Let Me Count The Ways (5 page)

“Take them off.”

Half closed eyes glittered darkly. Mike’s fingers, still tight on my flesh but unmoving now, seemed hot enough to almost sear my skin.

The look on his face set my heart racing. I had to swallow hard before I could add a whispered, “please,” to my request.

“All right,” he muttered as he released me. “Just give me a minute. And don’t move.”

Don’t move? What’s that about?
Curious, I widened my stance a little, clasped my hands behind my back and waited.

As I watched, Mike struggled to unbutton his shirt and then remove his cufflinks. His chest was broad and lightly furred. He was more muscular than I’d expected, thick and solid around the middle. Not fat, as I’d first thought, but without either the burnished, bronze skin or six-pack abs I’d grown so used to after dating younger men. He caught me looking and averted his eyes from my face. I’d swear he was blushing. I bit back a smile as he began to swear softly at the cufflink that was giving him so much trouble.

Finally, he prevailed over the recalcitrant bit of metal. Sighing with relief, Mike peeled off his shirt. Then he tossed it and the cufflinks on top of his dresser and grabbed hold of my arm.

“Wait,” I protested as he all but dragged me across the room. “What are you doing?”

He glanced at me quizzically. “What do you mean, ‘what am I doing’? I’m getting undressed. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Surprised, I nodded.

“All right then.” He dropped my arm when I was about a foot from the bed. “So, just... just... ah, shit. Just stand there, okay? Right where I can see you.”

Ahh
. I felt my eyebrows rise as the implication hit home.
I get it now. He likes to watch
. “Okay, Mike, sure. Whatever you say.”

Nodding, Mike sat down on the bed and began to remove his shoes.

“So, what is it you want to see?” Smiling archly, I slid one hand down over my belly, playfully covering my mound, while my other hand lightly cupped one breast. “Do you want to watch me touch myself? Or would you rather have me strip for you?”

For an instant, Mike’s mouth gaped open. Then he shook his head, chuckling softly. “What a question. I dunno, both maybe? But later, okay?” He removed his other shoe muttering, “Oh, man, I do not
believe
this is happening.” Then he looked at me and added a hopeful, “I know, could you maybe lose the bra?”

“I could,” I purred, as I slowly slipped the straps off my shoulders. I reached behind me to release the catch and then whipped the bra away from my chest, striking a pose with my legs apart and one hand on my hip. The other arm, the one holding the bra, I held out to the side at shoulder height. Lace dangled from my finger tips. A smile lingered on my lips. “Better?”

Mike nodded. “Come here.”

Dropping the garment to the floor, I cat-walked over to where he sat. He reached for my waist and pulled me closer, until I was standing trapped between his legs, the fronts of my thighs nearly brushing against the bulge in his trousers.

“God, they’re even more beautiful in person,” he murmured, his gaze riveted on my breasts; dusky, distended nipples poking straight at his face. A shudder of apprehension rippled through me, one that owed nothing to his gaze.

It had been quite a while since I’d bared my breasts for the camera. I’d thought, or hoped, that most of those pictures had gotten lost in the intervening years. Once again I found myself wondering how much Mike had seen. And when. And where. But then he ran the fingers of one hand almost reverently across the swollen tips, causing them to harden even more, and I stopped thinking, stopped caring, stopped worrying. For now.

Mike’s eyes shifted upwards to lock with mine. “You’re so beautiful. More beautiful than I’d ever dreamed.”

And you’re sooo scoring points with that,
I thought, smiling encouragingly. “Don’t stop.”

“Never.”

There’s a type of gentleness that comes from weakness, from hesitancy or uncertainty, or even disinterest. But, there’s another type that speaks of quiet strength, control, authority, of banked fires held deliberately in check. Mike’s touch was definitely the second type. He stroked my flesh with slow certainty, first with his fingers, then with his tongue. The soft, teasing touches soon put me right back on the edge of orgasm and left me moaning. “More. Now.”

“Shhh,” Mike hushed, pausing to lave the tip of one nipple with his tongue. “This is much too good to hurry.” It was clear that he intended to thoroughly enjoy himself--no matter how long it took.

I know I’d said that’s what I wanted as well; to take things slow, to prolong this as much as possible, but I’ve always had extraordinarily sensitive nipples and the sensations his gentle touch was eliciting were zinging straight to my groin with the speed of a falling elevator. I could feel my labia swelling, throbbing, aching for relief. Enough was enough.

Grabbing Mike’s head between my hands, I forced his face upward, lowered my mouth to his and kissed him. Then I was straddling his lap, and grinding my damp crotch against his erection.

Groaning, Mike fell backward onto the bed, palming my breasts in his hands, kissing me back, seemingly acquiescent for maybe half a minute. Then, without warning, he rolled and I was beneath him, wrists pinned to the bed on either side of my head.

Flat on my back, I stared up into his face.

Mike’s eyes were fierce in the low light. “You’re friggin’ killing me here. I’m gonna have to fuck you right the hell now. Is that what you want?”

I gasped, surprised by his words, still surprised to find myself suddenly helpless, at his mercy. I was almost dizzy with all the lust the scene was evoking. “Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”

“Fine.” Letting go of one of my wrists, Mike unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. Here too, he was more solid than I’d expected. Not overly large, but thick and hard and definitely ready. “Then that’s just what you’re gonna get.”

“Yes.” I licked my lips, already imagining how good that cock was going to feel thrusting against the walls of my pussy, filling me, stretching me.

“Ah, shit,” Mike groaned as his penis jerked once, twice, three times; like an overeager race horse kicking at the gate. And, each kick caused an answering throb deep inside me. “I don’t believe this. I’m about ready to go off in your face.”

“Well, if that’s what you want...”
Mmm. Yum
. Mouth watering at the thought, I was about ready to start begging for a taste.

“No.” Mike closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around his shaft. He looked as though he were trying to will himself calm. I wriggled impatiently.
Let’s go already!
After a moment he sighed, opened his eyes, released his cock, and reached toward the night table.

“What now?” I moaned fretfully. Good lord, what was taking so long?

“Condom,” he rasped in reply, fingers scrabbling for the drawer handle.

I shook my head. “Don’t bother. IUD. We’re good.”

With his hand in mid-reach, Mike froze. He gazed at me inquiringly. “We are?”

“I’m okay if you are,” I told him.

He nodded. “I’m okay.” Then he hooked a finger into the crotch of my panties and pulled them aside. “So sweet,” he murmured, flexing his hips until the tip of his cock nudged my pussy. His hand re-captured my wrists as he pushed forward slowly, stretching and filling me, until he’d seated himself fully inside me. “So fucking sweet.”

“Mmm,” I answered, head thrashing from side to side. “Mmm--more. More.”

“You got it,” he growled, leaning down to kiss my lips once, harshly, briefly, and then he was pounding into me hard, fast, unstoppable. “Open up. Let me in and I’ll give you all you want.”

I planted my heels on the bed, spread my thighs wider, canted my hips upwards and that was all it took. Mike’s next stroke hit my sweet spot so perfectly that I came right then bucking beneath him, again and again. The muscles of my vagina spasmed as they tried to close around his cock; squeezing tighter, tighter, tighter.

“No, damn it,” Mike gritted through clenched teeth. “Not. Yet. Shit!” His fingers tightened on my wrists as he came; hot cum spurting high inside me while the aftershocks rocked us both.

In the next instant, he’d rolled off of me to lie on his back. His expression was strained as he gazed at the ceiling. He appeared to be in shock. Then he turned his head to look at me. We stared at each other in silence until I’d gathered the strength to move. Finally, smiling weakly, I slid my hand the couple of inches necessary to stroke his cheek. “Nice one,” I murmured.

He turned his head a tiny bit more--enough so that my fingers grazed his lips. Softly, he kissed each one. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Yeah.” I smiled wider. “Tired.” Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away so I could cover my own mouth as I yawned. “I’m really tired.” There’d been a time when I’d have been insulted if a man had behaved as I was doing now--pleading exhaustion after just one screw--but tonight, the shoe was on the other foot. I’d just had what was possibly the best quickie of my life, and I was content. All I wanted was a soft bed, sound sleep and a warm body to curl up against.

I didn’t even want to muster up the energy to finish undressing. I just kicked off my shoes rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d take the hint, roll up next to me and--

“What’re you doing?” he asked instead, sounding vaguely alarmed.

“Resting,” I murmured.
God, I hope he’s not gonna turn all chatty on me now.

“Oh. Good idea.” Levering himself up on his elbow, Mike dropped a kiss on my shoulder and got out of bed. “You rest for a minute. I’ll be back.”

“Yes, Governor. Whatever you say.” A minute? Ha! A minute wasn’t gonna begin to cover it, not that it mattered. I didn’t know where he was going, but I knew exactly where I’d be by the time he got back: fast asleep and out for the count.

Mike

I tucked my dick back into my trousers, tugged up the zipper, then turned again to look at Claire. She looked stunningly sexy lying there mostly naked and mostly asleep. Much as I hated losing the view, I hated the thought of her getting cold while I was gone even more. I took a spare comforter from the closet and tossed it over her before heading to the kitchen.

I was feeling both elated and appalled and I was having a hard time coming to terms with the evening’s events. I’d just fucked Claire Calhoun. The thought made me wince, even as it put a great big smile on my face. This was
Claire
, for God’s sake, and part of me was embarrassed to even think anything so crude. But, facts were facts, and it was a little late in the game to start sugar-coating the situation. Having just exhibited all the control and staying power of an over-eager teenager, combined with the courtesy and finesse of a drunken goat, I could hardly claim to have made love to her.

No, I’d fucked her, sure enough, and probably myself, as well. Now, I could only hope she really
was
too drunk to remember what had gone on here tonight. Maybe, if she slept it off for a little while, I could find a way to redeem myself.

What are you worrying for?
my imaginary Claire asked in soothing tones, as she followed me into the kitchen, wearing the same diaphanous gown she’d worn in
Love of a Werewolf--
before it was torn to shreds by the pack.
You’ll fix things. Don’t you always?

“This is different,” I muttered, carefully placing half a dozen river rocks into a pot of water and putting it on the stove to boil. Reality was, predictably enough, proving to be a good deal trickier to manage than any fantasy. Which is not to suggest I was feeling at all let down. Far from it. Not even my hottest dreams had been
this
hot.

Tell me that,
phantom Claire suggested, drifting closer
. Maybe I’ll be flattered to know how much you’ve thought about this, how often you’ve fantasized about being with me.

“Maybe.” Or maybe not--depending on how awkwardly I blurted it out. I could end up sounding like a dangerously perverted stalker and, this time, she probably
would
run for the door.

Michael,
my dream woman cooed reproachfully.
Run? From you? How could you think it? You know I want you. Could I have been any more obvious about it?

I sighed. Claire had been obvious, all right. She’d been up-front, forthright and honest but I’d be feeling a lot more confident if I had even the faintest idea what it was all about.
Why me? Why tonight? How did I get so lucky, all of a sudden?

But maybe her original reasons didn’t even apply anymore. After experiencing my underwhelming charm firsthand, would she want me again? Would
any
woman choose such a crude and inconsiderate lover, especially when she could have her pick of pretty much anyone she wanted?

Make me want you again
, my fantasy urged in a hopeful voice as I turned the heat off on the stove, slid two oven mitts on my hands and picked up the steaming pot.
Show me how much better you can be. You can do that, can’t you, Mike?

I could only hope.

Back in the bedroom, Claire was snoring softly--not something I would have expected of her. What was even more surprising, however, was the fact that I found it charming. It made her seem that much more human, that much more
real
. I put the pot down on the floor near the bed and then hung up her dress and her bra before gathering the rest of what I’d need from the bathroom. When I was ready, I stripped out of my pants and pulled the covers away from her.

Her shoes were still on the bed, I grabbed them and set them on the floor in front of the night table. I sat down beside her and slipped my fingers into the top of one of her stockings, at the front of her thigh, and released the first clip.

Claire stirred. Her eyes slitted open and she turned her head to look at me. “Hi,” she murmured sleepily. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to get the rest of these clothes off you.”