Escaping Me (12 page)

When I release my hand from her breast, I start to move it down to the one place I know will absolutely set her off.   She drops both of her hands to my knees and clutches them down as my fingers find the button of her shorts.  “Cole, what are you doing?” she asks as she spreads her legs a little wider to accommodate my hand that is slipping under the waistband of her panties.

“I need to feel you, Whitney.”  I tug her earlobe between my teeth as she wiggles against me.  My cock is throbbing against her back, aching to trade places with my fingers as they near the lips of the one place I'm dying to get into.  “Is this okay?” I ask.  She doesn’t answer. Instead, she fists the denim covering my knees, arching her body against my hand, begging me to continue.  I move a finger between her folds, engaging the sensitive bundle of nerves they encounter first. 

She cries out as I circle her clit, and I can tell this isn’t going to take long.  She writhes against me, her knees trying to slam shut.  “Leave them open,” I command, pulling them apart with my free hand.

I can't,” she whimpers in protest as she opens back up for me.  “I'm going to...”

“
I know,” I smirk.  “I want you to.”  I dip two fingers inside her slick flesh.  “You're so wet, baby.”  I feel the first convulsion of her walls around my fingers and can only imagine how incredible it is going to feel when she comes around my dick.  She raises her head up before slamming it back against my shoulder, and I think she may shoot off the picnic table.  I take her mouth with mine and continue to work my fingers in and out, mimicking the action with my tongue against hers.  Flicking against her clit one last time with my thumb, I feel her finally let go and come completely undone. 

I stop kissing her as I let her ride it out, each wave causing her to shudder against my chest.  I want to see her face as she melts apart.  “You are fucking amazing,” I confess as she finishes and I pull my hand from her lap.  I really want to lick the tip of my finger to see if she tastes as sweet as I think she does, but I don’t want to scare her off. Plus, she looks so content wrapped up in my arms that I don’t want to move.  So I kiss her forehead and hold her tight, knowing that any chance I had of not falling for her is gone.

Chapter 15 – Whitney

Each night since the picnic table
experience
I shared with Cole my dreams have been filled with images of how he looked and how it felt when he put his hands on me.  I see the determined smirk as he smoothed his rough fingertips across my skin and the gratifying look in his brown eyes when he finally made me come.  My body would barely be hanging on to the edge when I would shudder awake and I knew if I just reached down and touched myself, I could almost recreate the scenario. 
Almost.
  I don’t do it though.  Something about him not being there doesn’t seem right.

Wesley would have died if I ever told him that I touch myself like that.  I remember the time we walked in on his roommate watching porn—the images of a big-breasted blonde stroking herself on a 55-inch television are kind of hard to forget.  We quickly excused ourselves from the room as Wesley literally tried to shield my eyes.  He then made it perfectly clear that only “whores” did things like that.  He didn't consider self-gratification to be ladylike.  Which is why the few times I had experimented were never brought up to Wesley.  Besides, most of the time I just ended up frustrated that I couldn't seal the deal, for lack of a better term.  It was all fuse and no detonation.

I'm sure the slutty redhead Wes was screwing behind my back isn't a lady. She sure didn't seem like it from what I saw.  She probably masturbates all the time, and I bet he loved it when she gave him a blow job.  I offered a couple times, but he always declined. 
What kind of guy turns down a blow job? 
I know one who won’t, and I am pretty excited about the idea of fulfilling the offer.

“
Maybe Wes is gay?” my sister interjected when I was filling her in on every detail of our relationship.  Somehow his cheating on me turned into a full-on investigation of what went wrong.  We settled on the fact that Wes was an uptight, boring asshole.  It is funny to think that only a month ago I was somehow trying to blame his cheating on myself.  After I met Cole, he not only awoke the sexual desires I'd been repressing, but he made me see that being with someone is about listening to what they want, too.  We don’t even have an official status, other than
not friends
, and I already feel like our relationship is more equal and even-keeled than the one I shared with Wesley.

It has been ten long days since that amazing night.  Cole buried himself in working on the house, so I haven’t really seen him.  Mallory and I stopped by the house a couple times and we met for drinks at Pauly's last week, but there wasn't much alone time.  We did spend quite a bit of time talking to one another on the phone, but that was usually right before bed and after both of us had been working all day.  I've really been busting my ass to help my mom out, which included going north last weekend for the flea market she'd been preparing for.  As much fun as the getaway with my mom and Mal was, I’d missed Cole. 

A part of me wants to protest against the time he is spending on the house, but I know I have to let him do it.  He may think he is trying to prove something to me, but the more I get to know him the more I realize he needs to do it for his own well-being.  He is too hard himself.  I am an expert on beating yourself up and trying to impress people.  I spent my formative years worried about grades and status and being “perfect” in everyone's eyes.  The only difference is I usually got some kind of positive reinforcement for my actions.  I don't think Cole ever has.  All anyone around him ever focused on was the negative—he got in too much trouble, he wasn't from the right family, he didn't have enough money. 

I figure that if I see him through the house project, then maybe I, Hank, and whoever else sees the hard work he put into it can boost his self-esteem. For someone who comes across so confident, downright cocky sometimes, Cole really does beat himself up.  My sister and I surprised Cole and Zeke with dinner one evening and I managed to sneak a peek at their progress. From what I saw, the place is going to look amazing.  Cole is definitely good at working with his hands.

Just the thought of those hands causes my nerve endings to fire at a rapid pace.  I love every part of them—his long, nimble fingers; the rough calluses from work; and the way it feels when he brushes his thumb across my lips after he finishes kissing me. 

After torturing myself for the better part of the hour, I pick up my cell phone.  It is two o'clock in the morning and I am about to explode.  I start typing as if I think texting Cole will help take my mind off the fact that I am wound tighter than a fishing reel.

Me: Hi.

Two minutes later...

Cole: Hey pretty girl.  You ok?

Me: I can't sleep. :-(

Cole: That sucks.  Anything I can do?

Me: I can think of a couple things. ;-)

Cole: Are you inviting me over?

Me: Not sure Leanne would be too excited about the Ford roaring up the driveway.  I could come to your place.

Cole: Nice try.

Me: Worth a shot. Haha.

Cole: Not much longer.  I promise.

In my sleep-deprived, lust-filled state, I start typing and hit send before I have a chance to chicken out.  The new and improved me told uptight old me to shut the hell up.

Me: I want to feel your hands on me.

Cole: I want to put my hands on you.  Believe me, if we were together right now... my hands would be all fucking over you.

Me: I guess I'll just have to pretend.

I nervously bite my bottom lip and wait for his response.  He is probably laughing at how stupid that sounds.  When the screen lights up, I hold my breath and read.

Cole: Are you trying to kill me?

Me: So, I shouldn't?

Cole: That depends.  Are you thinking about me while you “pretend”?

Me: Of course!  No one else has ever made me feel the way you do.

Cole: Then by all means... ;-)

My fingers are already dipped below the covers and under the hem of my panties by the time I read his last message.  I clumsily type out a response before I drop the phone onto the bed and focus on the task at hand. 
Pun most definitely intended.

Me: You feel amazing.

As I replicate Cole's movements—circling my finger over my clit and penetrating my slick, wet heat with alternating rhythms of fast and slow—I use my other hand to tweak my hardened nipple the same way he did.  My fingers are not nearly as long and nimble as Cole's, but I can feel the intensity building with each touch.  As I rock against my hand, digging my heels into the mattress for more leverage, I feel the first wave roll over me, but it isn’t until I close my eyes and imagine him looking down at me that it hits in full force. 

I tightly purse my lips to hold back the excited moan that is trying to escape.  I've never been able to achieve an orgasm by myself.  I really want to stand up and applaud.  I giggle at the thought as my body finally retreats into a peaceful night’s sleep, no doubt worn out from the exhilarating experience I just gave it.   I pick up my phone, but before I set it on the nightstand, I see one last message from Cole that just about pushes me into round two of Whitney Does Whitney.

Cole: You feel pretty amazing too.

He was right.  The only thing hotter than being together is knowing the other is touching himself while thinking of you.

* * *

“
Good morning,” Cole growls into my ear as he wraps his arms around my waist.  I would be jumping out of my skin if it weren't for the fact that he is holding on to me.  I started my day early after a few hours of blissful sleep and I’m now out in the barn organizing a bin of cabinet handles for my mom.

“
What are you doing here?” I quickly ask as I turn to face him.

“
Well, that's a hell of a greeting,” he chuckles.

“
I'm sorry.” I press up on my toes, snake my arms around his neck, and put my lips to his.  “Good morning.”

“
That's better,” he notes before kissing me again.

“
But seriously.” I back away from his mouth before he makes me forget my own name.  “How come you're here so early?  It's barely seven a.m.”

“
I had to make sure you didn't 'pretend' yourself into a coma,” he teases.  I feel the heat rise in my cheeks as the embarrassment of what I did to myself sinks in.  I am mortified.  In the heat of the text, it seemed like a good idea, but now, in the light of day and standing in Cole's arms, I can’t believe what I did.  I shake my head as I bury my face in his chest.  “Don't get shy on me now.”  He slides two fingers under my chin and tilts my eyes to his.  “Reading those messages from you last night and knowing what you were doing, while you thought about me...” His hands move to my waist and hoist me up on the counter I was standing in front of. “Well, it was about the second hottest thing you've done.”

He liked it.  No, from what I can feel pressed into the space between my legs, he loved it.  “Oh, really?” I grab two fistfuls of his white t-shirt and pull him in closer, wrapping my legs around him.  “What was the hottest thing I've done?” My lips find his neck as I wait for his answer.

“Mmm...” he rumbles.  “This is ranking right up there.”  His head falls back and I continue to kiss my way around his neck.  Tugging him even closer to me, I run my tongue up his stubbled jaw before pulling his earlobe between my teeth.  His hands are splayed across my butt as he rocks into me.  “You are full of surprises.”

“
I guess I am,” I grin before I crush my lips to his.  I am certainly surprising myself.  He continues to let me have my way with him until his cell phone chimes.

“
Damn it,” he huffs, releasing his hands from me and fishing it out of his pocket.  “I gotta go,” he frowns.  “I promised Zeke I'd give him a ride to work.  His truck's in the shop.”

I squeeze my legs around his waist and once again pull him to me.  “You still never told me what the hottest thing I've done is.  I think I should know in case I want to do it again.”

“Oh, you're going to do it again.”  A wicked grin spreads across his face.  “In fact, you're going to be doing it all night if I have any say.”  I feel a familiar sensation start to build between my legs as he presses his body to mine and takes my mouth with his one more time.  “I'm going to be late.”  He pulls my arms from his neck and taps a light kiss on the tip of my nose.  “I'll see you tonight.  Farmers' Picnic, remember?”

I huff as I reluctantly let him go.  “I remember.  I'd just rather spend the day with you.”

“Me too,” he agrees.  “I'm pretty fucking awesome.”

“
Whatever.”  I roll my eyes as I playfully slap his chest and hop down off the counter to walk him to his truck.  “Did you just come by here to get me all worked up and leave me high and dry?”

“
Not exactly,” he replies as he climbs into his truck and shuts the door.  Leaning out the open window, he smiles at me.  “I came by because I wanted to see the look on your face when I told you this.”