Authors: Cydney Michele; Rax Lutishia; Grant Lovely

Crush (4 page)

BOOK: Crush

10.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

“Unless you’re ready for round two, right here and now, you better hold still,” Jason said with a smile in his voice, as he hardened a little in response to my humid wriggle.

My eyes flew open. Now
he
was eyeing
me
like I was the last shrimp on the buffet. I felt him swelling up inside of me and my head fell back. “I should go, I should really, really go.” My hips started circling of their own accord. His hips rocked slowly back and forth.

“Before you’ve had your fill?” He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, revealing a toned and chiseled chest with a light dusting of hair tapering to a narrow waist with washboard abs.

“Are we talking about coffee again?” I asked, running my hand down his chest as he pulled my dress over my head, unhooked my bra, and sent it flying.

“You haven’t even tasted my cinnamon mocha yet,” he said, shifting so he was more firmly atop me. “Don’t you want to stay and taste it?” He leaned down and lifted my left breast, sucking the tip into his mouth, never losing eye contact with me. This for some reason struck me as inexplicably hot, his mossy green eyes watching my reaction while he pulled sensation after sensation from me. Switching to the right side, he asked again, “Do you, Jayla, do you want to taste it?”

Keeping my eyes on him, I pulled away and maneuvered until he was below me. Licking my way down his torso, I whispered, “I do, Jason, I do want to taste it.” Tossing my hair to the side, I took him deep in my throat and watched as his pupils expanded before his eyes closed shut.

It was his turn to moan. “Please say you’re not talking about coffee.”

I cupped him in my hands at his base and massaged while continuing suction. “I’m not talking about coffee.” With every touch, stroke, taste, and texture I was killing shy Jayla and emerging a brand-new person.

“Jayla,” he gasped, fists balled by his side, hips straining as my tongue caressed him.

I smiled. “Yes, Jason?” I wrapped a hand around the base and squeezed while whirling circles around the head with my tongue. A drop of moisture beaded up on the tip and I licked it off greedily.

“Oh God, that’s it.” He reached down, lifted and turned me clockwise before dropping my still-weeping opening over his lips.

At the first lap of his tongue, I froze, then went into a frenzy. My hips thrashed so violently, he was forced to hold me still, teasing and biting with darts of his tongue, nips of his teeth, and sweeps of his lips. His mouth explored every sensitive and swollen fold of my nether lips before dipping his tongue around my rim and darting inside. His thumb slid lightly over me and I shuddered.

It wasn’t right that a perfect stranger knew my intimate needs, my personal rhythm, and gave them to me intuitively, unselfishly. Overwhelmed, I tried to lift away from his clever, clever tongue but he held me captive, a slave to his whim and my pleasure. But two could play this game. I matched the rhythm of my sucks to the rhythm of his licks and in no time we were writhing together with moans and sighs as the tension became unbearable. He became impossibly harder and larger in my mouth. I increased the pressure just as he took my nubbin into his mouth and sucked hard. Harder and higher until we broke, coming, him first spurting warm jets into my throat and me riding out the sensation. It seemed to go on and on, and I kept him in my mouth even after he softened, sucking the final drops from the very depths of him. His hips jerked convulsively. “Jesus,” he said. “Jesus, Jayla.”

I finally let him go and rolled to the side, trying to catch my breath. He reached out an arm to keep me from rolling off the edge. I put my hand over his and we rested there quietly, as if we had done this a million times before.

“Why did I have the idea that you were shy?” he asked me.

“I
am
shy.”

“No woman who does what you just did that well is shy. You, Ms. Jayla, have hidden depths.”

That flattered me immensely. “You think?”

“I was expecting a nice, fun time.”

“And you got?”

“A mind-blowing thrill ride. Amazing.”

“Well, you definitely know what you’re doing.”

“I could say the same for you. Wow.”

No one had ever told me I was amazing outside of the workplace and definitely not in bed. Hmm, could it be that
I
wasn’t the problem? Maybe I just hadn’t been suitably inspired to perform at my best until now? I tucked that thought away for later.

“So how about that cinnamon mocha?” he asked.

I laughed, sitting up. “How about it?”

“Do you still want it?”

I met his gaze. “It’s about the only thing I haven’t had yet.”

He raised a brow. “I wouldn’t say that.” His eyes ran up and down my form and he leaned over to gently nip at my shoulder.

My breath caught in my throat and I felt the warmth snake across my skin. “Don’t start,” I whispered, swaying toward him as if magnetically drawn.

His hand slid up my neck and pulled my face to his, dropping a light kiss onto my lips. “Who said I was finished?” His words sent a jolt straight to my epicenter as if I hadn’t been satisfied, and well more than once, in the last half hour.

Okay, I had to get it together. I could not get used to feeling like this. Eventually, reality had to creep back in. I pulled back slightly. “You know, I think I will take that coffee.”

He squeezed the back of my neck once and nodded. “You got it.” He rose and handed me his T-shirt to tug on, then padded, gloriously and unabashedly naked, over to his jeans. I almost hated to see him pull them on. He walked to the back and emerged with a clean, damp towel, which he handed over to me before moving behind the counter to start measuring coffee beans.

After cleaning up as discreetly as I could in the middle of a coffee shop in front of a semi-stranger, I walked around scrounging for my scattered clothing items. “What would the store manager say about your extracurricular activities?” I asked in the wake of not knowing what to say as I shimmied into my panties and began unraveling my twisted bra straps.

He looked at me and smiled slightly. “He’d probably say, ‘Way to go, boss.’ ”

I paused as his words sunk in. “You own this place?”

He nodded while steaming some milk. “And twelve others,” he said.

That explained the Lincoln Park address. “So you’re Jay.”

“I am Jay.”

I gave up on the bra and pulled my dress over my head while he poured a fragrant concoction into a cup.

I sat down at a bar-height table near the counter and smiled at him. “What are you doing making mocha at nine o’clock at night?”

“Enjoying myself.” He walked over and handed the cup to me with a grin. “It’s on the house.”

I took a sip and closed my eyes in ecstasy.

“There’s that look again.”

I opened my eyes and smiled slowly. “This is almost as good as sex.”

“Oh, honey, you haven’t been having enough sex. My mocha is great, but sex like we just had? Now, that’s downright addictive.”

“You think so?”

“Want me to prove it to you?”

“Here? Again?”

“Take me home with you. Or come home with me. Spend time with me, Jayla. I’m not ready for you to fade away yet.”

“Do I fade away?”

“So far. With me, you kinda do.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not you. You’re gorgeous and sexy, amazingly hot and talented.”

He came and sat down in the stool beside me. “All that, huh? And what are you?”

“I’m cautious and tired and gun-shy and wary.”

“We should work on some of that.”

He always said the right thing in the right way at the right time. It made me slightly uneasy. But new Jayla needed to spread her wings a little. I thought about it. And almost immediately decided why the hell not? I deserved a little fun. And he was certainly capable of providing it. When I met his gaze, my answer was in my eyes.

He tilted his head to the side and we both started smiling as we read each other’s expressions. “So . . .”

I leaned toward him and whispered, “I wonder how many times you’ll make that sound?”

“What sound?” His voice was rough as he leaned forward to swirl his tongue across my upper ear. Who knew that was an erogenous zone?

“That groan you make in the back of your throat right before you lose control.” My own tongue flicked out to lick the side of his neck. “Jason?”

“Yes, Jayla?” His hand slipped up my back to cup my neck again in a way I was finding ridiculously sexy and addictive.

“Come home with me . . . now.”

The Morning After

There’s a feeling when you wake up after a great night wrapped in the arms of somebody who seems happy to be there. I woke up immediately aware of my surroundings and bed partner. I was in my condo, which I had slaved for, labored over, and renovated myself. When the whole Tiffany blue and chocolate brown craze exploded in decorating, I went all in. Richly stained Brazilian cherry on the floors and cabinets. Icy gray granite and stainless steel in the kitchen. Chenille L-shaped sofa in a misty green, patterned pieces to match. It was an open floor plan with a great room that incorporated the living room, dining room, guest bath, and kitchen. To the left was a guest room I used as an office, to the right the master suite where I currently lay smiling in my queen-size sleigh bed.

It was Saturday, I’d spent an amazingly energetic night with Jason, and I didn’t have to be back at work until Tuesday. Life was good.

Jason’s lips brushed the back of my neck. “Good morning, beautiful. Can I fix you some breakfast?”

Correction: life was great. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. His hand stroking down my arm assured me this was the beginning of a lovely reality. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I get the feeling you haven’t been spoiled a lot.”

A lot? Think: at all. As a matter of fact, I could not think of the last time anyone offered to cook for me, let alone spoil me. “Well, feel free. My kitchen is your kitchen.”

He gave me another quick squeeze before rolling out of bed. As he pulled on his jeans, he said, “Tell me something.” He stood there with his hands on his hips with the jeans pulled up but not zipped or buttoned. Lord have mercy.

I propped up and tried to keep from reaching for him.

“Jayla?”

“Um-hmm?”

“I’m up here, honey. Eyes up.” He laughed as I dragged my eyes upward and laughed.

“Sorry, momentarily distracted. You wanted to ask me something?”

He slid his thumbs into his waistband. “Well, now, if you’re hungry for something else, we can put this food thing on hold. You tell me what you want.”

“Just tell you what I want.” That was a foreign concept to me.

“That surprises you?”

I shrugged. “Let’s just say it’s not something I’ve heard often.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Jason looked like he was filing that away for future reference. “If you ever want to share relationship battle scars, just let me know.”

It occurred to me that there was a lot we didn’t know about each other. Before I started overthinking and wondering how much I needed to know and what any of this meant, I stopped myself. “Breakfast sounds great and you had a question?”

“Question is: what do you have to do today?”

“The only thing I absolutely have to do is go see my grandmother. I usually take her some groceries and spend a little time. Why?”

“I would like to spend the day with you, if that’s okay?”

“I would love that. But be forewarned, my grandmother is going to hit on you.” She would, too. Sassy loved the pretty boys. She had been married three times, starting at age 16 and each of her marriages lasted exactly fifteen years. Old age hadn’t diminished the twinkle in her eye one bit. If anything, it made her more outrageous.

“Let Grammy get her flirt on. If she’s anything like you, I won’t mind at all. Where does she live?”

“Barrington.”

“So far?”

“She insists. She’s got a little house there that her husband left her; her church; her senior center; a little walking trail. I’ve tried to move her closer in but she’s not having it.”

“We’ll take my car. Start at the farmers’ market, swing by Whole Foods, and head out on the 90.”

Either Jason was a complete and total fraud or he was hands down the most charming, likeable, and considerate man I’d ever met. I was praying mightily for the latter. I smiled at him. “Sounds like a plan, but first, do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you please button those jeans or we are never getting out of this bed.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m hungry . . . for food. How are your French toast skills?”

“Are you the kind of woman who keeps the ingredients for real French toast handy?”

“I am. It’s my weakness.” Looking at him shrugging into his shirt, I had to add, “One of them anyway.”

He looked over at me. “Come on, woman. Let’s get some sustenance before you lure me back into your sex lair.”

“Me? Sex lair? Ha!” That was the first and only time my bedroom had been called that . . . but I liked it. When he headed for the kitchen, I got up and headed for the bathroom.

When I emerged from a hurried shower twenty minutes later in jeans and a T-shirt, he was sliding crispy golden toast next to bacon on a platter. This was a man who knew his way around a kitchen. It was almost as sexy as his bedroom skills.

As I slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar, he turned around. “Wait, get up a second.”

I got up, looking around, thinking I’d forgotten something. “What?”

He came around and looked me over, from my shower-flattened hair, past dangly earrings, lightly glossed lips, form-fitting pink T-shirt, dark wash jeans, and peep-toe ballet flats. He reached forward, took my hand, and twirled me in a circle. “Ni-ce. Very nice.”

I looked at him with blatant skepticism. “It’s jeans and a T-shirt, Jason.”

He shook his head. “It’s
you
in jeans and a T-shirt, Jayla. You are a beautiful, beautiful woman.”

Suddenly, I felt very emotional. I knew that I was attractive, but it had been so long since it had been acknowledged from a purely appreciative perspective that it shook me a little. I took a step forward and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. I needed that. As a matter of fact, you’ve given me a lot that I needed this weekend. In case I forget to say it, ‘I appreciate you.’ ”

He hugged me back. “You are more than welcome.”

We stood in that warm embrace for more than a few heartbeats. It was the first time in years that I was in a man’s arms just for comfort and appreciation. I liked it . . . a lot.

“Come on, girl, let me feed you before we get all mutual admiration weepy around here.”

I stepped away from him and slid back onto the stool. Within moments, he had a plate of French toast, bacon, and fresh fruit in front of me. When I looked up he was handing me a cup of coffee. I grasped the handle and sniffed. “You found this coffee in my house?”

He sent me a sly smile. “I added a few things to it, trade secrets.”

I took a sip. “Wow, I should say so. This is delicious. You know, you keep treating me this well and I may have to keep you around.”

He raised a brow. “Were you planning on tossing me back?”

I paused with my loaded fork halfway to my mouth. Was I planning on tossing him back? “Good question, I hadn’t thought that far. I hadn’t thought beyond . . .”

“Having your way with me?”

“Is that what I did?” I bit into the French toast; it was excellent. I began to suspect that this man did everything well.

He slid onto the stool next to me with his own plate. “I think we had our way with each other, don’t you?”

“Complaints?”

“Not at all. I plan for us to have our way with each other a few more times this weekend.”

“And then?” I just wondered where his mind was.

“And then whatever you’re comfortable with. I’d like to keep seeing you in whatever way you’ll let me.”

“You always say the right thing.”

“You say that like it bothers you.”

“It does a little. I was in a relationship with a smooth-talking guy and he turned out to be a dirty dog. Any time I see similarities, I get nervous.”

“Well, maybe we were in relationships with two sides of the same dirty coin. I only say things I mean and if you need clarification, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He and I locked eyes for a second. I saw no deceit or guile. I nodded slowly and raised my coffee cup. “Here’s to what comes next then.”

He touched his cup to mine. “Can’t wait.”

BOOK: Crush

10.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads