Something About You (Just Me & You) (28 page)

If she wasn’t safe she’d be sorry.

Really
sorry.

Sabrina examined the small blue case circumspectly. Its
contents should still be in mint condition and were in fact brand-spanking new
insofar as they’d never seen the light of day outside of a manufacturing plant.

She fumbled with the catch. A milky silicone device
curiously shaped like a naval cap rested perkily on the base that was inside.
Now if she could only remember how her gynecologist had told her to use the
damned thing. It had languished in her toiletry bag for the entire duration of
her honeymoon with Jackson.

Just like their sex life.

She caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror. With her
hair slightly disheveled and cheeks and lips flushed, she looked like a woman
with one thing on her mind.

“Planning ahead?”

The sound of Gage’s voice startled her. She looked up into
the mirror. His reflection stared back, eyes twinkling. Her heightened
olfactory senses picked up the smell of his leather duster, soap and skin. A
dark shadow of two-day beard made him look rougher. Tougher.

Deliciously alpha. 

“It’s birth control. It goes in — it’s a—” Her throat
had gone dry.

“—cervical cap,” Gage finished her sentence. “Maiden
voyage?”

“My doctor told me that I needed to stop taking the pill,”
she explained. “So I chose this. I’m just not quite sure what to do with it.”

He took the case from her and closed and pocketed it. “Don’t
worry. I know where it goes and how to get it there. But—” Two big hands
spanned her waist, and then he popped her up on the edge of the bathroom
counter. “—let’s not be so anxious to rush to the finish.”

He ran his hands up her thighs a little roughly. Then the
slim tome stashed beside her cosmetic tray caught his interest. He picked it up
and examined the back cover.

“
Delta of Venus
?” He looked at her curiously.

“It’s Anaïs Nin. It’s erotica.”

“I know what it is.” He tossed it aside. “God help us both
if you tell me you need it tonight.”

“I won’t,” she breathed, distracted by the progress of his
hand, which was moving into the apex of her legs. He put his fingers under the
crotch of her panties. She opened her legs a little wider so he could stroke
the swollen folds, which were already slick. Gage leaned in closer to give her
numerous appetizer kisses, still stroking her. She felt the contour of his
smile against her lips.

“So easy…” he muttered as his thumb found the sweet spot.
She wanted to draw out the pleasure. Wanted to want him longer.

“No,” she demanded hoarsely. “Not yet.” Her legs locked
around his waist, and the next thing she knew, he was carrying her into the
hall, her body still wound around his, mouth on mouth, a promise that soon
they’d be intimately entwined. T-shirts, yoga pants, jeans and undergarments
went flying as they feverishly undressed. His kisses and caresses were
elegantly savage as he nudged her down the hall toward her room until his body
landed against hers on the sleigh bed. 

“I need to put in the — the cap—” Sabrina’s breaths
came in short bursts.

“I’m good with my hands. So lay back and relax,” he coaxed.
When she finally did, he proceeded to make inserting a cervical cap a sensual
part of foreplay. He truly felt at home exploring the hidden gaps and crevices
of the female body. There wasn’t any part of her that he was unwilling to
touch, stroke or investigate with fingers, mouth or tongue. Now she was in a
kneeling position on the bed, letting him admire the contour of her back and
spine. Last night had been about nothing but sexual release. But this could
actually be …
fun
.

He pressed up against her from behind.

“Everyone has something that turns them on. What’s yours?”
he muttered as he kissed the base of her neck.

“You mean a fetish?”

He laughed. “If that’s what you want to call it. Some women
get into hard porn, but I’m guessing you’re not one of those given your, ah,
taste in literature. Costumes? Sex toys? Role-play?”

“No.” Sabrina felt herself blushing in the dark.

“Me neither. I can do without the props and scripts. What is
it?”

“Rough and tumble. You call the shots.” The words fell out
of her mouth before she’d even thought about it.

His chest rumbled with laughter as he ran his hands down the
sides of her arms lightly. “I can see that. I can understand it too.”

One powerful forearm shot up against her throat, applying
just enough pressure for her to infer that there was strength behind it. With
his other hand, he caressed one of her breasts. It was swollen and
hypersensitive, but the roll of his thumb against her nipple still felt
excruciatingly good.

“Safe words?” His voice was low in her ear.

“I haven’t thought of any.”

“Then you’ll have to trust me.”

Tonight would be no replay of the night before. Tonight
would be raw and intense. She’d have to hold her own.

At first she thought he’d pull the same slow, teasing
penetration that he had done the night before, but after he penetrated her
swollen folds, he shot into her so abruptly it pushed them both to the top of
the bed. Everything felt different.
He
felt different. It didn’t seem
possible that sex between them would ever feel too familiar. Not with Gage. His
rhythm and intensity fluctuated randomly from quick, hard penetrating thrusts
to slow, deliberate strokes. The latter were having a particularly scrumptious
effect as the head of his cock touched the core of a hidden nerve center she
didn’t know existed.

She didn’t recognize the plaintive, rhythmic cries coming
from her own mouth. The climax built with each sure stroke until she finally
shattered. With a choked cry, she clasped her arms around his neck as though to
protect herself from the quaking of her own body. His hair tickled her cheek.
He rocked her as she whimpered with each involuntary flex and release. She felt
terrified.
Exposed.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s supposed to feel a little
scary.”

His hands knotted in her hair, bringing her face around to
his so he could kiss her. It too was a kiss of discovery: equal parts sweetness
and dark, primal lust.

“Still good to go?”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day long.” As he drew out
the last three syllables, he turned her body around and positioned it to his
liking. The persuasive warmth of his hands against her buttocks was swiftly
replaced by the warmth of his groin as he penetrated her. His body shuddered at
the end of each languorous stroke. Deeper.
Yes.
The head of his cock
bumping up against her cervix from a different angle amplified the length of
him. There was no deeper than this. The inevitable shift of their bodies took
them over the edge of the bed along with the comforter and a tumble of pillows.

Her knees and elbows hit the Berber carpeting.

He began to move faster now, and his hardness told her that
it wouldn’t be much longer. She wanted to concentrate on feeling his orgasm
this time rather than be distracted by her own. With a brusque cry, he plunged
into her one last time and came, still pushing into her. He was right about
chemistry evoking intensity of response, Sabrina thought with a blissful smile.

Like the man said.

It was her — not him.

**

Sabrina was too exhausted to move any farther than she could
reach. She grabbed a couple of the pillows and pulled the comforter over them.

“
This
is what men and women did at night before the
world of a thousand channels,” he said, tucking a pillow under his head.

“Cable television as the demise of sex,” she mused. “Sounds
like a subject for a sociology thesis if I’ve ever heard one.”

“And the Internet, of course. Cell phones, too — we
can’t forget our smallest of digital distractions. Everybody wants to be
distracted.” He turned his head to look at her, his expression suddenly
serious. “Why did you sneak away last night?”

The question caught her off guard. “I didn’t think that I
did.”

“But you didn’t want to sleep with me. Why not?”

“Falling asleep together is a deeply personal thing,” she
explained. “It’s like sex. Only I’m even more vulnerable. I’ve never slept with
a man before.”

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never slept in the same bed
with anyone?”

“Never,” Sabrina confessed.

“Not even your ex-husband?” He looked at her in disbelief.

“I planned to during our honeymoon,” she hedged. “But there
was some kind of mix-up in the reservations. We ended up with twin beds. Then
we got food poisoning. You know how that story ends.”

She rolled over on her side. Conversation and cuddling had
never been a part of her post-coital repertoire. The conversation she could
handle. Thankfully, Gage wasn’t one of those men who insisted on smothering her
with spooning. Not that spooning with him lacked appeal. It was just far too
soon.

Sabrina retrieved the cold Chinese food from the
refrigerator. They ate it straight from the containers with chopsticks while
they lay on their bellies on the floor. Then they talked, keeping conversation
at the getting-to-know-you level. She learned that he’d worked at a small radio
station in Des Moines, starting out as a spin jockey before he eventually
graduated to his own show. He kept her laughing with stories of the antics that
went on behind the scenes — bizarre callers, equipment malfunctions and on-air
faux pas. Things he would have talked about had they gone on a date, she
realized.

Only there had been no first date. Not really.

After the food containers were cleared away, they moved to
the roomier four-poster. Gage went silent, but his hands began an exploration
of her breasts that was curiously innocent. He tested the weight of each in his
palms.

“Your body feels softer and curvier. Near that time of the
month?” he asked.

“Yes. You don’t mind?” Sabrina was glad the room was dim so
he couldn’t see her blush.

“Only if you can give me a reason why I should.” His voice
was matter-of-fact. “The landscape of a woman’s body changes with the moon. The
tilt. The tightness. Even the texture. I can feel the difference. Did you know
that?” 

“No,” she breathed as he delicately traced the outline of
her aureole with his forefinger. Both nipples puckered in response. His mouth
closed in on one, lightly suckling and pulling at it with his teeth.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex this good,” he
murmured against her skin. “Hell, it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.”

“How long?”

His only response was a smile. “Let’s stay here all night,”
he proposed. “All day. And all night again.”

“I’m supposed to go over to Nola’s to exchange gifts
tomorrow,” she protested weakly. “She always makes dinner for me the day after
Christmas.”

“Give her a call and tell her you’re otherwise en-Gaged,” he
suggested, straddling her hips. His erection jabbed at her belly persistently.

Sabrina realized something. “You talk about everything else
but your family,” she said. “You know about mine.”

“I do have safe words,” he told her. “My safe words are ‘I
don’t want to talk about it.’ Just for future reference.”

His tone of voice told her that the subject was closed and
that he wanted to get onto business. One finger slid into her effortlessly and
began to rub the sensitive wall. She gasped and writhed with pleasure. Then she
gasped again when she realized he wasn’t trying to stimulate her G-Spot. He’d
hooked the strap of her cervical cap and was now in the process of pulling it
out.

“What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

“We don’t need this. Not tonight.” He deposited the device
on the top of the bedside table. “I don’t want a piece of silicone between us.”

“Gage, this is so not a good idea…” The emergency
contraception she had taken would protect her from pregnancy, but she didn’t
want him to get into any bad habits.

“Trust me,” he murmured against her lips before he glided
his erection home.

Sabrina lost track of the minutes. Then the hours. In the
past, she’d categorized sex as adequate, tolerable or bad. After each of her
engagements, the quality of the sex was the first thing she forgot, while
pithier memories of arguments and other contentious moments lingered on in her
memory. But Gage was giving her memorable sex. When he finally ran out of
steam, they were twisted around each other on the sprawling red sofa in the
living room.

“As much as I’d like to hit four for four, I need a siesta.
I don’t have the unlimited capacity that you do.” He pulled out of her
reluctantly. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Never,” she purred. “I don’t think I’ll ever want sex
again.”

“Straight through the heart,” he grinned and fell back on
the opposite side of the couch. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I am.” Sabrina gazed at the ceiling fan. Her mind had gone
pleasantly blank. “That was so … nice.”

“Just nice? It was awesome.”

“Okay, then. Awesome,” she agreed, although she was sure
there were far better descriptors for a night of marathon sex.

“Good. I like to make my women happy.” Gage intentionally
affected a slight Texas drawl.

She sat up as the one word in his sentence yanked her out of
serenity. The room suddenly felt cold.

“
Women?
”

“Ow!” He pretended to be wounded by the small decorative
pillow she launched at his head. “Since when did it become a crime to use
plurals?
Oh.
” His expression changed as the faux pas registered. “You
object to ‘women’ generally, as in
other
women who came before you and
those who may also, ah, follow.”

“I suppose practice makes perfect.” Feeling exposed under
his gaze, she grabbed a throw and wrapped it around her to shield her
nakedness.