Caress Part Two (Arcadia) (4 page)

I laid awake for an hour or more after Emma fell asleep,
just holding her. The gentle rhythm of her breathing eased the tight knot of concern
inside me. But it couldn’t eliminate it entirely.

When was the last time I had felt such a lack of control?
Maybe seven years ago when I realized how close I was to losing everything my
father had built. But even then, confronted by the circling wolf pack, I’d
relished the chance to prove myself. The challenge of that had never worn off,
which I suppose explained to a large degree why I’d attained the success that I
had.

But this was different. When she made it clear that she
didn’t want anything other than a casual relationship, I came as close as I
ever had to losing it. How else to explain fucking her up against a wall? On
the terrace, no less, in clear view of any passing pigeon.

A reluctant smile spread across my face. She had to be the
most instinctively sexual woman I’d ever encountered. So passionate and giving.
So brave, seemingly up for any challenge. What would she be like once she
gained a little more experience and confidence?

My cock twitched at the thought but I ignored it. I meant
what I’d said, she needed to rest. And I needed to prove that I was in control.

The marks on her back bothered me, not in the least because
my reaction to them was more complicated than it should have been. The thought
of her being hurt in any way was intolerable. But the signs of our passion, and
of my possession of her, made the caveman inside all too happy.

The smug bastard wanted to fuck her again right then but I
was determined to prove who was in charge—me, Mister 21
^st
Century.
He could go sulk in the back of the cave and whack off. I was going to lie
right there with Emma in my arms and think pure thoughts.

Or maybe slip away for a little quality time in the shower.

Damn it, no, absolutely not. For one thing, she might wake
up, realize that I wasn’t there and go off to the guestroom she was so
determined to stay in.

For another, this was the first time that I’d simply held
her and it felt really…right, somehow, and good. I didn’t want it to end.

And therein lay the problem. I got that she believed she
couldn’t rely on anyone other than herself. Life had taught her that in spades.
But it didn’t mean the lesson was valid forever. Surely, she’d considered the
possibility that she might meet someone who wasn’t deterred by her past, who
saw her for the lovely woman she was, and who had the sense to do something
about it.

Someone like me.

Which brought me to the other part of the problem.

This wasn’t me. Sure, I liked women, some a lot. But I’d
never fallen for one. I’d seen guys go that route. I’d even envied them the
happiness they found--sometimes. Other times, I’d lent a sympathetic ear over a
few scotches when it all blew up in their faces. Between one thing and another,
I’d never been tempted in that direction myself.

Until now.

I had a choice. Door Number One: Take Emma on her own terms
and just fuck her for however long that lasted, with the added bonus that she
might trip up and reveal something about her father. That was the safer option
by far, no surprises and minimal risks, except that inevitably I’d lose her and
have to deal with the pain of that. Pain that I already knew would be worse
than any I had ever known.

And then there was Door Number Two, opening straight into a
maze that I’d have to somehow navigate in the hope of finding a way to convince
Emma to trust me, not just with her body but with her spirit, her mind, and
maybe even her heart.

I hated mazes, had done ever since I got lost in one when I
was four years old. I wandered for what seemed like hours but was really only a
few minutes, convinced that I was never going to get out and feeling more
helpless than I ever had in my short, privileged life.

Of course, I’d been found quickly—admonished, hugged, nose
wiped, and soothed with one of those soft-swirl ice cream cones dipped in
chocolate. All in all, not a bad deal but I still remembered how frigging
terrified I’d been. That was my first real encounter with losing control and
the beginning of my determination to hold onto it at all cost.

Including giving up the beautiful woman asleep in my arms?

My mind was still mulling over the problem as I finally
drifted off. At some point, I dreamed of Emma, watching her standing on the terrace,
in the glow of the setting sun, in the instant before she sprouted wings and
flew off without a backward glance in my direction.

I must have cried out because I heard someone murmur, “Shhh,
it’s all right. It’s just a dream.”

Soft fingers brushed my brow, soothing me. The tension
evaporated and I slipped back into sleep.

When I next woke, it was morning, if only barely. I was
lying on my back, all of me that is except my cock. It was standing straight
up, doing its imitation of a tent pole, holding the sheet up in the air.

Emma was snuggled against me. Soft, warm, smelling-so-good
naked Emma. Her head was on chest and one slender leg was thrown over mine. I
could feel her pussy against my thigh.  

Like most guys, I can surprise myself sometimes. I’m in good
shape and fairly agile but getting a condom out of the bedside table without
disturbing her took some doing. Not only that, I accomplished it in record
time.

For once Mister 21
^st
century and the caveman were
in agreement. Now I just had to hope that Emma felt the same way.

I took a moment to study her before making my move. She
looked so lovely lying there, her luscious lips slightly parted, the dark fans
of her lashes shadows on her pale cheeks.

Too pale. She needed to get out in the sun more, out of the
apartment. I was making that priority number one. Right after fucking her.

Slowly, I eased back the sheet and let myself drink in the
sight of her. Lying on her side as she was, the curves of her hip and ass were
on display. So were the glorious globes of her breasts. They were pressed
together slightly, the delicate pink nipples relaxed.

In a flash, I saw myself,…sucking and teasing those nipples,
flicking my tongue over them and biting lightly until she was moaning for
more….drenching my fingers in her juices and rubbing them over those round,
firm globes…straddling her, squeezing her breasts together and ramming my cock
between them again and again.

Fuck. The image was so real that I grabbed the base of my
penis and squeezed hard rather than risk coming all over her. That’d be a hell
of a wake-up call.

The raw intensity of what I wanted to do to her clashed with
my awareness of how vulnerable she looked, lying there like that. I felt a
brief, unsettling sense of shame before putting all such thoughts out of mind.
Obviously, this called for a more gentlemanly approach.

Carefully, not wanting her to wake quite yet, I slipped an
arm under her and turned her so that she was lying on her back. With the sheet pushed
out of the way, I knelt between her legs. The sweet view I had of her pussy
made me grin. She was so fucking gorgeous, like a soft pink flower that I
wanted to see wet with dew.

Keeping my eyes on hers, the better to gauge her reaction, I
spread her labia and blew lightly. She made a soft, murmuring sound but didn’t
wake.

With the first swipe of my tongue, her scent and taste
filled me. I had to pause for a moment and grit my teeth against the wave of
pleasure that threatened to send me over the edge.

But not before she got there. Hell, no.

Slowly, never taking my eyes off her, I stroked the flat of
my tongue from her vulva to her clit and back again, each time paying
particular attention to that little nub of nerve endings that swelled at my touch.
Drawing her clit into my mouth, I sucked gently.

Emma moaned and her eyelids fluttered.

“Easy, baby,” I murmured and worked my way back down to her
opening before giving into overwhelming temptation and tongue fucking her.

Her back arched at the same time her eyes flew open.

“What! Lucas! Oh! Oh, my god…!”

She sounded like a sleepy, startled kitten but she was all
woman, coming apart at my touch.

I gave her no quarter, stoking the fire I already knew was
in her with my tongue and fingers. She cried out and tried to jerk away but I
took hold of her hips and held her fast.

She succumbed with a groan, melting for me. Her surrender
drove me into a fierce assault on all her senses. I wanted her to come apart,
screaming my name, and shatter for me.

Emma gave me all that and more. Deep shudders seized her as her
body bowed, arching off the bed as she trembled in my grasp.

“Lucas!”

“That’s right, baby. Know who’s doing this to you.”

I waited as that first orgasm took her but not much longer. While
she was still coming, I sheathed myself.

She was more than ready, hot and wet, but she was also
tight. I went carefully, easing myself in but not stopping until I was balls-deep,
my groin pressing against her clit.

The sensation was incredible. She fit me so perfectly or I
did her. I didn’t care which it was.

Her arms wrapped around me, her hands running over my back,
the nails raking me. More marks but these I’d relish. Her breath was coming in
quick little pants, her skin moist and flushed from our exertions. She was the
most exquisite thing I’d ever seen and incredibly, she was real--a living,
breathing human being who made me yearn to the depths of my ragged soul.

 I moved and her hips rose and fell to the rhythm I set. I
couldn’t look away from her. She was holding nothing back, giving me
everything, physically at least. I wanted more and in that moment I admitted
that fully to myself.

I wanted all of her, her dreams so that I could make them
real, her fears so that I could chase they away. Above all I wanted her trust.
I wanted her to give herself to me completely, without any reservation.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take what I could get in the
moment.

Holding her gaze, I drove into her again and again, not
sparing either of us. My cock was rock hard, pounding into her pussy, the slap
of our bodies and our groans the only sounds in the room.

I wanted to fill her so completely that she would lose all
sense of everything except me…of us. I wanted her to feel, taste, hear, see,
and smell what we could be.

I wanted to own her.

And in that instant, I did, at least so far as she would
allow me.

Her pussy tightened, taking everything I gave her. A flood
of heat bathed my cock as she clamped down on me fiercely. In the next
heartbeat, a deep, long quiver ran through her. She came gloriously and loudly,
coming for me, in spasm after spasm that hurtled us both toward oblivion.

My own orgasm followed hard on hers, wiping out every
thought I’d had of maintaining control. The sweet, hot, wet contractions of
Emma’s pussy didn’t stop. She kept coming and kept me doing the same until finally
I was milked dry, sprawled out half on top of her, my heart hammering against
my ribs and my breath coming in gasps.

Holy hell, what was happening to me? I’d never, ever been
like this. My only consolation was that I wasn’t alone. After what we’d just
experienced, she had to be every bit as wrecked as I was, maybe more--

“Oh, Lucas,” Miss Whittaker said with a soft, sated laugh.
“You make the perfect alarm clock.”

I would have groaned but even that was beyond me. If I
needed a reminder of the greater stamina and resiliency of the “weaker” sex,
there it was. In contrast, I was spent, done, destroyed. I’d be lucky if I
could crawl out of bed, limp into the office, and hope like hell that no one
took too close a look at me.

But I was a man, damn it, proud owner of a Y chromosome, and
fuck if I’d let her win.

“Glad you think so,” I muttered. Drawing on every ounce of
strength that I still possessed, I raised my head. Legions of men, the caveman
included, cheered as I said, “Morning, sweetheart.”

The look of indulgent gratitude and approval that she
bestowed sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I started to think that I might
live after all.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she chirruped and pranced from the
bed.

I slumped back down and drifted, more or less comatose,
while I considered the possibility that women, some of them at least, have a
vampire gene that enables them to feed on the life energy of males. Now that I
thought about it, that would explain a lot.

My reverie was interrupted by the smells coming from the
kitchen. Coffee and…

Bacon?

Bacon!

Oh, shit, she really wasn’t playing fair.

The smell, setting off sparks deep in my limbic system, was
enough to revive me. I stumbled from the bed, managed to stand upright under
the shower for several minutes, and dragged on the first clothes that came to
hand.

On the threshold of the 1950s style kitchen, I stopped cold.

Emma was standing at the stove, carefully turning strips of bacon.
She needed to be careful because she was wearing nothing but a frilly little
apron covered with red and white polka dots. That and an all-over blush.

Her gorgeous tits were bare as was her sweet ass and those
long legs I wanted wrapped around me—

My cock twitched.

What in living hell? Was it trying to kill me?

Was she?

“Uh…Emma…?”

She turned her head and smiled at me with a combination of
innocence and sensuality that almost drove me to my knees. “Are you hungry?”
she asked.

Starving, baby. Come here and I’ll show you.

I didn’t say that, of course. Instead, suave devil that I
was, I just gaped at her until she raised an eyebrow. Then I managed to mutter,
“Yeah…bacon…”

“I’m making eggs, too. How do you like yours?”

Whichever way’s quickest.

I ran down a mental list of all the places in the apartment
where I wanted to fuck her besides the kitchen. The screening room, for sure, the
living room in front of the fireplace, bent over the dining room table, in the
over-sized wing chair in the library, and—

Good thing it was still the weekend because--

My brain suddenly rebooted. Since it hadn’t been heard from
in a while, it had a few things on its mind, starting with the fact that I was
a man, not a beast. Have a little pride, if I would, not to mention some of
that control I kept harping about.

In short, man up, enjoy breakfast and the view, but
re-establish exactly who was in charge.

She was—

I ignored my cock trying to chime in and said, “Scrambled,
please. How about I set the table?”

She agreed with another smile but I was pleased to see that
she kept an eye on me as I moved farther into the kitchen. Under that veneer of
playful sexiness she looked a little uncertain.

I didn’t hesitate to take advantage of that.

Gathering up plates and utensils, I brushed against her a
couple of times, just light touches that sent little electrical jolts through
me. And apparently, through her as well.

Generally, it’s men who can’t keep their arousal secret but
for once I had the advantage. Emma’s nipples hardened delightfully whereas I
managed to keep my cock in my pants, if barely.

She was sufficiently flustered by the time we were ready to
sit down that I thought she might try sneaking off to put on more clothes.
Before that could occur to her, I said, “You have to know this is on my Top Ten
Sexual Fantasy list.”

The flush that crept over her cheeks made me grin.

“What is?” she asked softly as she took the chair I held out
for her.

I dropped a light kiss on her bare shoulder, took the quiver
that ran through her as my due, and sat down across from her.

“You,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Gorgeous, naked
except for that little apron, in the kitchen, making me breakfast.”

She regained a little of her confidence and smiled in turn.
“I thought it had a nice 1950s vibe to it, in keeping with the apartment.”

“It does,” I agreed. “Throw in a string of pearls and some
high heels—” I broke off, admiring the image I’d just conjured.

“Seriously?” she asked. The eyebrow was back, which gave me
a good indication that my answer should be ‘no’.

“Of course not. I’m just saying that if you ever want to
make out at a drive-in, I’m your man.”

God bless her, she giggled.

I grabbed a strip of bacon, downed a slurp of coffee, and
started to think that we were on the right track after all.

Half-an-hour later, that would be thirty minutes of sitting
at the breakfast table with nearly-naked Emma, I had an incipient case of blue
balls and an urgent need to find something to do other than fuck her.

“I’ll clear up,” I said. “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

This time, both eyebrows shot up. I refused to be deterred.
“I mean it, you’re too pale. You need to get out of here for a while. It’s a
beautiful day and we’re going to spend it together.”

She stood, affording me an even better view of her gorgeous self.
Even frowning, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

“Admittedly, I haven’t dated a lot but aren’t you supposed
to ask?”

Not for nothing had I swum with the sharks all these years.
I tossed that particular piece of chum right back at her.

“Why? It’s not like we’ve got something serious going. Like
you said, this is strictly casual so let’s not stand on ceremony. It’s Sunday,
I’m not working and you shouldn’t be either. There’s a book fair in Central
Park this weekend.”

Thank god for the women in the office who actually cared
about such things and who had been talking it up.

“Let’s head over there,” I went on, “then see what
develops.”

She hesitated but I could tell that she was tempted. How
could she not be? After so long in the apartment, she had to be practically
claustrophobic. Plus, I was throwing in my own charming company for good
measure.

“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll just—” She made a vague
gesture as her blush deepened.

Magnanimous in victory, I said, “While you’re getting dressed,
I’ll stack the dishwasher.”

She gave me a funny look, then grinned. “You mean do the
dishes, right? There is no dishwasher.”

The 1950s lost a chunk of their allure right then but I
rallied. “I can do that. No problem.”

Hell, I’d been a Boy Scout. A sink full of dishes weren’t
going to get the better of me.

Twenty minutes later, the dishes were draining on the
sideboard and Emma was ready to go. She looked…
fuck me, I was in trouble…
good
enough to eat in pale yellow slacks and a cherry red top that worked great with
her hair.

The combination reminded me of something but I needed a
minute to figure out what it was. When I did, I grinned and said, “Let’s go.”