Somebody's Ex (11 page)

“I thought you wanted to keep
things casual between us.”

David stroked a smudge of dirt from
her cheek. “I changed my mind. Is that all right?”

Randi knew something was wrong.
Off. Like the sensation of being followed. You kept telling yourself you were
being silly, but the hairs at the back of your neck wouldn’t lay down. Taking
flight seemed like the best solution, but if she ran, she’d never know if David
could actually fall in love with her. She’d forever wonder what would have
happened if she’d had the guts to stick around.

She’d jumped too quickly and too
far with Mick. But was she too battle-scarred to ever jump again?

Maybe. Yes. No. She drew in a breath
of calm. And jumped. “I think we should skip the bath, and go straight for the
sweet lovemaking.”

* * * * *

David unscrewed the cap off the
caviar. “Where do you want me to squeeze it?”

“You decide.”

He pushed with a finger on her
chest. “Close your eyes.”

She laid back on the bed,
completely naked, and did as he said. In the end, they’d taken the bath
together. She rubbed tangerine soap all over him. He’d chosen a cucumber scent
to lather all over her. They smelled good. And Randi was in love.

He squeezed a cool line of caviar
from the tip of one breast to the other. “Now what?”

“Lick it off, silly.”

“Lick it or suck it?”

“A bit of both, please.”

His lower half lay flush against
her, naked flesh to naked flesh. It was a to-die-for sensation. Then he rose on
his elbows and bent over her right breast. He blew, the hot-cold stimulation
starting a slow burn between her thighs. With just his tongue, he taste-tested
the caviar, going straight to her nipple, sucking both it and the caviar into
his mouth.

She pressed against him, her mound
to his abdomen, his erection nestled along the join of her legs. She would have
opened her thighs, but he rocked in the spoon of her legs.

He pulled back, surveying his
handiwork. One clean, wet nipple with a slash of caviar paste leading straight
to her other breast. “A man’s work is never done.” He bent his head to the
task, licking a path to the goal.

She curled around him, running her
hands down to his buttocks. They tensed beneath her touch though he kept up the
rock of his body between her legs. Opening slightly, she let him fall deeper in
the lee, then clamped her thighs. He slid easier in the drop of moisture, his
cock swelling, hardening.

But he never stopped licking. Not
until he reached her left nipple and sucked it into his mouth. There was
something about the suction, the heat, the direct connection between her nipple
and her clitoris that made her arousal spike. She started to rock with him,
thrusting.

He’d taken her with hot passion.
He’d wanted her with a driving need. Now he seemed to savor her, first with
long minutes of bathtub play that her had coasting along the water’s edge to
orgasm. Coasting without reaching, craving more, but unwilling to give up the
sweetness of foreplay for the big bang.

And now this. His light tongue, his
gentle sucking, his easy thrust and parry between her legs.

He raised his head and smiled, the
bedside lamp glimmering in his eyes like a flame. “That was delicious. Now
where do you want it?”

Her clitoris. Her vagina. His
tongue, his fingers, his hot, hard cock. She craved all that, but more, she
wanted the tempered rise of her excitement. She yearned for the peak, but she
needed the climb to be long and slow. Two steps forward and one step back.
Until she was absolutely mad, until all he had to do was blow on her, and she’d
come.

That was how love should be. A
little forward, a little back, a little give, a little take.

“Since you’re not answering, I
assume I should decide.”

“Do it just right,” she whispered.
A test and a prayer.

He gazed at her, his chin resting
between her breasts. Then he went for the gusto, sliding down her body and
spreading her legs with his hands. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said as he
moistened her with nothing more than that hot gaze of his.

“What am I thinking?”

“That I’m gonna
wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am you since I’ve given you five minutes of sucking on
those gorgeous nipples.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.” Though
her thoughts had been somewhere along that line.

He blew on her as if it were a
punishment for the little lie. Her body shook with an involuntary quiver.

“You’ve got it all wrong.”

She snorted softly.

“I’ve got stamina, sweetheart. And
you’re going to be screaming for me before I even get inside you.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” she teased. It
didn’t matter. She’d take whatever he gave. Hard and fast, or soft and slow. It
only mattered that he’d come back.

“You’re going to scream, that’s a
promise.” Leaning on one elbow, he parted her folds with two fingers. “My,
isn’t this pretty.” He jabbed the tip of his tongue on her clitoris, once,
twice, two jolts of electricity, then he withdrew.

She bit her lip and watched.

Holding her open, he aimed the tube
and squeezed. She squeaked as the cold caviar paste hit her hot, sensitized
clit. Deep inside, her body tightened in need.

“I think that felt good,” he said.

She nodded, loathe to speak in case
her voice cracked.

“How shall I go about this? There’s
the fast suck where I go straight for the caviar and take your pretty little
clit on a quick ride to heaven. Or there’s the slow lick, where I taste each
morsel individually. That may take hours.”

She thrust up. Or rather her body
did. Begging. Pleading. “Just suck and get it over with.”

He laughed softly, his breath
puffing over her. “The slow lick, individual particles of the delicacy savored
separately.”

Then he began to devour her, one
atom at a time. It went on and on, the slip-slide of his tongue. The glide of
his fingers entering her, retreating. No one touch enough to push her over the
edge, the combination propelled her closer to heaven. She was so wet, she could
hear the entry of his fingers. Her eyes teared up. Her lips ached from biting,
and her fingers clenched and unclenched in the bedspread.

And each time, as her body tensed,
and pinpricks of light burst before her eyes, he pulled her back.

“Not yet, baby,” he whispered.
“Just a little longer.”

“Please.”

He went at her again. His tongue
delved, then his fingers. He pumped her as he swirled and sucked the swollen
nub of her clitoris. She shook and writhed.

“Please, oh God, please.” It might
have been minutes, it might have been hours, the torture went on and on. Until
she couldn’t remember her own name.

Until he entered her deeply with
two fingers, pushed the tip of his tongue against a spot just beneath her clitoris,
and made her scream.

Nothing could have stopped the
utter implosion of her body. She orgasmed from the inside out, rocking,
thrusting, squirming against him as he pinned her legs to the bed. She tossed
her head, gasped air that wouldn’t go down, and still he held his tongue
against her.

He made her come until she lost
awareness of where she was. Of who she was. Until he was the only thing that
existed, and she couldn’t take another breath without him.

* * * * *

He loved watching her come. He
loved knowing that he could make her lose herself. He loved that she screamed
and didn’t even hear herself.

She didn’t even know when he
entered her. But her body knew, gripping him, dragging him deeper. He pulled
her leg to his waist, drove in until he touched heaven, and stilled.

When he came, she’d come with him.
He could wait, holding himself motionless. The slightest tremor of her body
threatened to push him over the edge, but he wouldn’t go without her.

He hadn’t known that he could come
without a single pump of his cock, without a hand around him, a mouth on him,
or the warm cocoon of a woman’s body holding him.

Somehow, her pleasure, her release,
her cries had almost driven him to it. His limbs had trembled, staving off
orgasm. They still trembled.

He pressed a kiss to a closed
eyelid. “Look at me.”

She opened her eyes, her gaze
glassy. He nudged slightly forward, his body rasping against her clitoris. She
jerked, grabbed his shoulders, and dug in with her nails.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, then
clutched at him, pulling her other leg to his waist.

He slid in to the hilt, not a
breath between their bodies. Then he pumped, every muscle straining. He was so
damn close that only three thrusts deep inside her made the blood rush in his
ears and his balls ache with need.

“Come with me.” He didn’t even
recognize his own voice. He didn’t bother to question why it was so important.
He simply took her, dragged her along with him, thrust her high up into the
clouds, up to the sky, then he shoved them both off into a clear, pure,
relentless orgasm that lasted till the end of time.

* * * * *

“I think I just died.”

“As long as you went to heaven,
then it’s okay.” David jostled her in his arms, pulling her closer.

“As in, I died and went to heaven
because that felt so good?” she muttered against his chest.

“Exactly.”

She sat up suddenly and looked at
him. “David, I have to tell you something.”

He stroked a hand down her arm.
“All right, honey.”

“I’m in love with you. I fell in
love with you that first night when you sneaked out of bed and you were trying
to tell Royal how you felt.”

He pushed her hair behind an ear.
“You were listening?”

“Yeah. I was listening. And I feel
like such a scum for not telling you earlier how I felt.”

“Why would you feel like a scum?”

“Because you might not have those
same feelings for me, and if you’d known, you might not have wanted to go the
extra step with this relationship, in case you thought I’d get hurt.”

“You have a weird sense of logic
that I’m only just beginning to appreciate.” He tugged her down again, into his
arms, then tipped her chin. “I have never felt this way about a woman. I’ve had
three serious relationships, and I’ve never felt like this. Three
years
and I never felt like this.”

“They all lasted three years?”

“Thereabouts.”

She was silent several heartbeats.
“That doesn’t mean you’re in love with me.” She wiggled her toes as if that
helped her think. “It’s a good start. At least you’re not running.”

“I’m done running, Randi.” He’d
been running for weeks now, from Jace with Taylor, from the sheer
incomprehensibility of it, from the final, irrefutable proof of Lou’s passing,
and from his own inability to set his family on the right path.

“Then I can say I love you again?”

“Yeah. What I’m feeling couldn’t be
anything else.” Yeah, it was love. It had to be. He wanted to give her
everything. He wanted to give her back her self-respect.

“Say it,” she whispered.

He could feel her held breath, her
body tense against him. “I love you, Randi.”

“Holy Moly.” She hugged him, going
all gooey and pliable in his arms, then she hiccuped as if she were crying.

“That’s why I feel like shit about
your dad.”

She lost all the pliability of the
moment before. “I told you it’s not a big deal. He gets upset, then he gets
over it.”

“Randi, I’m not saying we weren’t
over the line, that
I
went over the line. But so was he. Don’t you see
that?”

“You don’t know my dad. He’s from
the old country, and he’s got certain ways, and you just get used to them.”

“Does he talk like that to your
mom?”

“He hasn’t caught my mom in the
meat locker with some man’s hand down her pants.”

It was more than that. David knew
in his gut. “But he’s stopped speaking to you before. What’d you do to upset
him?”

She shrugged, rolling away from him
to the other side of the bed. “Just stuff that pisses him off.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Nothing, absolutely nothing,
deserved her father’s kind of reaction. He would get the answer out of her.
Then he’d help her fix the problem.

With her back to him, Randi
shrugged again. “Just
stuff
stuff.”

David drew a finger down her spine.
“Rand-i.”

He wouldn’t understand. He just
wouldn’t. “I can’t remember exactly.”

Why did he have to go and ruin
everything like this?

His breath was suddenly in her
hair, caressing her cheek. “Of course, you remember.”

She pursed her lips. “No, actually,
I don’t. I have a very selective memory, and I can’t always remember things.
Didn’t you see those reminder notes all over my refrigerator?”

“But this is different. How could
you forget the things that made your dad stop speaking to you?”

She shook her head. “I just do,
okay?”

He cuddled up against her. “How
long before he’ll start speaking to you again?”

“Well, this time, he’s really
pissed. I mean
really
pissed. It could be a couple of years.”

He rolled her to her back even as
she tried to hang onto the edge of the bed. “Two years? You’re joking, right?”

“When I was thirteen, he stopped
speaking to me for a year.”

He forehead furrowed. “Nobody stops
speaking to their kid for a year.”

She just blinked.

“But why?”

“I told you I don’t remember.” She
put her hand over his mouth before he could call her a liar. “I don’t. Not
specifically. I forgot to do something. It could have been washing the car or
taking out the trash or doing the dishes. I didn’t
not
do what he told
me on purpose. But I’d get busy with something else. And...” She spread her
hands, her shoulders scrunching to her ears in that universal symbol of
hopelessness. “And I’d forget. He said if I couldn’t bother to listen to him,
then he wouldn’t bother to speak to me.”