter. “When I started that program for underprivileged kids, for the first time in years I felt like I'd done anything meaningful. Something that took me outside of myself. As I worked with the kids, some of their stories broke my heart. I wanted to help. I wanted to change their lives in a larger way than just offering them free swimming lessons. And eventually, when Udall got impeached, they convinced me to run for mayor. I never expected to get elected. But somehow I pulled myself together and won.”

Her fingers tightened on his head. “You won because you ran on a platform of hope. Of commitment to our community and everyone in it. And because you were sincerely passionate about improving Niceville.” She nuzzled a kiss into his hair. “I voted for you.”

He shifted in discomfort at the compliment. “Thank you. But once I was elected, I couldn't seem to get anything through the Council. Three years into my one term, only twelve months left, and nothing to show for it. I'd just about given up. And then . . .”

After one last kiss of her neck, he raised his head and looked at her. “I met you at the bar.”

“Ah.” Her eyes focused on him in the dim light, searing through his skin until he felt like she could see the core of him. “That explains a lot. Why you looked so troubled. Why you were so eager to take me home.”

“Yes and no.” He sat up and cupped her face in his hands. “I took you home to forget, yes. But I also took you home because I wanted you and because you were so beautiful. And even in those few words I exchanged with you, you made me feel clean. You reminded me why I was fighting. Why I was working so hard.”

He remembered the first time he'd truly focused on her at the bar. How his breath had caught at the sight of her lush curves and intelligent, warm brown eyes. The excitement that had electrified him when she'd accompanied him home. And then . . .

“I was so ashamed after I dropped you back off at the bar that night. You deserved better. Hell,
I
deserved better. I didn't want to fall back into my old patterns. And I wanted to be the kind of man who could win a woman like you for real, not just for one night in the dark. I wanted to earn you. So I got back to work that next morning, making sure the city and the library got more money. Making sure I could offer you a man worth your time.”

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and stared into her eyes, willing her to understand. “You were the catalyst for any success I've had over the past year. Even before I really knew you, you were already making my life better, Helen. Making
me
better.”

Her mouth opened, but she didn't say anything. He watched as she blinked rapidly and gave a little sniff.

“When I saw you again at the May Day meeting, I didn't feel like a failure anymore. I was finally a man you could be proud to call yours. So I went after you, and found out just how wonderful you really are. How stupid I'd been to let you go last year, no matter how fucked up my head was then. How you're the most interesting and warmest and most loyal person I know.”

She tilted her chin and pressed her mouth to his. Her lips clung to his, brushing soft and warm against flesh already sensitive from a night of passionate, lengthy kisses. By the time she pulled back, his exhausted heart had begun to race again.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Having you in my life makes me so happy, baby. But my term as mayor ends this fall. After that, I go back to being a swim coach and nothing more. If Bea doesn't make this offer, I'm stuck here in Niceville, probably for good. And that's not what I want. I want to make something of myself. I want success on a larger stage. I want to be part of a wider world than Nice County.”

What he didn't add, though he wished he could:
And I want you with me for all of it
. It was still too soon to push her for that kind of commitment. They'd only spent one night together. In a month or so, he could ask her formally. Maybe even start dropping hints about marriage, if he thought she seemed receptive.

But not right now. Right now, he needed to finish explaining himself to her.

“So I'm scared, Helen. If those newspaper articles tear me apart, I know Bea won't support my candidacy. And my future will slip out of my grasp a second time.”

She pulled back a little, taking both his hands in hers. “Okay. I understand how important this is to you. But I want to be clear about two things, Wes. First, you have options for a future outside Niceville no matter what Bea decides. You could move and find another job teaching swimming. You could work to finish your college degree. You can do anything you want, because you're a smart, hardworking man.”

“I'm not sure—”

She overrode his objection. “Second, you don't somehow have to
earn
me with your success. The way I feel about you doesn't have anything to do with your title, how much money you raise for the library, or how far you travel outside of Niceville.”

“I want you to be proud of me,” he whispered.

“I am.” She squeezed his hands so hard it actually hurt a little. “I will be, no matter what the newspaper and Bea say. No matter . . .”

Her pause lasted a long time, and her breathing sounded oddly shaky.

“No matter what?” he finally prompted.

She swallowed hard before continuing. “No matter what happens between the two of us. You're a success in my eyes because you
tried
, sweetheart. You
cared
. The result is immaterial to me.”

He gave a short laugh. “I wish I could say the same.”

“I know.” After one last squeeze of his fingers, she disentangled herself and got out of bed again. “So let me go get the paper. We'll look at the articles together. Just remember: The man you are doesn't change based on what you read there, and neither does my pride in you.”

Her clothing lay scattered on the floor, unmoved from where he'd dropped it last night. She didn't bother with her panties or bra, instead only slipping on her green dress and Mary Janes. He let himself be distracted by the sight of her bralessness. Covered only by a thin layer of soft knit, her nipples poked against the fabric in a way that temporarily cleared his brain of anxiety. The sight of her ample ass as she left the bedroom did the same. But as soon as she moved into his hall, the worry and fear returned.