Hanging Loose (9 page)

“These would make nice tattoos,” he mused. “Sort of like tribal, but different.”

“Have you ever thought of getting tats?”

“I have, but never saw one that was quite right. I think I’d be okay with something like this. Would you like me inked?” he added teasingly.

I had to think about that. I loved his smooth, unblemished skin, but the thought of twisting black lines decorating it was hot. Especially if they came from me—it would be like marking him as mine. That thought tingled its way down from the back of my mind to the pit of my stomach.

“I have an idea.” I hopped off the bench and stood to face Jez. “Turn around and lean against the table.”

Jez complied. He leaned back and rested his elbows on the table. There was a daring what-are-you-gonna-do-now glint in his eyes. I regarded him squint-eyed. He squinted back. I pulled out my black markers and set to work. They were not designed for drawing on skin but did well regardless. I had to be careful not to smudge the lines, but the ink dried fast. Waves slid from Jez’s left shoulder to curl, lick around his nipple, following the natural curve of the pectoral muscle, and ended frothing against his flat stomach.

I leaned back to admire my masterwork. Not bad. All it needed was a signature. I bent down and nipped at the skin below the belly button. Jez’s breath caught. I clamped my lips on the patch of skin and sucked. He let out a strained little sound and placed his hand on my head. I felt through his touch his yearning to shove my face between his legs. I wanted it too from the second the scent of his arousal filled my nostrils, just not there when anyone could catch us at any second.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Jez stood and pulled me toward the house.

“We can’t. It’s too quiet. Everyone will hear us.”

“We’ll keep it down.”

I rolled my eyes at that.

“Okay.” Jez disappeared into the house. I dithered at the door, but he reappeared a few seconds later with a tattered blanket thrown over his shoulder. He took my hand and led me into the woods.

We were within shouting distance of the house but hidden by the trees, with nothing but insects and birds keeping us company. The two of us could have been the last humans left on earth. We spread the blanket over some dry grass in the shade.

It was hot, and both of us were covered in a sheen of perspiration. A fat little drop of sweat rolled down on Jez’s sternum; I had to claim it. I pressed my tongue flat on it. The salty tang spread over my taste buds. I dragged my tongue up his chest to the hollow of his neck, tasting him all the way.

Everything about Jez was so fucking erotic: his amazing, masculine scent; his solid body; the slight scruffiness of his chin; even the way he looked at me. I couldn’t believe I’d ever denied myself this. The desire to possess him, to crawl into his skin, engulfed me; I could hardly breathe. We kissed hungry, wet, and sloppy, our tongues wrestling for dominance.

We tumbled over in a jumble of limbs, clawing off the little clothes we wore. I wriggled down his body, buried my face in his crotch, and inhaled openmouthed so I could taste musk on my palate even before my tongue touched his skin. I licked his balls, his shaft, the thick, salty juice leaking from the slit. I wrapped my lips around his cock and forced more and more of him into my mouth. Jez’s thighs flexed as he fought for control not to buck up into my mouth. I tried hard to make it good. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat, and I gagged. Jez gently pulled me by the hair, off his cock. He kissed me.

“Go slow, babe,” he said.

We kissed and touched some more. I couldn’t keep my hands off him. When they stole back to his cock, he pushed me down on my side and then lay down the opposite way till we were groin to mouth. He gave me a sly grin and took my cock into his mouth. At first I mirrored what he was doing to me, the way he sucked and hummed, his tongue slithering, but then I relaxed and went with instinct. I felt a sense of victory when I could fit almost all of him into my mouth. The dual sensation of having his cock in my mouth and his lips wrapped around mine was dizzying.

Jez slipped a hand between my ass cheeks and rested a finger against my hole—nothing more, just resting it there. It did a hell of a job at chasing all other thoughts out of my head. It was just the two of us—the smell, taste, and sexy sounds of making love. As I got closer, I let go of Jez’s cock, but he kept working mine. That single finger was pressed harder against my hole, and just the tip of it slipped inside. I came like a fucking fountain. Jez finished himself off with a few frantic strokes while I still tried to get my bearings.

I drifted off into a state between sleep and wakefulness. I was roused by a tickly sensation; a long-legged spider was crawling on my arm. I blew on it, and it tumbled back into the dry grass. I sat up and stretched my stiff muscles. The ground was hard; the blanket didn’t help much. I spotted Jez a few feet away, back turned, still unashamedly naked, whizzing on some shrubbery. I cursed myself for leaving my sketchbook behind.

“You have the nicest ass I’ve ever seen,” I noted.

He looked back over his shoulder. “Seen many?”

“I took my share of figure-drawing classes.” And all those art history books.

He returned and sat down next to me. He rested a hand on my shoulder and lazily rubbed the bottom of my earlobe.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your interest in my ass.”

I swallowed. “I have thing for round body parts.”

“Is that so?”

I felt a blush creep over me. “Are you…” I started hesitantly, but he just raised an eyebrow. “Top or bottom?” I rushed out the last few words.

I was woefully unprepared. Until a recent and brief Internet search, I didn’t even know about this top and bottom business. All I was sure of was that while I still felt reluctant to be fucked—though growing less so every day—I’d really developed an obsession with the idea of doing it to him.

“Baby, anything you want me to be. I’m easy.”

“I noticed that.”

Jez laughed and pushed me down.

“Have you ever done it?” he asked.

“Jenny and I tried it once, but she didn’t like it,” I groaned out.

“You probably had no idea what you were doing.”

“That’s a safe assumption,” I agreed.

“Well, I can teach you all my secrets when we get home.” He winked.

“I can’t wait.”

When we returned, everyone was up and about, and I felt a flush of embarrassment spread over me. It had to be obvious what we had been up to out there. Fortunately nobody paid us any mind. Doug and Jasper played with power tools, building what looked like wooden boxes. Probably beehives. Ginny went bonkers when she spotted Jez’s temporary tattoo and didn’t relent till she got him to pose for her with a surfboard. She didn’t comment on the hickey.

Chapter Ten

The next day, the four of us “youngsters” headed down to the beach. I wore Jez’s spare wet suit. It didn’t bode well. Sweeping my objections aside, he’d taken into his head to teach me to surf. After considerable coaching, I was able to stand up on the board and even glide a short distance. The proud enthusiasm Jez showed was greatly out of proportion to my achievements, yet he looked so sincerely pleased that I had to believe he wasn’t just humoring me. Still, I think Jasper was the more accurate one when he joked that I looked like Donald Duck on the board.

“Don’t listen to him, Ducky,” Jez teased. “You were magnificent.”

I snorted at both the nickname and the outrageousness of that statement and pushed him underwater. Eventually I made my escape to the shore, where I could watch and draw them riding the waves. We didn’t get back to the house till midafternoon.

It was a quiet, lazy time. I took a cold shower to cool down. Upon returning to our room, I found it empty, but through the window I spotted two figures—Jez and Jasper—stroll off into the trees. My heart did a panicky little somersault. I chided myself for it; two guys could take a completely innocent walk into the woods. Jasper had a girlfriend—not that this necessarily meant anything. No, this was getting silly. I told myself to chill.

The house was too quiet. I wandered around till I found Ginny on the back deck. She was sitting cross-legged in a wicker chair with my sketchbook in her lap. It was open at one of the Venice Beach Promenade pages.

“These are really good,” she said before I could complain about privacy and personal property.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Ginny fast-forwarded to a page her index finger had bookmarked. It was one of my favorites of Jez.

“I really like this one. Can I scan it in?”

She hopped off the chair and bounced into the house without waiting for my reply. I remembered that I had some more revealing sketches of Jez there.

“Don’t worry. I already saw the nudie ones!” she shouted back. Great.

I lowered myself into a chair and gave myself to the moment, the leaves rustling and crickets chirping. I might have nodded off for a second. Steps thudding on the deck and the scrape of a chair stirred me back to wakefulness. It was Jasper stretching out in a rickety deck chair.

“Where’s Jez?” I asked.

“Went with Dad for a drive. They’ll be back soon.”

Ginny waltzed back and thrust my sketchbook in my hands.

“Thanks,” she said unexpectedly. I think she might have even smiled.

“Be a good sis and get us a couple of beers,” Jasper spoke up. “Please,” he added, seeing her grimace. She trotted away with the minimum amount of enthusiasm.

“I think she likes you,” Jasper said once Ginny was out of earshot. He sounded nonplussed. “What did you do to her?”

“I’ve been told I’m likable. But I really don’t think she’s overly fond of me.”

“No, she definitely likes you. She was outright civil just now.”

“Is that unusual?”

Jasper let out a small chuckle. “She’s had quite a crush on Jez since she was little, so she’s been hostile toward all his boyfriends—especially since Ronnie.”

A loud, derisive snort and clinking of bottles announced Ginny’s return.

“Ginny really hates him,” Jasper narrated.

She put the bottles on the table, then took a sneaky swig of Jasper’s first.

“He was a drama queen who used Jez and then did a mind fuck on him,” she said.

Jasper rolled his eyes in the manner of someone hearing the same tirade for the umpteenth time.

“Did you know he’s a big porn star now?” Ginny went on. “I mean, Jez dragged him out of the closet but surely didn’t shove him into the smut business. His ass has seen more cock than a poultry farm!”

“Ginny!” Jasper and I exclaimed in unison.

“I’m just saying that he’s a big fat phony.”

“How do you even know what he’s doing?” Jasper asked, exasperated.

“Internet! I’m keeping an eye on him.” She cast meaningful look in my direction before dashing off.

“I think I better not piss her off.”

“She’s mostly harmless.”

“How about you?” As ridiculous as it was, I still felt a sting of jealousy. However, he took it completely differently.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ask you your intentions toward Jez,” Jasper said. Somehow it still felt like he was measuring me up. “My parents were good friends with Adelle. Jez is practically a brother.”

“He told me Rob used to bring him up here.”

“That’s true, but it was Adelle who brought them both around first.”

“So you’re saying I better not run afoul of the family,” I said half joking, half serious.

Jasper’s normally sober features eased into a friendly smile. “I think you’re okay. Jez seems happier than he’s been since—” He was interrupted by the man in question bounding up the stairs.

“Guess what’s for dinner?” Jez beamed at us, holding up the lifeless bodies of a couple of long-eared furry critters.

“Wabbit?” Jasper took a long gulp from his bottle.

“And here I thought it was duck season,” I commented. Seeing Jasper shoot beer through his nose was a reward in itself.

* * *

Later I helped to clear the table. I spotted some stocky mason jars on the kitchen counter: pickles and jams. With a pang, they summoned up dusty old memories.

“Did you make those?” I asked Loreen.

“Yeah, it’s a hobby. I keep telling myself I do it because this way we get canned goods that are not full of all those preservatives and food coloring, but the truth is, I just like doing it.”

“It probably tastes better too,” I agreed.

“It usually does. I recently made some pickled green tomatoes.” She pointed at a fat little jar. “An old country recipe. It has a very distinct flavor.”

I nodded. “My grandma used to make pickled baby watermelons. There’s nothing else that tastes like that. I used to spend the summer with her. She was really old-school; she canned and pickled and had a real pantry. I haven’t thought about it for years.”

“I take it she’s not around anymore.”

“She died when I was eight.” A shadow of that intense loss I’d felt at the time crossed over my heart. I shook it off and turned back to Loreen. “You do a lot around here yourself, don’t you?”

“Doug did most of the work on the additions of the house—you can probably tell. He has peculiar ideas about architecture. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“And you do the canning and gardening?”

“And some writing. Mostly self-published. Although, a real publisher is interested in reprinting one of my canning books, with glossy color photos and everything. There’s a renewed interest in this stuff these days.”

“As it should be! I think making pickles and jams is creative. Like edible art, isn’t it? I’d personally take a jar of perfect apricot jam over Jeff Koons.”

Loreen let out a hearty laugh and slapped me on the back so hard, I nearly splashed into the sink.

“Jez is right about you.” She wiped her eyes. “You’re funny.”

“Oh? What else did he say?” I asked because it’d been needling me that he spoke about me to people I didn’t even know about till yesterday, and while they were very nice, it felt weird.

“Only good things.”

I wondered what that meant.

* * *

Darkness tiptoed over us on soft-padded feet and found us scattered around the world’s smallest bonfire. Even so, not one, but two fire extinguishers were within reach. Such was life in the highly flammable Southern California in late summer. The fire was big enough to set a relaxed atmosphere, though. The wine I was sipping lulled me into a mood that was warm and comfortable like a pair of fuzzy slippers. Jez and Scoot scuttered about, dispersing blankets and throw pillows and filling wineglasses.