Not My Type (8 page)

He tossed her on their giant bed and
threw himself down next to her, pulling her in close so he could
kiss her. He was gentle, loving; he traced her lips with his tongue
before entering her mouth, seeking rather than taking. She met his
caress with equal passion, their hands roaming over one another and
tracing the planes of each other's bodies. He traced a line up to
her face where he cupped her jaw in his hand, strong fingers buried
in the hair at the back of her neck. He replaced his hand with his
lips, kissing and nibbling his way down to her bountiful breasts.
He lavished attention on them while her hands roamed through his
thick, lush hair. He drew a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard at
first and then gently before repeating the process on the other
side. He rolled her onto her back, still suckling at her
breasts.

He leaned back on his knees, gazing
down at her naked body spread out before him. She smiled wickedly,
a finger tracing around a pert nipple before it made a fascinating
journey to her warm center. While that finger worked industriously,
she cocked her other finger at him and beckoned him closer. Joe
knew what she wanted and was only too happy to oblige. Grabbing her
hand out from between her thighs and collecting the other on his
way, he pinned both hands to the bed above her head and poised
himself above her, looking down with an expression brimming with
desire at the woman he loved.

She arched herself upward, trying to
connect their two bodies together but he would not allow it. He
teased her, using the tip of himself to touch her sensitive places
over and over without the satisfaction of filling her like she
wanted. She mewled in protest of his unfair treatment. "Say it," he
breathed.

"Please...," she begged.

"Say it!"

"Joe, please!"

"Tell me what I want to hear, baby,
and I'll give you what you want..."

"Fuck me," she whispered. He plunged
into her suddenly, burying himself to the root and crashing his
lips down on hers at the same time. He removed his hands from hers
and buried them in her hair; her hands suddenly free, she grasped
his strong ass in each hand and drew her legs up around him, trying
to pull him into her farther though such a thing was not possible.
He moved slowly, at first, a slight flexation of hips and muscle
that sent shockwaves through her. She matched his pace, coming
swiftly several times in succession before he decided he'd had
enough waiting. He increased his speed, pumping in and out of her
faster and faster, and she kept up with him, rising to meet him at
each thrust until they came together, crying out in the dark and
clinging to each other as their pleasure burst over them like the
waves of the surf on the shore.

Joe lay still, propping himself above
her for a few moments to catch his breath and kiss her one more
time before pulling out of her slowly. He rolled over onto his
back, one arm across his forehead while inviting her to snuggle
into him with the other. She fit perfectly in the hollow of his
shoulder, head pressed into his massive chest while he caressed her
back. She felt perfectly loved, completely contented, and
absolutely happy in that moment. She wished it would never
end.

Eventually, Joe asked about her day
and she told him about her conversation with Martha. "I can't think
of a title for the new cookbook, though," she concluded. "Any
ideas?"

"Something that indicates it's for
diabetics might be good. And I didn't want to mention it at the
time, since I thought it might ruin the mood," he grinned down at
her, "but you are lighter than you were a month ago."

"You mean, paler, right? You're
telling me I've lost my nonexistent tan?"

"No smart ass. Like when I was
carrying you down the hallway to fuck the daylights out of you. As
in not as heavy as you were which doesn't matter to me because I
love you but thought you might want to know. That kind of
lighter."

"Seriously!?"

"Seriously. Go check the scale if you
don't believe me. When was the last time you weighed
yourself?"

"I don't know...," she said slowly.
But she did. The last time was only a couple of weeks ago and the
scale hadn't budged so she'd given up on any type of weigh-in,
disgusted with herself.

"Well, you know I don't want you weigh
yourself every day. Once a month is plenty. But I can tell there's
a difference."

"I'm going to check!" and she bounced
off the bed in a very interesting manner, to Joe's eyes. He watched
in the pale light of the bedroom's night light as her sexy ass
jiggled to the bathroom and heard her step on the scale. He smiled
to himself as he heard her squeal of delight at the results. She
came bounding back into the room and leaped on top of him. He
exhaled with a "woof" of air but grinned at her
exuberance.

"Ten pounds! Can you believe
it?"

"I told you."

"Yes, you did. I'm sorry I doubted
you, baby. Forgive me?"

"I'll think about it."

She pouted at him as sexily
as she could. It worked, too; she felt him grow hard underneath
her. She smiled innocently and said, "Gee, Mr. Malone. Isn't
there
anything
I
can do to make it up to you?"

His smile faded as he looked up into
her face, the intensity of his love for her pushing away their
levity and any other distractions. His eyes roamed her beauty, from
her full lips and delicately arched eyebrows to the straight line
of her nose and crystal clear gaze of her bluer than blue eyes. He
let his eyes travel down her smooth throat where her pulse beat in
the hollow, faster under the scrutiny of his gaze. Her skin was
flushed with their recent lovemaking, her breasts full and ripe,
her stomach a soft round before giving way to the secret of her
womanhood. Her ample ass cheeks were cupped between his legs, her
knees bent. He ran his hands up her thighs, back and forth, before
cupping the flesh of her ass in his hands to pull her closer. She
sensed his mood and reciprocated, loving his intensity as much as
his charm and wit. With his thumbs at the juncture of her thighs,
he brought her quickly to orgasm before his hands went to her waist
and lifted her up, urging her to sheath his shaft inside of her.
She sank down, impaled and pleasured at once.

When they finished this time, Elsa
first and Joe immediately after, Elsa pulled herself off of him but
lay on his chest, her hair a silky shawl across his shoulder and
arm. He stroked her hair absently, waiting for sleep to claim him,
listening to the even sound of her breathing. And he worried what
was in store for them but knew they would weather whatever storms
were ahead together. He wrapped his arms around the woman he loved
and vowed to never let her go.

Chapter Ten: Her Loss,
His Gain

Their morning routine had taken on new
flavors, new scents, to welcome the day. Joe usually left for the
gym no earlier than ten now unless it was her day off, instead of
doing split shifts; sometimes he didn't leave until after lunch,
trusting Jordan to keep the day shift on task. Before she made
their coffee and breakfast, Joe helped her check her blood sugar,
which was finally achieving normal levels after two months of
dedication on her part. He poked her fingers gently and winced
every time, a habit she found completely endearing. She recorded
the results in the little booklet that she kept with her glucose
meter, stored discreetly in a kitchen cupboard.

They did their workouts together
before dinner, most days. After Joe left in the mornings, she would
walk Spike and then do some work. Elsa never worked on recipes or
blog posts until after he left. She completely revamped her blog
and renamed it "Not My Type" which was also the name of the new
cookbook, thanks to some help from Joe; she found that starting
over in the food world was kind of exciting, and her many followers
had posted supportive comments to the new changes. Martha had loved
the new name of the blog and the cookbook, assuring her the
publishers were on board as well.

Over a lingering breakfast of eggs and
whole wheat toast about two weeks after the revelation of ten
pounds lost, Elsa brought up a topic that had been on her
mind.

"Hey babe?"

"Hmmm...?" Joe looked up from his
plate.

" I was thinking about joining the gym
where Claire goes."

Joe was hurt and it showed on his
handsomely chiseled features. "You...don't want to work out with
me?"

She hurried around the kitchen
island/breakfast nook and wedged herself between his strong thighs.
"Of course I do! I love our workouts at home. I know it's not much
of a workout for you, but I appreciate that you do it for
me."

"Well, what the fuck then? If you want
to go to the gym, why not come with me to ToneUp?"

"It's just that...I don't
want to go to ToneUp because I can't stand the thought of all those
hot girls staring at you. I mean...I know they do anyway, but it's
worse, somehow, if I can actually
see
them doing it."

His brow smoothed a little
and he smiled at her. "Baby, you know I don't even see those women
like that. They're clients. Nothing more.
You
are the woman of my
dreams."

She kissed him, grateful for his
loyalty to her in the face of toned bodies and female hormones
swirling about him all day at work. Her reasons for her request
were valid, however. "But also, Claire's gym has a pool, and it's
only for women. I just think...I'd be more comfortable there. For a
couple of days a week, just to use the pool; I still want to work
out with you in the evenings," she persisted.

He thought about it for a few minutes,
holding her close and stroking her hair where it cascaded down her
back. She leaned into him, comforted by his touch and relieved he
didn't seem too upset. His voice rumbled through his chest when he
replied, reverberating in her ear. "Okay, I can see that. But if I
get a pool installed at my gym, will you come there
instead?"

She pushed away slightly and grinned
at him. "Baby, if you install a pool, I'll come anywhere you
want."

"You dirty, dirty girl," he whispered,
his voice roughened with desire. "I love that about you." He
reached for her, wanting to take her back to bed, a whole different
kind of workout on his mind and libido. Hands on her hips, he
ground himself into her backside, but she slipped around to face
him. He grinned; all the better to ravish you, my dear, he
thought.

She kissed him soundly but before
things could heat up too much, she wriggled from his grasp, tossing
a lighthearted, "Thanks babe!" his way before heading to the
shower. She missed the stunned expression on his face: Elsa had
never, ever rebuffed sex with him before, in any way. She knew the
signs of when he wanted her, the way he touched her, the way his
voice changed. And yet, she'd walked away, even though she knew
what she was starting with that flippant comment. He shook his head
to himself and tried to dismiss it. Maybe she was sore from last
night and didn't want to say so. He snorted in the empty kitchen;
if she thought she'd get away that easy tonight, then she had
another fucking thing coming, didn't she?

He left for work that morning rather
than the afternoon, knowing that Elsa had the day off, reminding
her that he'd be home for lunch. His smoldering gaze left little
doubt what he'd prefer to have on the lunch menu. He delayed his
arrival at the gym, however, stopping by Jordan and Claire's to
talk to her a moment about taking Elsa to her gym. For the same
reasons Elsa mentioned, Claire didn't go to ToneUp and work out
with Jordan either. Jordan seemed cool with it, so Joe was
determined not to make a big deal of it to Elsa.

"Just keep an eye on her, don't let
her overdo it, okay?" he implored.

"Of course, Joe. I'll make her go
easy," Claire reassured him.

He and Jordan left for ToneUp and
Claire left shortly thereafter to head over to Elsa and Joe's
place. Spike went off like a small wind up toy when she let herself
in but she knew where the treat jar was and soon had him literally
eating out of her hands.

Elsa eased into the living room,
embarrassed and covering herself with her towel as much as
possible. Claire noticed her unease, but did her best to reassure
her. "You look great! Is that the bathing suit we bought last year?
I've never seen you wear it." Her own bikini clad body was hidden
beneath a sweat suit; April at the Pacific Coast was still very
cold.

Elsa removed the
towel.
Oh, well, she's going to see it
anyway and it's not like she can't tell you're fat, dummy,
she told herself. Aloud, she said, "Is it vulgar?
Can you see all of my rolls?"

Claire thought Elsa was being far
harder on herself than was warranted, but she took the questions
seriously, sensing it was important to her friend. The suit was a
black one piece and very flattering. Elsa had a great figure, all
things considered; she was overweight, true, but her waist was
narrow, her hips and thighs a nice curved swell that matched her
bosom, with shapely legs that rounded gently at the calves. She had
surprisingly slender ankles and wrists, and her throat was a smooth
column rising from delicate collarbones. Her face was heart shaped,
with high cheekbones and slanting blue eyes. The crowning glory,
her not-brown-not-blond-not-red hair tumbled in curls down her back
and framed her sculpted face perfectly.