::SIXTEEN::
I couldn’t say how long I held her. The sky darkened a little, and it rained a little harder, even the tree above us not able to hold it back, and we sat in the rain for a while. I didn’t care that I was getting soaked through. I let go. I let everything go, until all there was left was Jeanette.
I know I’m holding her too tight, her chest pressed hard to me. She doesn’t say anything about it, her hand resting on the stubble at the back of my neck. It feels like the first real breath I’ve taken in a year and a half. The first breath that didn’t hurt, that didn’t feel like a betrayal. Every raindrop sounding distinct as it makes its way through the sodden canopy of leaves. Like hearing rain for the first time. I nuzzle her hair, smelling of rain and strawberries, before helping her up, still playing with the dark wet strands of it. “I’m glad I met you, ‘Nette.” She grins up at me, resting her head against my shoulder as we walked back to my house in the rain. “Me too.”
“Do you want a glass of wine? I know it’s kind of early…” She’s in the bathroom, changing out of her soaked clothes, into the pajamas she brought from her apartment. I wonder if it’s strange to think a woman padding around your house in cotton pajamas and bare feet is sexy. I don’t care, she is sexy.
“I don’t have to drink it all at once.” She leans in to kiss me as she takes the glass.
“Wait…” My fingertips follow the lines of the muscles in her bare goosebumped arms as I leave, going back to my bedroom to find her something warmer to put on.
“I’m going to end up with all of your shirts, Sean.” Grinning, she pulls it on, pulling her arms in for a moment to hug herself with it first. I get butterflies again, as she bunches it up under her nose, smiling at the smell. I had worn it the other day. She did it almost without thinking about it.
“I’ll have to keep you here then, just to make sure I see them again.” I close my eyes as I kiss her hair, thinking about what I’ve said. I want her to stay. Not just for a night, not just for a weekend. I want her to stay, but I should probably wait a while before letting that one out. “I like you in my shirts, ‘Nette.”
She has her feet pulled up and perched on the edge of the kitchen chair, her arms wrapped around her knees. “They smell like you, so I like them. Do you need help with anything?”
“Nope, just sit with me, beautiful.” I watch her every few minutes as I get everything ready for dinner. I had said I wasn’t really domestic, when Alvarez asked. That’s not really true, I just don’t cook for myself. Now that she’s here I can enjoy what I’m doing. Roasting the peppers and garlic, making the sauce, and the meatballs. Jeanette sits quietly and watches everything, taking small sips out of her glass of wine. Her mouth open like a little bird when I feed her a meatball, when they’re ready. “You’re cute, ‘Nette.”
Refilling our glasses, we go out on the back porch to wait for the pasta. “Are you cold?” The rain is a drizzle that seems to float in under the cover of the porch, making everything damp.
She leans against my chest, standing on her toes to kiss my ear. “Keep me warm.” She’s beautiful in the sunlight, when the gold flecks spark in her eyes and her hair. There’s something deeper, something darker, in her, in the rain. The brown of her eyes nearly black, the light there her own, not a reflection. Her hair is a ripple of black water down her back, the deepest brown of it only showing when I play with it. I look away for a second, to put my wine glass on the porch rail, so I can hold her.
“You could make me like the rain.” She doesn’t say anything, just makes that soft contented sound, a deep purr that cuts right through me. Her weight shifts, balanced on her toes. Her stance precarious, trusting me not to let her fall or stumble. Leaning up to kiss me, her eyes, heavy lidded, hold mine for a moment. It’s like falling, like surrender.
Her lips taste of red wine and rosemary, exotic and heady. A flush of heat that can’t be entirely explained by the two glasses of wine I’ve had. Neither of us close our eyes, but watch, heavy lidded, as our tongues tangle and slide over one another. Held by the fire in her dark eyes, her body stretches and presses harder into mine, as I pull her closer. A soft whimper quickly muffled in the passion of our kiss.
Still watching each other, I trace a line of kisses down her jaw, looking away only to whisper in her ear. “Do you dance, ‘Nette?” My hand slips down to her hips, feeling hers pressed into mine, still balanced on her toes. I put her wine glass down, and take her hand.
“I’m not great, and you’ll have to lead, but I won’t stand on your feet.”
Her body responds to the slightest touch, her movements graceful and sure, barely a sliver of light between us. Another experience I thought I would never enjoy again. I lean down to kiss her ear, letting my fingertips take their own time, tracing a path up her back to cup the curve of her neck. At the end it’s no longer just dancing, if that’s what it ever was. The only music the rain on the roof, and our heartbeats. A slow sensuous embrace, making love in every way but the physical.
I let her go with a sigh, and a last quick kiss, to deal with dinner before it burns. She leans against the open door, half in and half out of the kitchen, as I make her a plate. That same funny look, her eyebrow raised, when I started out with a huge amount of pasta on her plate. I take a little off, and look at her, then take off a little more, until there was the right amount on there. Jeanette doesn’t eat much. That’s going to be weird to get used to. Stacy had an incredible appetite, sometimes I’d just stop to watch her eat, wondering where she put it all. Jeanette nibbles her food, but enjoys it completely.
“What are we going to do when it’s too cold to do anything out here, ‘Nette?” Jeanette sits back down in front of me, cross legged, on the back porch after jumping up to grab the wine from the kitchen. She smiles, picking up a meatball off my plate with her fingers, popping it into my mouth.
“I guess we’ll have to find something to do inside.” I take hold of her wrist before she cleans the spaghetti sauce off her fingers. Leaning down to pull her thumb into my mouth first, sucking the sauce off slowly, before moving to her forefinger. Taking my time with it, sucking her fingertip hard with the curve of my tongue before letting her go. Her throat flushes pink and she does that thing she does with her bottom lip that drives me crazy. Maybe eating out here was a good thing, I don’t think I’ll ever eat with knives and forks again. The utensils get left on the porch as we feed each other. Stacy may have liked her food, but I can’t ever imagine her letting me feed her. I probably wouldn’t even have done it if the three glasses of wine I drank hadn’t gone to my head already.
The plates, half finished, are pushed aside. It’s not what I’m hungry for anymore. She doesn’t purr when I kiss her this time, it’s not that small contented sound but a quiet low growl, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip. The kiss is demanding, aggressive, and passionate. Kicking the plates and cutlery out of the way, ignoring the crash as they break on the side of the porch, I pull her up. My head is filled with that wonderful sound she’s making, muffled by the kiss.
My hands slide over her rear, cupping, squeezing, before pulling her to my waist, the pressure of her against me makes me moan out loud. The back door slams as I kick it shut on the way to my bedroom, not bothering with the lights. Jeanette pulls my shirt free before I even make it to the bed, her hands running underneath to play with my chest. A fingertip grazes over a nipple, before circling and torturing the tiny bud into a hard peak.
My hips press hard between her thighs as we fall onto the bed, the pressure making us both gasp, the kiss, like a spell, broken. Everything but our hearts, our breath, slows down. Her hair is a wild tangle fanned out on the bed behind her. “‘Nette…” It’s not quite a question. I’m not really sure what it is, my voice hoarse, as I pull back a little, my weight on my elbows. The sight of her, the feel of her beneath me, making me want her more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life, maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
She reaches up to hold my face in her hands, her thumbs caressing over my temples, before pulling me down to kiss her. Her tongue an invitation, an answer, to the question I couldn’t ask. The fire in her eyes said even more. She wanted me as much as I wanted her.
Lost in the sound of her need again, my uncertainty gone. That low growl, as I press harder into her, the wet heat between her thighs evident, despite our clothes. The sharp intake of breath as I nip at her ears, sucking at the sensitive skin where her neck meets her shoulder, pulling her shirt out of the way.
“Undress me, Sean.” The sound of her voice, husky, panting, nearly pleading, pulls a deep groan from me. The sweatshirt comes off, her tank top with it, thrown off the bed. Mine follows it. She’s squiggling her hips out of her pajama bottoms. I press harder into her, pinning her beneath me.
“Let me.” In my head I screamed it, the desire for her stole my voice away, this ragged sound all I have left. I kissed a trail as low as I could on her neck, without having to move my hips from hers, reaching down to undo my top button and fly. It does nothing for the ache, for either of us. Jeanette whimpers when I finally lift my hips to crouch over her, watching her for a moment, my eyes taking in every inch of her. Captivated by the damp spot on her pajamas, the thought of her so wet making it hard to breathe.
Her back arches up to me, as I trace the tip of my tongue over her nipple, pulling the hard bud before letting go, nipping gently with my teeth. “Please…Sean…” My pants feel about three sizes too tight, as I pull them off, kicking them off the bed, kissing her belly as I throw my boxers off the bed. I trace my fingers over the waistband of her pajamas to tease her or torture myself further, maybe both.
The blood pounds in my ears as my hands slide over the outside of her hips first, that wet spot still holding my attention. Pulling her pajamas over her hips, as she braces herself, raising up for me. For that one moment her knees spread wide, the beautiful pink flower at her centre exposed shamelessly. I look up, between the valley of her breasts, to watch her watching me, as she lowers her hips, her pajama bottoms joining all of the other clothes on the floor.
Kissing the inside of her thigh, her eyes holding mine as I nuzzle through her damp curls. Glistening wet, a perfect pink against the pale skin of the rest of her. Tracing two fingertips over the petal edges, a line down either side, her back arching when I finally make my way to the bottom, barely caressing over her entrance. My tongue follows the path my fingertips blazed. Pressing my hips hard into the bed, my eyes jammed shut, as the sweet wet taste of her dances on my tongue.
“I can’t do this for long, ‘Nette.” My voice a whisper as I rest my head against her thigh for a second, the thought of her, the taste of her, almost too much to bear. I’m not just worried about coming, it’s like dying, needing her this badly. Her belly rises and falls rapidly, nearly every panted breath a whimper, growing to a moan, as my tongue cups the beautiful bud, pulling it free from it’s hood. Her knees raise and her toes curl, until the knuckles of them are white, as I gently brush the whiskers of my beard over the sensitive button. Her short scream muffled by the hand in her mouth.
“Sean, please…” Her voice is tiny, begging, her hands reaching out for me as I crouch over her, leaning down to kiss her gently, my hand tracing over the flush at her throat, her chest. Her hands are shaking, so I deal with the stubborn wrapper myself. She stops me for a moment, holding my wrist as she braces herself on an elbow. Her hand caressing over her soaked folds, before stroking over me, coating me first in her slick wetness. Her wetness against me first.
“Is this what you like, Sean?” Her cheeks flush a darker pink, shy again, as she asks, so quiet I could barely hear her. It took me a second to realize what she was asking. If I didn’t say anything, she would never ask the question again. She’s brave in so many ways, and shy in so many other ways.
“Turn over.” One knee pulls in, her back a sensuous line, turning over. Touching the dimples at the bottom of her back before smoothing my hand down her spine, pressing her chest to the bed. Easing behind her, my hand on her hip for a moment, the sight of her, on her knees, making me dizzy, making my mouth water. The deep curve in her back, her hands braced beside her shoulders. I lean over her to brush the hair out of her face, the dark tendrils of it clinging to her sweat slicked skin. Her eyes open, watching me over her shoulder, and I had to bite my lip hard to keep from coming right then and there. If it’s possible for her to look any sexier I’m not sure if I want to know.
“You’re so fucking beautiful Jeanette.” The words are whispered into the skin of her back, before easing into her slowly. The muscles in her back ripple as the scream is torn from her, her hips arching back into me to take me fully, deeper than I would have thought possible. Leaning over her back, our fingers interlace. We both moan at withdrawal, the pain of separation. Her first sharp scream deepens to a wild animal growl at the second stroke, the sound of her breaking free beneath me. There is no shyness in that sound, only wild abandon. Her hips arching up, denying me withdrawal, pushing back into me as much as I’m thrusting into her.
I had wanted to be gentle, to never ever be rough with her. She screams again, the deep flutter of her impending orgasm pushing me over the edge. Pushing back into me, as I slam into her, my own deep growl answering her every wild sound, pushing each other further with every cry. She clenches and releases so tightly it’s nearly painful, her breath in short gasps, the soft whimpering sounds as her back arches further into the bed, her eyes closed tightly, as the crest of her orgasm approaches.
It breaks over her, over us, at the next stroke, the scream ripped from her, her mouth a perfect oh. Everything in her tenses, pulling me deeper. My own roar a pale echo of the incredible sound of her beneath me, as I come hard, my hips bucking into her uncontrolled. Her body trembles with the aftershocks, smaller orgasms pulled from her in decreasing waves until she lies spent and panting, her hips slowly sinking boneless to the bed, with me resting on top of her.
I pull my weight off her, resting on my elbows, kissing the back of her neck between breaths. “Did I hurt you, ‘Nette?” Still not able to speak, she shakes her head, whimpering in quiet animal noises.
The muscles in my legs cramp painfully, unused to the strain, as I withdraw. The colder air of the room making me hiss out loud. I pull the corner of the blanket over us as I lie beside her, running my hand over the small of her back, the muscles twitching under my hand. I’m not the only one unused to this. She turns her head the other way to look at me, the contented smile there making me grin back at her, that same flush of male pride. I don’t try to hide it this time. I pleased her, satisfied her, fully and completely.
She winces a little as she turns over onto her back, settling close to me. The flush of heat still evident, in a pink line down to her belly. I roll onto my side, braced on my elbow, brushing the hair off her face. In the end just resting my hand there, maybe just to tell me it’s real, my thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone as she watches me.
I wait until I get my breath back before asking her, “What do you like, ‘Nette?” I was pretty sure she was happy with this, but I wanted to know everything that made her happy. So I could keep making her happy.
Her eyes watch me for a moment, her lips turned up in a crazy grin before the giggles hit her. “I really like spaghetti and meatballs, Sean.”
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