Wallbanger (51 page)

“Forget something today?” he asked, turning so I could see inside: stripped bed, no sheets.

“Damn, I forgot to put the sheets in the dryer. They’ll still be soaked!” I grumbled.

“Problem solved. Slumber party at Simon’s,” he announced, pulling open my lingerie drawer. “Pick a nightie, any nightie.”

“You want to stay at your place tonight?”

“Yeah, why not? We’ve been sleeping here since we got back from Spain. My bed’s lonely.” He ruffled through piles of lace and peekaboo.

Hmm, his bed was probably lonelier that it had ever been before.

“So, pick one.” He gave my ass another slap.

“Eh, you pick out something you like. I’ll model it for you.” I grinned, talking myself into this. Come on, I could certainly spend the night in his bed. Could be fun. I saw a familiar something pink and lacy make its way under his arm, and then we were off across the hallway. I managed to kick his door on the way in, something pretty hard to do while upside down.

Once more, I found myself in a bathroom, putting on lingerie for Simon. He really liked everything I wore. Whether it was actual lingerie or one of his old shirts, he didn’t seem to care. And it was rarely on for very long.

Without meaning to, I thought of all the women who’d come before me, all the women he’d enjoyed and had enjoyed him. But I was here now, and I was who he wanted. I smoothed the silk over my body with a deep breath, my skin already beginning to tingle in anticipation of his hands.

I heard him messing about with his record player—the telltale crackle and pop of needle on vinyl such a comforting sound.

Glenn Miller. “Moonlight Serenade.” Sigh.

I opened the door, and there he was. Standing by the giant Wallbanger bed of sin. His slow grin overtook me, and he looked me up and down.

“You look good,” he murmured as I walked in.

“You too.”

“I’m wearing the same clothes I was wearing earlier, Caroline.”

He smirked as I encircled his neck with my arms. His fingertips dragged up and down my arms, tickling the inside of my elbow.

“I know,” I replied, placing a wet kiss under his ear. “You looked good then, and you look good now.”

“Lemme get a better look at you,” he whispered, responding with his own wet kiss at the base of my throat. I shivered. The room wasn’t at all cold.

He spun me out, as if on a dance floor, and held me at arm’s length for just a moment. The pink nightie, his favorite. He’d neglected to bring the matching panties, and I neglected to notice. He spun me back into him, and I immediately began to work the buttons on his shirt.

“Quite a night tonight,” he remarked.

Two buttons down.

“You’re telling me. I can’t believe those two were matchmaking from the very beginning! Although I don’t think they can take credit for the other two couples. That was all us.”

“Who knew love was in the air when you banged on my door?”

Another button down.

“Luckily, you were so taken by my charms, it was inevitable.”

“It was the nightie, Caroline. It was the nightie that did me in. The charms were a bonus. I had no idea I’d be getting a girlfriend out of the deal.”

Shirt untucked and on its way off.

“Really? And here I thought we were just messing around!” I giggled, scrambling to get his belt buckle poked through.

“Well, then, here’s to messing around with my girlfriend!” Belt buckle undone, jean buttons popped. Thank goodness for the old-fashioned button fly. He picked me up, by my naked bottom I might add, and walked me to the bed as I pushed his shirt off. It hung from him by the sleeves.

“I like the sound of that,” I whispered in his ear as he laid me down on the bed.

Hovering over me, placing kisses across my chest, he kept saying the word over and over again. Girlfriend, then kiss. Girlfriend, girlfriend, then kiss.

“Did you know Mimi and Neil are thinking about moving in together? Isn’t that a little soon? I hope they know what they’re getting into,” I reported, arching up to meet his kisses.

“I know what I’m getting in to.”

“What’s that?”

“You, silly,” he said, and I heard the blessed sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor. “I’m only concerned with our happy ending. Or two, or three even. Drank that ginseng tea you left me this morning—watch out.” He chuckled, lifting one of my legs on to his shoulder and kissing a path down the inside of my calf.

“Happy ending, huh?”

“Don’t you think we’ve earned it?” he asked, kneeling now, lips trailing along the top of my thigh as I panted.

“Oh, hell, yes,” I laughed, throwing my arms over my head and arching up to meet him. Hello, O! Nice to see you again. With his lips, he brought me one. With his tongue, he brought me another. And when he slid into me and pushed me high up on to the bed, I almost had another on contact.

Clothes now discarded, skin on sweaty skin, my legs wrapped solidly around his hips, which pushed against mine. His eyes burned as I felt every inch of him. Inside. Outside. All around the town.

“Oh, God,” I moaned. And then I heard it.

Thump.

“Oh, God,” I moaned again.

Thump thump.

I giggled at the sound. We were banging.

He looked down at me, raising one eyebrow. “Something funny?” he asked, pausing his movements. He pushed back into me slowly, very, very slowly.

“We’re banging the walls.” I giggled again, watching his eyes change as he registered my giggling.

“We sure are,” he admitted, chuckling a little as well. “You okay?”

I wrapped my legs even tighter around his waist, making sure I was as close to him as I could be. “Bring it on home, Wallbanger.” I winked, and he complied.

I was being driven up the bed with the strength of his thrusts. He drove into me with unflinching force, giving me exactly what I could take, then pushing me just past that edge. He stared down at me, hard, flashing that knowing smirk. I closed my eyes, letting myself feel how deeply I was being affected. And by deep, I mean deep…

He grasped my hands and brought them above my head to the headboard.

“You’re gonna wanna hold on for this,” he whispered and threw one of my legs up over his shoulder as he altered his hips.

“Simon!” I shrieked, feeling my body begin to spasm. His eyes, those damnable blue eyes, bore into mine as I shook around him.

He called out my name, and no one else’s.

A little while later, almost asleep, I felt the mattress dip as Simon left the bed. Hearing him flip over the record, I snuggled deeper into the pillow. My body was deliciously tired, having been worked to within an inch of total exhaustion. We banged that wall, yes indeed. I owned both sides of that wall now.

I heard him bumble down the hall and half wondered what he was up to. Thinking in that tired, half-awake way that he must be getting some water, I slipped back down to sleep.

A few moments later I was awoken by his arms sliding around me, pulling me against his warm body. He kissed me on my neck, then cheek, then forehead as he got settled. Then I heard…purring?

“What’s that?” I asked, looking around.

“I thought he might be lonely,” Simon admitted sheepishly. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Simon, and then Clive. Simon had gone over to get him. Clive was purring very loudly, quite pleased with all the attention he’d been receiving lately. He poked his nose in to me and settled into the nook between us.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, rolling my eyes at the two of them.

“Are you that surprised? You know much I love pussy,” Simon deadpanned. Then his silent laughter shook the bed.

“You’re very lucky I love you,” I added, letting his arms hold me tight.

“I’ll say.”

And then, as the laughter faded and sleep took hold, I pondered what the future might hold for me and my Wallbanger.

I knew it wouldn’t always be this easy. But it sure as hell would be a good time.

A
ll was quiet as I set out on patrol, making sure the perimeter was secure. I padded through my new territory, taking notice of any loose Q-Tips. They would need to be dealt with if unruly. If allowed to run unchecked, they would multiply. I’d seen it happen.

I came upon a curious shelf with nothing but glass bottles on it. I batted at one, watching as it fell to the floor. I would have to come back to this location, but for now I had rounds.

Checking the view from the front window, I saw that I could retain control of my neighborhood from this vantage point. I scouted a possible napping station in another window with southern exposure, then stopped for a stare-off with an owl outside. Neither of us gave in willingly, and it was another fifteen minutes before I continued on to check on my people. They had finally quieted down after several rounds of caterwauling. Honestly.

The Feeder was, predictably, taking up most of the sleeping quarters. The Tall One, aptly named because he was taller than The Feeder, was making that noise again—the noise I simply could not tolerate. The Feeder was beginning to toss and turn. She was not sleeping soundly. Without enough sleep, she would be unlikely to play with me the following evening, so this situation would have to be remedied. She did seem to enjoy our games, so I would once more take matters into my own paws.

Jumping from the floor to the bed with a natural grace—a grace that was not fully appreciated by my people, I felt—I navigated my way through knees and legs, arms and elbows, until I reached the pinnacle and came to rest just beneath his chin. Stretching out one paw, I placed it over his breathing holes, stopping the noise momentarily. The Tall One brushed away my effort, although once he rolled onto his side, the noise stopped. He curled in to himself, in the one corner The Feeder had allowed him. As he had done so, I remained standing, doing my best log-rolling impression and maintaining perfect balance. Again, my people just didn’t get it.

Settling into the nook between them, I rested. Our home was secure, and I now watched over The Feeder and The Tall One, so I allowed myself to dream. Of her. The one that got away
…

Acknowledgments

There are so many people I have to thank for helping me bring this story back out there. To Lauren, who edited this from the very beginning and always told me when I was getting it right. To Sarah M Glover for her San Francisco insight and her insistence that I do have a voice and I should be encouraged to use it. To Elizabeth for allowing me to be crazy. To Brittany and Angie for recognizing that I was one of them and allowing me to play with the curvy girls. To Deb for being the best dirty cheerleader on the planet. To my real life mentors, Staci and Janet, upon whom the character of Jillian is entirely based. To the fantastic Banger Nation, those wonderful ladies who were there from the very first chapter and enjoyed the ridiculous with me. To the Filets for their support in the wee hours and their constant gut checks. To all of the wonderful readers and friends on Twitter who make it a pleasure to communicate in 140 characters. To authors like Laura Kaye, Ruthie Knox, Jennifer Probst, Michelle Leighton, Tiffany Reisz, Karen Marie Moning, and Jennifer Crusie for writing some of my favorite stories of all time. I have always been a reader first and a writer second, and nothing makes me happier than telling a friend about a great book I just finished and can’t stop thinking about.