Caress Part One (Arcadia) (6 page)

I walked home from the office. Half-way there, it started to
rain, not heavily but enough so that by the time I stepped into the apartment,
my hair was plastered to my head and I needed to get into dry clothes.

I stopped short when I saw Emma. In the little blue skirt
and soft white sweater she was wearing, she looked good enough to eat. The
cliché, popping into my head, made me smile.

What she thought at that moment I couldn’t begin to guess. I
was dripping wet, staring at her like a starving man, and grinning like a loon.
It was a wonder she didn’t turn tail and run.

Instead, she looked me up and down slowly enough to make my
cock harden even further. Softly, she said, “I’ll get you a towel.”

Good to her word, she was back with one moments later. As I
took it, I said, “It’s raining outside.”

As opposed to where, inside? Damn, I was really losing it.

“I thought it might be,” she said with just the right note
of humor, more teasing than mocking.

Rubbing at my hair with the towel, I realized that I was
still staring at her. Getting a grip on myself, finally, I said, “How’s the
work going?”

That was the best I could do, seriously? She’d been opening
up to me a little lately, actually talking about her family and giving me a
glimpse of what her life had been like both before and after it all imploded.

But the question didn’t seem to faze her. Instead, she said,
“It’s going really well. I was just about to watch one of Margo’s movies.” A
little shyly, she added, “Do you think you might like to join me?”

She looked so sweetly uncertain, as though she really
thought that I might have something better to do.

I did, like run in the opposite direction. But I reminded
myself that I needed to gain her trust if I was to have any hope of discovering
what she knew about her father.

I’d been making progress; she was definitely more relaxed
around me. Watching a movie together might help even more.

At least, that’s how I rationalized jumping at the chance to
spend time with her in the dark.

 “Just give me a few minutes to get into something dry,
okay?”

“Sure, whenever--”

Enjoying her look of surprise, I headed for the master
bedroom. First thing, I made a quick call. A few minutes later, just as I
finished changing into jeans and T-shirt, the doorbell ring.

People say you can get anything delivered in New York. I
don’t know that to be literally true although I’ve tested the limits a time or
two. But a well-connected doorman can definitely get popcorn and soda at a
moment’s notice.

The young guy who brought them over grinned when he saw the
tip I handed him. He took off whistling as I went in search of Emma.

She was waiting for me in the screening room next to the
library. I’d poked my head in there my first day in the apartment but I hadn’t
appreciated how large and well set up it was. Twenty or thirty people could
have gathered there and not felt crowded.

With just the two of us, it was like having a movie theatre
all to ourselves.

 “What’s all that?” she asked as she saw what I was
carrying.

“You arranged the movie,” I said. “The least I could do was
bring the soda and popcorn.”

She laughed as I set them down along with the glasses and
ice that I’d snagged in the kitchen out of a metal ice tray with a lever that
popped the cubes out. Her pleasure in what was really just a small gesture
pleased me more than I wanted to think about.

“So what’s the movie?” I asked as I flopped down on a couch
and tore open the bag of popcorn. It wasn’t fresh from the microwave but it
smelled good all the same.

“The Lady is a Flirt,” Emma said as she dimmed the lights
and started the projector. “It was Margo’s big break. It made her a star.”

As she sat down beside me, I offered her the bag. She took a
handful of popcorn and the credits rolled.

They went on for some time, long enough for me to become
acutely aware of her, the warmth of her skin, the soft rise and fall of her
breath, the sweetness of her scent mingling with the buttery salt aroma of the
popcorn and the hint of caramel from the soda. I couldn’t help wondering why
all my senses felt more alive when I was with her.

The movie was one of those frothy romantic comedies that the
studios churned out by the hundreds all through the 1950s. It had something to
do with a houseboat, a floppy-eared dog, and a clean-cut guy who was wildly but
respectfully in love with a blond bombshell.

It probably would have been as forgettable as most of the
rest of its kind if not for Margo’s performance. She was gorgeous, of course,
but she also came across as warm, genuine, and filled with life. It didn’t hurt
that the camera loved her but I could see why audiences had, too.

I could also understand why Emma found her so puzzling. Even
allowing for the fact that Margo had been an actress, I couldn’t reconcile the
woman on the screen with the decades-long recluse she was to become.

But I didn’t spend all that much time thinking about it. I
was a whole lot more interested in Emma herself. Maybe it was the setting or
more likely the fact that she made me feel like a randy teenager, but finally I
gave into temptation and stretched out an arm, putting it around her shoulders
to draw her closer.

She stiffened in surprise but she didn’t object and after a
few moments, she softened against me.

I told myself that I just wanted her to feel comfortable but
the truth was otherwise. Had the simple act of touching a woman ever excited me
so much?

Emma laughed softly at something that was happening on the
screen and I savored the sound. It made me feel…happy.

I didn’t know what to make of that so I didn’t try. Sitting
there in the darkness of the screening room, bathed in the silver glow of a
vanished world, reality faded away. There was just the two of us, together.

I don’t honestly know which of us moved first. It might have
been her, it could have been me. Between one breath and the next, our mouths
met.

She made a soft murmur of acceptance and melted, opening for
me so willingly and generously that I groaned and pulled her even closer.

I wanted so badly to taste her but who was I kidding? What I
really wanted more than anything was to stake my claim, to make sure that she
knew what it would be like for us to be together even if we never were.

When the tip of her tongue touched mine tentatively, I
thought I was going to lose it. How the hell did she do this to me? I’d be
willing to bet that she didn’t have a clue, which made her at once even more seductive
and more than a little scary.

If she could affect me like this when she wasn’t trying,
what would happen if she ever did?

Damn, I wanted to find out.

Even more, I wanted her to want me with the same hot,
driving hunger that was threatening to consume me.

But it was only a kiss and every instinct I possessed told
me not to make it into anything more. There was something about her--a mixture
of courage and vulnerability--that stirred an unaccustomed sense of
protectiveness in me.

Not that I thought she was weak in any way, not at all. I
just didn’t want to hurt her, or let anyone else do so either.

None of which changed the fact that I wanted to stretch her
out on that couch and fuck her until we were both senseless.

Tongue kissing her was great but it really only served to
remind me how much more seriously I’d like to be thrusting into her. Meanwhile,
the breathy little gasps coming from her couldn’t have been better designed to
undermine my fast-fading control.

“Christ, you’re sweet,” I murmured, breaking off the kiss
only to trail my mouth down her throat. I could feel the pulse beating there,
fast and ragged. Knowing that she was as affected as I was spurred me on.

I had to stop but just about then I remembered that she was
wearing a skirt. A little tug and she was on my lap, straddling me. My cock was
standing at attention, trying to punch a hole through my jeans. Emma shifted a
little against me and a bolt of pleasure shot straight up my spine.

Oh, damn, I couldn’t stop myself. Reaching under her skirt,
I squeezed her ass cheeks even as my teeth dragged down the edge of her fluffy
little sweater. Under it was a lacy scrap of a bra. She smelled so good--like
sunlight and honeysuckle--and her skin was so soft. I felt as though I was
drowning in her.

Her nipples were hard, just begging for my mouth. I ran my
tongue over each first, circling the little nubs. She cried out and her head
fell back.

Fuck, she was responsive! Giving into unbearable temptation,
I sucked a nipple into my mouth at the same time I eased a finger under her
panties. Her cunt was slick and hot with her arousal. Still sucking, I teased
her clit, letting my finger circle round and round the little bundle of nerves
as it swelled even further.

“Lucas!” Her voice was breathy with need and the keen edge
of desperation.

I knew exactly how she felt. If I didn’t bury myself deep
inside her soon--

“Easy, baby,” I muttered, forgetting about everything else.
“This is going to be so good.”

I was going to make damn sure that it was even if it killed
me. Which going by the state of my cock just might be an option. I didn’t think
it was actually possible to break your cock but if it stayed stuffed in my
jeans much longer, it was definitely going to have a bad sprain.

Wincing at the thought, I fumbled for my zipper.

The screen suddenly went white as the movie ended. Abruptly,
the only sounds in the room were the rat-a-tat fluttering of the film as the
reel continued to spin and our own labored breathing.

Emma stiffened. She stared down at me, her eyes so dilated
as to be almost black. Her cheeks turned bright red and not for a good reason
like an impending orgasm.

“What are we…?” she murmured. “Oh, god…”

I sat up slowly, still holding her, although I did have enough
sense to remove my hand from her pussy. That was about the extent of how much I
was able to think.

The speed with which what had started as a simple kiss had
exploded into practically fucking her stunned me. I couldn’t remember the last
time I had come so close to losing all control.

Not that I was remotely in control at that point. How could
I be when Emma was still on my lap, her glorious blond hair loose and tumbling
around her face, her lips glistening and swollen, and the top of her sweater
pulled down, revealing her hardened nipples under the lacy cups of her bra wet
from my sucking.

Belatedly, I realized that I was still palming her ass.

Slowly, I let go. We stared at each other as she got off me
and stood up, wobbling a little until she got her balance. Quickly, she
adjusted her sweater and smoothed down her skirt. The little pink tip of her
tongue darted out to touch those gorgeous lips.

“Lucas…I…”

Her voice was breathy. She looked as stunned as I felt.

“We shouldn’t…” she said, then broke off as her gaze fell on
my crotch. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but her eyes widened even
further.

I shifted as best I could but there wasn’t a whole lot I
could do to conceal my mammoth hard-on. Fact was, it took everything I had just
to stand up.

“It’s all right,” I quickly. “We just got a little carried
away, that’s all. No harm done.”

At least not once I jerked off. Although I had doubts that
once would be enough.

“I’m sorry…” she began.

“For what?” Never mind that my cock was screaming for
relief, I wanted to know.

She made a vague gesture that took in us, the couch, the
screening room with the popcorn strewn on the floor and the glasses abandoned
on the table.

“For this…for what happened…” Her gaze met mine. “And for
what isn’t going to. We both know that it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

The state I was in, I still thought it would be an excellent
idea. Way above even freedom of speech, NASCAR racing, and prime rib. But I
also knew that she was right.

Her sense of responsibility was admirable but I couldn’t let
her think any of this was her fault.

“First, what happened was mutual,” I said. “And second, you
should never apologize for saying ‘no’. They should have drummed that into you
your first week in college but just in case you didn’t get the message, I hope
you’ll get it now. Speaking as a guy, the last thing I ever want is to be with
a woman who isn’t as enthused as I am.”

“It’s not that I don’t--”

She caught herself but too late. I couldn’t help the grin
that crept over my face, even if it was a little pained. I knew damn well that
she was aroused by what we’d done but I still liked hearing her admit it.

Even if it did make her blush scarlet all over again.

A thought suddenly occurred to me. It started out small,
like a pebble, but began rolling fast, picking up speed, and getting bigger as
it went until it exploded full blown into my consciousness the size of a
boulder hell bent on crushing everything else in its way.

Just how innocent was Miss Emma Whittaker, who I’d been
practically finger fucking on the couch a few short minutes ago? The thought of
whose slick, hot pussy still reverberated along the whole straining length of
my cock.

Innocent enough to turn that intense a shade of red just
because she’d admitted to wanting a man?

The thought made me even more acutely uncomfortable than I
already was, if that was possible. Sweet heaven, I hungered for her. I couldn’t
remember ever feeling such raw sexual need. But not only that, I also wanted to
pound my chest, swing my club, and keep every other male on the face of the
earth from so much as breathing on her.

And just in case that wasn’t enough, I wanted to feel her
come apart in my hands, under me, screaming my name and sobbing in the ecstasy
that only I could give her.

Clearly, I was losing my mind. I was wondering exactly how
much permanent damage could be caused by all the blood draining out of my head
and going to my cock when Emma rescued us.

Backing toward the door with a nervous smile, she said,
“It’s late. I’m going to bed.”

I watched, fascinated, as the blush deepened even further.
“I mean, I’m going to sleep. So that I can get an early start in the morning.
There’s still so much to do.”

I was obscurely glad to hear that, it meant she’d be here
longer. I still had time to figure out what was happening between us and what
to do about it.

She made me feel--what? Lust, oh, yeah, overwhelmingly. But
also other complex, murky feelings that I didn’t know what to do with.

Mostly, if I was going to be honest, she scared the crap out
of me. Whenever I was with her, the world felt like it was tilting farther on
its axis. For a guy who prided himself on maintaining control, she was a worst
case scenario.

The rational part of my brain got that. The rest--which
apparently was almost all of it--had teamed up with my cock, pre-empted what
passed for my heart, and was staging an all-out assault on my conscience.

What could I do? I took a leaf from Miss Whittaker’s
playbook and went to bed, after a prolonged stay in the shower that left me
physically relieved but…

But what? What else was there? I’d avoided, admittedly
through no action of my own, what would have been a serious mistake. Tomorrow,
I’d make it clear to Miss Whittaker that my momentary lapse in judgment
wouldn’t be repeated.

Stretched out on my back, staring up at the ceiling, I tried
to imagine what I’d say to her. But every scenario I came up with ended with us
in a sweaty heap on the floor humping like rabbits.

Then it got worse.

Or better, depending on your point of view.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma lay stretched out on my bed, gloriously naked, her skin
suffused with a rosy blush. Her wrists, bound by a scrap of red silk panties,
were secured to the headboard. She eyes were heavy with passion, and so deep
and blue that I would have happily drowned in them. Her lips, so full and
moist, parted and the little tip of her tongue darted out to moisten them.

I groaned and cupped her breast in my palm, relishing its
weight and softness. Capturing her nipple between my thumb and index finger, I
tugged lightly. Her moan reverberated through me.

I was painfully hard but I wasn’t anywhere near ready to
fuck her. First, I wanted to savor every exquisite inch from that sweet mouth
to her hot, slick pussy.

“Please…” she whimpered.

That had to be the single most sensual sound any woman had
ever made. The impact of it went straight to my groin. Drops of my pre-cum
oozed over the smooth, flat skin of her stomach.

I moved down her length to settle between her thighs.
Parting the glistening lips of her sex, I bent my head and stroked her with the
broad flat of my tongue. Her taste was beyond enticing. She was a drug that I
couldn’t get enough of, firing in every cell of my body.

With no thought except to have more of her, I plunged my
tongue into her sweet, hot cunt and lapped up her juices. She was writhing,
crying out, but with her hands secured to the headboard and my forearms keeping
her thighs down and open, there wasn’t a whole lot she could do to stop me.

Except tell me to, which thanks to merciful heaven, she didn’t.

I kept it up and was rewarded when the contractions of a
powerful orgasm swept through her. Her back arched as she cried out my name.

“Lucas!”

Oh, yeah, baby, and I’ve just gotten started.

With a groan, I nudged the tip of my straining cock against
her opening and thrust into her. She was so tight, so hot and I was right on
the brink. Her muscles rippled, squeezing all up and down my shaft. The first
waves of what promised to be a massive orgasm rumbled at the edges of my
consciousness.

My hands slipped under her ass, lifting her tighter against
me. Yielding finally to overwhelming need, I plunged balls-deep into her,
pulled back and plunged again, and--

~~~~~~~~~~~~

What the fuck! I woke to the sudden, urgent awareness that I
was about to come all over the sheets. Wrapping my hand around the base of my
cock, I only just managed to stop myself. My heart was pounding, I was covered
with sweat, and I swore I could still smell the lingering perfume of Emma’s
skin on mine.

Holy shit, what just happened? I hadn’t been like this since
I was--what--fourteen? Breathing hard, I sat up without letting go of my cock.
Who knew what it would do next?

My gaze drifted toward the ceiling and I scowled. She was
lying up there right now, no doubt smugly asleep, dreaming about whatever women
dream of--shoes, no-cal ice cream, whatever. Damn her!

I got out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. As I
turned the shower on, I made myself a promise. The brakes were off. I had to
find some way to get control of Miss Emma Whittaker and the effect she had on
me. No matter how far I had to go to do it.