Indulgence (27 page)

Then there was Hank. He had a ranch in Texas, a white Ford
pickup truck, and a small construction firm that scored my project by bidding
tens of thousands under what my team would have paid. A man that seemed
perfectly comfortable in his own skin. Oh, and what scrumptious looking skin it
was.

Seeing all that bare male flesh got my blood thrumming and
my knees weak. It had been ages since I’d had such a virile man around. The men
I’d dated were always high society. Ivy League, big in business and lousy in
bed. My pleasure was of little concern as long as they got off. Hank looked
like a man who knew how to please a woman.

I slumped down into the comfort of my puffy couch. The
penthouse was quiet; all the staff besides my chef Gustav had left for the
evening.

Again my thoughts were brought back to Hank. He wanted to
date me. It reeked of a bad afterschool special on Lifetime television. The
story as old as time. It hadn’t changed much since Shakespeare wrote his
version in Romeo and Juliet. Doomed from the start.

It wasn’t possible that we had much in common. I could see
our first date now. He’d be in jeans, work boots, and a white T-shirt that
stretched across that broad chest, outlining every thick ripple of muscle.

My hand slowly traveled down my abdomen, past my shirt, and
over my slacks as I fantasized. Hank’s ass would fill his jeans like a second skin.
My hand reached its target between my legs, cupping and pressing down against
the needy flesh. A gasp escaped as I leaned back on the couch and imagined it
was Hank’s hand touching me, twirling his large fingers around my clit. He’d
whisper in my ear, tell me how much he wanted to fuck me.

I undid the button and zipper of my pants and slipped my
hand under the lace panties. Cool fingers slid against the slick folds. I was
surprisingly wet. Hank would remove my pants and dip his face down toward my
center, licking and kissing my thighs, growling as he shredded my panties
between his large hands.

My fingers pressed and swirled around the hard bundle of
nerves at the apex of my pleasure as I imagined it. Dream Hank would spread me
wide open. He’d hold my ass just where he wanted and lick me with one long
swipe of his tongue, dipping into my sex over and over until I was screaming
out in ecstasy.

The pressure built at my core, throbbed and tingled as I
lifted my hips up and pressed deep inside with two fingers mimicking what I
thought Hank would do. Several deep strokes, hips reaching high, I ended the
torture with a few furious circles around my swollen clit.

“Hank!” I cried into the empty room, my orgasm ripping
through me fast and furious.

I rubbed out the vestiges of my pleasure as Dream Hank
fizzled and disappeared. Jesus, I hadn’t come that hard in a long time. Too
long. So long that I was using a man who was all wrong for me as fodder for my
masturbatory fantasies. Pathetic.

In the kitchen, I washed my hands, still dazed from my
orgasm, my mind still focused on Dream Hank.

The door to my penthouse slammed and a jangling ruckus could
be heard from the entryway. I made it back into the living room when I heard
Oliver yelling.

“Sit! Damn you mangy mutt, don’t you know basic commands!”
Oliver’s shrill voice pierced and echoed through the walls of my home.

A blur of yellow barreled through the living room, knocking
over a small table. Nails clicked and clacked against the hardwood floors, then
a giant dog jumped, pushing me onto the couch. I shrieked, covering my face and
chest as it hopped from couch to my lap to the floor and back. A long pink
tongue hung out of its mouth then slurped at my face, leaving a wet trail of
saliva along the surface. I tilted my head against my shoulder, wiping the
disgusting slime off.

“Holy Jesus. What the hell, Ollie! Get this dog off me!”

“Oh my, God. Shoo dog, shoo! Get down.” He pulled at the
dog’s collar and slapped a hook onto it, restraining him by his side.

“I’m sorry, Pen. You said to move all of Hank’s stuff to
your place. This … ” he pointed to the yellow lab, “is part of his stuff.
According to the gentleman who gave me the dog, his name is Butch.”

“Butch.” The dog turned around in a circle when he heard his
name. Tentatively, I reached out and petted the dog. He happily panted and
pushed against my palm. I pulled my hand away and a wad of hair was left in its
wake. Dogs. They were dirty, they shed, and they made messes as large as they
were. This dog was enormous, just like its master.
What a nightmare.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I closed my eyes and tried
to will the dog to disappear. I cracked open one eye. No such luck. He was
still there. “Okay, fine. Hire a dog watcher or something. For now, bring him
in the kitchen and give him some water. He’s probably thirsty. Have Chef Gustav
make him a steak.” Oliver looked at me like I was a psycho. “Please, just deal
with it. I’m going to take a long, hot bath. Tomorrow I’m going to stop by the
hospital in the morning. Reschedule any conflicting appointments.”

“Okay, you rest. You’ve been through a lot the past couple
days. And Pen … ”

I stopped at the head of the stairs, turning to look back at
my most trusted friend. “Yes?”

“I’m so thankful you’re okay. I owe the cowboy a lot. You’re
still here because of him.” His voice was weak and thick with emotion.

“I’m fine. Please, just take care of his dog.” I swung a
wave behind me as I treaded to the haven that was a huge jetted tub nestled in
the master bathroom. “Good night.”

A hot bath was exactly what the doctor ordered. Candles
twinkled along the curved edge of the tub, filling the room with the scent of
sugary vanilla. Water sloshed over the side as I settled into the steamy water.

Heaven.

Ten minutes passed when the door creaked open and Oliver
walked in. He had a bottle of wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. He
sat the bottle and glasses down on the tiled edge. He pulled the vanity chair
over to the tub, removed his blazer and tie, then folded up each sleeve of his
dress shirt. He slumped into the chair, picked up the wine and poured hefty
glasses of the garnet liquid.

I knew what he was doing. For the past decade, it had always
been us against the world. He needed me and couldn’t leave. Yesterday he was
faced with the fear that he may have lost me.

It was the first real brush with death either of us had
experienced. We’d dealt with jealous and jilted lovers before, and the
occasional death threat from companies I’d taken over in the past, but nothing
so acute or specifically life-threatening as this. Had Hank not jumped in front
me, that metal pipe would have gone straight through my heart.

I traced the circular bruise just above my left breast. The
purple and black area spread across my chest, covering about a three-to
four-inch area. I was lucky the end of the pipe that pierced through Hank only
left me with the bruise from a much smaller impact.

“Does it hurt?” He broke the silence first. His eyes scanned
my entire body, probably making sure there weren’t any other marks marring me.
If it was anyone else, I’d have covered up. Ollie had seen me naked more times
than my mother had. I stopped caring about modesty with him back in college
when he started to dress me, then completely when we lived together until he’d
gotten with Dean.

“Yes. Not as much as it could have.” I took a healthy sip of
wine, the berry and plum flavors rushed over my tongue and warmed my belly.

“God, Aspen. I could have lost you.” Tears filled his big
brown doe eyes.

“But you didn’t. And you won’t.” I reached out a wet hand
and clasped his. “We’re best friends. We’re in it for the long haul. It’s
always been you and me, Ollie.” I smiled to reassure him.

“It won’t always be that way. One day you’re going to meet a
man, fall in love and have babies, and I’ll be a long-forgotten friend.” He was
having a pity party for one and there wasn’t a lot I could do about it.

“You’re right. One day I hope to find a man I can share my
life and
bed
with.” My pointed look wasn’t lost on him.

Had he not been gay, I still wouldn’t have been attracted to
him. I liked tall, large men who were sure of themselves. Ollie was more like a
female than a male, though I’d never tell him that. There wasn’t another man I
could hold a platonic conversation with while lying completely exposed in a
bathtub. My body wasn’t perfect but I worked hard to stay in shape. I’d been
told I had a beautiful body by several men in the past. I spent countless hours
in my home gym to ensure a fit form. Overall, my self-image was not one of my insecurities.

“Just because I want to have a man in my life doesn’t mean
I’m going to get rid of the one I already have. You’re my best friend, my only
true friend. You know everything about me and love me anyway. No one could take
your place.” I tipped my head over to force him to look at me. “Besides, who’s
going to pick out my clothes and do my hair?”

We both laughed and a bright smile broke across his face.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you.” Ah, so now we get to the real problem.
He wanted to be my one and only savior.

“I’m not, because that would mean that I could have lost
you. That, I wouldn’t have survived.” Tears welled up but I tried not to let
them fall. It had been a really emotional couple days. “I love you and all your
pieces.”

“Me too. All your pieces.” He stood up and clinked his glass
with mine. Then he downed the wine in a couple gulps. I smiled. Waste not, want
not. “I’m going to head home and cuddle up with Dean tonight. You okay?” He
leaned down on one knee and brought his forehead to mine. He rubbed our
foreheads together.

“I am. Now go, Dean already hates me. Go home to him.”

He nodded and headed to the door. “Oh, and Aspen?”

“Yes?” I sighed and leaned my head back, forcing myself to
relax and enjoy the water slipping around tense muscles.

His gaze scanned my body from head to toe. “Your body has
never looked better. Hank’s going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

My jaw dropped open, eyes wide.

He chuckled and called over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow,
Princess!” And he was gone.

Oliver was always full of surprises. As I sunk further into
the heated depths, my thoughts ran back to Hank. My daytime hero. He was
incredibly attractive. His rugged looks and hard body had me aching to touch
him. Even though I’d only seen him naked from the waist up, my eyes took in the
hard lines of his thighs under that thin blanket.

Long legs had him well over six feet. Instead of a runners
build like all the men I’d dated in the past, Hank was huge … everywhere. He
had the power in his form to take me against a wall, and I’d gladly welcome it.

Of course, this was all fantasy. Hank and I would never have
sex. No, we were too different — worlds apart, in fact. Our lifestyles could
never commingle harmoniously and having sex would complicate things. I’d never
understand why I’d chosen to move him into my home to heal. It would definitely
be an interesting experience.

I left the bath to find Hank’s dog lying on the floor at the
foot of my bed. I stared him down but he just smacked his chops and rested his
head against his paws, eyes closing, readying for sleep. At least he was
comfortable with the arrangement. I’d never had a dog, nor understood the need
for one. Pulling the covers back, I fell into bed without bothering to put on
pajamas or dry my hair. Mind, body, and soul were spent. Butch’s soft snoring
lulled me to sleep.

An annoying light flickered on and pulled me from the deep
recess of an unmemorable dream. Even with my eyes closed something pierced
through the inky blackness. One eyelid was forced up and the blinding light
took out my vision like the flash of a camera lens. The offender proceeded to
do the same to its twin.

“Good morning, Mr. Jensen,” a gravelly voice greeted.

My eyes adjusted to the room. A man in a white coat stood
before me. Glasses perched on the tip of a bulbous nose. His bald head had
wisps of hair protruding in different directions. His thick fingers poked and
prodded at my wound, the bloody bandage lying on my stomach.

The sight of the dried blood and sticky goo coated my mouth
with a sourness that could easily have me puking my guts up. He pressed on a
particularly painful spot and I couldn’t hold back the cry that tore from my
lungs. At that exact moment my angel appeared through the door and ran to my
side. Her cool hands grasped mine tightly, the vanilla goodness of her perfume
swirled in the air as her sweet face screwed into worry lines.

“Hank, I’m here, you’re alright.” The calm timbre of her
voice held a twinge of irritation. I couldn’t focus on her as much as I’d like
because the doctor before me dug into my wound like he was searching for gold.
The pressure on the gaping hole resulted in bursts of stars fluttering through
my vision.

“Doctor, what’s going on? Why is he in so much pain?” My
angel was feisty today. Kicking ass. I liked it.

On autopilot, my hand reached to her side and settled on the
swell of her tight ass. I gave it a little pat and her eyes flicked to mine;
fire swirled in those smoky depths.

“Angel, I’m fine. Just a tender spot. Ain’t nothin’ I can’t
handle. Right, Doc?” It hurt but I wasn’t a wuss, and the last thing I wanted
was for her to think I was.

The doctor pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Yes, well
he’d take it better if he would stop declining the pain medication.”

Her left brow arched into a triangle and her lips turned
down. “Hank? Why aren’t you taking the medication? You’re in pain. You just had
major surgery two days ago.”

Like I didn’t already know that.

“Look, Darlin’, I’m good. Real good, now that I’m looking at
your pretty face.” Yup, I was feeling mighty good today and to prove my point,
I cupped the underside of her butt cheek and squeezed. Nice and tight. Just as
I suspected. She started to moan then clamped her mouth shut. Just the solid
weight of her presence gave me energy.