Intimate (5 page)

She wasn’t at
all intimidated by his anger. “I’d accept it if you didn’t always try to lie to
me, but I’ll let it go for now if you stop practicing and go out with me.”

“Where are we
going?” he asked in resignation, evidently realizing that she wasn’t going to
give up.

Relieved, Marissa
decided that a little sarcasm was in order. Making her voice as husky as she
could, she drawled, “To my den of iniquity, of course, where I’ll throw you
down on my bed, tie you up naked with silk cords, and have my wicked way with
you until we’re both limp and exhausted.”

She thought she
did a pretty good job with it, given that she had to generate the scenario on
the spur of the moment and she wasn’t naturally sexy.

She assumed Caleb
would appreciate her creativity and irony. Maybe smile. Or chuckle a little.

She certainly
didn’t expect him to choke out, “Marissa!” with an absolutely horrified
expression on his face.

For no reason
she could understand, his reaction really hurt her feelings.

“You don’t have
to look so disgusted.” She tried to mask her irrational response. “You know I
was only joking.”

Caleb still looked
rattled, and he was sweating a little bit, which was very unusual. The moisture
glistened on his forehead and the sides of his nose. He sat perfectly straight,
upright, like a poker. She had no idea what had gotten into him. She’d never
seen him like this before.

Suddenly afraid
that something was truly wrong and he really wasn’t going to tell her what it
was, she said softly, “Please, Caleb, let’s go get some pizza.”

“I don’t like
pizza.”

“Liar.” She
still watched him carefully. “I’ve seen you eat ten pieces in one sitting.
Please?”

The plea must
have gotten to him. “Fine. Give me five minutes to finish this one section
that’s giving me trouble.”

His tone was
clearly a request for her to leave the room until he was ready. She ignored the
implicit request. She stood right next to his chair when he returned to it with
his cello. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

After two
minutes of half-hearted effort, he grunted, “Fine. You win.” He stood up and
looked down at her. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“I do,” she
said, beaming at him. She was starting to feel better at the sight of his
familiar scowl. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. “Now, we’re
going out to have fun. For the next two hours, all that’s allowed is pizza,
beer, and no brooding.”

*
* *

Two hours later, Marissa and Caleb
were seated at a dingy booth in a cheap, Italian eatery. An empty pizza tray,
two plates, and several beer bottles were collected on the table between them.

They had
conversed pleasantly and naturally, and Marissa decided Caleb’s weirdness
wasn’t as serious as she’d feared. She still couldn’t get it out of her mind,
though.

“What was wrong
earlier?” she asked at last, into a comfortable lull in conversation.

Caleb finished
off his beer and didn’t meet her eyes. Didn’t answer.

Damn it. He
looked guilty. It must have been something after all.

She swallowed
and asked delicately, “You know you can tell me anything, right? Even if you
think I won’t approve or…or be happy about it.”

“I know that.”

“You haven’t
been drinking too much, have you?” There had been times when Caleb had drunk
too much. Although it wasn’t something he struggled with much, even the hint of
it terrified her, made her think about her mother.

“No, I
haven’t.”

“It doesn’t
look like you’ve been eating or sleeping very well. Is it—”

“Marissa, I
told you to drop it!” The words had an unequivocal authority that was almost
impossible to defy.

She reacted
more to the words' harshness than to their authority. She felt her throat
constricting, the way it always did when he snapped at her like that. “Caleb, I
know you think I’m being nosy and invading your privacy, but I’m worried about
you. I really think you’ll feel better if you can share whatever's bothering
you.” She eyed him beseechingly, in the way that almost always worked.

It worked to a
certain extent this time. His face relaxed into an almost fond expression. “I
can’t, Marissa. I’m sorry. It’s not what you’re thinking, though. I’m not
heading toward another breakdown or anything. This is something else.”

“So you admit
that there
is
something else.”

He closed his
eyes. “Marissa.” There was an edge of warning in his voice. “This is in my
space. Stop prying.”

She banged on
the table in frustration. “Why are you acting so weird with me? You might as
well tell me now. You know I’ll find out eventually anyway.”

He didn’t
answer for a long time. His handsome face looked torn, and tense, and
bewildered. She wished she could help him. Something in her chest or her
belly—something she didn’t understand—was urging her to move over to his side
of the booth and pull him into her arms, soothe away whatever it was that was
tearing him apart.

She didn’t go
to him. Knew he would resist if she did. Instead, she just waited for an
answer.

It finally
came. “That’s what I’m afraid of. It’s something you don’t want to know.”

Marissa’s toes are rubbing
against Caleb’s thigh.

It’s an
innocent, unconscious gesture.

She’s stretched
out on his sofa, her head pillowed on the armrest. Her knees are slightly bent,
bringing her feet up against his body, where he’s sitting two cushions away.

As they stare
at the television in silence, her bare toes keep wiggling a little, generating
strangely erotic friction against his skin through the fabric of his trousers.
It’s slow and constant and insistent.

The sensations
from that gentle touch radiate out in thick waves through his body.

He’s been fully
erect for several minutes now. From the sight of Marissa sprawled out on the
black couch, her long skirt tangled around her legs. From the pressure of her
pretty toes on his thigh, close to his hip, not very far from his groin. And
from the scent of her—the fresh soap lingering on her skin, the herbal
fragrance of her shampoo, and another scent he’s only just started to become
aware of. Fainter. Deeper. More natural. More compelling.

He’s not surprised
that he’s aroused. He’s grown accustomed to it over the last two weeks. It
hasn’t gone away, hasn’t diminished at all since the first shocking night at
the cocktail party.

But he doesn’t
do anything. Just sits as still as he can. Pretends to stare at the television
screen but doesn’t see anything but Marissa.

Then her foot
moves. Consciously. Purposefully. Slowly edging up and over. Into his lap. Caleb
watches like it’s in slow motion. Her toes ease over the top of his leg and
gently start nudging his crotch.

She’ll know
now. Can’t help but find him out. The bulge is hard and obvious, and her little
foot is now rubbing into it with calculated pressure.

Caleb closes his
eyes, in embarrassment and desire. This is not what their relationship has ever
been about. But now she knows, and everything between them is irrevocably
altered.

Change can
sometimes make things better.

Marissa’s whole
body is moving now. She’s kneeling beside him. Shifting over him. Her face
quiet and intentional, she hikes up her skirt and calmly straddles his lap.

He stares. Her
face is only inches from his. He’s stunned yet wonders why this feels
inevitable. Like she couldn’t have made any other choice. Like something is
pulling them together with a compulsion that’s irresistible, and destined, and
good.

He opens his
mouth to explain, to thank her, to ask for more. But she cuts him off with a
kiss.

It’s
immediately wet, deep, and needy. Her tongue is inside now, gliding across his
teeth and the roof of his mouth. Exploring. Claiming. Like it’s hers. Like he’s
hers.

He
responds—tries to match her, keep up with her—but she remains completely in
control. Has his head between her hands, then slides her fingers up to gently
stroke his hair.

Caleb thinks he
groans, but he isn’t quite sure. The ability to sort out separate actions has
abandoned him in the hot, sweet insistence of her mouth, her lips, her tongue,
her fingertips, her soft, pliant body.

And it starts
to feel like the entire world is throbbing with the pulse of his arousal.

Her hands slide
away from his head and a part of him mourns the loss. But the absence is
quickly forgotten in growing excitement as she smoothly removes her top,
tearing her lips from his in order to pull the shirt over her head. He stares
at her satin-clad breasts dumbly, hardly believing that he’s allowed to see
them.

His heart is
now beating in his cock, but he sits perfectly still, his hands clasped loosely
around her waist.

She reaches
around her back to unhook her bra. Pulls it off, meeting his eyes deeply as she
does so. Then her breasts are free—full and heavy and perfectly peaked. He
wants to touch them, cup them, knead the soft flesh. But he doesn’t slide his
hands up.

Can’t move. Can
only throb.

Marissa raises
herself up on his lap until she’s kneeling over him. Now her breasts are at the
level of his face and she pushes one into his mouth.

He pulls it in
and suckles, teasing the hard tip with his tongue. Her motion is still
graceful, still calculated, but her whole body now chafes against whatever of
his it can touch.

Then her hands
move down to his chest and start undoing the buttons, pushing the fabric aside
so her fingers can brush against his bare skin.

He finally begins
to move, to act—tries to pull off his shirt. But it’s too late. The throbbing
world concentrates, intensifies, and is now centered painfully in his groin.

Marissa unfastens
his trousers.

No time left to
do anything. She’s poised above the hard length of his erection.

Marissa locks
gazes—her blue eyes open, confident, and ravenous. She wants this every bit as
much as he does. He can see it. She’s telling him. No hesitation. No regrets.

Then she
impales herself on his cock.

Caleb closes
his eyes so he can feel it more deeply. She’s tight from years of going
without. Wet with desire and need. So hot. Her slick channel even hotter than
the soft flesh he’s holding.

Marissa. Over
him. Against him. Surrounding him. Nothing but Marissa in the world.

The still
throbbing world.

It should be
overwhelming. Should send him over the edge. It doesn’t. Only fuels his desire,
his hunger, his need to start thrusting into the rich depths of her.

He’s inside her
at last. No questions. No worries. No long, difficult conversations. Nothing to
think through. Nothing to work out.

It’s easy.
Simple. Right.

And now Marissa
is moving over him, sliding up and down on his erection. Her motion is steady,
deliberate, and insistent. Her body keeps enclosing him. Keeps sucking him in.

Then he’s
suddenly part of it. Opens his eyes. Starts thrusting up, moving into her
rhythm. Grabs her more firmly by the hips. Accelerates their motion until it’s
faster, harder. And he’s forcing himself into her body, slamming her down onto
his.

Her head falls
back, and her face twists with pleasure. Her mouth opens in urgency and effort,
but he doesn’t hear her verbal response. Doesn’t hear anything. Not her cries
of pleasure or his own grunts. Not the slapping of their bodies together or the
slick suction of his sliding in and out of her.

There’s no
sound. Only a pulsing in his ears that matches the pounding in his groin.

He wants to
watch her. Loves how flushed and overcome her face is. Loves how her breasts
bounce with her motion. How her eyes hold his, speak to him deeply. But as
their pumping intensifies, the sight of her becomes blurry. Bleeds into a haze
of light, color, and motion.

And he can’t
see. Can’t hear. Can’t do anything but feel. Can’t stop the driving momentum
even though he knows that she’s new to this, that she might need a little more
time and attention.

Feels her
muscles clinging to him with every stroke. Feels her body fluttering around
him. Tries to concentrate on her face. Focus on her eyes.

And he knows.
He knows she’s with him. Knows it. She’s close to climax herself. It doesn’t
have to be hard. Doesn’t have to be difficult or slow.

Their bodies
know each other, need each other instinctively. She’ll come.

Caleb doesn’t
even have to try.

So he doesn’t.
He bucks into her more frantically, the pulsating pleasure finally starting to
draw in, to peak.

And Marissa
lunges forward without warning, biting ruthlessly into the flesh of his
shoulder. Her body contracts around him, pulling him deeper, forcing him out.

It’s perfect,
exquisite pressure, and the throbbing world has become the cresting of his
climax.

He’s almost
there. He holds her down against him. Pushes into the spasming of her orgasm.
And then she kisses the wet skin that she bit.

Marissa’s body
is made for him. Only for him. She’s his as much as he is hers.

And finally
he’s coming…

***

Caleb was awakened by his alarm
clock blaring.

He was drenched
in sweat, painfully aroused, and for some reason biting his pillow.

The bedcovers
had gotten tangled up in his legs, so he had to struggle for a minute before he
could roll out of bed. When he finally gained his feet, he angrily tossed away
the bundle of sheet that he’d inadvertently pulled off the bed as he rose.

He strode into
the bathroom and stared at his damp face in the mirror over the sink.

This was
absurd. Inexcusable. Absolutely humiliating.

He’d fallen
into some kind of adolescent nightmare, where his libido raged out of control.
He was a grown man in his mid-twenties. He’d always had a strong sexual
appetite, but he’d been perfectly content with the various outlets he had
available to satisfy his body’s needs.

Caleb had
never—in all his life—been such a victim of lust for one specific woman.

It was supposed
to have been a fluke. Was supposed to have gone away after that first bizarre
night. His desire for women always had before. He would either satisfy it or
make himself move on. He’d eventually forget about it completely.

But this lust
for Marissa wasn’t going away, and it was starting to become a real problem.

Caleb reached
over and turned on his shower as cold as he could bear. Stood under the strong
spray of chilly water and tried to control his body’s responses.

When the water
didn’t help, he reached down and took care of himself with his hand, trying to
get the necessity over with as quickly as possible.

He didn’t want
to think about Marissa, but he still saw her face when he came.

His climax left
him feeling dull and unsatisfied but able to think much more clearly.

This was merely
physical desire. Unavoidable but ultimately manageable. He was not a slave to
his body, so with a little more time, a little more effort, he would control it
again.

He was not
willing to spoil his friendship with Marissa.

Which meant he
really had to pull himself together.

*
* *

Caleb was running late for his
lunch date with her.

He’d been at
rehearsal with the orchestra all morning, and—as usual—they hadn’t kept to the
intended schedule. Now he was twenty minutes late.

He and Marissa
were meeting at a bistro only a few blocks away, so he hurried outside and walked
down the crowded sidewalk, keeping his pace as brisk as he could manage without
actually running.

Caleb felt a
lot better than he had that morning. Rehearsal had been annoying, as always,
and it felt like everyone there was silently wishing for his prompt execution.

But he hadn’t
had a single erotic thought about Marissa in five hours.

Definite
progress.

The hostess
greeted him by name at the restaurant and explained that his friend was already
waiting for him at a table. After being pointed in the right direction, Caleb
took a few steps into the room. He found Marissa but halted abruptly as he took
in the sight.

She was talking
to a man he didn’t know. A clean-cut man about his age. As he watched, the man
adjusted in his chair.
Caleb’s
chair.

The man was
sitting in
his
chair. The one across from Marissa.

She was
smiling, and her cheeks were shaded with a rosy flush. Then she laughed and
reached up to push a piece of hair back behind her right ear.

Caleb felt a
wave of irrational anger at that pretty, little gesture but forced the emotion
back down into obscurity. She wasn’t flirting with the man. Caleb was sure of
it.

Marissa didn’t
flirt. She had no reason to.

Then the man
leaned farther toward her.
He
, at least, was flirting shamelessly. Caleb
saw the man’s eyes drop lower every now and then, leering at Marissa’s
delectable cleavage, which was displayed just slightly by the V-neck of her
top.

For some
reason, Caleb’s entire body tensed up, and his fists clenched at his side. As
soon as he noticed this, he released his fingers, forcing his hands to relax.

He could only
control his outward appearance, however. His mind reeled with the force of his reaction.

Whoever this
man was, he was clearly an ass and a lecher, and Marissa was innocently responding
to his overtures with her typical good nature and enthusiasm.

Caleb wasn’t
going to let her be taken advantage of, though. She was smart and independent,
but she had so distanced herself from sex and everything associated with it
that she might not realize what was happening. Might not realize what the
bastard was after.

Caleb
knew, however, and he braced himself against a hot wave of possessiveness. Then
started toward the table.

She looked up
at him and smiled, her expression open and affectionate. “It’s about time. I
was just about to give up on you.”

Caleb didn’t
respond. Instead, he loomed over the man and stared significantly at the chair
the asshole was sitting in.

The chair that
belonged to Caleb.

The man seemed
to realize what this hovering intimidation signified. He stood up and gave Caleb
a casual nod. “I was just keeping Marissa company while she waited,” he
explained easily, giving her an obnoxious, slanting glance and a lopsided
smile.

Marissa giggled
in response, in such an enticing way that Caleb had an overwhelming urge to
carve that crooked smile off the bastard’s face with a steak knife.

Giving the man
a frigid glare, Caleb just said coolly, “Isn’t it a little early in the day for
sloppy pick-up lines?”

The man’s jaw
dropped, and Marissa sputtered a little.

Caleb realized
that the words hadn’t come out as smooth and cutting as he’d intended. In fact,
they’d sounded rather foolish and immature. Which made him even more furious.