Blue Persuasion (19 page)

“I wish I was out there, hearing what Lainie is saying to Tate.”

“I bet. How are you doing?” Stay asked, scrolling through animated images.

“It changes minute by minute. Right now, I’m good. He wants us to have a full-on relationship with no option to move forward.”

“So temporary?”

“Wait, slide back one. So, will the gamers meet here for coffee?” The screenshot showed a swanky coffee shop with small circular tables out front.

“Exactly. They can virtually order drinks, hang out, and chat.”

“Cool. Will they be able to search by city for dates?”

“That’s what the programmers tell me.”

“Impressive.”

“Thanks. Tate’s an interesting man.”

“How so?”

“Did you know he used to own a big construction company? They did a lot of the residential subdivisions out west.”

I rubbed my forehead and said, “No. He told me he’s a professor at FAU.”

“That’s just been the last few years.”

I tried to wrap my head around what Stay had shared and how it fit with what I already knew. “What else?”

“His partner bought out his half of the company.”

Taking my eyes from the screen, I looked at Stay. “Did he say anything else about his past?”

“No.”

I stood up and smoothed my jeans. “Thanks for telling me. Shall we rejoin them?”

“Sure.”

We all played Three Thirteen, a rummy card game, which was a lot of fun. I enjoyed seeing a more relaxed side of Tate, and it was nice not to be the third wheel.

Outside of Lainie’s and Stay’s place, we waited for the elevator.

“Your place or mine?” Tate asked, swinging my hand in his.

“Your place is closer, but I don’t have a change of clothes with me.”

“Good thing you won’t be needing any clothes.”

I laughed. “Okay. Did you have a good time?” I asked as we entered the elevator.

“I’m not much of a game person, but it was fun. Stay’s an interesting chap.”

“A chap?”

“Kind of fits him, no?”

“Yeah, it does. He told me you used to own a construction business.”

Ignoring my comment, he said, “Lainie is worried for you.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

We stepped out of the elevator, and he walked me to my car. Fighting with the door, he said, “I thought you were getting this fixed.”

“I have an appointment to drop it off on Monday. I haven’t sorted out how I’ll get around until—”

“The Cherokee is at your disposal. You can leave your car at my place, and I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s not necessary. I can see if Bon—”

“Part of being a couple is helping each other out.”

What?

Wait?

A couple?

“Okay,” I said, standing a few inches off the ground.

“Better yet, let’s leave your car here and I’ll have it brought to Rick’s garage. Grab whatever you need out of it.”

“Okay,” I said,
a couple, a couple, a couple
, dancing in my head.
I might grow to like this.
I grabbed my bag with a hidden surprise inside. “So what did Lainie say?”

By the Harley, Tate handed me my helmet and placed my bag in the sidesaddle. “She said you were worth far more than something casual and that you were—how did she put it—generous and people easily take advantage of that.”

“She said that!”

“I thought it was sweet. She’s looking out for you.”

“I’m not generous.”

“Come here,” he said, taking the helmet. He placed it on my head and buckled the strap. “You’re very generous.” He bent my head back and brushed his warm lips against mine. After swinging his leg over the side of the bike, he held it steady for me to climb on behind him. Off we went into the warm night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Closer

by Nine Inch Nails

O
nce inside Tate’s house, I took the car key off my keychain and gave it to him.

“What’s in the bag,” he asked, placing it on the table.

I blushed crimson. “That’s for later.”

“Let me see,” he said, untying the closure. He pulled out the six-inch glass dildo I kept in a thick sock. “Damn, woman.” He held my hand to the front of his jeans. “I’m rock hard.”

I glanced up at him, the heat of his expression stealing my breath. “Oh ... I.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, you naughty girl. I’m so turned on I think my cock might rip through these jeans.”

My breath released and I stepped forward. “There’s a simple solution for that.” Popping the buttons on his 501 jeans, I freed his beautiful cock.

He lifted me up and sat me on the edge of the table. His hands cupped my face, and his lips found the pulse in my neck. He kissed up the side of my throat to my mouth. His taste had become my new addiction. Our tongues collided, and I gasped when he sucked on mine. Then my top was pulled over my head and my bra unclasped, falling to join my top on the floor. He kicked off his pants and stripped off his shirt. “You’re still too dressed,” he groaned.

I hopped off the table and quickly shed my jeans.

He set me back on the table and resumed his attack on my mouth.

My hands got lost in his hair as my legs wrapped around his ass.

“Your kisses drive me crazy,” he grunted.

“I know what you mean.” I smiled against his mouth. “They’re lethal.”

“I’m battling myself right now.”

I reclined back onto my palms. “Oh? Do tell.”

He rolled his hips against me and yanked me in tightly. “I want to slide into your warmth, and I also want to watch you play for me.”

“First things first.” I aimed his cock at my entrance and slid him in. “Holy hell, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. There’s so much of you.”

“A few more strokes and I’ll be all the way home.”

Home. Yes home!

Grasping my ass, he rented me forward, and my body opened for him. Then his hands sculpted me, molding my body against his. They were in my hair, smoothing down my neck, caressing the flesh of my back.

“So good,” I moaned. His delicious scent surrounded me, all male. My hands did a dance of their own, shaping along his spine around his broad, coppery back.

“Lie back for me,” he said, lowering my torso down to the table. Then his blessed hands stroked up my hips and stomach, waltzing around my breasts. He taunted my nipples, twisting and pinching them between his fingers. My back arched over the attention. All the while, he drew out slowly and forcefully thrust back in, his eyes locked on mine.

“Let’s quit ... our jobs ... oh, yes ... and run away. We—Christ!—could do this all day ... every day,” I cried.

Then his thumb migrated to my clit, and I could no longer speak. Only wild animal sounds unwittingly shot out of me.

“Holy hell, Tate ... ohhh now!”

“I’m chasing you!”

My body convulsed, arching and contracting, as Tate ruled my clit and plowed into me. I gushed and squirted all over us, finally melting into the tabletop. My lungs rose and fell, my breath coming out in pants. I shook my head back and forth.

His hand stopped the motion, holding my chin. I opened my eyes and could have sworn I saw love in his. It might have been lust, but it felt like way more.

Me too.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll get us towels.”

Where would I go?
I floated in bliss, contemplating his sexual prowess and attention.

He gently dried me off.

“Thank you,” I mumbled.

He drew me up and wrapped his arms around me. “Are you hungry?”

“I could use a snack,” I said, hugging him back.

“There’s a robe hanging in the bathroom for you.”

I smiled and hopped off the table. In the bathroom, I found a matching green and beige robe, only smaller than the one I wore Wednesday night. I loved it! The sleeves were still a bit long, though.

Ambling into the kitchen, Tate turned to me. “Adorable.” He rolled the sleeves for me.

“You don’t play fair,” I pouted.

He wore the matching robe while fixing us a plate of nachos. He tilted his head and said, “I plan to spend money on you.”

“Is the money from selling the construction business?”

“Yes, and no more questions about that.” He didn’t seem angry or upset, and that was a relief.

“Okay. You know, you don’t have to buy me things. That’s my mother’s gig.”

“How do you mean?” He put the plate in the oven to melt the cheese and turned to face me.

“She has always looked for a man with money to take care of her. I don’t think she even likes some of them, and she would quickly drop one for another. I vowed never to be like that.”

“You’re nothing like that, Blue. Let me spoil you.”

“Well … if you must,” I said, holding back my smile.

“Come here.” He brought me into his arms, and we held each other.

I planned to store the memory. Us standing in the kitchen in matching robes, my head against his chest, my heart falling harder and faster each second.

He pulled the plate out of the oven with a mitt and rested it on the stove. “Would you like a drink? Margarita?”

“Sure.”

He gathered a pale ale, a Cayman Jack margarita, napkins, and the plate of nachos.

I followed him outside to the deck where we sat down. “Another beautiful night,” I said.

“Yes it is.” He handed me my drink and set the nachos between us. “Tell me more about your childhood.”

I scrunched my nose and pursed my lips. “Will you share about yours? Before whatever happened, happened?”

“Okay.”

I jumped internally, doing a twirl. I ate a couple of chicken nachos and sipped my drink. “Okay. So, there was a definite dividing line in my childhood. Almost like my parents wore a costume of domesticity until the day they split. Then they seemed like two entirely different people from the ones I thought I knew.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine or ten. I was in fourth grade. My brother changed, too. He became sullen and angry. At first, it wasn’t so bad. I liked going to my dad’s every other weekend. He spent more time with me than he ever had. However, after about the first year or two, he spent all his time in his room. My brother and I watched TV or played games. Other than eating together, I didn’t see my dad. Plus, his new girlfriend wasn’t a nice woman, and I never felt comfortable there after she moved in. I didn’t want to go there anymore, but my mother forced me. She wanted time alone with her latest wallet. That’s what I called them anyway.”

“You said your brother lived with your father?”

I closed my eyes, enjoying the ocean breeze circling around. “Yeah. He came to my mother’s on the odd weekends until...” I opened my eyes to Tate’s soft expression.

“Right. Did you still go to your father’s place after that?”

I swallowed some more of the margarita. “My mother forced me a few more times. That’s about time the whole shit storm happened with my Dad. Haven’t seen either since. Your turn.”

He looked out over the ocean and responded. “I spent my early childhood on the Rosebud reservation in South Dakota. My father was an anthropologist doing his dissertation on the American Indian and met my mother there. He was enamored with the culture, the positives of it anyway. The tradition and history. The realities of living on the reservation became too much for him, and we moved to South Florida when I was eleven.”

“Are they still married?”

“They’re divorced, but still together.” He took a slug of the beer and continued, “They can’t live without each other, although they try for stretches of time. The older they get, the less of a struggle it seems to be.”

“Do they live here?”

“No, they’re back in South Dakota.”

We sat quietly eating and drinking, my mind whirling around all the new information.

I wiped my mouth with a napkin and asked, “What were you like as a kid?”

“Free. I missed the open land, moving here. The reservation had a much more fluid idea of structure and time. It was important to my father that I excel in school, so I did. For my mother, school meant very little. She values art, tradition, and self-exploration above all else.”

“So your parents’ cultures never really blended.”

“No.”

I pulled my legs up in the chair and shifted my body toward him. “Who are you more like?”

“That’s an interesting question. Would you like another drink?” He stood and gathered the empty plate and our drinks.

“Sure.” I wrapped my arms around my legs and rocked in my seat. I could make out the big dipper in the sky.
Had I pushed too much?

He handed over my drink and answered my question, “I used to be much more like my mother. Over the last few years, I think I’m more like my father. They’re like a feather and a rock.”

“I see.” I wanted to say and ask so much more, but I refrained. We clicked our bottles together and sat listening to the waves and the wind. I wished I could crawl into his mind and listen to all of his thoughts.

“Are you tired?” Tate asked, pulling my chair closer to him.

I laughed. “No.” I turned up my drink and finished the contents.

“Let’s go inside then,” he said, holding his hand out for mine.

He left our bottles on the dining table and grabbed my bag and a towel, leading me to the bedroom.

“I’m nervous,” I uttered, holding onto the edges of my robe.

“Don’t be. Just pretend I’m not here but make sure to maintain eye contact,” he said with a full smile.

I playfully put my hands on my hips. “You must realize those two things are contrary.”

“You’re procrastinating.” He opened my bag, finding the small oil bottle and retrieving the glass dildo.

Lifting the towel, I folded it in half and spread it near the bottom of the bed. I caught Tate’s expression and shot another mental picture. He appeared lustful and young, the corners of his lips slightly pulled up. His eyes looked wild and dilated.

He untied my sash and gently herded me toward the bed.

“Impatient much?”

“You have no idea.”

I positioned my lower body over the towel and lay back onto the bed. Just his gaze on me ramped up my heartbeat. The surface of my skin felt flush and alive. Before I even began, my nipples tightened to peaks and heat surrounded my clit.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his stare absolute.

Without looking away, I reached down for the oil and positioned it by my hip. I fanned my hair out behind me and brushed my bangs out of my eyes. Then I trailed my fingers down my neck and chest, cupping my full breasts in my hands, lightly jiggling them for show.

He grunted, his hand wrapping around his hard cock.

“Damn, that looks good,” I hummed, taking another mental shot.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” He slowly ran his fingers up and down his shaft.

So hot!

I pulled and tugged on my nipples, feeling the wetness gather in my folds. Then I raised my breast to my mouth and sucked on my nipple.

“Holy fucking shit. You’re killing me here.”

“Now you’re flinging the ‘holys.’ Come here and suck the other side.”

He climbed on the bed beside me, licked his lips, and lowered his mouth to my nipple. We both sucked, his hands getting in on the action until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, okay. Go back there.” I waved to the end of the bed. “Otherwise I’ll just jump you and forgo the show.”

“We have plenty of time for that.” He stood back at the foot of the bed and watched me crawl my fingers down my stomach, stopping to play with the light smattering of hair leading to my honey pot. “Jesus,” he hissed.

With my knees spread wide and up, I splayed my lips apart, exposing my clit. With our eyes locked, I teased my arousal, circling my hips in time. My other hand dipped into my juices and spread them down over my anus.

His eyes flamed with desire.

I felt certain I would never tire of that look. “No one has ever looked at me like that,” I confessed, pausing in my play.

“I’ve never been so turned on in my life. Have you done this before?”

“Tons of times, but never for an audience.”

“Praise the Great Spirit and the ancestors.”

I clicked the top of the oil bottle and coated my fingers, rubbing them around my ass. I dipped my finger inside, spreading the oil around.

“Blue,” he groaned. He had a stranglehold on his cock.

As much as I avoided men his size, I had to admit, I’d never laid eyes on a better looking man: his smooth, cut coppery chest, abs, and the V. Other than his sad eyes and cock, the V was his finest feature.