Mr. 365 (22 page)

I hook my fingers in his belt loops and pull him out of the kitchen. He smiles and lets me lead while he watches the sexy commanding smile on my face. I’m about to show him that I’m not just flirting anymore.

“Where are you taking me?” he says, his voice laced with longing.

“You’ll see.” I bite my lip as I tug on his belt loops more firmly.

Once in the hallway I steer him toward the living room door. “In there,” I say, still pulling him along. I’m already so aroused that every part of my body is humming and I haven’t even begun to do all the things with Will that I’ve been picturing in my head.

He pauses to turn on the twinkle lights, before I pull him to one of the couches. I slide my fingers out of his belt loops and run my hands over his shoulders. He watches me with dark eyes. I can feel his heart pounding as I run my hands down his chest. I trace a light trail back and forth with my hand, moving lower and lower on his abdomen. I stop at the top of his jeans.

This man.
He just does something to me—wild things—deliciously dirty things. My mouth waters and my fingers twitch in anticipation.

I make him wait a moment while my gaze moves over him. Clothes can’t hide his sexy body but I know the fun will really begin once I get them off. I look down and see he’s hard and straining against his jeans. Another wave of desire curls through me and I as stare he pushes his hips forward invitingly. His ragged breath is all I can hear.

“Okay?” I ask, dipping my fingers just inside the waistband, teasing him.

He swallows thickly and whispers, “Yeah.”

“I’ve dreamed of doing this to you. In here
…
like this,” I say with a sigh.

I slowly unzip his fly and drag his jeans and boxers down his thighs. He pulls his T-shirt over his head just before I wrap my hand around him and slowly move up and down his length.

“Sophia,” he moans.

“You’re perfect,” I say with longing.

I gently push him back until he settles down onto the couch. Something about the way he surrenders, his gloriously naked body draped against the cushion makes me feel sexually powerful. His erection is at full attention as he pulls his legs apart, an invitation I can’t wait to accept.

“And look at you. I love that you’ve figured out what you want,” he says, with a wicked smile.

“I have,” I say, hungry for him as I sink down to my knees. My heart is pounding knowing I’m finally going to take him in my mouth.

His eyes grow wide as I kiss the head of his cock before sliding my tongue down to the base and back up. I wrap my lips around him, loving how he feels, watching him, and listening to his reactions—the unbridled yearning in his ragged breath and the passion in his eyes. He slowly slides his fingers through my hair, his expression drunk with pleasure.

Every place he touches me while I make love to him, becomes an erogenous zone, sizzling and sparking causing me to moan and press my thighs together. There’s an ache between my legs, as I imagine him touching me where I’m wet for him.

I take my time, playing and teasing. I savor the taste and feel of him, anticipating the moment when he can’t hold on another second and I guide him to cum in my mouth. I moan with satisfaction as I feel his climax building, but when a flush moves across his chest and his hips begin to rock, he tucks his finger under my chin and guides me up.

“Straddle me, love,” he whispers

The ache between my legs can’t be denied. I stand and make a show of sliding off my jeans and taking off my sweater and bra.

He groans as he watches me. I’m so wound up with need that I have to fight to stay focused as I climb onto his lap. He leans over and fishes a condom out of his jeans pocket.

I grin. “You’re prepared.”

“And with you, always hopeful.”

I feel in command as I lift up and slide him against me. My eyes roll back with pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, as he watches with hooded eyes. “You’re in control here.”

I press over him and let my head fall forward as I catch my breath. “You feel so good
…
so perfect. I like controlling you.”

One of his hands circles my nipple while the other runs over my hip and caresses my behind. “You know what
I
like?”

“What?” I whisper.

“Watching you like this. Teasing me, making me crazy for you.”

I smile, swiveling my hips to just barely skim over him when all I want is to have him inside of me. I bite my lip as I hold on to my last threads of restraint.

He studies me in awe. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

“You make me feel beautiful,” I say, my need for him flaring. He makes me feel like poetry in motion—my desire brushing across my lips, tumbling over my shoulders, across my breasts, and sinking between my legs. I want to be his everything—like none other.

His expression hardens. “I want you, baby,” he says with a groan.

I quickly realize he’s undone, and sheer desire has pushed him to the edge. As his words roll over me hard, I take a sharp breath and slowly sink down on him until I can’t take any more of his length. Every nerve in my body is buzzing with brilliant sensation. My hips slowly begin to move as his hands hold me, guiding me.

He watches me with a dark expression, something akin to pain, even though I know it’s the pleasure coursing through him.

“Is this what you want?” he asks breathlessly as he fills me.

“It’s everything I want,” I chant. I grab his shoulders and use the leverage to take him harder. My eyes glaze over with drunken pleasure as his moans accelerate.

He knows the moment I take flight. The pop of each light explodes inside of me until I’m shimmering with sensation. He tightly holds onto me while I cry out, taking him with me to our place of light.

Still buzzed and blissed out, he wraps us up in the throw blanket, and we curl up on the couch. A few more sips of champagne added to our exhaustion, and we doze off. Sometime later I feel him kiss the top of my head.

“Baby,” he whispers.

“Hmm?” I reply.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Good idea,” I mumble, still not opening my eyes until he gets up and pull his jeans back on.

“Why don’t you go on up,” he tells me. “I’m going to let Romeo out, and then I’ll join you.”

“Sure,” I say. “Give him a pat on the head.”

I’m already in bed when he returns to join me.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah… it’s all good,” Will says, pulling off his jeans. “He hates being locked up, and loves it when I let him loose. When I left, he was running circles around the yard.”

“How cute,” I say, yawning and already half asleep.

When Will crawls into bed and spoons me, I embrace the warmth of skin against skin, his heart beating so close to mine.

“Good night, beautiful,” he whispers before I close my eyes and let sleep take me under its hypnotic spell.

I
sense that it’s still late at night as I break through the surface of a heavy dreamlike state. When I open my eyes, I’m disoriented.

Am I in the waking world or in a dream?
Then I hear the anxious barking that I thought was part of my dream. I clear my head. I’m curled up next to Will in his bed. There’s silence for a brief moment, and then another round of frantic barking. This time it startles me. It sounds like Romeo, but why is he in the front yard?

I sit straight up in bed and listen again. Not only does it sound like Romeo, but the light shining through the window is too bright for this time of night.

What’s going on?

I gently shake Will’s shoulder. “Will, wake up. Something’s wrong.”

His eyes pop open and he blinks several times. “What?” he asks, but as soon as he hears the barking, he sits up and tips his head toward the window. He gets out of bed and trudges to the front window while rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

When he examines the yard, he gasps and leans into the glass. I jump out of bed and join him at the window. Something large in the front yard is on fire and the flames shoot high into the dark night. My foggy mind spins, wondering what would burn with such ferocity?

“What the fuck?” Will growls. I follow his gaze to the man with a hood pulled down low over his forehead. He’s waving a burning stick at Romeo as Will’s determined little guy lunges and barks like a crazed beast.

I see the fierce rage tear through Will. It frightens me, snapping me completely awake.

“Sophia, call the fire department!” he yells even though I’m standing next to him.

“Oh my God!” I cry out, everything hitting me all at once. I rush to the bedside table, grab my cell phone, and dial 911. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely hold the phone.

“Tell ’em to send the police too and that the arsonist is still outside!” Will yells.

While I’m dealing with the emergency operator, Will finds his jeans and snatches them off the floor. He yanks them on and turns to the door as if he’s going to run out of the room.

“Shoes!” I yell.

While I frantically give information to the dispatcher, I move back to the window to describe the fire’s progress. Will quickly pulls on his sneakers and joins me to peer out the window one last time. The flames are higher now but haven’t spread to other displays, and the arsonist is still fighting off Romeo.

“Get ’em, Romeo,” Will says under his breath.

Right before Will turns to run downstairs, the guy lifts up his torch and when Romeo lunges the man arches his leg back and then swings it forward full force. The powerful kick hits Romeo right in the chest and sends him flying backwards. There’s a pitiful cry at impact, but then complete silence when Romeo hits the ground. From our view he looks lifeless on the damp grass.

“ROMEO!” Will screams, pain and terror filling his eyes.

“No!” I cry as he flies out of the room and pounds down the stairs. I yank on my clothes and charge down the stairs, while praying that Romeo’s all right.

When I get outside, Will is kneeling over his beloved dog, his hands frantically touching him.

“Romeo, come on, little guy,” he chants. He looks up, and his unshed tears glisten in the firelight. I’ve never seen a man so broken.

“I can’t tell if he’s breathing! Help me!” Will cries.

I run to him and fall to my knees on the damp grass. I gently push Will back, place my fingers to Romeo’s neck, and put my face just inches from Romeo’s nose. I pick up a weak pulse and the faintest of raspy breaths.

“He’s alive, Will! But we’ve got to get him to the vet.”

“I’ll get the car keys.” Will drags his fist across his eyes, brushing the tears away.

I regard the arsonist. He has a look of grisly fascination on his face and then he sneers, almost satisfied. The fire is growing higher and it finally dawns on me that it’s the gingerbread house, Will’s childhood project full of memories of his grandparents. We can’t leave for the animal hospital. The arsonist will make sure the fire reaches the house. I feel nauseous.

“What about all that?” I ask, nodding toward the fire as Will jumps up to run inside.

“I only care about saving my dog. The fire department and police are on their way. They can deal with the rest,” he shouts over his shoulder, and he starts for the door.

“Ohhhh poor, poor, pretty boy. His rat dog is dead!” The arsonist’s voice pierces the silence of the night and overwhelms the sound of the cracking fire.

Dread flares in the pit of my stomach. A man like Will can only be pushed so far.

“Will!” I yell, but it’s too late. I barely recognize my lover with that murderous expression on his face.

“I’m going to kill you, mother fucker!” he screams and changes course, charging the arsonist.

I let out a piercing scream as Will tackles the guy to the ground. He rips the torch out of the arsonist’s hand, and for a split second I think he’s going to beat the man senseless with it and set his head on fire. But Will hurls the torch to the street, and then lays into the man with flying fists and grunts. One particularly hard punch snaps the guy’s head back, making his hood slide off.

Is it Darrell Hoffmeyer from next door
? Will told me that he’s the one that yelled at him from the car during the shoot.

Will delivers blow after blow, not seeming care that his hands and clothes are covered with blood.

Darrell frantically tries to stop Will, but eventually curls in a ball trying block the blows. Will’s natural strength topped off with his explosion of adrenaline appears to be much more than Darrell can handle.

“Help! Help me!” Darrell yells at the top of his lungs between blows.

“Darrell, Darrell, where the hell are you?”

I recognize the voice of Fred Hoffmeyer and spy him running down the sidewalk toward Will and Darrell. I’m stunned realizing that they’re responsible for this vicious attack. Fred is trailed by a younger man, probably his other son.

“Darrell!” Fred yells, his anger escalating.

“Dad! Help!”

I have a powerful instinct to get Romeo to safety and help Will. I gingerly lift Romeo until he’s cradled in my arms. I hear a garbled yell and I snap back up.