Chapter Twenty-Three

Max prowled around his apartment restlessly, bored out of his mind and irritated because of it. He kept reaching for his cell to call Erin - find out where she was - but stopped himself every time. They weren't an item anymore. He wasn't supposed to call.

He'd grown curious the night before, his overworked brain overthinking yet again as he lost himself in the works of Mozart and Beethoven. He'd killed the headlights as he drove down her street later, frowning when he found her house and porch dark. She'd been out.

And she still wasn't back as of ten o'clock this morning, judging by the newspaper still sitting on her driveway.

Max's jaw clicked as he tried not to think about where she was. It didn't take a genius to figure out where a woman with a rockstar boyfriend could be all night. The thought made him sick.

This Bon Jovi dude was forcefully reminding him more and more of his cursed stepfather - the arrogant sonuvabitch who thought all women were fair game and personal territory.

Max's mother had been no exception.

After Lewis strolled into their lives, his mother changed. Max would lay in bed every night, listening to the sounds coming from the room next door. His mother’s heavy breathing, punctured by loud groans and the occasional cry, shortly followed by a guttural sigh.

His stomach roiled at the thought of what Lewis did to her, of what she let him do to her. Blinded by attraction, both to his looks and his money, she didn’t realize that he didn’t truly love her.

Max hated trying to sleep next door to them every night. He even invested in some earplugs, but could never fully drown his mother’s cries out.

Eventually, he learned to ignore them. They were so routine he could almost fall asleep to them as a lullaby.

Which made it easier for him to notice when something was different. One particularly quiet evening, his mother went up to bed early, complaining of a headache. Max went to bed shortly after, leaving Lewis downstairs in front of the TV.

Max was awakened later by the sounds of his mother’s cries, but not with pleasure. They were tinged with pain, more like yelps than orgasmic groans. A loud scream sounded, stifled quickly by a violent “Shut up!”, and then his mother’s voice, “Please, stop, you’re hurting me…”

Max jumped out of bed and rushed to their bedroom, only to find the door shut and locked. He knocked sharply, but no one came to the door. Instead, Lewis yelled at him to go back to bed. Insisted everything was fine. Max could hear his mother inside, whimpering.

The next morning, his mother stepped gingerly, wincing every time she sat down or bent over. She wore a baggy blouse, but when she reached up for something in the kitchen that afternoon, Max caught sight of her upper arms. The marks were shaped like large fingertips, colored a ghastly greenish blue.

“Mama, are you okay?” Max had asked, pointing to the bruises.

His mother quickly covered them back up and offered him a smile. “I’m fine, baby, just clumsy, that’s all.”

That night, the sounds of pleasure were back.

***

Later that year, Lewis died. Max had vivid memories of that day: the vacant look on his mother’s face, the hushed tones of the officers and the coroner, the blanketed stretcher they wheeled out with Lewis’ body.

And then, the pitiful sobbing of his mother after everyone had left. “What will we do without him?” she hiccupped.

“He left everything to you,” Max had said plainly. “We have plenty of money.”

His mother had stared at him, obviously confused at his apparent oblivion to what she meant.

Lewis had been out that night, enjoying several tankards of his favorite liquor with his drinking buddies at the bar. Despite his riches, he was an empty man and found shallow solace in their company.

He’d come home late, which was why he was surprised to find the mousy-haired boy still awake, stirring a pot of coffee. “What are you doing up?” he grunted. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I made you coffee,” Max said quietly, handing him a mug. Lewis seemed taken aback.

“Uh, thanks,” he muttered, taking the mug. “Now go to bed.”

Max did as he was told, and Lewis finished off the coffee quickly before following suit.

The next morning, however, he didn’t wake up.

The officers didn’t ask many questions; the coroner had examined his body and reported a dangerously high blood alcohol level, which left little to speculation. Lewis had died of heart failure in his sleep. Anyone could see that was easily attributed to the drinking.

In the end, it was ruled an unfortunate accident, and no further investigation was required.

Max tolerated the incoherent wailing of his mother for nearly a week, offering a sympathetic pat on the arm every now and then. He stood grimly at the funeral, nodding solemnly when others expressed their sorrow at his and his mother’s loss. He said nothing when his teachers offered a grace period on his assignments, telling him to take as much time as he needed.

But when he came home in the afternoon, he locked himself in his bedroom and dumped his backpack in the corner. The empty aspirin bottle rolled out from the front pocket, where it had been hidden among crumpled papers and broken pencils.

Max eyed it satisfactorily, a smile creeping around the edges of his pale mouth. He'd get rid of it in the morning, when he passed the dumpsters on his way to school. But for now, he sort of wanted to hold onto it. Like a souvenir of a job well done.

In his silent apartment, Max paced more furiously in circles, reminded that people often have to do things that are unpleasant, but necessary. Erin’s mistake would cost her, but he knew she couldn’t help it. And he understood. He forgave her for what she’d done.

How could he not?

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Chapter Twenty-Two

Erin awoke the next morning to the bright sunlight streaming in, splashing golden rays across the massive white bedspread. Cocooned in the blankets, she felt Jon’s hard body pressed up against her back. She turned slightly to see him – one arm flung protectively over her side, the other bent and cradling his head, his legs stretched out comfortably. Blond hair hung down into his face, his lips parted slightly as he breathed quietly.

She sighed. He was beautiful.

Not wanting to wake him she lay still, enjoying the feel of him nestling her against him even in sleep. She wasn’t in a hurry to get up, anyway – her eyes were still heavy and she would gladly bury herself back beneath the blankets and sleep another few hours.

She had lain awake for hours after their “talk” last night. The battle she’d waged with her overworked brain all evening had finally lost with that climatic end on Jon’s part.

Those three little words. How was it possible that they could cause such a reaction in someone? They held such power in their simplicity, such depth in their connotations.

I love you.

Erin closed her eyes and sighed. She’d analyzed and over-analyzed last night until she nearly had to force her brain to shut up and shut down so she could rest. It seemed it was an entity all on its own, nowadays.

Part of her was touched – deeply touched – that he not only felt that strongly about her, but that he could confess it so openly. She wasn’t used to emotion and raw honesty in men. After all, Max had never shown one iota of evidence that he had an emotional side – besides worry, that is. He could easily pass as a one-dimensional creation and no one would know the difference.

Erin had grown used to that as an inclusive element of his character – just part of who he was – and it had never posed any real problems. It wasn’t that he was stony-hearted. He had a romantic side – if you could call it that. He’d dote on her and bring her flowers, tell her she was the most beautiful woman in the world, do everything and anything she wanted him to in bed, charm the neighbors when they walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand. But it had never really seemed pure. It all always seemed routine, like he was doing it because he was supposed to. Like he knew that men should try to make their girlfriends happy, whether they meant it or not.

But she’d grown tired of his antics and possession over her. He was the easily jealous type, she’d learned quickly, but he’d been the only one she knew when she moved to New Jersey, and she didn’t have many other options. He was just kind of there – someone she was dating, or seeing, rather than in a real relationship with. It took finding someone else to give her the courage to break things off when she did.

She’d never been in love with Max. She’d never uttered those three words to him, though he had to her. The problem was that she didn’t truly believe him.

She believed Jon, though. With every inch of her heart she believed him when he said it. And that was what scared her.

There was so much attached to a proclamation like that. For one thing, it ended the notion that they were a casual relationship. Erin had never considered them a fling, or a purely physical match – there was a lot more to it than that. A friendship, definitely. Attraction and chemistry, absolutely. But she didn’t think she was ready for the “L” word to be thrown into the mix.

Then there was the whole pressure of return. Was she supposed to say it back to him? Could she say it when she wasn’t sure if she felt the same? And what did that say about their relationship if one person was in love and the other…wasn’t?

Erin mentally shook herself. She was covering the same ground over and over again, retracing her steps. But she still couldn’t come up with a good reason why Jon’s confession was the end of the world. Because it wasn’t.

So stop acting like it is, she chided herself.

She felt Jon stir against her and rolled over to face him. She had to smile as he ran a lazy hand across his sleepy face, his eyes still shut against the offending morning light. The blond hair was tousled, a red mark from his arm decorated the side of one cheek. He was absolutely irresistible.

“Good morning, rock star,” she smiled. Jon scrunched up his face and opened one slitted eye at her, deciding how to accept the greeting. He decided on a throaty mumble, which elicited a soft giggle and kiss from her.

“How did you sleep?” she whispered. Jon nuzzled her neck, breathing in the scent that was so perfectly Erin.

“Pretty damn good,” he replied, his breath warm on her skin. “How about you?”

“Fine,” she lied. “This bed is ridiculously comfortable.”

“I know,” Jon sighed sadly. “I wish I could take advantage of that more often.”

Erin smiled. “Look at that pout – you’re such a little boy.”

“Oh really?” Jon wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I don’t think you would have said that last night.”

Erin blushed. “Now, now, no getting cocky. And don’t even think about making that joke,” she cut in as he opened his mouth to retaliate.

Jon laughed. “You do know me all too well.”

They fell silent again, content in the early phase of “wakeup” that rendered them both lazy.

The silence was broken, however, by Erin’s stomach growling loud enough to wake the dead. She burst out laughing.

“That lobster seems so long ago,” she giggled. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at Jon, her green eyes imploring. “Feed me.”

Jon sighed. “So demanding. What is it with women and food? You give them too much of it, they bitch about how fat they are. Give them too little, they whine and beg and put on a big show complete with mood swings and irritability until they get what they want, then eat too much of it and go back to bitching about looking like cows. We can never win.”

Erin laughed. “We?”

“Men. See, we’re perfectly content to eat however much we want and not worry about our figures. Give me a hamburger and fries and I’ll down them in five minutes, then agree to a whopping ice cream sundae with all the fixin’s. And I’ll wash it all down with a chocolate shake.”

“Okay, ignoring the fact that you never have to worry about your figure, you could not just happily eat all that and not suffer from heartburn or indigestion at the very least later,” Erin raised an eyebrow challengingly.

“Could so. Ever heard of tums?”

Erin snorted. “Okay, but on the other hand, if men are deprived food they are even crankier than women are. You guys turn into children when you’re hungry! All pouty and whiny and grumpy.”

“We do not!”

“Do so!”

“No,” Jon said, turning up his nose arrogantly. “You’re mistaken.”

Erin shook her head, laughing. “Like I said – children.”

Jon grinned up at her boyishly and snaked his fingers up into her hair, pulling her toward him for a kiss. “Back to your original request – what do you want to eat?”

Erin tilted her head in thought. “Pancakes,” she proclaimed. “Or French toast. Eggs. Bacon. Waffles. Fruit. Granola. Anything. I’m starving here.”

Jon chuckled. “All right. Your wish is my command, darlin’.”

He pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. Erin eyed the rippling muscles beneath the tan skin as he moved, thoughts of the night before flashing back like a movie reel.

“Enjoying the view?” Jon smirked as he pulled his jeans on.

“On second thought, I think I do know what I want,” Erin replied.

Jon pulled up the zipper and put his hands on his hips, looking at her thoughtfully.

“Sausage?”

Erin threw a pillow at him.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Chapter Twenty-One

Jon knew he was staring like an idiot, but he couldn’t help himself.

She looked so – incredible – the tiny red lace getup showing off every curve of her body, every plane and contour and slope….and those long, strong legs. He sucked in a breath at the thought of the moisture between them.

Good Lord. He was almost in pain inside his jeans.

“C’mere,” he growled.

Erin smirked and began moving toward him slowly, accentuating her hips by swaying them slightly. Eyes never leaving Jon’s, she came within a few feet of him – close enough to tease him mercilessly, but far enough away that he couldn’t reach.

The voices on the giant television screen talked on, but Jon and Erin were deaf to them. Jon’s eyes were nearly black as he hungrily devoured the sight of her, wanting to imprint her image in his mind.

“I hope you didn’t pay too much for that outfit,” he said seriously.

Erin stared back at him, heart thundering in her chest as she summoned all her willpower not to throw herself on him. “Even if I did you wouldn’t spare it, would you?”

Jon shook his head. “Baby, you got me all figured out.”

Two steps and he was there, his mouth crushing down on hers hungrily, tongue begging entry. She willingly obliged as his hands tangled into her hair, pulling her closer to him. Their bodies pressed against each other tightly, and Erin whimpered against his mouth at the feel of his arousal at her hips. She slid her hands up and down his chest before reaching down and grabbing the hem of his black shirt. Their lips parted for a split second as she pulled the shirt up over his head, and ran her hands up and down the ridged muscles of his chest.

Jon maneuvered them toward the sofa, kissing furiously all the while, and backed her up against it until one more move would send her on her back, at his mercy. She slid her fingers down his chest once more toward the snap on his jeans and undid it quickly, loosening the waist so he could get them off. Jon kicked them off quickly and pulled her close again, so their bodies were nearly seamless against each other.

One teetering move and she was on the sofa, Jon crawling between her legs silently. He slowed suddenly, allowing the sound of their heavy breathing to permeate the room along with the voices in the movie. Their eyes locked, a gaze so intense that Erin nearly screamed for him to take her.

Jon seemed to notice, and a small smile crept around the edges of that sexy mouth as he touched his fingers to her thighs. The connection was like an electric shock to Erin, and she watched breathlessly as he slid each finger up slowly – agonizingly slowly – toward the hem of that tiny babydoll.

He tore his eyes away from hers and focused on the exploration of her legs, sliding his fingers up beneath the lace and toward the warm wetness between them.

“Jon,” Erin whimpered. “Not again. I don’t need fingers again – I need the real thing – I need you…”

Jon didn’t say a word, but gently pried her legs apart and slid his hands up to her hips to pull her closer to him. He lowered himself on the sofa toward her, and gently draped each leg over his shoulders. Sliding his hands back up to her hips, he held her firmly as he lowered his head.

The first feel of his hot tongue made Erin jump so violently that she instinctively grabbed the back of the sofa. Her surprise quickly turned to blinding pleasure as he began to lap her, gently and delicately pressing the flat of his tongue into her. He ran it slowly up and down her slit, then just as she started to groan, dove inside to drink her. Erin threw her head back in one long guttural moan, fighting between wanting to pull away and make him come inside her, and exploding right then and there in sheer pleasure.

Jon continued his torture until she was writhing beneath him, his fingers gripping her hips tightly as hers tangled into his hair. He waited until he could hear the change in her breathing, the tell-tale quickened panting that signaled the finish.

As her legs began to tremble, he stopped and looked up at her. Her head thrown back, she was even sexier than he could imagine – the slope of her heavy breasts beneath the tight red silk gave way to the flat plane of her stomach, which tapered off to the hips he was gripping, and the center of her body that he was so intimately familiar with.

She groaned loudly and looked up in surprise, her eyes darkened and her lips flushed. “What the hell, Jon!”

He grinned and released his hold on her waist, reaching down to the hem of lace and pushing it up around her curves. He slid his body up along hers until their hips met, and she could feel him right between her legs. “I need you,” she panted. “Now.”

Jon didn’t need telling twice. He reached an arm down beneath one leg and pulled it up toward her chest, nestling himself right against her snugly. He positioned himself quickly, and just as neither of them could take it any longer, slipped inside.

Erin gasped as her entered her, the pressure causing a mingling of pleasure and pain. She instinctively grabbed his back, digging her fingertips into his flesh as he began to thrust inside her, hard. He took hold of one side of her waist with one hand, the other slammed down onto the cushion beneath her head for better leverage as he pounded into her.

They moved in sync together, bodies fused seamlessly, lips and tongues battling furiously as Jon slammed into her mercilessly. Erin felt herself beginning to tremble sooner than usual, and she shut her eyes tightly, preparing herself. Jon watched her as a frenzy overcame him, and he drove as deep as he could get without hurting her…wanting to feel all of her.

Tremors quaked through Erin’s body suddenly, clenching Jon tightly from within over and over again. As she tipped her head back and lips parted, her dark green eyes shut against release, a powerful emotion grabbed at Jon’s heart, taking him so completely by surprise that he yelled, spilling into her.

His arms trembled as he waited for her to finish, his name on her lips – loudly at first, then gradually to a guttural whisper. As the violent tremors slowed, her eyes sprang open to meet his – lust-filled, dilated pupils staring into his own.

He groaned loudly and released his position, collapsing into her. He brought his hands up to the sides of her head as he bent into her neck, breathing heavily. Her raw, heady scent overwhelmed his senses as he breathed her in, her heart beating wildly against his as their chests heaved up and down together.

They lay like that for a minute as their bodies calmed, hormone-driven tension releasing from their muscles almost palpably. When their hearts slowed, Jon lifted his head so they were face to face.

Erin looked back at him, their eyes meeting yet again. But this time, she read more than lust in his. He held her gaze firmly, a look so searching it seemed to reach down into her very soul. Almost impossibly overwhelming. She could barely force herself to hold it.

As their eyes communicated an unspoken message, Jon leaned down slowly until their lips met. He kissed her gently, his lips soft against hers – full of tenderness and love. In sharp contrast against the wild passion of only a few moments ago.

When he pulled away, he said nothing, but smiled down at her in a way that made Erin’s heart melt. “What?” she asked quietly.

Jon shook his head. “Not right now,” he grinned, the gleam suddenly back in his eye. He lifted himself off of her and tugged at the red lace. “We got one good use out of this thing,” he said. “But I prefer you naked.”

Erin gasped as he ripped the babydoll clean off her body, the thin material ripping easily in his strong hands as if it were made of tissue paper. Jon eyed her hungrily, running his fingers along her smooth, creamy skin and leaving goosebumps behind in their trail. “Erin…” he breathed. “You are so damn beautiful…”

Erin watched him as he explored her body, running his fingers up her sides, along her breasts, down her belly, to the inside of her wet thighs. “Come on,” he growled. “Let’s go upstairs.”

***

An hour later, they lay entangled in each other and panting again, their bodies slick with sweat. Exhausted and spent, they could barely move. The dim light of the bedside lamp threw a faint glow across Jon’s massive bed, bathing them in golden shadows.

Jon peppered her shoulder and chest with tiny kisses as they rested, making her sigh contentedly. She threaded her fingers into his thick blond hair and brought him up to meet her lips, kissing him gently. His breath on her face was like a whisper, soft and intimate.

He rolled over and propped himself up slightly on several of the dozens of pillows that adorned his bed. Erin wiggled over and snuggled up against him, breathing in the musky scent of sex on his skin.

“I’m exhausted,” she proclaimed. Jon laughed lightly and kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”

Erin traced slow circles on his skin, twisting the light hair that dusted his chest. “What was it that you were going to say earlier?”

Jon didn’t answer at first. She waited, and felt him swallow as he fidgeted slightly. He leaned his head to one side, and she looked up at him curiously.

He smiled down at her, and her eyes questioned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered, seeming to regain composure. “I just don’t know how to say what I want to say in words,” he laughed, embarrassed. “I’m a lyricist, for God’s sake, and I can’t find the words.”

Erin laughed but said nothing, knowing whatever he wanted to say was important. Her heart beat a bit faster as she waited. Jon swallowed again.

“I-” he started. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t been on the same plane at the same time,” he said. “If we hadn’t been in the seats next to each other.”

Erin nodded slowly as he paused.

“You’ve quickly become so important to me. On so many levels. Hearing your voice gives me butterflies – I haven’t had butterflies since fucking high school,” he laughed. “Your eyes, the way you look at me – I’m a goner. Your laugh, your smile, everything about you is beautiful and confident and sexy. It radiates off you.”

Erin blushed, her cheeks hot against his chest.

“Look at me, I’m blubbering on like an idiot. You’ve turned me into a sap.”

Erin laughed and looked up at him, shaking her head. “Shut up, it’s refreshing to see real emotion and depth in a man.”

Jon laughed, then turned serious again. “I mean it though,” he said. “I want you to understand – you mean so much to me. I’m quickly getting to the point where I can’t understand how I got on without you.”

He paused, fixing her with intense baby blues again. “I love you, Erin.”

His eyes were sincere, filled with the same deep emotion she’d seen in them earlier. His jaw was set firmly, his face serious…and suddenly she knew that he didn’t say those words very often. Not to a woman.

She stared back at him, unsure what to say. Her mind reeled, her heart danced. She struggled to find the right words. She felt complete and broken all at the same time.

He was waiting.

Finally, she smiled and leaned forward to kiss him, her lips lingering on his. He kissed her back unquestioning, seemingly content with her response.

She said nothing as he tucked her into his arms and rested his head on hers. And she continued to lay there quietly for hours, long after he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Chapter Twenty

Max sat alone in his living room, the curtains all pulled shut, every light but one turned off, not a sound in the house.

The grand piano – his pride and joy – gleamed in the golden light of the nearby lamp, and it sat silently majestic while Max prepared his sheet music.

A moment later, he flexed his fingers, set them on the stark white keys, and began to play Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’. The notes were haunting, as they should be, and Max lost himself in the music almost immediately.

Piano was his emotional sanctuary. The chords, the keys, the distinct sounds each one could make when paired with another…he craved it. Especially in times of emotional turmoil, he could play for hours on end without stopping. His fingers flying across the keys, slowing occasionally, the chords ever-changing and real.

Nothing else existed in those times…just the beautiful, magnificent instrument that he alone could play. Just him, alone with the music.

_____________________


Erin could barely concentrate on the movie being so close to Jon – feeling his skin against hers, breathing in his scent. It felt as if her entire body were on alert, each nerve sensitive to even the slightest touch.

Jon settled his arm comfortably around her, pulling her just close enough that she could feel the rippled muscles in his torso, teasing her through his thin black shirt.

Sweet Jesus…how I have missed this man.

She had succeeded in shutting out her nagging brain thus far, but her nagging desire was another thing entirely.

Without taking her eyes off the screen, she reached over and laid her hand gently in Jon’s lap, resting it comfortably between his legs. She felt him stir slightly and look at her, undoubtedly confused. She didn’t look back, but slowly began to rotate her thumb in small circles through his jeans.

Jon groaned slightly. “Baby, watch the movie…”

Erin smirked. Like he really meant that.

In response, she slid her forefinger down the zipper trail of his jeans as her thumb continued rotating. She could feel him hardening right through the thick fabric. Damn if she wasn’t feeling the unmistakable signs of arousal as well.

Jon inhaled quickly, trying to ignore her antics and focus on the characters on the screen. It didn’t help that Danny and Evelyn were intimately tangled in parachute sheets.

Erin continued her manipulation, stroking him softly and enjoying the internal struggle he seemed to be battling. To see how far she could push her limits, she slowly unzipped his zipper and slid her hand into his jeans to get a better position. Jon sucked in a breath and held it, shutting his eyes and focusing on the burn in his lungs rather than the tingle between his legs.

The truth was, he’d wanted her all night. Hell, he’d wanted her all week – since they’d last seen each other. Her deep, dark green eyes had tinted the edges of his every dream, his fingers had literally ached to smooth over that satiny skin. And tonight – fuck. That minidress was just long enough to cover the curve of her ass, but he’d been hoping she’d bend over all night. The way her thick blonde hair tumbled down around her, hiding that shallow curve between her shoulder and neck…

He gave himself about three seconds before he made up his mind.

Exhaling slowly, he gently removed her hand from his lap and brought it over to her own. Pushing up the short hem of her dress, he fingered the lace on her thong before sliding a finger beneath it and beginning his own exploration. She was surprisingly moist, a revelation that caused his very belly to tighten like a rock.

He removed his finger and took her hand in his, bringing it back down below to the thong’s fabric. Erin looked at him, her eyes widened.

“What are you doing?”

Jon threw her ball right back into her court, smirking and refusing to look at her. Gently, he positioned her finger beneath his and slid them both back beneath the lace. It was Erin’s turn to suck in a breath, as she sat there in surprise at what he was doing.

Jon was staring at the movie screen, but he couldn’t have explained what was happening anymore if someone had paid him to. His entire mind and every thought was on the woman sitting next to him, where his finger was and what he was doing to her…what he was making her do to herself.

He slid their fingers slowly in between the moist folds of flesh to sink into the soft silkiness inside. Then, he moved them gently in and out, stroking her in her most sensitive places as he did so. He listened carefully to her reaction, and smiled when he heard her start to pant.

He picked up the pace then, gradually increasing speed until she was nearly bucking her hips in time with the mutual thrusts of their fingers. She whimpered in between her pants, and threw her head back against the sofa in anticipation of the finish. Jon was overcome with a crazy urge to bring her over the edge, to watch the look on her face and hear the guttural sounds she made as she found her sweet release.

She found it quickly, her body tensed so tightly that it had been nearly at the breaking point already. She moaned as she clenched around their fingers again and again, slicking them both. Jon waited until her body relaxed, then slowly withdrew their fingers.

He met her gaze then, and made sure he had her attention as he brought her finger to his mouth. He closed his lips around it and sucked with his tongue, closing his eyes as he did so. When he was finished, he opened them and released her finger, chuckling at the look on her face. She seemed in a daze, her mouth set in a precarious ‘o’ and her eyes unblinking.

“Well…how was that?” he said slyly.

Erin narrowed her eyes at him. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”

Jon chuckled. “I figured. But you should know that I don’t play well when I’m on the defense.”

Erin raised an eyebrow.

Jon nodded. “I usually play on the offense.”

“Well then,” Erin got up and tossed back her hair, letting it fall freely down her back.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” her voice was mysterious, but Jon somehow knew she didn’t want him to follow her. He watched as she walked away, a deliberate sway in her hips. His jaw clicked as he smirked. She was undeniably sexy…and she knew it.

Erin made her way to the entry hall, where she’d left her purse – she’d brought along something special for the night. She turned down the hallway to the nearest guest bathroom and shut the door.

A thin, slinky red piece of lace, entirely transparent except for the tiny matching triangles of silk. Erin smirked as she peeled off her minidress and slipped on the babydoll, admiring what she saw in the mirror. Despite working hard lately, she’d found time to get in a nightly run, and now she was pleased with the toned thighs and tight tummy. The lace was dangerously thin and fragile, the silk triangles clung to her heavy breasts, and Erin somehow knew the outfit wasn’t going to survive the night.

She ran her fingers through her hair quickly, tossing and fluffing the long tresses. She pulled a tube of bright red lipstick from her purse and splashed some color on her lips, then spritzed her favorite perfume on her neck and chest. She shoved her clothes and purse aside, took one last look at herself in the mirror, and left the bathroom quietly.

Barefoot and nearly naked, she made her way through the house silently.

As she approached the living room, she called out, “I play on the offense, too, you know.”

“Oh, really?” Jon turned as she walked into the room and stopped short. Erin’s stomach fluttered as she watched the changes in his face take place rapidly, and she nearly laughed at his almost dizzying change from nonchalant to pure lust. His baby blues darkened, his lips parted, his breathing shallowed. He stared at her with an expression so hungry she could barely restrain herself.

“Yeah,” she said smugly. “I do.”

Sunday, May 10, 2009