So Into You (6 page)

She wanted Phil.

She wanted him under her, on top of
her, inside her. Not a meaningful, emotional attachment. Not some kind of earth
shattering revelation about love and sunset and cuddles she read about in those
clichéd Sahara Kelly novels.

No, this was pure, unaltered lust.
The eager need of woman for man and the kind of thing she found depicted much
more realistically in her collection of S.L. Carpenter books.

Entering the foyer of her apartment
building with him politely following, she knew what she ached for and when they
stopped at her door, she slid easily into his arms, kissing him deeply without
a second thought.

She pressed into him, loving the
hard erection she felt surging in his pants. She wanted that, wanted to explore
it, and have it sunk deep inside to assuage the emptiness she'd ignored for so
long.

A soft moan left her lips while they
kissed. She nibbled on his lower lip, wanting to say so much, but unsure of the
right words. "Definite potential here, Phil." Slowly, she moved her
hips against him, rubbing herself over the bulge, arousing them both with her
subtle gyration.

Looking into his eyes she saw the
success of her efforts. He blinked and sucked in a breath as she pressed even
harder against him and notched his arousal between her thighs. Unbidden, her
leg rose to rest against his hip. She wanted—oh how badly she wanted…

He took her face in his hands and
kissed her passionately, his tongue invading, dueling with hers, sharing heat
and need. The fire from the kiss matched the fire building in all her swollen
sexual places. She was wet, slick with readiness, longing to touch him and make
sure she'd aroused him as much as he'd aroused her.

But once again Phil proved
unpredictable and she gasped as he stepped back, peeling their bodies apart.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." His voice was
hoarse. "But I don't want to rush this. I've spent two years waiting for
you and I won't be just a one-night stand." He dipped and kissed her
softly but quickly. "Next time." He brushed a few strands of hair
away from her face and walked out the door.

The thunk of the automatic lock
jarred Casey as she stood alone and dumbfounded, her mouth open and her body
shocked rigid. She walked in to her apartment, closed the door and leaned
against it. Finally, she got breath back into her lungs.

"
What the fuck
?"

The days passed at work pretty much
as usual for Phil. He'd gone through the "how long do I wait before asking
her out again" phase and picked the following Friday as the only day that
wasn't too soon or too far off she'd think he wasn't interested.

Hah. Like
that
was gonna
happen. He'd sunk that boat right out of the harbor and it wasn't going to
appear again anytime in the foreseeable future.

But the good news was that she'd
accepted his offer and there was no mistaking that this time it was a date. A
real, honest-to-God date.

He'd managed to
not
do the
touchdown thing and spike his stapler in glee when she'd accepted, and even
kept his shit-eating grin down to a polite but happy smile for most of that
week. When Friday rolled around, the smile faltered and he admitted to a few
nerves. This wasn't an ordinary second date. He wasn't even sure it qualified
in her mind as a second date but hoped it did, because it felt like it to him.
So before the end of the day he surrendered, and acknowledged that the dreaded
second
date curse
was in full swing.

It was all about not knowing what to
say, what to do, if he could fart in front of her. Everything seemed to go up a
notch. He was only too aware that some of the best first dates are obliterated
by second dates. The problem of timing or something else could easily nuke not
only the mood, but also whatever chance he might have of building something
solid between them.

But he worried unnecessarily
because, to his happy surprise, something excellent happened instead. They
actually had a good time.

By mutual consent, they opted for
pizza, agreeing that it was the best and most nutritious food on the planet and
only arguing mildly about toppings. He had beer and she had wine. The evening
was relaxed and Phil found himself opening up to her—another surprise, since he
was normally reticent about his personal life.

They began by sharing their likes,
discussing movies, music, what appealed to them and what didn't. She confessed
to an addiction to Rocky Horror and he admitted that old Japanese science
fiction movies could keep him up all night.

They loved classic rock, didn't
always get the current music offerings and disagreed over whether the Beatles
or the Rolling Stones had been the most influential group of the sixties.

By the time they had finished their
pizza, they'd covered traveling—she didn't mind it, he was a home-town type;
politics—neither were committed to anything other than fair play all around,
and food. Thumbs up for pizza and steak, with a modest thumbs up from Casey for
seafood. Phil preferred his entrees on the hoof, and didn't really like fish.

As the evening wore on, more and
more barriers tumbled. Phil found himself opening up and eventually mentioned
the one thing he loved to do to relax. "I sketch."

Casey tilted her head to one side.
"Sketch? Like how?"

"Most often with pencil on a
scrap of paper or whatever's available. Sometimes with charcoal. That's more
when I'm home and I have a picture in my head that needs to come out."

"Wow." She raised her
eyebrows. "That takes talent."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't go
that far. I'm not good. Just something I do when the mood hits."

"You do landscapes and stuff?
People?"

He leaned back in his chair.
"Depends. People are interesting. But so are cats." He grinned.
"See any social network page on the Internet."

It was time to move on. Phil hadn't
meant to share quite so much, but the excitement and pleasure he was
experiencing from this date had kicked away his safeguards. Hopefully she
wouldn't realize quite how much his drawings meant to him or what a unique
thing he'd just done by revealing something so intensely private. He'd never
told any woman he'd ever dated. Or anyone else, come to think of it.

Her next words surprised him.
"I have to confess something and now seems as good a time as any. You do
know I feel bad because it seems like I'm always asking you to do things for
me. It would serve me right if everyone thought I was ten kinds of bitch."

"They don't, so don't worry
about it." He idly moved the salt and pepper shakers into alignment.
"And honestly, I don't mind. If I did I would just say no. The few
comments I
have
heard, about me being whipped, don't bother me. I figure
being nice to people isn't a fault, so too bad if someone wants to poke at it.
I don't care. And it's been my way of showing you that I was interested. Plus I
hoped you might notice me."

"I did notice. You spoiled me,
Phil. I got used to you doing all those little things. I have a terrible
feeling I've racked up a tab with you. Not sure how to pay it, either."
She laughed. Then blushed a little as she realized what she'd just said.

He remained silent, his gaze on her
face, his mind live-streaming more actively erotic images than the fastest ISP
connection to a porn site could ever handle.

"What?" She leaned forward
and rested her chin on her hand.

"Huh?"

"You had an odd look on your
face like you were thinking about something. Just curious if you'd like to
share what it was?"

He swallowed. "You, Casey. You
in a black leather outfit, hair pulled back, clothes so tight I can see
everything from the points of your nipples to the split between your
legs." Phil blinked a few times. "God." He gulped. "I
shouldn't have said that out loud."

"You silently think that about
all your dates?"

"Um…er…uh…no. It just slipped
out. It—it was a joke." He attempted a smile.

A wicked look crossed her face.
"A joke? I don't think so." She licked her lips. "You want to
know what I think?"

God, she's gonna walk out
. "I guess so."

"I think that perhaps you're a
bad boy who needs to be punished, Phil. Behind that nice demeanor there's a man
who wants to be dominated by a woman. To submit to her, maybe. Yeah." She
warmed to her theme. "You want to be spanked and forced to kiss her
feet."

She chuckled, a throaty little sound
that made his balls ache. "You know a little kink never hurt anyone, Phil.
Handcuffs, and maybe a flogger too?" She beckoned him close, closer so she
could whisper. "Oh yeah, baby. Make my ass red. It hurts
so good
."

Phil drew back with a snort.
"Knock it off, Casey. You asked what I was thinking, so I told you. And
yeah, I'm probably going to wish I hadn't, but there it is." He shrugged.
Then shot her a quick glance. "Out of curiosity, d'you happen to
have
a black leather body suit?"

She paused, long moments when
tension built. "Actually…yeah. I do."

He let a wide smile cross his lips.
"Really.
Interesting
."

"I'm not into the BDSM
lifestyle, but the black leather sure is sexy and it makes me feel hot."
She finished her wine and dabbed her lips with her napkin. "You'll have to
wait a few more dates to see it, though."

"I'm known for my
patience."

*~*~*~*

She had accepted his invitation to
drop by his apartment for an after-pizza drink.

That, of itself, was a triumph. Phil
had hoped, but hadn't really expected she'd agree and when she did, he was
extremely glad his cleaning lady had scheduled her visit for a couple of days
ago. He knew his place was now freshly scrubbed and neat, and would likely pass
the dreaded
female test
.

Whatever that was.

Probably the fact that there was no
underwear hanging off his lamps and more than one sheet of toilet paper left on
the roll.

But even with this
confidence-boosting knowledge, when they pulled in to his parking space there
was a momentary hesitation. They looked at each other and started to laugh.

"I feel like a teenager."
Phil smiled ruefully.

Casey blushed. "Me too. I don't
know why I feel nervous though."

"Look, if you want I could just
take you home. I don't want to rush anything and spoil what has definitely been
a perfect date."

"Ending it would spoil
it." She reached for the door and opened it.

Silently he followed her, opening
the door to the building for her and then leading her to his apartment.

Like a clumsy teenager, he fumbled
the keys and swore to himself under his breath. Finally the door opened.
"Come on in. Let me get the lights." He stepped in and hit the
switch.

Casey looked around her and Phil
gave another mental thank-you hug to his maid service. Everything looked
bright, and there were no clothes strewn all over the place or dirty socks on
the sofa. He thought he'd made it a nice home, and was pleased she made a point
of obviously admiring the huge television hanging on the wall. He certainly
wasn't compensating for anything, but if he had been, that massive screen would
have made his point. He just wanted to make sure the referee made the right
call when it came to yardage, and on this bad boy he could count the blades of
AstroTurf between the ball and the end zone.

"Can I get you some wine
or…" He turned to her.

She stepped up to him and leaned
close. "Phil? Do you want me?"

His heart pounded, his cock
throbbed, and he struggled for the right words. "This is a trick question,
isn't it?" He stared into her eyes, seeing her pupils dilate and hoping it
was desire. "All I can do is show you how much…"

They reached for each other as if by
mutual consent.

And the heat that had simmered
between them all evening exploded into flames.

*~*~*~*

It was one of those amazing times
when everything blurred but the need to have her. Before he knew it, Phil was
on the couch, on his back with his pants around his knees. He was sheathed—he
couldn't remember that happening at all —and Casey was on top of him, eyes
closed, riding him slowly. God knew where her panties were, but at this point
he didn't care. Her hips swiveled as she undulated on his cock and made soft
sounds of pleasure.

Phil reached up to caress her
breasts through the fabric of her dress, the skimpy bra beneath no barrier to
his seeking hands. He watched her head drop forward, her hair almost covering
her face and her expression of desire. She was touching herself, her skirt
pulled high, her pussy hot against his body.

"Damn, Casey..."

Before he could finish she smiled,
pulled her wet fingers from between her legs, and put them over his mouth.
"Shhh."

Phil began to suck her fingers,
stifling a groan as the taste of her flooded his mouth and the scent of her
crept up his nostrils and into his brain, igniting every neuron he possessed.