Pushing Limits (13 page)

“I’m sorry.  I have to get up early in the morning.”  Her
beaming face gives away her eagerness.

“Well, you have my number.  Call me tomorrow.  I’d like to take
you to dinner.”

“Ok.”  Karen says, straightening her back.  As he walks away,
Karen watches.  “Dang, he’s fine.”

“Look at you.  How many numbers have you gotten?”  I ask.

“Three,” she says with a proud grin.

Sally laughs and barks under her breath, “Slut.”  Her eyes bouncing,
as she laughs at Karen’s appalled face.  “Geez, lighten up.”  She
smiles.

“What happened to Jerrod?”

“Nothing.  He watched his buddy catch me.  He watched me dance
with a bunch of guys.  All he actually did was acknowledge me with some
lame ‘whazzup’ nod.  Whatever.  I’m tired of pining for someone who’s
clearly not interested.  I’ve got three guys who want to date me, and his
buddy was mighty interested, time to test the waters.”  Her words are
firm, but her face tells a different story.  Her green eyes blink, and her
face grimaces as if she is swallowing a bitter pill.  Shaking it off, she
turns to me smiling, “Ready to go?”

“Sally has to get back to the Flame for ‘her date.’”  Using my
famous air quotes, laughing.

“Hey Natalie is a real cutie.  I might buy her breakfast.” 

Her indignant frown cracks me up.  Laughing my ass off, I say, “Real
nice, Westin.  Real nice.”  Standing to leave, we walk out to say our
goodbyes and hail a cab back to campus.

As we both hug Sally, she attempts to cop a feel, garnishing whacks from
both Karen and I.  As she walks down the street for her date, several
women and men turn to watch her.  She appears not to notice any of
them.  Shaking my head, I grab a cab in front of the club.  As we
climb in, Jerrod opens the other side door and climbs in.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, Karen?”  His lips press
into a thin line as his eyes flare at Karen.

Our jaws drop as we both stare at him wondering what the hell he is
doing.

“What are you talking about, Jerrod?”  Karen asks.

“I don’t want to get into this with Amber here, but every time I tried to
talk to you, you were running off to dance with some other guy.  Letting
them put their hands all over you.  Is that what you want, a cheap feel on
the dance floor?  You are so much better than that.  You deserve a
guy who’s going to treat you with respect.  Treat you like a lady.” 
He looks out the window, and Karen and I glance at each other with mirrored
looks of utter confusion.

Straightening her back, and I suspect processing his words fully, Karen
twists to him fuming, “What is your f-ing problem Jerrod?  Seriously?
 What’s with the jealousy routine?”  Taking a breath, she prepares to
lay into him.  “You have barely acknowledged my existence for four years. 
Four
years
.  And now, I get some attention, and you go all crazy on
me?  Are you f-ing kidding me?”  

I can only see the back of her head because she’s turned to him, but
damn, her whole finger is wiggling around like nobody’s business.   I
guess the years of frustration are causing her to spew out every last bit of
disappointment she has towards this man. 

“Where do you get off?”  Karen fumes.  “I have waited for you
to make a move through two years of high school
and
two years of
college. 
Waited
, Jerrod.  And, you never gave me a moment of
your time that wasn’t required for class.  Not one.  You can
just…just…oh go screw yourself, Jerrod.”  She crosses her arms in a huff
and glares at the neck of the cabbie.

Jerrod frowns at her.  Circling his arms around her, he envelops her
in a kiss that lasts from Sixth Street all the way to Twenty-Sixth Street.

Wow.

Karen does not seem bothered in the least.  I exchange curved smiles
with the cabbie, tipping him well for having to listen to a shouting match, and
close the car door.  I feel lonely and a whole lot hornier as I watched
those two go at it.  I wish Tommy had taken me up on my offer.  I
tried not to watch but they were so obviously into each other, completely
oblivious to everyone else.  I couldn’t divert my eyes a hundred percent
of the time. 

A drink and a warm bath should do the trick.  Maybe it’s rabbit
time.  Sally is out of the room tonight, I can finally have some “me”
time.

I stagger as I exit the elevator, searching for my key in the black hole
that is my purse. 
The last martini was a whopper
.  As I reach
the door, I finally fish my key chain out of a side pocket, muttering,
“Eureka.”

“Hey, darlin’,” Tommy murmurs in a slow sexy tone.

The sound echoes off the walls and my heart races as the vibrations seem
to travel down my spine. 

I turn to see Tommy leaning against the corner wall, looking hotter than
any guy has a right to.  His blue eyes sparkling, with his mouth crooked
in a grin.  His denim collar brushes against his ebony curls.  His sapphire
eyes grow darker, like a midnight sky devoid of stars. 
Damn him
. 
My eyes drop to see if he’s wearing a belt.  The thick leather strap sends
a blush to my cheeks.  I try not to stare and I end up fidgeting. 
Stroking his beard, he looks bemused.  “Finally find your keys in that big
ass purse of yours?”

“I thought you weren’t coming by,” I whisper, trying not to sound
completely needy.

“Sally sent me a text telling me to get my ass up here.  Said she
was going out and you were all alone.”  He steps closer to me.  His
smile brightens enough to get his dimples to come out and play.  His low
sultry voice growls, “I figured you could have your fill of using me for sex
tonight, and in return, I get to spend Saturday showing you Austin and talking
to you.  I want to get to know you.  You.”

My keys jingle, the only sound in the quiet hall.  I smile, swaying
and struggling to find my dorm key on my massive key ring, the heat etching up
my face. 

Lifting his thumb up to stroke my lips, his eyes hold mine as he says,
“I’m serious, Amber.  Saturday is for talking.  Tonight can be for
fucking your brains out, but tomorrow, I get you, and you talk, real talk, like
when we were in the music store.  Not the joking around and sarcasm where
you blow off my questions.  I’m not interested in keeping it casual. 
I don’t do casual.  I do real.  Ok?”

I nod.  
But why?  Can’t we just fuck?  What’s
with all the talking?  I’m really not that interesting.  What if he
realizes that?  Shit, I hate talking about myself.

“Well, I guess you better unlock your door so I can peel you out of that
skirt.”  His hand slides down my back and over my ass as he bends to
nuzzle my neck.  “My whole ride up, I couldn’t stop thinking about you
walking around without panties on.”

I struggle with the distraction and the lock.

“You want some help, darlin’, or should we get started out here?” 
His soft breath heats my skin as I feel his smile against my neck.

I manage to get the door unlocked, and he follows me in, dropping his bag
and jacket on a chair. 
Why does he always make me so nervous? And,
what’s with this need to talk all the time?
“Would you like a drink?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a beer.”  He wonders around the small room,
occasionally watching me putter around.  “Did you have fun tonight?” 

“Yeah.”  I fix a whiskey for myself.

He picks up my picture of Angela and I see him study it from the corner
of my eye.  “Who’s the girl?”

I freeze.  Clearing my throat, I mutter, “old girlfriend,” thankful
that he can’t see my face.  I pick up my drink and his beer and carry our
drinks back to the kitchen table.  He sets the picture down and sits in
one of the chairs.  I place the beer in front of him and take the other
seat.

He looks at me with a mildly insulted look.  I look away out of pure
instinct, uncomfortable with no apparent reason why.  Crossing my legs, I
take a sip of my drink and wonder what the problem is. 

His eyes darken as he orders, “Come here.”

“What?  I’m right here,” I say, sipping from my drink. 
Why
does he look angry?

“No, come here.”  He growls. He pats his leg and says, “Now.”

I take the few steps around the tiny table, standing above him. 
“What?”

He pulls me down onto his lap, encircling his arms around me, drawing me
in for a kiss.  His lips light softly on mine, and become firm and
demanding as he forces my mouth open.  A light moan escapes my lips as his
tongue possesses mine.  My hands weave into his curly hair.  The
curls play softly against my fingers.  My hands move instinctively to the
sides of his face feeling the softness of his beard.  The volume of my
groan surprises me. 
I want this man...for more than a night. 
Geez, I am so fucked.
  My breath comes in rapid pants, eager,
furious.  I have to pull away to get more air.  I look into his eyes,
and I want to get lost in them.  I devour his mouth again in another
kiss.  I need to show him how much I want him.  

A low growl announces his approval. 

Encouraged, my hands move to his shirt buttons.  I touch the round
disks, feeling them with my hands.  My fingers contact metal and discover
they are snaps, not buttons.  Pulling back, my greedy hands poise on his
shirt, and my lips part.  Heat radiates from my eyes as I yank the first
snap open, letting the pop hang in the air, keeping my eyes locked with his. 
Scorching.  Wanting.  As I pull each snap open, the sound vibrates
through the room…through me.  Each snap builds my anticipation,
emphasizing my need, revealing more.  Diving deep into his darkening blue
eyes, I bury myself there.  Bearing my soul the only way I can. 

See me.  Really see me.

I kneel between his legs, kissing my way down his chest, inhaling him,
enjoying his scent, a heady mixture of fresh grass, spring air, and sandalwood
soap.  I pull his shirt open wider, worshipping each muscle, each ripple
with my lips. 

My hands stop at his belt.  I rub my finger along the top of its
hard edge, my body remembering our first night.  Unbuckling it with
gradual soft movements, I look up at him, holding his gaze in mine.  I
unbutton his jeans, letting the teeth of the zipper part one sweet tooth at a
time.  My shameless smile is meant to taunt him. 
Who needs
talking when I can have your dick in my mouth?

“Darlin’, are you trying to make me crazy?”  His eyes darken. 
“I’m ‘bout ready to bend you over this table and fuck you into next
week.” 

Reaching in, I free his cock.  I stop briefly, expecting him to take
control.  My eyes rise, drinking in his body meeting his gaze,
hesitating.  The heat in his eyes pushes me on, not to hold back...for
once. 

My inner beast rears her head, ready to play.  A wicked, lascivious
grin spreads across my eager lips.  Elation and the heat from his cock
make every nerve in my body tingle.  The rush is heady.  The freedom
to be the one in control is making me so hot.  To do to him what he does
so easily to me.  Making him feel like I feel when he looks at me, when he
touches me, it’s too much to let pass. 

My eyes find his, stroking his cock, the hardness is such a turn
on. 
I made him like this, I make him hard.  He wants me
. 
His eyes blaze and dilate as my hand moves up and down.  Watching how his
breathing changes, the dent in his cheek, the hardening of his jaw as his cock
surges.  My body moves only to please him as I try to quiet my
hesitations, and make him feel a fraction of the heat I feel when he touches
me. 

Swirling my tongue over the head, I taste him.  Salty.  My lips
encircle his cock, moving swiftly down his shaft.  Awarded with a light
gasp, I move up and down his dick, enjoying the moans and scattered breathing
ringing in my ears.  My tongue slides along the underside, his skin
heating against my lips as I suck the head.  His hand snakes its way
behind my head, encouraging my movements.  Pulling up, I move my tongue up
and down his shaft, sucking lightly.  I lick down the back, massaging the
fat vein with my tongue, only to plunge his cock into my mouth again, in a
relentless steady rhythm. 

“Darlin’, I won’t last much longer if you keep that up.  Now, get up
here.”

Enjoying my power too much, I ignore his request.   I suck a
bit harder, thrusting his length to the back of my throat and swallowing. 
I work my mouth up and down his cock, reveling in his groans, swimming in the
deliciousness.  My heart roars as my ears ring from the high.  My
juices creep down my crevice.  Pleasing him is making me so hot, craving
more of him.  My pussy aches to feel him.

His growl rises from his throat, announcing his intention.  He pulls
me up, turning me, pushing my hands onto the top of the table.  Yanking my
skirt up, I hear a quick rustle, a rip of foil.  He glides into me,
letting me adjust.  The shock of his entry garners a gasp, followed by an
urgent need.

His whisper is low and carnal.  “You are so wet, darlin’.  I
told you I wouldn’t last much longer.  My turn to torture you.”  With
ferocious strokes, he moves with a hunger.  Fucking me as he
promised…hard.  My pussy accepts all of it, aching for him.

Encircling me in his arms, he kisses and nips my shoulders, sending
shockwaves straight to my clit.  “Oh fuck.  Shit.  Harder.” 

Sinking his hand between my legs, his finger and thumb rub my clit with
every stroke.  His hips thrust in and out, pushing me higher and
higher.  Flesh slapping flesh, my hips meeting every thrust, making me
move like an animal, milking his cock with my pussy.  My mouth gapes open
as my eyes try to focus.  Flying up, up, up.  “Harder.  Don’t
fucking stop.  Fuck!”  My release signaled with a loud moan.

His back straightens as he thrusts one last time into me signaling his
own explosion.  Moving the edges of my top up, exposing my back, he kisses
it tenderly.  “No bra either I see.  Damn, girl.”  His voice
grinds out in a scratchy whisper.  “You are nothing short of pure sin.”

As he pulls out of me, my heart crashes at the loss.  His hand
slides my skirt down and his touch is gone.  My body still at rest on the
table, I turn, “Where are you going?” My voice sounds vulnerable,
childlike. 
My God, Amber, snap out of it.  What’s with the girly
shit?

He’s back in his chair.  His pants zipped with his shirt still open,
the top button of his jeans left undone.  He leans against the back of the
chair, looking sexy and completely fuckable.  Smiling gradually, he says,
“There she is.  That’s the girl from the music store.”  His eyes
shine, delighted.  “Wanna play a game?”  His evil grin is back.

Raising myself up, I turn, intrigued.  Hell, everything he does
intrigues me.

“In your chair,” he directs with a playful grin.  “Need some
distance for this game.”  His mouth curves into a leer.  “Wouldn’t
want to lose control or anything, now would we, darlin’?” 

I circle around to my chair, looking over my shoulder asking, “Way over
here?”

“Sit.”  His eyes twinkle.  “You’ll need a drink for this
game.  Do you want another whiskey or a beer maybe?  You might be
doing some drinking.”  He laughs.  Standing, he walks to the
fridge. 

“What?  Are we going to play quarters or something?”

“Although I am sure you would kick my ass at it, this is a different kind
of game.”

“Ok, beer.” 

He pulls a cold longneck out of the fridge, setting it in front of me and
crosses to the other side of the table.  He smiles a wicked smile and says
in an intentionally casual tone, “It’s well after midnight so it’s Saturday.”

Shit, of course it is.  I didn’t get home until two am.  I
am such a dork. 
Rolling my eyes, I stare at him like a petulant
child.  “What?  So, you want to talk?  What about?”

“And she’s gone again.”  His face undeterred, he continues, “For
every question I ask, you have to answer.  If I get a truthful answer
devoid of bullshit, you get a reward.  If I don’t, you get a punishment
and have to drink.  Same goes for me.”

“I’ll get to punish you?”  A smile curves over my lips gradually as
the myriad of possibilities formulate in my mind. 
This could be
fun.  Payback can be bitch.  Hmmm.

“Yeah. “  He smirks.  “If I seem like I’m not being truthful or
evading a question, you can punish me.”

“But, you’re an open book,” I mutter, looking at my feet already feeling
my bubble pop.  “You say whatever you want.  I’ll never win.”

“The winning’s in the rewards, darlin’, not the punishments.”  His
eyes slide over my body, inching carefully over every curve.  He licks his
lower lip, his eyes heat with a silent promise of delicious rewards.  “Do
you want to go first?”

“Fine.  I’ll go first.” I sit up straighter, leaning in, calling up
all my great poker skills.  “Don’t expect me to go easy on you.” 
Sizing him up, I ask, “How many women have you been with?”

“I’ll have to think on that one.”  He pauses.

“That many?” I ask.   
The man has obviously got mad skills
in the bedroom and he’s hotter than hot…but he has to think about it?
 

“Well, I went through a phase when I first became a musician.”  His
eyes study mine, searching for something, I’m not sure what.  “Hmmm. 
I had one girlfriend through high school, two, no three in college.  When
I became a musician and first moved to Nashville, I got around, had my share of
one-night stands, but that got old real quick.  Since I got back, I’ve
dated one or two ladies.”  His smile surprises me.  I’m taken aback
by its purity and sweetness.  “All told, I would say about forty or
so.  Does that bother you?” he asks, his face impassive, waiting for my
response.

“No.  Not at all, I was curious.  Ever been with any
men?”  I look him straight in the eye. 

“Eh-eh-eh, where’s my reward?”  He wags his finger at me.

Standing and still on my power high, I cross around, taking his face in
my hands, softly kissing his lips, possessing his mouth.   As I pull
away, I give him a tiny wink, snickering, and return to my seat.

“
Okkkaayyy
.  Not the reward I was hoping
for…but, ok.”  He chuckles. “How many girls have you been with?”

My mouth drops open, but I’m not sure why I’m shocked.  I thought I
had mentioned it, but I couldn’t remember.  Once I think about it, I’m
actually relieved.  If he has a problem, it’ll be easier to end this now.
 Better to move on since I’m not entirely sure if the “I don’t share” runs
both ways.  A guy like this gets hit on constantly.  Hell, even Aunt
Patty took a shot.