GirlNextDoor (15 page)

“On my
new
couch?” Nolan returned. “My one-day-old
couch?”

“Yeah.”

Nolan nodded, smiled. “Yeah. Sure.” Then he paused. “I
wonder what the hell they did with my car.”

Chapter Eleven

The fourth condom was gone, and John Krulak was, ever so
slightly, dissatisfied.

He wasn’t exactly sure why.

Nolan was working the night shift, covering for Griffin.
John had taken the opportunity to invite Lucy to spend the night with him, and
she’d eagerly accepted. She’d brought an overnight bag, Chinese carry-out and a
six-pack of Kirin beer.

They had had dinner, good conversation and very good, very
conventional sex. John had gotten everything he wanted. He had Lucy naked—a
first—in his bed—another first—and all the time in the world. He’d had time to
kiss her, caress her, taste her. Time to make her come repeatedly before he’d
mounted her missionary style, rode her and came with her.

Now she was warm and naked beside him, curled under a light
blanket, dozing. It had been a perfect evening, complete with effortless
seduction. He should be happy.

But there was something uneasy in him, edgy, unsatisfied.

It wasn’t the first time John had felt this way. With Tammi,
the big-breasted blonde he’d pursued for weeks, it had been the same way.
Before that…what was her name? Kathy, Katy? It didn’t matter. The truth was
that conventional sex wasn’t making it for him anymore.

Lucy had been different. In the alley, in the shed, in the
van, she had been different enough to get him off all the way, to leave him
completely satisfied. But now that John had her here, in his bed, like he
wanted—like he’d
thought
he wanted—it wasn’t quite enough. Yet she had
been perfect, willing, responsive. Which meant that his problem wasn’t with the
women at all.

He
was the problem.

Lately, John’s fantasies were better than his real sex life.
Those fantasies weren’t about women at all. They were mostly about…

Lucy stirred, came up on one elbow. “Want to try something
new?”

John was startled. “Uh, sure, but I’m not a teenager, Lucy.”

“We’ll see how it goes.” Lucy slid out of bed and stretched,
and John was reminded just how spectacular her body was. “Stay there,” she
purred, and went out.

John listened while she ran water in the bathroom, moved to
the living room, and then the kitchen. The microwave beeped, and he frowned.
The microwave? But the anticipation stirred in him again.
Something new with
Lucy?
It had to be good.

She made him feel like a teenager. In perpetual heat.

She came back to the bedroom bearing a bottle of lotion, a
washcloth and the last bottle of Kirin. “Thirsty?” she asked.

John took the bottle and took a long drink. He nearly choked
on it as she began to wipe down his cock with the washcloth. It was damp and
very warm. “Relax,” she said quietly, and he did, taking another slug of beer
as she carefully, gently cleaned him.

Something more than water on the washcloth, he realized. It
left behind a cool, tingly feeling, mild and pleasant. Finished, Lucy put the
washcloth aside. She took the beer back, took a long drink, and put it aside
too. Reaching for the lotion, she said, “Roll over.”

John hesitated.

“I won’t hurt you,” Lucy laughed. “I just want to touch
you.”

Intrigued, trusting, John stretched out on his stomach. Lucy
pulled the top sheet and blanket all the way off the end of the bed. She placed
his hands over his head, palms down, elbows bent, so that he was comfortable.
Then she covered her hands with the lotion.

She started between his shoulder blades, both hands on his
spine. The lotion was very warm—that explained the microwave—and the heat
seemed to soak in as her hands slid over his back. It had a spicy smell, like
cinnamon, but not quite. It felt wonderful.

Her hands were firm, strong, knowing. She lingered on his
back, kneading the muscles in his shoulders before moving down each arm,
caressing his palms and each individual finger, adding more lotion as she
needed it. She moved to his neck, then down his spine, lingering again in the
small of his back until he released the tension there. There was nothing
overtly sexual about the massage, but he was growing aroused again anyhow. Her
touch, her closeness and his sense that she was memorizing every inch of his
body all went into his skin and gathered gently in his cock.

So when her hands finally reached his ass, he sighed deeply,
groaned as her fingers worked his muscles with slow, deep strokes. When she
stroked gently down the crack of his ass, her fingers sliding past his opening,
his hips came up to meet her.

“Shh,” she whispered. Her hands moved lower, massaging his
thighs, then his calves and finally his feet. His arousal subsided a little,
and he relaxed under her hands.

God
, John thought,
this feels good.
It didn’t
escape his notice that she was in charge again. He’d always been a leader,
sexually speaking, always making the first move, always calling the plays—and
almost always on top. But something about Lucy made him want to let her have
her way. He trusted that her sensuality and her own passion would take them
both where they wanted to go. He was learning that it could be very pleasant
not to be in charge.

Lucy worked her way back up to his back, leaned close to his
ear. “Roll over, love.”

He did so eagerly.

She started on his face, her firm fingers tracing over his
forehead, his cheeks, his chin, light over his eyes and lips, solid on his jaw.
He kept his eyes closed as her hands worked lower, over his chest, rubbing his
nipples only incidentally, but they were hard and sensitive now. She worked
down each arm, rubbing his hands again, leaving a kiss in each palm before
resuming her work on his body. John’s cock was now half-erect, awaiting her
touch to bring it fully awake. But when she got there, she kept her hands off,
working across his abdomen and down his thighs, barely grazing his balls. John
felt his breath quicken as his anticipation grew.

She worked down his left leg and back up, and then down his
right. Then, unexpectedly, she bent and took his big toe in her mouth.

Foot fetishes were something John had never thought he’d
understand—until Lucy bit down and the thrill ran straight up to his cock,
bringing it fully erect, bringing his hips up off the bed again. She grinned
and released the toe with a satisfied “pop”.

Then she knelt between his feet, looking up past his sundial
erection to meet his eyes. “I love your body, John.”

John grinned. “It loves you back.”

She put her hands on his legs and slid up until she was kneading
his thighs, her hands in the creases on each side of his scrotum. She bent and
planted a warm kiss on the head of his cock. John groaned with pleasure. Her
hands came up to gather lotion from his chest, then returned to cradle his
balls, applied it to his shaft.

“God,” John breathed. He would not have believed that he
could want her this badly, this soon.

The hand that had cupped his balls slid lower, tracing over
the delicate flesh, finding the puckered opening. John tensed involuntarily and
she stopped, just resting her fingers there. “Do you want me to stop?” she
asked softly.

John shook his head. “I don’t know. Nobody ever did that
before.”

“Do you like it?”

“I think so.”

She made no attempt to enter him, but stroked the rim with
slippery, tender fingers. “Tell me when you don’t like it.”

There was, John thought, no chance of that.

A single fingertip slipped inside and rubbed gently. John
felt himself jerking upward, uncontrollable, his cock sliding through her other
hand with every motion. If he hadn’t had her so recently, he would have come
right then. As it was, she knew exactly how close he was, how much longer he
could hold out.

“I want you to like it,” she said, “because I want you to
understand.”

The finger went a fraction deeper, and John nearly screamed
with pleasure. “Understand?” he gasped.

Lucy nodded. “How it feels. Why I like it. Why I want you to
fuck me there.”

John thought for a moment his heart had stopped. He was sure
he had stopped breathing. How did she
know
? “Will you?” she asked.

“Yes,” John answered at once. “But I never have before.”

“I’ll teach you,” Lucy promised. “We need another condom.”

John reached for the bedside table awkwardly, trying not to
dislodge either of her hands. He gave her the condom, and she slid both hands away
from his body.

“Three things,” she said quietly as she unwrapped it. “One,
always use a condom and lots of lube.” She unrolled the condom expertly over
his aching erection. “Two, if you’re with a woman and you want to switch back
to straight sex, you need a new condom.” She swirled her hands over his
abdomen, gathering the extra lotion, applying it to the outside of the condom.
“Three, when you feel resistance, stop and wait until it goes away. Don’t try
to push through it. It hurts. Okay?”

“Okay,” John answered, reaching for her.

Lucy eluded him. “Not here. Come with me.” She slid off the
end of the bed and crawled over to the full-length sliding mirrored door to his
closet, pulling the blanket with her.

She knelt on the blanket, facing the mirror, her beautiful
ass toward him. John knelt behind her, his erection poking her already. He was
wildly excited, and yet a little worried. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” Then she added, “Go slow.” She reached back to
guide him with one hand, bending forward and supporting her weight with the
other. The head of his cock pressed against her opening, but John still
hesitated. She was so tight, not yielding at all to the gentle push he gave,
and he did not, did not, did not want to hurt her.

She pushed back against him, hard, forcing the head of his
cock inside her. “Not that slow,” she gasped. She put her other hand on the
floor and pushed against him again.

It was all John could do to hold still. He couldn’t believe
how tight her ass was, how different this felt—and how good. He didn’t care
about anything but the incredible sensations that centered on his cock and
radiated to every nerve of his body. It was like being held in a fist, like
nothing he’d ever felt.

She moved again, pushing him deeper. His hands tightened on
her hips, drawing her closer still but remembering to go slow. Slowly,
slowly—and then he was all the way in.

Lucy straightened up, so that her back was against John’s
chest. His hands slid around her, finding her breasts, her stomach, her waist.
He began to move against her, carefully, finding the rhythm in her motion,
growing familiar in responding to her.

Amazed at how tight she remained, and how high the friction
was, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

Her hair was there, her neck, her sweet shoulders, and he
nuzzled and nipped her like a stallion covering a mare. She twisted to kiss
him, meeting his mouth for one searing moment before she turned back. Her arms
came up and back, around his head, drawing him closer still.

“John,” she whispered as the speed of his thrusts increased,
“open your eyes.”

Startled, he did, meeting her eyes in the mirror. The
picture was rawly sexual, exquisite. Her body, from the knees up, naked and
frankly displayed as a sexual object, her legs spread, her breasts upturned,
nipples erect, her arms up to fully reveal them, her head back. All around her,
the outline of his body, his darker, stronger legs between hers, his arms
around her, his hand covering one breast. Their bodies shimmered with sweat and
lotion. They were one body in the mirror, joined together, moving together,
faster and stronger toward climax.

It was too perfect, and John closed his eyes again.

But the image had imprinted on his brain, how her whole body
was open, available to his touch. He cupped one breast, his thumb rubbing the
hard nipple. The other hand went lower, between her legs. She was hot and wet,
and quivered at his touch. John pulled her tighter against him, thrusting
faster still, on the very brink.

Lucy cried out as her orgasm began. John opened his eyes and
watched her. Her whole body went tense, stretched, reaching for it, and then
she shook everywhere, muscles contracting and relaxing in waves of spasms that
drew irresistibly at his tightly bound cock.

But it was the look on her face, the absolute joy,
surrender, pleasure that was almost pain, and knowing that he had gotten her
there, that put him over the top. He closed his eyes, threw back his head and
uttered a cry of his own.

* * * * *

A long, long time passed. John had carried Lucy back to the
bed and they lay there, twined around each other, not sleeping, not talking,
skin to skin and completely satisfied.

Finally, Lucy spoke, very quietly. “I should go.”

“Please stay,” John answered. Any other night, any other
woman, he would have been holding the door for her already. Once they spent the
night, they tended to start thinking
relationship
. But though he would
have liked to keep this one, he knew he wouldn’t. One night, maybe two, and
she’d been gone. He wanted the night. “Please. I want to wake up with you.”

She rolled over, stretched like a cat and curled against him
again. “Okay.”

A while later, John said, “You should call Nolan.”

“Mmm,” she purred. “He knows where I am.”

* * * * *

John woke to the rather pleasant feeling that someone was
watching him. He opened his eyes and found Lucy awake, propped up on one elbow,
gazing at him. She was unabashedly naked, her nipples for once soft and
relaxed. Her hair was rumpled, and a mouth-sized spot on her neck was turning
into a bruise.