Ready to Roll (9 page)

But a second sun was in this system, and she also orbited it. And its name was Miguel. It wasn’t that he had changed. Or that she had changed. It was just that, somehow, their non-changing selves had opened to each other, and found that all along they were in this other solar system, together.

It was a very warming thing, to have another sun in the sky.

Even while the first sun—that would be the sex sun—was flaring. Somehow the heat of her feelings for Miguel-sun and her desire for sex-sun worked in unison, the one enhancing the other. Even as she just about burned to a planetary crisp, Janice was aware that the Miguel-sun could eclipse the sex-sun, but not the other way around.

Her cosmos was unique territory. And she really needed Miguel to explore it.

Fortunately, he’d tossed the condom on top of the covers, and unzipped his jeans. She moved forward to help, but he shook his head, so Janice just watched him move. His arms and chest were muscled, but not to meathead proportions. She saw plenty of that at her gym, and had no desire to lick a trail from sternum to navel on those guys, as she did with Miguel.

Before he lowered and kicked off his jeans, Miguel tossed something else on the bed, next to the condom. One of her tulips, glowing as bright orange as any sun. It made her gulp down frogs, seeing it there on the pristine white sheets, and the heat when she met Miguel’s eye sent a rush of that playful moisture flooding her core.

Oddly hesitant, she traced the band of his black boxers, swallowing against her drying throat as his cock leapt for her touch. He moved onto the mattress and they knelt facing each other, eyeing each other, then as one reaching for each other. His kisses melted Janice, and his skin was warm and smooth as she traced the contours of his back. She needed his bare chest on her bare breasts, and was lifting off the cami when he said, “No.”

And like that, both the suns were moving away from her. Janice flopped back on the bed. What tadpoles weren’t boiled alive already were amassed at her vulva, squirming.

“I told you not to take off your clothes.”

“And that’s fascinating, Toots, but it’s harder for you to lick my nipples if they’re covered.”

“Don’t call me Toots.” His voice was grim, and Janice grimaced.

“It just slipped out.”

“Just slipped out? You’re in my bed, Janice.”

She had to curl to the side to contain the helpless giggles. “Well, I sure hope that’s the only thing slipping out tonight.”

Miguel gave a bark of laughter, but his hand went to his shaft, which he pumped as if to reinforce that it wouldn’t be slipping out, ever.

Damn tadpoles stealing all the moisture from Janice’s mouth.

“Do you need help remembering my name, sweet Janice?”

She shook her head.

“I want you to say it.”

“Well, I want your mouth on my tit, and I don’t see that happening.”

“Say my name first.”

Bossy man. As if Janice didn’t know which sun she was orbiting. The ‘Toots’ thing was just ingrained, and he knew that about her, and ought to cut her some slack. And get on with the sex, too, if she was enumerating things he ought to do.

“Take off your panties,” he said, sliding further away from her.

Fine, then. That was getting somewhere. Janice did.

“Say my name.”

She eyed him speculatively. Something about the intensity in his voice made Janice even wetter, and she gyrated a bit on the bed, opening herself to his view. But, devilishly, she didn’t say his name.

“Take off my boxers. But no touching.”

Finally. Miguel stood at the end of the bed, and Janice scooted to the edge, close as she could be without skin-to-skin contact. He lifted the waistband over his pulsing erection, and Janice lowered the boxers slowly, leaning forward. Exhaling across the head of his cock wasn’t, technically, touching.

He laughed. “Oh, sweet Janice love, you will kill me tonight, won’t you?”

“Um-hum.”

“Now your shirt. But no touching.”

She drew the hem upwards, making sure to brush her nipples as she lifted the camisole up and tossed it to join the rest of their garments on the floor. “Time for sex,” she said, giving another little bounce as she flopped back on the bed, the tulip bouncing along side her.

Miguel regarded her, one hand squeezing the base of his cock as he noted the insistent tiny jumps her pelvis was making in his direction. “Eager, are you? In a rush?”

“I’m aching, Mickey Mouse, and you’ve hardly touched me yet.”

“Aching, sweet love? You don’t know about aching. I’ve been fantasizing about having you stripped and on that bed for so long.”

She moaned, and he pumped his cock, and that just made her growl.

And that made him eye her intently again. “You know, sweet Janice, I have a feeling that if I just spread your legs and licked you once, you’d come.”

Janice moaned but wasn’t about to confirm. He was enjoying himself too much.

Miguel moved up the bed a ways, aligned with her chest. “Or maybe if I sucked on your tits, do you think you would come if I didn’t go near your lovely clit? Just sucking your nipples? Maybe a little bite or two?”

Janice moaned again, and her nipples ached and peaked. She ran a hand up her belly towards them, but Miguel challenged her with a look, so she stopped, groaned, and lifted her pelvis invitingly.

He looked, but did not touch. “Here’s an interesting question. What if I just blew air on your clit and those pert, tight nipples? No contact at all, just my breath, hot like yours was on me. What do you think, querida? Would you come if I did that?”

She thrashed, but didn’t touch, either. Her legs stretched out straight, the motion shifting nerve endings across her clitoris, so she stretched and did it again, while Miguel watched her every movement. He went back to the foot of the bed, where every particle of her was exposed to his view, and thank God, picked up the condom.

“What if you were lying there, throbbing, and so hot? If your pretty tits were mounds in front of you, nipples hard, and all you could see of yourself? And what if you could see me stroking my shaft, see me getting harder and harder just from looking at your incredible body? If you knew that I wanted to bury myself in you. And what if you couldn’t see exactly what my other hand was doing?”

Miguel dragged a nail from her pubic hair to her navel, but stopped and just looked at her trembling legs and then up her body. She thought his hand might settle on one of her taut hot nipples, but instead he reached for the tulip and rested it between her breasts. It was as he’d described; all she could see was the flower and her aching breasts in the foreground and his fist sheathing his cock in the background. There was nothing else in focus, and she moaned, but he didn’t move again.

“What if you came, Janice, just from looking, and listening?”

She moaned louder, nonverbal and desperate. But she didn’t say his name.

“What if you simply listen as I describe starting at your ear, which we know, my love, is sensitive to my tongue? And then I will lick my way down your neck to your collarbone, and your breasts? How it would feel to have me circle your nipples with my tongue, tasting the salt of your sweat and the ridges of your tight folds? What if I told you I would suck, hard, first on one tit and then on the other? Would you come, Janice, if you knew I thought about that, all the time? Would you come if I told you that I had fantasies just about your rib cage, your hip bone, your thigh?”

He touched her inner thigh, so close to her vagina, but too far away, too briefly, and she got out “Mmmm,” but stopped short of saying his name.

“Should I tell you about the long, sexy fantasies about the soft skin and beguiling contours of your abdomen? Fantasies that make me harder just to remember that they exist?”

She was shaking. Her pelvic muscles jumped with the beat of his words, and she couldn’t take her eyes off the hand stroking his erection.

“Would you come, sweet Janice, if I told you how much I think about driving my cock into you, fucking you fast and hard while I hold your legs splayed open? Your tits shaking with each thrust, rubbing against my chest, and I’m driving faster into you, my cock getting harder because being inside you is the most intense sweet feeling in the universe? My love, would you come if you knew that as soon as you came, as soon as your body leaps over that edge and you are pulsing and desperate, my name on your lips, breathless with anticipation, I will do it? I will fuck you, Janice, until we both explode with it. When I enter you, you will still be throbbing from the first orgasm, and I’ll drive my length all the way up inside you. Will you come for that, love? Will you come now, fast, so I can fuck you and we can come together?”

But he could have stopped asking, because Janice was vibrating, her pelvis bouncing, the flower sliding away as the orgasm arched her back and drew her knees up to either side and she sobbed his name, “Miguel, Miguel, yes, now,” because she was so wet, so empty inside, so desperate for his invasion.

She screamed his name again as he drove into her, just as he promised, her beloved Miguel, giving her just what she needed and she tried not to come again immediately, tried to hold back to savor the raw power of his cock slamming into her again and again and again, but the problem was, he was the entire universe, and all she could do was gasp and grab his head to hold him and kiss him and suck his tongue into her mouth before moaning his name again as his entirety met hers and again and again, his hips slamming into hers.

They ground into each other, grounded to each other, and, as promised, exploded together, gasping out each other’s names.

Several weeks later….

“Heya, Toots,” Janice said
, sliding up behind Miguel as he let himself into the blessed relief of his air-conditioned office. The heat had kicked into high gear, and he’d practically burnt the soles of his feet through his sneakers during the weekly lunchtime basketball game.

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Miguel pulled Janice close for a hungry kiss that was all the sustenance he’d craved for his midday meal.

“Gross,” she complained, but her arms were wrapped firmly around his sweaty back.

“You like it.”

“I like how I can feel your hard-on through these gym shorts.”

“You like touching my skin.” He sat on his desk, Janice straddling one leg.

“I love touching your skin.”

“Si. I know.” Meanwhile he was touching plenty of hers. She’d stuck around the dock watching the game—his team had, as usual, defeated the office guys—and was sun-warmed herself, but not on quite as much fire as Miguel.

Yet.

He set about changing that.

“Damn it, Miguel. You’ve got to stop.”

“Make me,” he muttered, wedging his thigh more firmly against Janice’s sex and unbuttoning her blouse. She undulated, gasped.

“The guys are gonna know.”

“They’re still at lunch.” The post-lunch buzzer wouldn’t sound for eleven more minutes. Miguel had plans for every second, not many of them allocated to the washing up he needed. Her hand stroking his throbbing rod was proof that her protests were mostly for show.

“But what about once we tell them?”

Miguel lifted his mouth off her exposed breast. Janice was rocking faster and faster against his leg, her grip on his erection firmer by the moment. Her fine neck was arched, as was her back, and Miguel knew Janice’s body as well as his own now. She would be exploding any moment, ready to take him in hand for the ride.

It wasn’t something he tended to put a stop to, once they’d started. These furtive encounters around the fringes of their working hours excited her. And with Janice, Miguel was insatiable. So they made use of his locking office, his truck in the back dock’s parking lot after the guys had gone home, and once, on a rare Saturday when they’d called in a skeleton crew to finish up a rush job, her office upstairs.

But although surely a couple of her friends in the offices had figured them out, Janice had opted against acknowledging their relationship at work. He’d been content to wait. She was one of the few women in the production space, and Miguel respected the steps she took to maintain her authority while squashing some of the ingrained attitudes she’d encountered from the guys.

Y el
subterfugio era erótica
.

Nevertheless, before she brought either of them to climax, Miguel captured Janice’s pumping wrist with one hand and placed the other over her heart. She bucked hard against him once in protest, but answered his kiss.

His breathing was more labored than after chasing Dillon down to block his rebound half an hour earlier.

“Explain.”

Janice shifted his palm so it covered her left breast. He was in no way adverse to caressing it while she talked.

“Figured the cat wouldn’t stay in the bag much longer, anyway.”

“No?”

“Not the way you look at me in front of everyone.”

He smiled. “You’re the one whistling at me. Of course I look heated at you when you stop the game with one of those whistles.”

“They’re just meant to cheer you on.”

“
¿
Verdad?”

She settled between his legs, feet on the floor and hands skimming his biceps. Janice did love his biceps. “Yep. Go team.”

“The game would end faster, querida, if I wasn’t compelled to stop when you whistle.”

“Hmm. A reasonable point. And it wouldn’t give the crew so much to gossip about.”

“They’re gossiping?” Something too proud threatened to burst forth from him. Too possessive.

Janice nodded. “So we may as well tell them about us.”

His erection throbbed at her words. All of him throbbed at her words. “A reasonable point of your own. I’ll send a memo: ‘Miguel and Janice are lovers.’”

“We have a four-color offset printer that just finished a run and you want to email a memo?”

“Querida.”

“Toots.”

Another kiss to silence her imperious tone. Pride and possessiveness gave way to a pure happiness. “Your wish is my command.”

A softer kiss. Janice’s hands back in his hair, her torso relaxed against his.