The Art of Ethan (23 page)

"Let me see it.” Ethan snatched the book off the counter and held it high in his left hand. Grace spent a lot of their down time reading it.

"Give that back to me.” Grace tried to reach it, but he was definitely too tall. Suddenly, she felt his hand on the top of her head. She felt like a kid trying to fight an adult.

"One second.” Ethan was reading the page the best he could. He held her at a distance the same way he did Chase when they were kids. “Gently, she licked under the head...” he read aloud.

"Ethan!” Grace stopped struggling and stepped back.

"This is pretty graphic. I recognize a few of these moves, Ms. Grace.” He handed her the book. “So, anything you really want to try? I can study up. Be a good little student."

Her face was hot, and so was she. Fulfilling his fantasies was one thing, talking about her own fantasies was another matter entirely. She was saved by a knock at the door.

"Coming,” Grace called breathless, setting the book back on the counter.

"Not yet, you aren't.” Ethan was blatant. Grace was obviously not lying about her number. She had indeed slept with three lousy lovers, but she was skilled in the art of lovemaking. He had experienced it firsthand. With each time, he wanted more, to see how far she would go, how many times he could make her come. How long before she realized they could reach those heights because they were meant to be together.

Grace opened the door to find Mitchell on the other side. She was flushed, her hair was tussled from Ethan's hand, and she was breathless from trying to grab the book.

"What do you want?” She pushed the screen door open and stepped to the porch. Ethan hadn't invited him in, and she wasn't about to now. In fact, she wondered when he would leave and stop popping up on her doorstep.

"You, Grace. I know that I haven't been the best in the past.” Mitchell was quiet and kept a watchful eye on the door and the man in the kitchen. Was his shirt off? He looked at Grace in her disheveled state. “I think this man is a bad influence on you, Grace. Look at yourself."

"Mitchell, I am with Ethan. There is no us.” How she wished those words were completely true.

Ethan had removed his shirt and pulled the bowl of whipped topping from the refrigerator. That little weasel was about to get a lesson in the facts of life. The fact being, Grace was not up for grabs anymore. He would love to just punch him, but this is a small town, and at this rate, he may have to live in it someday.

The screen door opened, and Grace caught sight of Ethan's chest. His left index finger had something on it. He didn't speak to Mitchell.

"Taste this, babe. Tell me if it's ready.” His voice was thick.

Ethan stepped outside with just his shorts on. Stepping behind her, Ethan placed his right hand on Grace's abdomen and his left index finger with whipped topping on it, in front of her mouth.

Grace couldn't resist his touch. His fingers spread over her stomach, and her body fell to his command. Her lips covered his finger, and her tongue slowly removed what she now knew was just cool whip. Ethan pulled the finger out slowly. She could feel her temperature rise, and her nipples stand to his attention.

"I think so.” Grace's voice was low and sultry.

Ethan pressed his lips to her neck, and she became wanton. Her left hand reached into his hair and held him there for a moment. She had forgotten that Mitchell was standing there. They were on the porch in the middle of the afternoon. Everyone could see.

Mitchell pulled at his collar and felt uncomfortable. He cleared his throat loudly. How could she be so blatantly sexual with this man? It wasn't appropriate. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon.

"You'll have to forgive us, Doctor Patterson.” Ethan was sarcastic in his tone. He pulled the screen door open with the right hand he had removed, and now led Grace with his left. “But she has to have me three times a day. If she doesn't get it before three o'clock, I'll have to do it twice. You understand I'm sure."

Ethan followed Grace inside, closing the door behind them. Mitchell stood in shock on the porch. Ethan could have sworn the man's jaw hit the floor as the door closed.

"I can't believe you just said that.” Grace giggled. She was under his spell. Lost in lust, nothing mattered right now but Ethan and her desire for him.

Ethan kissed her. He had to have her. It had been days, and it seemed like years. Yes, they had petted and played, but he needed to feel her completely. He lifted her up and pulled her legs around his waist, walked to the kitchen, and set her on the counter. It was tall for Grace, but just the right height for his purposes now.

Grace dipped her thumb in the cool whip and spread it over his nipple. Ethan groaned as her lips followed, sucking and licking the sweetness from his skin.

Ethan held on to the counter for his own stability now, again she surprised him, willing to play in the kitchen. There could never be another Grace.

Ethan pulled her T-shirt over her head, unfastened the button on her shorts, and pulled the zipper down. He left her panties on. He knew she enjoyed hearing them rip.

Grace removed her bra and placed cool whip on her nipples before Ethan had the chance.

"See, full of surprises.” Ethan teased and licked at the thin layer of whipped topping. If he would have known it was going to turn into this, he would have set up the rest of the toppings.

"Less talk, more tongue.” Grace was in another world right now. She had always read about being thrown on a table and taken, but now Ethan was bringing that to life. For whatever reason, her nipples seemed impossibly more sensitive to his touch.

His growl answered her demands. He liked her directions. Maybe he would let her lead the way entirely. Not move until she commanded. He lingered on the same nipple until she shifted presenting the other. He would make her reveal her innermost desires, if not this afternoon, soon.

"Tell me what you want, Gracie."

"Ethan.” Her voice was raspy. “Tear them off."

His smile was uncontrollable. She did like the sound of passion, desperation. All the things he felt when he tore his first pair in her bedroom that morning. He had to have her then; it was instinct. He had to have her now.

"What now?” he rasped against her thigh indicting what he wanted but waiting for her to tell him what she wanted.

Grace trailed a streak of whipped topping up her inner thigh and onto her outer lips. “Eat."

Ethan growled deep and obeyed.

Grace came on a violent climax almost bucking right off the counter. When her eyes opened again, she found Ethan waiting, panting. “What are you waiting for?"

"You.” He ground out.

"Oh, give me the condom and sit in the chair.” She pushed off the table and on shaking legs bent before him. She put the last of the whipped topping on the head of his penis and sucked him deep right after. Ethan all but howled.

"I want you inside me when you come.” Grace stood and slid the condom over him.

"It's where I want to be.” Ethan helped her situate over him then watched as her sugar sweetened body consumed the length of him inch by glorious inch. She started praising him again, his size, how good he felt. “I swear I won't last if you keep that up, Grace."

"What this?” Grace began riding him hard and fast making sure to tell him just how much she liked it, knowing he enjoyed hearing it as much as she did when he said those things to her. He gripped her hips pressing his long fingers against the fleshy part of her ass.

Ethan came on a loud grinding moan.

Grace sat straddling Ethan who sat in the kitchen chair. The kitchen was a bit of a mess. Whipped topping covered them both from head to toe. The countertop was a mess. It was now covered in creamy white topping and the essence of Grace. She was exhausted and rested her head on his shoulder.

"We can't keep doing this."

"Why not?” Ethan was still catching his breath.

"Because."

"Because why?” He wanted to hear a good reason.

"Because I'm getting used to it. When you leave, I won't have you here. Then, what will I do?” Grace kissed his neck. He was warm and sweet. The entire container of cool whip had been used.

"We'll make arrangements.” Ethan felt her lips pulling at his neck again. He would move, or she would move. Someone had to give. “You are insatiable, woman."

"Just with you.” Grace faced him now. “I have never done any of this before, and now it's like I can't stop."

"You don't have to.” Ethan licked at the remaining cool whip on her neck. Grace brought out the animal in him. It took every ounce of self-control to hold out, to wait until she had her fill.

But every time she filled up, she ended up wanting more. Never had a woman matched him in the bedroom. Grace, however, made him stretch his abilities to the brink.

"I do now.” She wiggled a bit. “I'm hungry. All that sugar burned off during the action."

"Then, I should be the hungry one. I did all the work."

"You did not. Who's on top right now?” Grace had a devilish grin. She had indeed worn the man out. He insisted she direct the whole thing, and when it was finally his turn, it was effortless.

"That took all of two minutes, you took all of...” He searched for a clock. “Fifty-eight minutes, damn woman."

"What can I say, I'm greedy.” She licked the tip of his nose, pushed off of him, and tried to stand on her weak legs. They trembled beneath her.

"Grab a shower. I'll clean up.” Ethan pulled the condom off. “Grace."

"Yes?” She had gathered her clothes now. Her legs were still shaking from the multiple orgasms he had created.

"Did you get on birth control yet?” Ethan held the broken condom in his hand.

"No, my appointment's next week. I hadn't planned on needing any until...” She stopped and turned to him. “Why?"

"Another one broke.” Ethan shrugged and tossed it in the trash. Now, the odds were moving against them. He should be worried. He should be freaking out, but he planned to spend the rest of his life with Grace, so if it happened now, he could just speed up the process.

"Another one broke?” Grace asked surprised. “When did the first one break?"

"My birthday, it didn't seem like a big deal. I mean the odds are good that nothing would happen.” Ethan knew he should have told her.

"You should have told me.” Grace stomped a foot. “Shit that hurt. Now two? Well, we can't do this anymore until I see my doctor."

"What?” Ethan felt like she just zapped him with a laser.

"Are you sure?” Four more days here with Grace and no sex?

"Yes. I'm positive. No way am I going to get pregnant before I get married. For crying out loud, we aren't even in love. We're just...” Grace was upset, and she was saying things she didn't mean.

"Don't say it, Grace, because I'm not just fucking you. You may not be in love with me, but I am not just fucking you!” His heart ached. She didn't love him. Her actions said differently, but her mouth denied him at every turn. Why?

"I'm not getting pregnant before I get married. I may just stop having sex till then. I never had this problem reading my romance novel.” Grace was glad she didn't say it. Ethan cared for her. He may not love her, but he cared for her and respected her. But he hadn't asked her to move to New York, so what good would falling in love with him do? “Shit, Ethan, what would you do if I got pregnant?"

"What would you want me to do?” Ethan would do whatever she wanted him to do. Couldn't she see that by now? He would move. Stephanie could run the gallery, and he could travel to lectures like before. Grace was worth it.

"Exactly.” Grace turned and went up the stairs. He made no grand gesture. In fact, he coped out leaving it up to her. If she got pregnant, Ethan would probably send child support and visit more often, but he wasn't a family man. He lived in solitude. He explained that one evening. Solitude is when you live alone by choice; you're not lonely.

It is amazing how much work you can do when you're trapped in a house with someone you can't have sex with though you desperately want to.

Grace divided her time between the novel she was writing, the novel she was reading, eating, and sleeping. She knew she needed to see the doctor. She felt weak and tired. It was way too soon to tell if she was pregnant.

Of course, she didn't know how soon she could tell something like that anyway. It had been a few weeks since his birthday and a few days since the kitchen. She checked her calendar but didn't log in her last period. According to it, she was like two months late. She knew better.

"Gracie, dinner's done.” Ethan stood in the doorway to the bedroom.

Ethan spent his time painting everything he could see. He normally focused on portraits, but since the only face he wanted to look at was Grace, he painted other things instead. This little community held a great deal of artistic treasure. The ponies at Shackleford Banks were a staple for artists in the area. Ethan was no different.

They took the boat ride over, and he walked with Grace around the island until they found them, wild and free. He took photo after photo and painted them later.

Ethan enjoyed reading Grace's memories of her mother the most. The manuscript was enough to make a grown man tear up, so that had to mean something. Grace seemed to be tired a lot. He tried to count days in his head to determine if she could be pregnant. But this romance had happened in such a short time, it was impossible to tell. He couldn't very well ask any woman in his family without giving up his location and the situation.

"I'm getting fat.” Ethan rubbed his belly through his T-shirt. “I haven't been running, and I haven't been seducing you."

"You have been trying.” Grace looked over the chicken he had prepared. “I can't eat this."

"You asked for baked chicken.” Ethan looked at the bird wondering if he overcooked it.

"No, I can't eat this.” Grace ran upstairs and shut the bedroom door. As soon as she hit the bathroom, she was throwing up. She was sick. It was in the evening, so it wasn't morning sickness. She must have a virus.

"Gracie.” Ethan tapped on the door. When he heard the next surge of vomit, he opened it.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?” He pulled her hair back and held it.

"I think I have a stomach virus,” Grace said in between heaves.

"Well, that explains a lot.” Ethan grabbed a ponytail tie from the sink and twisted it in her hair. He wet a cool washcloth and placed it on her neck.

She had seemed a little more lethargic and pale lately. Like now, she seemed weak. Tears followed the last heave as she started to cry.

"I don't want to be sick.” Grace flushed the toilet and held her head. It seemed to be over just like that.

"Come here, baby.” His soft words caressed her. Ethan picked her up and carried her to bed. He pulled the cloth from behind her neck and wiped the tears away. Her lip pouted full. “My poor little angel, what can I do?"

"Will you make me a milkshake?” Grace really wanted a milkshake right now.

"Are you sure milk is what you want? You just threw up.” Ethan raised a brow.

"Yes.” She sniffed. The tears were gone, a momentary lapse. “Strawberry."

"I'll have to go to the store.” Ethan pushed the loose red curls behind her ear. “I'll be back in a few minutes, okay."

"Okay. Can you get rid of the chicken?” Grace pouted.

"Yes, I will get rid of the chicken.” Ethan couldn't help but laugh at himself. He felt like Chase. He always made fun of how he gave in to Megan's every whimper and whine. Now, he was doing the same thing for Grace. At least Grace was sick. That made a difference; at least, that's what he told himself.

Ethan returned thirty minutes later with everything he needed to make Grace's milkshake. She was outside in the hammock when he returned. They spent a lot of time there together. How he would manage without her after the wedding he had no idea. Actually, he had no intentions of being without her for long after the wedding.

"Gracie,” he called from the porch. “Do you want me to come out there?"

"No.” Grace pulled out of the hammock and headed for the back porch. “Let's sit outside though. It's such a nice evening, don't you think?"

"I do."