When he stopped at his Jeep, he turned towards me, peering over the top of a pair of mirrored sunglasses. As he removed them, I could see his eyes pause as he noticed the pulse fluttering in my neck, and the flush spreading from my face to regions further south. Self-preservation in mind, I refused to acknowledge the glitter in his eyes and the almost tangible waves of desire clouding the air between us.
“When’d you get back?” I asked, amazed that I managed to speak over the lump in my throat.
“Yesterday,” Donovan replied, master of the one word sentence.
“So… what’d you want to talk about?” I asked, still shooting for calm.
“Jack,” he said, again employing the one word reply.
“Good guy, great help, terrible flirt, anything else?” I answered, tiring of the power play.
“Just this,” he said and in less time than it takes to describe he had grasped my wrist and pulled me to him. He pressed my back against the warm black body of his Jeep and pinned me there, staring into my eyes like a snake would hypnotize a bird. Slowly-painfully slowly-he lowered his lips to mine, never breaking eye contact. His lips were warm and soft and teasing, and I couldn’t stop a groan from escaping. As if he were waiting for that little encouragement, that tiny sign of weakness, he immediately deepened the kiss, licking and nipping at my lips. His mouth fit mine so perfectly that I groaned again. I grabbed his shirt-either to pull him closer or to hold myself up, I wasn’t sure-and he kissed me harder, one hand on the back of my head, tangled in my hair, and the other sliding up the side of my breast, fingers teasing my nipple as they passed. I was swamped with the sensations and clung to him like a life raft in a tidal wave.
When we broke apart, I was gasping and I could feel my pulse in my swollen lips. Anyone looking at me would know that I’d been thoroughly kissed-my eyes were glazed and my cheeks flushed-but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Donovan looked at me intently for long seconds and after nodding as if in response to a voice only he could hear, he pulled away and opened the Jeep door.
“I’ll see you later, Pet,” was all he said, and he climbed in and was gone.
I stood there for long moments not knowing whether to scream or stomp or cry, finally settling on stomping my boot covered feet in anger before heading to my own truck. I swung open the door, climbed in and slammed it with all the force I could muster, so frustrated that I could have bitten through nails.
Every nerve in my body was wracked, my panties were soaking wet, my knees were shaking, and with every heartbeat, my lips pulsed and reminded me of the plundering kiss I had just experienced.
Four months he was gone… FOUR MONTHS, and within twenty-four hours of returning he had me so wrapped up in knots that I didn’t know what to do.
I started the truck and slammed it into first, grinding the gears along with my teeth. I turned towards my apartment knowing that if I didn’t get some satisfaction I was going to be the first certifiable case of spontaneous combustion in Western New York. I floored the accelerator and drove as if every demon in Hell were after me.
All the way home, my mind was consumed with visions of Donovan suckling my nipples, or licking my clit, or slamming wetly into my aching pussy. My frustration was compounded by thoughts of Jack standing behind me, cupping my breasts, grinding his cock into my ass, and whispering his desires in a voice so dark that light simply ceased to exist.
As I slid into a parking spot I couldn’t help but think of the parallels of a cock sliding into a welcoming pussy, and my knees almost buckled under me as I slid from my seat. I managed to make it into the elevator without collapsing, and I mentally applauded my success, only to end up silently screaming as the shaking of my hands delayed my entry into my apartment. I jumped when my cell phone started ringing, but I let it go to voicemail. I only had one thing on my mind at that moment and it wasn’t talking on the phone.
On my third try, I managed to insert my key in the lock. I was again swamped by penetration visuals, and as I finally managed to slam the door behind me closed, I began to strip as quickly as I could. I fumbled with my button-fly, damning Donovan and Jack for not being here to do it for me, and when I finally got my jeans and panties off I immediately slid two fingers into my dripping, aching slit. I pressed the pads of the fingers on my other hand against the side of my clit, rubbing it in tiny circles, knowing that it would only take seconds for me to bring myself to orgasm if I could just focus on it.
The Universe, again, stepped in in the form of the phone ringing. My attention split, I could feel my climax growing more distant and I stroked my clit frantically trying to regain the precipice of pleasure, only to cry out in frustration as it slipped away completely when the answering machine picked up. I heard Jack’s voice and I let out a manic laugh at the irony of it all.
“Darcy? Is everything okay?” his dulcet tones carried a note of concern. “I saw you peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. You didn’t even notice me,” he accused.
I stood there in my jacket and shirt and nothing else, fingers dripping, and growled at his intrusion. I might not have noticed him this time, but I noticed him every other time. That was one of the reasons I was in this state.
“You didn’t pick up your cell, and you aren’t picking up your land line,” he said, the concern ratcheting up a notch, “I get the feeling something’s wrong. I’ll be at your place in three minutes. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m on my way.”
If I weren’t so ready to kill him I’d have thought his concern endearing. As it was, I was standing covered in pussy juices, clothes strewn from my front door to my living room, and Jack-all 220 biteable pounds of him-would be here in three minutes.
I grabbed my jeans and my panties from the floor-their wetness would be a dead giveaway to one of Collins Security’s observation freaks-and started for the bedroom when my front door suddenly burst in on its hinges. I jumped at the sound, and spun, clutching my clothes closer to me as I was faced down by a dangerous looking Jack, his gun drawn, arms flexed, and booted feet spread. He looked like a rampaging angel come to destroy his enemies and I felt my pulse begin to race again.
“Darcy! Are you okay?” Jack asked, his eyes raking over me.
For three seconds we simply stared at each other. When I finally came to my senses and realized that I was still only half dressed, I let out a little shriek-whether of continued frustration or embarrassment, I’ll never know- and ran into my bedroom and slammed the door behind me.
“Go away, Jack!” I shouted at him through the door.
I could hear the beginnings of a laugh as he called back to me, “You sure you’re okay, sweetheart? You looked kind of, um…” he paused, “distressed.”
I saw red. The bastard was actually laughing at me. He didn’t even have the decency to be turned on by my half-naked state. The fucking son-of-a-bitch!
“Distressed?” I yelled again. “Now why would I be distressed? ” I took off my jean jacket and threw it at the door in disgust.
“I’ve only been teased, taunted, frustrated, and left hanging in the non-orgasmic wind for FOUR MONTHS!” I blasted. “You tease me, and taunt me, and say all those wonderfully naughty things… but do you ever follow through? No. Not once!”
I scrabbled through the detritus on my floor and found a pair of running shorts. I pulled them up my shiny slick legs and marveled that even as angry as I was, I was still dripping wetness. That reminded me of why I was angry and I returned to my rant.
“So, here I am drawn tight as a piano wire and who comes back but Donovan himself, dragging me into the parking lot and p lastering me against his Jeep — him with the kisses, and the touching, and the hotter than hell body… but does HE follow through? Of course not! No one actually follows through! I’m like the poster child for sexual frustration here! ” I finished as I threw open my door and stomped out into the living room.
I made it three feet.
Standing there in the middle of my living room were two men, not one. During my crazed diatribe, Donovan had arrived. God knows when he’d come in, but I could tell he’d heard more than enough.
Jack was standing to one side his weapon holstered, and his earlier concern gone. In its place there was a deep languorousness, a liquid sensuality, as he caught my eye. Slowly he nodded his head towards where Donovan was standing and said, “I called for backup.”
I nodded in return. “I see that. ” I cleared my throat. “But, as you can see, there’s no danger here. ” I held my hands out to indicate my apartment as I tried to sidle back into my bedroom, my earlier bravado gone. “I’m fine… everything’s just fine. You two can just head right on back out to wherever you were going, I don’t need
