Conditional Offer (11 page)

She stepped back, her dark eyes unhappy. "Sorry," She said, flipping her hair and turned to the guy on her left. He shrugged, looked up at the clock and realized Suzanne would likely be pulling into his street right about then. He stood, grabbed his stuff and jammed it all into his backpack.

"Later guys. Got a date." He grabbed his helmet and risked life, limb and speeding tickets in his haste to get over to his place. He'd managed to clean it up some the night before and hoped she wouldn't be too horrified at how small the apartment was. He sucked in a breath at a red light. Finally, they were going to be together. His body hummed with energy and he grinned like an idiot the rest of the way home.

He jumped off the bike, caught the damn thing before it fell over and had to take a minute to catch his breath, shaking his head at himself. Her BMW was crouched by the curb, like an omen. He pulled his backpack up on his shoulder and walked with a strange sort of trepidation clouding his excitement. He opened the door slowly, set his stuff down in the small entryway, and took a deep breath.

"Hey," he called, his voice croaky, which annoyed him. He had something to prove this weekend and meant to do it, but his damn knees shook, and he felt like the sixteen-year-old the chem teacher had seduced in high school. Silence met his ears. He frowned. "Suzanne?" He eased into the large space that served as living and bedroom, a miniscule kitchen and bath over to the left. He thought he heard something there, turned his head and shivered when she caught her scent – a soft, spicy note with a distinct tang of brewery. Something about it made his anxiety worse. His heart pounded as he reached out to flip on a light.

"Leave it off." She sighed as she slid into his arms.  Her lips met his just as he remembered, but something was off, his head was not straight. He kept the kiss somewhat noncommittal and pulled away, running his hand through his hair. A pure thrill of fear shot through him. He had been with so many women, knew what it took to make all of them satisfied. But Suzanne was something different and he had no intention of turning this thing into a sex-only arrangement. Although his body was sending him distinctly different signals – the message that said, "Yes fuck her now" warred with his brain that urged caution.

"Sorry." He said, took a step back, and fell flat on his ass, stumbling over his own motorcycle helmet.  "Shit," he said, the sense of unreality overwhelming him.

She smiled and held out her hand. "Craig. Relax." Her soft voice calmed him a little.

He got to his feet without her help. "Sorry, I'm…just distracted I guess. This med school thing is…."

She took his hand and led him to the small couch. "I know, believe me." He sat, leaned on his knees and tried to get his damn head straight. It kept spinning, and his body was like an exposed nerve, twitchy, horny and aggravated all at once.

She climbed around behind him, started rubbing his shoulders. "Like I said, relax. I get it. Me showing up with my score cards…." She leaned in and brushed her lips along his neck.

He shivered, moved away from her. She shifted with him keeping up her massage. She dug deep, making him moan and lean his head back, but he was still nervous or something, and it pissed him off. He stood, paced, then sat on the deep window seat, staring at her. She had on jeans and a soft pink t-shirt. Her red hair was loose, and haloed her face charmingly. He gulped. "You cut your hair. I like it." She grinned at him but he kept talking. "I don't want to fuck this up, Suzanne. And I…I'm afraid that we…." he couldn't even finish. He had no words. That was a first and did nothing to help his anxiety level.

She got to her feet, slowly made her way over to him, conveying more in the few steps it took to reach him than in any conversation they might have. Her hips swayed, her eyes were bright. She licked her lips.  "Craig," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She put one hand to his face, slid it around to the back of his neck then ran her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes.

"Look at me," she said, her voice firm again. The room narrowed. All he saw, all he smelled, and all he wanted, was her. "I need you," she said, reaching up to put her other arm around his neck. "And I'm not waiting anymore."

Her lips covered his, her tongue probed, parting his lips, and he groaned as she wrapped what felt like her entire body around him, pressing him back into the window seat. Her need was like a live thing, barely restrained between them. He shuddered as she lifted his shirt up and off, ran her lips down his neck, sucking first one, then the other of his nipples between her lips. He reached out with shaking hands, ran his fingers through her hair. "Suzanne," he whispered sitting back, completely paralyzed by this incredible moment. He'd spent years learning at the hands of experienced women and had become the guy who led, the guy who did the undressing and the initiation. But he was a limp ragdoll under her hands. Except for his cock, which was so hard it made him wince in pain when she unzipped his jeans and yanked them down around his ankles.

He put his hands on her waist, loving the feel of her cool, soft skin under his palms. Something about that even made his brain shut down, so he let go, leaned back on the seat and let her make her way down his shivering torso, until her lips found his shaft where she started licking, sucking, and teasing him. She stroked the skin beneath his balls making him gasp and grip her hair, thrust into her mouth. She grabbed his ass with her other hand, encouraging him.

"Wait, I'm …God…" he kept moving and the orgasm nearly took him over the edge. At the last minute, he called on his big-boy reserves, stopping it in its tracks. He gripped her arms, bringing her to her feet.  "My scores must be going down," he gasped as she lifted her shirt off, undid her own bra and stepped out of her jeans. "Damn woman, I'm …"

She put a finger to his lips. "You're perfect. Now, sit," she said patting the window seat. "I'm feeling a little needy."

He shifted back, and gripped her neck, pulling her in for a deep tongue-tangling kiss as she got on her knees, straddling him. "Now," she whispered, breaking from his lips and making him want to whimper as she fisted his cock, gripping the base and making her slow way up to the head. "This," she said, pushing him back a little farther, "really is a ten." She lifted herself up, pressing the heat of her sex against his. His hips moved of their own accord. He thrust, grabbed her hips and pulled her down hard trying not to groan too loudly at the hot, wet grip of her.

"God!" She cried out, digging her fingers into his shoulders. "Yes." Her voice died to a moan as she slid up and down his length, teasing him by releasing his flesh completely, then enveloping him again. He leaned back on his hands, keeping a very tenuous control over the urge to come.

She rolled her hips, found her rhythm, leaning down to kiss his lips, his neck, use her teeth and fingers to bring an exquisite bite of pain to his flesh.  She kept whispering his name, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone and grasping the entire length of him with her pussy. Something hit him hard, right between the eyes, nearly blinding him. He sat up, changing his angle, and cupped her breasts tugging at her nipples, watching her face.

"Oh," she said, her voice breathy again. "There he is…"

"Yeah," he ground out, planting his feet and meeting her thrusts as he captured her lips once more. He licked his way down her neck, loving the pure lust he smelled and tasted all over her. "Here I am," he grunted, as her entire body contracted and she threw her head back calling his name, making his cock jerk and release inside her. They rocked together, arms and lips entwined and connected. Craig knew then – he would never, could never, ever let the woman go.

Their breathing calmed, bodies stopped, but she stayed draped over him, her slight weight draped across his torso, pleasantly pressed into his body. He held her close, kissed her face and neck. He attempted not to say it – what he wanted to say, knowing it would only make her recoil from him. He had to take this for what it was, and work as hard as he knew how to drag her kicking and screaming into the reality of a deeper emotional connection. He groaned as she lifted off him and stood. She reached around behind the couch for something. He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them, and saw the card with the number 10 emblazoned on it.

"Fucking the Eastern German judge does wonders for my overall score," he said, standing and pulling his jeans up from around his feet.

She smiled, almost shyly and what remained of his heart left his body and became hers. He pulled her close, kissed her, and then stepped away, determined to play it her way – keep it cool, for now. "Food?" he asked, honestly starving.

"Yeah," she said, heading into the tiny kitchen. "I brought some. Sit, relax, I'll feed you, never fear."

They shared bites of an amazing hot and spicy gumbo with rice she'd brought, and slivers of fresh watermelon to cool their palates. He sighed, and settled into the couch when they finished. "Damn, do you cook like that all the time?"

"Yep." She said setting the containers on the leather ottoman and straddling him again. "Now, sustained by food, let's carry on shall we? There are still a few heats left in this particular judging session." She threaded the fingers of both hands in his hair, tugging his face up to meet hers.

"Mmm…" he moaned into her lips, his hands finding the soft mounds of her breasts, the hard flesh of her nipples. Her smell was all around him, suffusing his senses. He had a weird drowning sensation, tried resisting it, then just sighed and let it happen. "Maybe," he picked her up and walked them to the bathroom.

"Ow, shit," she mumbled around his lips when he cracked her head on the doorjamb, trying to get to the shower.

They soaped and rinsed off, giggling like kids. By the time he toweled her off, his cock was at the ready once more. He picked her up, set her on the edge of the bed and got to his knees, running his hands down her inner thighs. Then he stopped and flipped on a light. She sat back, her legs together, her face a mask of anxiety. He frowned and pulled her legs apart gently, noting the ugly scars marring her creamy flesh. They ran up one thigh, across her nearly bare sex.

"What in the hell happened to you?" he demanded, his brain zinging with a fury he had no reference for. "Who did this?" He point to her legs.

She reached over and turned off the lamp, tugging him down to her. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I will. In the meantime, I think you have a gold medal to defend." She pushed him down to his knees. He gripped her hips, yanked her pussy to his lips and latched onto the small button of her clit, loving the sweet and spicy taste of her, that distinctly, almost cinnamon-y essence that he would forever associate with Suzanne filled his mouth and nose. By the time he slipped his finger into her, reaching high and stroking her right behind the pubic bone, he came all over his belly without a touch as she yelped, and grabbed his hair, pumping her hips into his face.

"Je-sus," he groaned, licking his way up her torso. "Look what you did to me, you minx." He put her hand on his sticky stomach.

She sighed and leaned back, pulling him down beside her. "Sorry. Damn." She shivered and he pulled her close, tugging the duvet up around them.

"I know," he said, kissing her neck as she turned and curved her body into his. "More to come, my love," he whispered, then dropped into the deepest sleep he'd had since starting school, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

She sat up once, her breathing ragged, and a scream on her lips. He jerked awake, disoriented and confused. Then put his lips to her cheek. "Shh ..." he said, pulling her back down. "It's okay. I'm here."

She sighed, letting him soothe her. There was more here than he knew, but he would wait, let her tell him when she was ready. "I love you," he sighed into her neck, grateful her soft, even breathing told him she was asleep and hadn't heard him.

When their his-and-her inner alarms went off at five a.m., he groaned and sat trying to get past the strange, almost hung-over feeling that possessed him. She wandered into the bathroom and shut the door, then back out, snuggling down into the covers and holding out her arms without a word. He looked at her. "You have to tell me what happened to you Suzanne. Please?"

She rolled onto her back, and the cover shifted revealing a pale pink and decidedly erect nipple. He shivered as she spoke. "I will, but not today, possibly not this weekend. I was serious about having some work to do." She started to get up but he rolled over and yanked her back down, covering her face and neck with kisses.

"Good, because I was serious about staying in bed all damn weekend."

She giggled and then sighed as he moved down her front, licking and sucking as he went.

Chapter Seventeen

Her next trip down did not go as well. After the first time, he made a brief, wholly unsatisfactory visit of his own back up to Ann Arbor which made him wonder what in the hell he expected from her, ever. Other than wild, lusty snippets of time interspersed with maddening, frustrating long periods of miscommunication, she was hard to reach. And not just physically – she was distant, cool, lightly flirty, as if he were something that amused her and nothing more. His school commitments had ramped up to a point that he felt as if mainlining energy drinks would be insufficient for his caffeine needs. Finally, though, she showed up, as a surprise, in the middle of a party after a set of grueling exams.

"Hey, Craig," one of the guys said. He looked away from Alicia, who'd reinserted herself and her killer flirt muscle into his surroundings. He was so tired he could barely stand, but he leaned against the counter in the downstairs kitchen and let her work her eyelash fluttery, hair-twisting, somewhat mesmerizing magic. The part of his brain that he allowed to think about Suzanne anymore was cloudy with anger. He loved her and he knew it. It was real this time, not a passing obsession over a challenge to meet, another woman to please. He wanted to be with her all the damn time, and she did absolutely nothing to encourage it. The concept that maybe it was just the challenge that drew him anymore had taken hold in his brain and had settled in as a dull pain in his gut. This physical ache for her alone told him it was more than that, but….