Chasing Her Tail (3 page)

He drew her back against him with a rough noise, a sound that could have been relief or triumph or need or a combination of all three. Pressed to his chest, Bridget couldn’t remember what had made her hesitate. She felt a mixture of safety and lust, and the odd combination made her laugh.

“Come on,” he commanded, pulling her by the hand through the crowd. To her own surprise, Bridget went willingly. A part of her marveled at this; that she, Bridget, rule-following, safety-first, always-looking-before-she-leapt Bridget, was allowing herself to be towed along behind this feral-eyed man. She wanted this though, wanted
him
more than she’d ever wanted anything.

Micah yanked a side door open and tugged her outside. The night was quiet, the air sharp with the coming fall, and it cleared Bridget’s desire-fogged brain. She hesitated, her feet slowing as her usual caution returned. Micah turned when he felt her lag behind.

“You okay?” he asked, the gravel in his voice tightening her belly and drawing moisture from her pussy.

“Is this stupid?” she asked, immediately regretting the words. Of
course
this was stupid but she wanted it anyway. Why was she wrecking things?

He smiled; the small, upturned twist of his lips that had started this whole mess.

Bridget had to restrain herself from reaching up to touch that full bottom lip.

“Yes,” he told her, taking her other wrist and running both of his hands up her arms. Leaning in close, so close she could feel his breath on her face, he asked, “Feel like doing something stupid?”

14

Title

“God yes,” she gasped—and Micah’s lips were on hers. It was savage and primal and it was wonderful. He licked and bit at her mouth, demanding she let him inside, forcing her to back up until she was pressed against the closed door to the bar. His hands bracketed her face, his fingers buried in her hair.

After the first startled moments when all that existed were his lips on hers, Bridget seized two handfuls of his shirt, yanking him toward her, even though it was a physical impossibility for them to be any closer than they already were. She could feel the racing beat of his heart, his quick breaths that pressed his chest into hers.

It wasn’t enough to hold on to his shirt—Bridget needed more. As he kissed her, she pulled at the fabric, untucking it from his pants, trying to burrow beneath so she could feel his skin. His breathing roughened and he grabbed her ass, hoisting her easily until they were face-to-face.

She gasped and grabbed at his shoulders as he took her mouth again. As soon as his lips found hers, Bridget forgot about being suspended off the ground, only the door behind her and Micah’s hands holding her up. She was drowning in the kiss, in the feel of his hands massaging the cheeks of her ass.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Bridget tipped her head back, breaking the kiss so she could gasp for breath. Undeterred, Micah nipped and licked his way down her neck. She shuddered and tightened her legs, grinding against his stomach in an attempt to assuage the empty ache of her pussy. It only made her need worse. Bridget knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until his cock was buried deep within her.

The thought tore a needy sob from her throat just as Micah closed his teeth on her shoulder. Even through the fabric of her blouse, the pinch of the bite made her frantic.

Closing her fingers around a handful of his hair, she yanked his head up and kissed him hard. He snarled beneath her mouth and took over the kiss, giving her lower lip a sharp, retaliatory nip.

Bridget made a small sound as her legs and arms tightened around him, loving the roughness. A small part of her brain was amazed at how she was acting, that she was actually dying to be fucked against the wall outside a bar.

One of Micah’s hands released her ass and she whimpered in protest. Sliding his fingers up her leg, he burrowed beneath her skirt. She cursed the pantyhose that separated his touch from her skin. As if reading her mind, Micah closed his fist and ripped the delicate nylon fabric at her crotch.

Pressing into the kiss, Bridget sucked on his tongue as Micah’s hand dipped beneath the cotton of her panties, between her legs, back between her ass cheeks. She desperately wished she’d worn a thong—not that she’d ever worn a thong in her entire life—and then any thoughts dissolved in a rush of pleasure as his fingertips found the crevice between her cheeks.

She gasped against his mouth as he brushed her puckered rear entrance, her cheeks clenching, but whether that was an effort to keep him out or hold his hand right where it was, Bridget didn’t know.

15

Katie Allen

His fingers were moving, slipping across wetness to her pussy. Bridget yanked her mouth away from his, unable to stand the double assault of pleasure. She pressed her face into his neck, breathing the hot, damp scent of him, all her senses focused on the marauding fingers between her legs.

With her legs tangled around his waist, Bridget was completely open to his explorations. Micah traced around her pussy, flicking her clit with a fingertip and making her jerk against him. When she heard his breathless chuckle, Bridget nipped his neck in retaliation, desperate for the teasing to end.

It was his turn to jolt and his laughter turned to a growl as he buried two fingers inside her. His fingers were thick and she was tight, but Bridget’s moan was not from pain. The intruding digits stretched her, filled her, made her hungry for his cock.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice almost unrecognizable. She obeyed eagerly, turning blindly to find his mouth. His tongue imitated his fingers as they retreated and thrust, deeper and deeper each time. Her cries were muffled by his mouth, for which she was grateful—Bridget didn’t think she could be quiet if her life depended on it.

When the door fell away, Micah pulled his hand free of her body and caught her to him before Bridget even realized she was falling backward.

“Sorry!” the man who’d pulled the door open told them, even as he smirked.

Bridget realized how it must look with Micah holding her to his chest, one hand up her skirt and her legs wrapped around his waist. She unwrapped her legs and wiggled against him. He let her down, his hands slipping reluctantly away, although he kept her close enough that she could feel the heat of him.

“Sorry,” the door-opening man said again. “Carry on.” He let the door swing shut.

It was silent except for their hard breaths.

“Think he’s guarding the door?” Bridget finally asked as awkwardness began to creep in. The man’s intrusion had woken her up to the fact that a virtual stranger had been finger-fucking her in a public place. Who knew who had seen? Sweat prickled at her nape.

Micah grunted a laugh. “Maybe I should’ve slipped him a twenty to do just that.”

Taking a tiny step back, as far away from Micah as he would allow, Bridget dropped her eyes. “Um, maybe it was a good thing. I mean, I don’t normally do things like this.”

He didn’t respond.

“Especially since you’re Sam’s uncle,” she babbled on, still not looking at Micah. “I really shouldn’t do…um, anything with one of my students’ parents. I mean, guardian.

Right?” She wanted to kick herself as the last word came out sounding pleading and desperate to her own ears. Her body was begging her to climb right back up on this gorgeous man and have him finish what he started.

“Right,” he agreed, although his tone was bitter. “It’s a bad idea. I knew that.”

16

Title

“Right,” she repeated, wanting to cry and furious with herself over that. He’d agreed with her, given her what she wanted, and here she was, upset that he wasn’t pleading to give her the mind-blowing orgasm she’d just missed out on. “I’d, um, better get back inside then.”

When he didn’t answer, Bridget darted toward the door without looking at him.

Once inside, she leaned against the closed door and blew out a hard breath. The guy who’d interrupted them was standing a few feet away. He winked at her when he saw her. Flushing, she turned away and blindly pushed her way through the crowd.

“Bridget!” Jodi’s voice jerked her head around.

“Jodi, hi.” Stumbling a little over the words, Bridget felt her face heat, as if Jodi had been watching the show outside. Turning her head, Bridget glanced toward the door she’d just entered. Micah wasn’t there. Regret weighted her stomach. Why did she always have to play it safe? Why couldn’t she have been wild this one time and jumped in without checking the depth, temperature and currents of the water, as well as the likelihood of sharks? If their brief, mostly clothed contact had been enough to light her panties on fire, full-on sex would have been incredible.

With a sigh, Bridget focused on Jodi and forced a smile. “What’s up?”

“Did you lose the uncle?” At Bridget’s nod, she grinned. “Good. I have found you the perfect man.” Jodi grabbed her arm and towed Bridget across the bar. “You’re going to love him.”

Too late
, Bridget thought. Any other guy she met tonight was going to be compared to Micah Foster and found pathetically lacking. With a halfhearted sound of excitement, Bridget allowed Jodi to pull her toward an anemic-looking blond, all the while trying to pretend there wasn’t an enormous hole in the crotch of her pantyhose and her mind wasn’t filled with Micah.

17

Katie Allen

The following Monday, Bridget approached Sam’s desk with apprehension, wondering what she would see on his paper. As she got close enough to get a glimpse, she was surprised to see…nothing. The white sheet didn’t even have a dot of color.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” Bridget asked, crouching down next to his desk. “Don’t you have any drawing ideas today?”

He just shrugged, giving her a quick glance. His eyes were a murky blue and Bridget’s forehead creased with concern.

“What’s the matter, Sam?” she asked again.

He muttered something.

“What?”

Meeting her eyes, Sam said more loudly, “I don’t want to draw the wrong thing again.”

“Ah.” Obviously, she hadn’t hidden her dismay at his grisly rabbit picture well enough. “You know, nothing in art is wrong. You can draw whatever you like.”

Sam didn’t look like he believed her. “You were mad.”

“I wasn’t mad.” She picked her words carefully. “I was worried. I thought maybe you were sad about something and that’s why you drew the picture.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “I got in trouble.”

“Tell you what.” Bridget met his eyes steadily. “You draw whatever you want and we’ll keep it in a special file. No one else needs to see it.”

“You won’t show it to Uncle Micah?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He watched her for several seconds. Bridget held his gaze and he finally nodded and picked up a crayon.

“Ms. Grace! Ms. Grace!” Sophia, the self-appointed class monitor, was shrieking from her desk across the room. “Jordan’s eating his own boogers!”

With a sigh, Bridget pushed herself to her feet. Sam was coloring intently now and she placed a gentle hand on his hunched-over back. He stilled beneath her touch—she didn’t even think he was breathing. With a final pat, she left him to his drawing.

18

Title

Pea pods or broccoli? Bridget examined the frozen bags in her hands and then, with a shrug, tossed both vegetables into her grocery cart. They would keep, so she might as well get both. She pushed her cart down the aisle, trying to remember what she needed.

Once again, she’d forgotten her list.

Her eye was caught by a man farther down the aisle. His shoulder was propping the freezer door open as he pulled a stack of frozen pizzas from a lower shelf. The cold air swirled around him in a visible fog, curling around his thighs and drawing Bridget’s eyes to the tight, squeezable ass in front of her.

She slowed as she got closer, unable to look away as heat melted her belly.

What’s wrong with me?
she wondered in exasperation. First making out with Micah Foster outside a bar and now ogling some strange man in the grocery store. What had turned her into such a ball of horniness?

Straightening, the man turned and Bridget whipped her head around to pretend she hadn’t been staring at his ass in a drooling stupor of lust. When she saw his face, though, she stopped in mid-turn and stared again.

“Micah,” she croaked, flushing at her froggy voice. She briefly considered pretending she had a cold to hide the fact that she was just really freaked out at seeing him, but just as quickly dismissed the idea. She’d never been good at acting. In her high school drama club, after a few disastrous attempts at trying out, she’d resigned herself to the fact that she’d be better off just painting the sets.

Micah nodded. “Bridget.” He didn’t appear embarrassed or uncomfortable or anything. He just seemed bored. Bridget bit the inside of her cheek. She’d been worried that her first meeting with him would be awkward but this was worse than uncomfortable. It was heartbreaking.

Dummy
, she scoffed at herself.
So we groped each other at a bar. What’d you expect—true
love?
Bridget didn’t really know what she’d expected but it wasn’t this cool dismissal she was getting.

“Ms. Grace!” an excited voice piped up. Bridget crouched down to peer under the fully loaded grocery cart, grateful for the chance to look away from Micah, from the remote eyes that had burned so hotly into hers just a few days earlier.

“Hi, Sam,” she said as she glimpsed the little boy peeking out at her. Sam was on his stomach on the bottom rack of the cart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you down there at first.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, with a serious nod. “There’s lots of stuff hiding me.”

Bridget glanced at the Fosters’ cart. There definitely was. “Having a party?” she asked, looking back at Sam’s uncle.

“No.” Micah scowled and shifted his weight. Bridget felt her face heat with a flush.

Obviously, the man wasn’t interested in chatting with her in the grocery store aisle.

There wasn’t even a hint of the sexual attraction that had positively radiated from him Friday night at the bar. It was a good thing she hadn’t ended up going home with him, since he evidently didn’t want anything to do with her now. If they hadn’t been 19