Stolen Moments (26 page)

“Oh—” I gasped, but then her hand was pressed over my mouth, silencing my cry. I moaned into her palm and arched my back as she fucked me with the fingers of her other hand.

She leaned down until her lips brushed against my earlobe. “Quiet.” Her voice was rough with sleep, her breath warm against my neck. Her hand never stopped moving between my thighs.

I could hear the sound of my own wetness as she thrust in and out of my pussy. When had I gotten so wet? One minute ago, I had been dreaming.

“I need to fuck you.” She withdrew her fingers, dragged the tips up over my labia, then milked my clit for a frantic heartbeat. “I’m going to put my cock inside you and fuck you until you come.”

Even if I’d been able to speak, I wouldn’t have known what to say. I never would have expected this from Jamie. For her to enter me while I was sleeping, to hold her hand over my mouth, to pin me to the bed with her heavy bulk. Never mind that we’d been wanting one another so desperately for a week; I couldn’t have predicted this.

I spread my legs slightly and stared up at her as she pulled back, though I wasn’t sure she could see the desperation in my eyes in the darkness of our bedroom. I wondered what time it was and if everyone else in the house was asleep. I wondered how long she had been touching me.

I mouthed her name into the warm skin against my lips. Her fingers slipped back inside my pussy, and she pounded into me, long, deliberate strokes. I was soaking wet, ready and open, and I wasn’t sure I was even completely awake yet.

Jamie lay down on top of my body and pulled out of me again. Her hand moved between her own legs, and I felt her shifting into position above me. She rested her forehead on the pillow, grunting a little as she guided the head of what I thought felt like my favorite dildo to press against my opening.

“I’m sorry, I woke up and I just needed to fuck you so bad—”

She was pushing into me as she spoke, and her quiet words cut off when I groaned out loud at the penetration. I recognized my favorite cock, the silky firmness of the cyberskin, the maddening ridges that teased at my walls as she slid it home. I was wet, but it was a big cock. Just this side of too big. Exactly how I liked it.

“Does it feel good, baby?” She eased her hips back, then pushed it in again. Slow, firm, unyielding. I wrapped my legs around her waist and closed my eyes as I adjusted to her length.

It felt good, but I knew she wasn’t really expecting me to answer.

“Spread your legs for me,” she mumbled into my ear. “Let me in, baby. That’s my pussy, isn’t it? Let me fuck it.”

I nodded and spread my legs, letting my thighs rest against the mattress. She continued to move inside me, deep, rhythmic thrusts. Her chest was damp against mine, and when I brought my arm up to curl around her shoulder, it was covered in sweat.

She removed her hand from my mouth and planted her palms on either side of my head. Holding her torso inches from mine, she started rocking her hips in earnest. As her speed picked up, so did the strength of her strokes, and soon she was moving the bed beneath us with the intensity of her fucking.

I wondered if we’d woken anyone up yet. I didn’t care enough to stop Jamie’s frantic motion.

Taking her earlier command seriously, I didn’t speak. I moaned, because I knew how much she loved to hear what she did to me with her cock. I gasped, because she was taking my breath away. I whimpered, because somehow Jamie had tapped into one of my favorite fantasies and I’d never seen it coming.

“I couldn’t believe you didn’t wake up when I start fingering your pussy,” Jamie growled close to my face. “You got so wet, but you barely even stirred.”

I brought my other hand up to her shoulder, intent on hugging her, but she lowered her body onto me and wrenched my hands above my head. Lacing her fingers in mine, she held my hands as she continued to fuck me.

For the first time since I’d woken up, she took my mouth in a deep kiss. I cried out into the joining of our lips and at the electric shock of her hard nipples brushing against mine. My pussy tightened around her cock, increasing the friction of her unrelenting thrusts.

Jamie broke our kiss. “I love you, honey.”

I turned my head to the side and bit my lip as she settled into a driving rhythm that hit me in the most perfect spot. A deep, burning pressure began to form low in my belly, and I released a keening moan to let her know not to stop what she was doing.

She bent her head and bit my earlobe gently. “You like being woken up and taken, don’t you?”

I whimpered, then gasped as my pussy contracted around her cock.

“Tell me.” She never stopped moving inside me.

“Yes,” I hissed, desperate to stay quiet. I didn’t want to wake anyone else in the house. “I love it.”

She slammed her pelvis into mine, then ground her hips in a slow circle, mashing into my swollen clit until my toes curled in ecstasy. When her thrusts started again, they were shorter, harder, faster. It didn’t take much before I clamped down on her cock, gritted my teeth, and came with a hoarse cry of pleasure.

Jamie collapsed onto my body, breathing hard. Her skin was slick and hot, and damp tendrils of short hair brushed against my temple as she rested her head on my shoulder. She shivered and released my hands, and I brought them down to press against the firmness of her muscled back.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jamie mumbled. “I just needed you so bad—”

I tugged on her shoulders until she lifted her face and I could drop a gentle kiss on her mouth. “You surprised me,” I said.

“I’ve just missed you so bad.” She planted her hands beside my head again and started kissing her way down my neck, over my chest, across my nipples. “I’m sorry I just took you—”

Threading my fingers through her sweat-soaked hair, I pressed her face to my breast and exhaled as she sucked a nipple into her mouth. “Make it up to me.” My tone made it clear that there was nothing for me to forgive.

She took my nipple between her teeth with a little growl, shaking her head back and forth in a gentle show of aggression. I was surprised to feel the new flood of wetness between my already slick thighs. I arched my back, offering my breasts to her.

Moving to chew on my other nipple, she brought her hand up to squeeze the breast she couldn’t lick, pinching and tugging on the erect peak until I released a noise of pure want. Then, as if she knew exactly what I needed, she kissed her way down over my belly to the damp thatch of hairs that covered my sex.

I spread my legs and tangled my fingers in her short hair. Forcing her face close, I said, “Lick me, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

She lapped at me hungrily, slow at first, drawing it out, then faster, like she couldn’t hold back. I kept my legs open and held her to me with a firm hand on the back of her head. My hips started thrusting without thought and I ground my pussy against her, delighting in the feel of her nose bumping my clit, pushing between my labia. I rode her whole face, using her like she had used me.

Her muffled groans and the sight of her hips pumping against the mattress let me know that she was enjoying being used as much as I had.

“Jamie,” I whispered, then dug my heels into the mattress and raised my bottom, overcome with waves of delicious sensation. Her hands gripped my buttocks and held me tight against her mouth, which covered my clit. She licked in fast circles with the tip of her tongue, drawing every last bit of pleasure from me until I relaxed, boneless, and whimpered for her to stop.

She crawled up the length of my body and kissed me. I pulled back after a moment and cleaned her face with my tongue, enjoying the decadence of tasting myself on her skin. She reciprocated with gentle licks to my lips and chin, and when we were done, she collapsed onto the mattress at my side.

“Think you can sleep now?” I asked.

Jamie reached out and snagged me with a strong arm, pulling my naked body close. “I’m sure of it.”

Loneliness plagues me, spreading through me like cancer, eating away my insides, filling me with darkness. She’s been gone for weeks now, and I’m unable to shake her from my thoughts. She’s with me every aching second of my existence, no matter how hard I try to push her away. My hand trembles as I reach up to rub at my watering, exhausted eyes. Beyond me, her picture comes into focus through my blurry vision. She’s smiling at me from within an expensive oak frame upon my desk, luring me with her hypnotic eyes. My poor heart leaps at the sight of her, still greatly affected by all that she is, all that we shared. Looking away, I shudder, feeling the pain rock through me in devastating waves. I know I should remove the picture, or at the very least turn it face down, but I can’t yet bring myself to touch it; my mind still is not ready to accept her absence.

I glance out the window and study the rhythm of the blowing trees and wonder for the millionth time whether or not I will survive her leaving. Expecting the weather to coincide with my dreary mood, I’m surprised to find the day to be crisp, bright, and breezy. A beautiful mild December day in the desert Southwest, the high sure to top out in the mid to high sixties.

My office is busy, my heart broken, and my coffee cold. Sighing, I run a frustrated hand through my short dark hair and yawn with fatigue. Grimacing at my Starbucks cup, I suddenly feel alive with purpose and walk briskly out of my office, winding my way to the countertop nestled in the busy hallway. Much to my dismay, I realize the coffeepot in front of me is empty and my secretary nowhere to be found. Around me, I hear my patients clutter and cough in my waiting room while my staff scurries about answering phones, taking blood pressures, charting the course of human existence.

Damn it. I’m so tired from weeks of little to no sleep, so strung out from the dull ache in my gut from all those lonely nights. All I want is a fresh cup of coffee, liquid life to help see me through yet another dark day.

I turn and face the small walkway of my private practice, shoving my hand down into my chinos. I sip the cold coffee and cringe, thankful it’s finally Friday. Maybe the weekend will grant me the graces of sleep, or at least a numbing of some of my pain.

“What are you doing?” A loud voice startles me from my depressed trance. “You’ve been behind all morning!” My busty, middle-aged secretary appears from around the corner, smacking me on the arm as she hurries by. Patti is plump and hyper, her face shiny and alive with an abundance of liquid make-up.

Swallowing against my tight throat, I force myself to sound human. “I’m caught up now. And hey, there’s no coffee!” I call after her, holding up my cup, a painful smile cracking my heavy-feeling face.

“Tough titties. Now get a move on.” She turns midstride and gives me a wink, fingering her oversized turquoise necklace as she makes her way back out to the front desk. Sighing once again, I toss the cup from my dawn trip to the local coffeehouse and approach an examining-room door. I pull down the chart and flip through it, going through the motions of my everyday routine, trying desperately not to think about life, about love, about her. With a little relief, I relax, recognizing the patient as one of my snowbirds. The winter months bring me hundreds of senior citizens, all of them desperate to escape the cold, brutal weather of their home states.

I open the door with a smile, determined to do my job the best I know how.

“Frank, good to see you.” I cross the small room and take his hand warmly in mine, noting its roughness from years of hard labor outdoors.

“So how’s Bangor?”

“That’s Bang-or,” he corrects as I approach. “Not Bang-er. If you say it like that, people will know you’re from away.”

“Away?”

“Yeah, you know. Not a Mainer.”

“Oh.” I smile and fold my arms over my chest. “Well, when I visit you one of these summers, I’ll keep that in mind.” My smile slowly fades as I think of vacationing alone. Again the dark loneliness spreads through me, chilling me. As if Frank can feel the cold deadness seeping from within me, he squirms a little on the examining table, crinkling the stiff white paper underneath him. He studies me in silence, his face ashen, his hands nervous. Not wanting him to remain uncomfortable, I speak, my voice heavy and thick with strain. “So tell me, Frank, what can I do for you?”

He clears his throat apprehensively and looks at the thick, weathered skin of his hands. “I, uh…well, it’s hard to put into words, Doc.” He speaks softly and slowly, his voice lacking confidence. I stand very still, shoving my hands down in my pockets as I nod my head, encouraging him to continue. He does so tentatively. “I’m a very private person, as you know. And…it’s just, well, I’ve been having some trouble in the, you know, bedroom.” The last word is merely a whisper and he glances up at me and then looks away again quickly.

Sensing his embarrassment and feeling great empathy for his situation, I stand and make a quick note in his chart. Then, with a warm smile, I turn and give him a friendly pat on the knee with his file. “Relax. I understand.” He looks up at me through the heavy lenses of his eyeglasses.

“You do?”

“Sure. With all the patients I see, don’t you think I’ve heard it all before?” I continue to smile at him while I run through the pertinent medical history and examine him for any physical causes that might affect his performance. Satisfied that his overall health is good, I reach in my back pocket and pull out my prescription pad.