Stout

  Even if he uses it for different purposes, he has a dick. He knows what’s happening beneath these jeans. “Umm . . .” How the hell do I answer that? Any reply is going to confirm I have a hard-on.

  Come on. Go down. Go down. Go down.

  Fuck. The more I think about it the harder it gets.

  “Behave, Maury. Oliver got violated on the way back. We had to use my ass as a shield to keep hands off him.”

  He uses the eyeliner pencil in his hand to point at my crotch. “And your honey looks like he hated the fuck out of that.”

  “Maury. You’re being wildly inappropriate. You’re embarrassing me. And Oliver too, I’m sure.”

  “Come on. You want him. He wants you. No reason to get embarrassed over a stiffy.” She wants me? Did she tell him that?

  “Your ass is fired, Maury.”

  “Wut-ev-ah.” He waves his hand as if to dismiss his termination. “This is the third time she’s fired me this week alone. Always an empty threat.”

  “Stop talking shit to Oliver, or it’s going to be for real. You’ll have to be Wet Me every night to make a living.”

  “Okay. Okay. No more shit talk.” Maurice turns his back to Adelyn, and without saying a word she unzips the back of his dress.

  This feels weird.

  “How many more songs tonight?”

  “Two.”

  “We’re gonna take off but I wanted you to meet before we go.”

  Maurice drops his dress to the floor and beneath it he’s clad in all kinds of lingerie. Bra-corselet thing. Panties. Garter belt. Thigh highs. Everything I love seeing on a woman. On. A. Woman.

  Damn. This dude could fool a guy.

  Temporarily.

  “I hate y’all are leaving but I understand.” Maurice steps into a strapless, red formal gown and spins. Without a word, Adelyn zips him. I get the feeling she’s done this more than once. “What’s the plan?”

  “Night swim.”

  “Mmm . . . you’ll be freshly fucked for work in the morning. Do her good, Oliver. She’s always cranky as hell on Mondays. A real pain in my ass.”

  Adelyn sighs and holds up her hands. “I’m so done here. Let’s go.”

  “If she’s not wearing a smile in the morning, I’ll know you didn’t do your job right, Oliver Thorn.” I have so many responses for that comment but I choose to keep all of them to myself.

  She grabs my hand. “We’re going out the back door.”

  “Fine by me.” I don’t have a desire to get groped again.

  Maurice calls out to Adelyn. “Love you, darling.”

  She growls. “Love you, Flamer.”

  The back hall is far less crowded so we’re able to make a fast exit. “You call him Flamer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is that not offensive?”

  “I can call him Flamer. You can’t. Unless you become good friends. Which I highly doubt you want to do after that display of foolishness. I’m sorry about that, but he’s flamboyant. The thought of holding back never occurs to him.”

  “He reminds me of one of the guys because that’s completely how we talk to each other about women. But we don’t do it in front of them. There doesn’t seem to be a filter there.”

  “No filter. That’s the perfect way to put it. And you never have to be around him again if you don’t want to.”

  Maurice is a big part of her life, so avoiding him would be difficult. There is something I’ve realized in the last few weeks. I like being around Adelyn Maxwell. It doesn’t matter what we are doing, I like spending time with her. And I plan on being around a lot. In fact, the thought of not being around her feels wrong. “It’s okay. I don’t think we’ll be riding motorcycles or boxing together, but I can swing seeing him from time to time.”

  “You make it super easy to like you.”

  “I don’t have to work too hard at liking you either.”

  I use the cab ride home to think about the things Maurice said.

  You want him. He wants you.

  Mmm . . . you’ll be freshly fucked for work in the morning.

  Do her good, Oliver.

  If she’s not wearing a smile in the morning, I’ll know you didn’t do your job right, Oliver Thorn.

  I have no idea what’s going to happen tonight. But if I’m a lucky motherfucker, Adelyn will give me the chance to make her smile.

  Adelyn Maxwell

  I’m going to kill Maurice. But first I’m going to grab his balls and yank them over his ears. He can wear them like dangling earrings. That would damn sure be flamboyant.

  I can’t believe he said what he said. If anyone knows me well, it is Maurice. He found me when I was on the edge of hell. He was beside me every moment of recovery. My rock. He hasn’t ever pushed me toward a man, knowing how fearful I’ve been to offer myself to one. How uncomfortable I have felt. Yet, he likes Oliver. Yes, I have probably said more than I should have about Oliver, but still. He’s wrong for embarrassing me like that. Even if everything he said was right.

  I do want Oliver.

  I’d love to be freshly fucked for work in the morning. But only after being fucked tonight. All night.

  I’d love for him to do me good. It’s been so long.

  I’d love to be wearing an Oliver-issued smile in the morning.

  Three years ago, if a man like Oliver waltzed into my life, I wouldn’t have been this confident. This . . . determined. But Oliver has awakened something within me that had been dormant. It’s as if only he can bring that part of me alive again. I need it. I want him.

  Time to work on that.

  “You grab the beer. I’ll get the towels, and we’ll meet at the pool.” I don’t mention anything about him going home to get his trunks; they’re unnecessary. It’s dark. We’re skinny-dipping tonight.

  “On it.” I certainly hope so.

  I turn on one exterior light in addition to the one in the pool so we’re not in complete darkness. Skinned-up knees from tripping isn’t sexy. And a fall might prevent me from kneeling later. Where has this vixen come from? “We need music.”

  “No Whitney Houston, please. It could cause some seriously unwelcome flashbacks.”

  I laugh. “Okay. No Whitney. What about a shuffle of my slow and groovy playlist?” Lie.

  Martin berated me in the year we were together. Dislodged something vital inside me. Comment after comment about not being enough to satisfy him sexually. Telling me I was a tramp because I flirted with every man who came near me. Which of course I hadn’t. My therapist worked exceptionally hard to get me to see myself as attractive. Sexy. And this playlist is one of the results. Not slow and groovy.

  Sexy.

  “Sounds good.”

  “As Much As I Ever Could” by City and Colour is the first song up. A slow, seductive sound. Couldn’t have worked out better if I’d chosen it myself.

  Oliver’s sitting on the edge of a lounger. Unmoving. I think he’s waiting for some kind of confirmation this is actually happening. That we’re really getting naked.

  Someone has to get this going. I guess it’ll be me.

  I walk over to the steps leading into the shallow end and kick out of my shoes. “It’s been so hot lately the pool has still been feeling like bath water even at night.”

  Casual conversation. Maybe it’ll loosen him up.

  I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the stone pool decking. I unclasp the back of my bra and unite it and my shirt. “Night swimming is actually better for me anyway. I can’t stay out long during the day because I burn so easily, even with sunscreen.”

  He’s watching me strip. No shame. Not even a hint of pretending he’s not.

  He finally gets up when I wiggle out of my shorts and panties. I was beginning to wonder if he’d changed his mind about coming in.

  I descend the steps into the water until I’m submerged to my shoulders, the bottom of my hair floating around me like the painting Ophelia. “Yup. Feels like bath water tonight.”

&nbsp
; I watch Oliver take off his clothes. It’s only fair to return the favor. I’m sort of kicking myself for not turning on more lights. I would love to get a better look at his body. But I guess there’s time for that later. Hope.

  I dip my head backward and wet the top of my hair as he walks into the pool. When I lift, I slick my hair back, pushing the water away from my face.

  Oliver submerges and then pops up, wiping the water from his face. “Feels good, right?”

  “Feels real fucking good.”

  I move backward until I reach the wall. The water ejecting from the spout hits my back, massaging the muscle. “You were a good sport tonight. I realize a lot of straight men would not have gone along with that at all.”

  “If I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t have had I known prior I would become part of the show.”

  “You didn’t seem flustered at all. I thought you looked like you were handling it well.”

  “That was for you.” He tolerated something he didn’t like for me.

  The more I get to know this man, the more I’m convinced his ex was an absolute idiot.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “It wasn’t horrible. But some dude grabbing my junk in a crowd wasn’t cool.”

  I’m certain the groper did it with the intentions of a laugh since it was very obvious Oliver is straight. I know those people. They aren’t cruel or aggressive but it was in poor taste. And it’s a big deal for Oliver. I see it on his face. He feels violated. “Groping you wasn’t okay. I would feel completely violated if someone did that to me. I’m sorry it happened. I won’t ever ask you to go back.”

  “Thanks, Max. Never going back will be all right with me.”

  “I know all of it, including Maurice, was a lot to handle. It was completely out of your comfort zone but thank you for not being unkind to him. Or the others.”

  Oliver grabs two beers from the decking and swims over to hand one to me. “I can be kind.”

  “I’m seeing that.”

  He turns and leans against the wall so we’re side by side. I’m like a lure bobbing on the top of the water waiting for him to bite. “You and Lawrence were pleased with the grand opening event?”

  “Very.”

  “Did Bootylicious enjoy herself?”

  Oliver chuckles. “Bootylicious?”

  “Tight red dress woman.”

  “Oh, yeah. Marlana. She was definitely feeling no pain.”

  “I noticed she got you on the dance floor a second time.” I hope I don’t sound like a prying jealous girlfriend. Oliver owes me nothing. If he wanted that woman, he had every right to take her.

  “I had no choice. She cornered me.”

  “From where I was, it looked like she more than cornered you. She got you out the door.” It felt like he disappeared with her for a while.

  “She’s my customer, and she was hammered. I walked her out so I could put her in a car and know she made it home safely.”

  “She didn’t put the moves on you?”

  “I didn’t say that.” So she did try to get him in bed. I suspected as much from what I saw.

  “Did you fuck her?” Now that sounds like a jealous girlfriend.

  “No.”

  “Must have been hard to pass up an attractive, willing woman like that when she’s throwing herself at you.” Where is this courage coming from?

  “Not when a beautiful redhead has been occupying the space in your head for weeks. And all you can think about is her instead.”

  Damn.

  I’ve thought so often about the way it would feel to be in Oliver’s arms. Have his mouth on mine. Have him inside me. I’ve pictured in my head every possible way for that to happen.

  And I’m tired of imagining.

  I want the real thing. I think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t have him.

  I twist to put my beer on the decking, and he mirrors my movement. We move toward one another so slowly the water around us feels motionless.

  He stops short of our lips meeting, only a paper-thin wall of air separates them. The strung-out moment before the kiss. His breath teasing my mouth. It’s all a form of foreplay in itself.

  He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks hard for a moment before releasing. It’s not done in the gentlest of ways. And it’s sexy as hell. “Mmm . . . I’ve been dying to taste that lip.”

  I drag it back and forth over his mouth, teasing him. Tempting him to suck it again. And he does.

  My wet hands glide up the brawny ridges of his arms, shoulders, and neck. A satin mountain of muscle beneath my palms.

  My fingertips follow the muscles in the back of his neck in an upward direction. He shivers when my nails lightly scrape his scalp and my fingers slide into his hair.

  His hands cup my hips and squeeze as they pull me closer. I’m weightless as my knees, shins, and tops of my feet skim the vinyl liner of the pool. Full frontal body contact. Full cock pressed against my stomach. Full-blown desire for this man to take me.

  I press a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. Then another. And another. I open a little at a time until I lure his tongue out to play.

  I dig my nails into his scalp when his tongue touches mine. A sigh/moan breaks free of the breath I’m holding. The sound elicits a chain reaction of events: Oliver grabbing the backs of my upper thighs and pulling me against him. My legs wrapping around him. His erection pressing between my legs.

  Nothing separating us.

  Nothing.

  I thrust my hips back and forth so his hard cock rubs my clit.

  He breaks our kiss. “Oh fuck that feels so good.”

  It feels magnificent. Pleasure without penetration. Without gamble. But also without full satisfaction. It isn’t enough.

  “Wanted you since day one, Max. You feel even better than I imagined. So soft.”

  “Shut up and kiss me, Thorn. It’s been too long.”

  And kiss me he does. Tongues clashing in an erotic dance I’ve never experienced before. Is it him? Is that why I’m so turned on? Or is it because it’s been so long?

  I need more. My hands leave his hair and travel over his shoulders. Seeing him shirtless was incredible. Feeling him shirtless and wet, un-fucking-believable.

  “You’re so fucking sexy,” he growls, and somehow I become even more wet. Hot. For him. I want everything Oliver has to give. And judging by his hard cock pushing against me, he wants to give it to me. But he won’t be able to give it here. Oh fuck that feels . . .

  “Let’s go to my bedroom.”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  We break contact and leave the pool. I’m squeezing the water from my hair when Oliver pushes himself against me from behind. He wraps his towel around both of us. Sort of. It barely reaches around to cover me.

  His wet naked front is pressed to my back. His erection poking my ass cheek. I consider giving in and rolling with this scenario. Bending over and letting him fuck me from behind. Right here. Right now. But that will be done and over too soon. I want to perpetuate this. Make it last. Hopefully all night.

  His arms wrap around my shoulders holding me, and the towel, in place. His lips skim the side of my neck and linger in the bend where it meets my shoulder. He scrapes the skin with his teeth and then sucks it into his mouth and gently bites.

  The very core of my desire blazes as my body anticipates the things Oliver is going to do to me.

  And then out of the clear blue the most telling thought in the world occurs to me.

  I don’t buy condoms. I buy batteries instead.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Do you have condoms?”

  “None on me at the moment. Got a new box at my place though.”

  “You’re gonna need to go get them.”

  He releases me and bends down to get his clothes. “Don’t. It’s late. Dark. The neighbors aren’t out. Just go in the towel.” I don’t want any delays when he returns.

  I go up on my tiptoes to nip hi
s bottom lip. “I’ll be in the bedroom waiting. Don’t be long.”

  “Back in a flash, Max.”

  I have a few minutes before Oliver returns so I comb my hair and pull it into a bun on top of my head. He has already kissed me but I still brush my teeth and apply a thin layer of lip balm. No one is turned off by fresh breath and soft lips.

  I hear the chime of the alarm system when the door opens. He’s back. What should I do with myself?

  Strike a sexy pose? No. A pose is just that. A pose. Looks fake.

  I go with standing next to the bed holding the top of my towel. Seems natural. Not staged.

  Oliver crosses my bedroom and stops in front of me. “Hi.”

  He always amuses me saying that as though we’re meeting for the first time. “Hi.”

  He holds up the box of condoms. “I have goodies.”

  “I see that.”

  He tears into the box of condoms and takes out the roll. He tears off several squares and tosses them on my nightstand

  “I plan on there being a next time so these other bad boys are staying here.” He opens the top drawer to deposit the box and I cringe.

  If he sees my collection of vibrators and bullets, he doesn’t say anything. He’s either blind as a damn bat or thinks it’s in bad taste to bring up the BOBs in my life.

  He closes the drawer and that cheeky grin of his spreads. The ungentlemanly one. Yup. He saw everything.

  “Umm . . . yeah.” It is what it is. No need to explain.

  He untucks his towel and allows it to drop to the floor before reaching for mine, not asking permission. And that’s fine by me.

  We’re naked and illuminated only by the soft light of the bedside lamp. The self-conscious part of me wants to reach for the switch while the confident side commands me to keep my twitchy fingers to myself. He likes the visuals. He will be the first man to see the evidence, the crisscrossed lines of Martin’s knife, the leftover scars of . . . No. Stop there, Addie. Perfect or not, he wants to look at your naked body. Give that to him. Give that to yourself.

  Oliver presses a kiss below my ear and moves his mouth down the side of my neck. His big hands similarly mimic the downward motion beginning at my ribcage and moving down my sides, my waist, my hips.