Tim Hudson got his 200th win! Congratulations, Huddy! The Braves have taken some tough losses, and as of the time I wrote this post, stand at 18-12. I have to laugh, listening to the same sportscasters who were touting the Braves as the best team in baseball before the season began. They're already crying a different tune. Now, despite all sorts of positive things happening on the field, it's doom and gloom...and I can't help but think my mother missed a career where she'd have fit right in....except for the baseball part, of course. <grin>
Last week, we left Mike with his jaw hanging open on the patio at Obsidian. Let's find out what happens behind that curtain, shall we?
“Don’t get excited,” she warned, placing her knees on the bench. “This cubicle is spoken for. They’re reserved in ninety minute increments. We only have a few minutes before the next reservation arrives. Come, sit down.” Sitting back on her calves, she patted the bench. He took the seat, looking at the bottle she’d given him for the first time. What he really wanted to look at was the enticing cleft in the full mounds above her corset, but he trained his gaze on the bottle. Bottled water, house brand. “Fuck me.” The harsh whisper came from his right. A chill teased the back of his neck, coming off the large pane of glass. It had been an unseasonably cold spring, but the rest of the small space suddenly felt over-warm. Her perfume smelled spicy, with undertones of musk. Mike wrenched off the bottle cap.
“Thought you needed a cold drink. Or something.” He had no trouble seeing her wink, though he didn’t turn his head. She looked innocent and provocative at the same time. She removed the top of her bottle and dropped the cap on the counter, tapping the rim of her drink against his. “Since we have no showers here. At least, not one open to the public.”
This felt like one of those situations when the batter might swing away—or bunt. The trick was to be prepared for either and not commit too soon. Stretching his legs, he lounged against the padded backrest and raised the water to his lips, relishing the cool sensation as it flowed down his throat. Warring images flickered in his mind. He pictured them together beneath a steamy spray. That vision alternated with one of taking her here, against the backdrop of the city. The water did little to ease the ache in his groin. The sighs and moans coming from either side only served to escalate his arousal. He drained the last drop of liquid. He’d swear he could feel her gaze move along his skin the way he felt his own fingers crush the plastic in his hand. She was killing him; playing with him. She worked here. She knew what happened on this patio. The spot wasn’t designed for sudden hook-ups he realized, since the curtained booths had to be reserved ahead of time.
He had to suppress a grin. Nothing like a good game. “Damn, you’re such a tease.” Turning his head so he faced her, he let his desire show in his eyes, unable to resist letting his gaze fall to her breasts. “Are you going to show me that tat, or what?”
The light from neighboring skyscrapers revealed her smile. “How much of it would you like to see?”
He recalled the stencil's violet outlines on her shoulders, back and upper thigh, easily picturing her in the chair at Thane's. That tat went on forever. She’d have to be nearly nude for him to see all of it. If she'd stayed put long enough to get ink over the entire design, which he sincerely doubted. “Did Thane get it done? That’s a hell of a lot of ink to do in one sitting. Nobody could handle that much pain.”
“Lightweight.” She shook her head slowly. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Of course I got the whole thing done, despite Thane’s whining his arm was tired. No point in putting on the stencils, otherwise.”
She was going to swing for the fence, he decided. “Prove it.”
Verity had foregone her chance to cavort under the full moon in favor of getting the tattoo, to hide the shameful marks from Janus' whip. Though waning, she could still feel the moon's pull in her veins, pounding as insistently as the ocean. Cradling either side of his face with her hands, she stroked his lips with both thumbs. He dropped the empty bottle. His eyes were intent, challenging, but he made no move to touch her.
Yes, he'll do. She'd give him a taste now to be sure he hung around for more after her shift ended.
Silently, she rose onto her knees and moved to straddle him. She felt his hands come up to cup her ass, pulling her toward his erection. He didn’t rush the contact, moving her slowly. Desire spiraled inside her belly. She lowered her lips to his, nipping his bottom lip. He made a sound deep in his throat and tugged her the final few millimeters. Through the denim and leather separating them, she could feel the thick column of his erection. Her pulse started to pound when he slid his fingers into her hair, just below her ears. She stroked one side of his face while she nipped and sucked at his mouth. The sound he uttered when he realized she was pulling at the buttons fastening his jeans vibrated through the corset into her chest, peaking her nipples.
“You’re going to make me come in my pants,” he warned, pulling his head back after a particularly sharp nip.
“I was thinking you might come in my hand, for starters,” she whispered. The last button on his fly gave way, letting her slip her fingers through the opening. His boxers were no obstacle. His cock sprang free. The silky, taut skin covering his erection felt hot against her palm. Verity traced the edge of his ear with her tongue, mimicking the circle she drew around the head of his cock, pausing to play in the drop of moisture on the head. To her left, a deep voice let out a series of ragged cries. From her right came the steady sound of flesh striking flesh.
With a challenging look, he dropped one hand to peel down the snug cup of her corset. They locked gazes. He traced the outline of her areola. To pay him back, she slid her fingertip along the seam between his balls.
“I want to make you come, too,” he whispered.
“Not here.” Not with Sage roaming around. She’d take him home, if he waited for her to get off work. If. Though her lips brushed his ear, Vee smiled. She’d make certain he’d wait.
Mike realized he could see through the roof; overhead was just another big sheet of glass. The stars seemed to spin, making him think of the famous painting by Van Gogh, but all he’d had to drink was a shot and two beers. Her hands felt soft, but her strokes were sure. The little witch matched her rhythm to the slamming percussion made by the unseen couple to his left. Raising his hand to her waist, he pulled her closer. She raised her chin, letting her head fall back. Her grip tightened when he nipped at the peak he’d bared, much the way she’d done his lower lip. He heard her hiss. The sound had him thrusting his hips in equal parts frustration and pleasure, giving in to the silky sensation of her palm and fingers around his cock, slipping easily over his heated skin. He wanted to last longer, but damn, the excited cries and moans seemed to come from everywhere now, trapped by the glass and not quite dampened by the curtains. Deep groans underscored feminine cries. Some cursed. Some sobbed. His cock felt like a tuning fork. Every note made him vibrate, every cry drove him closer. Those spinning stars coalesced at the base of his spine.
She pulled back and stared into his eyes, a pleasure he gave into completely. In the dark, those pools of lavender were his focus. The slide of her hand along his shaft felt sweet, yet the stroke wasn’t the penetration he craved. He wanted to roll her to her back on the bench, strip off her pants and bury his length as far inside her as he could go, but knowledge their time together was slipping away kept him captive far more than her weight.
He raked his thumbnail across her nipple, rewarded by the moan that elicited. Her perfume wrapped him like a soft blanket. He pumped harder in her fist.
She pulled away from him, just as he was about to erupt. Sliding to her knees, she closed her lips over the head of his cock. The sudden heat from her mouth burned away his control. Her tongue circled the head and then settled into a teasing rhythm, caressing the sensitive place just below the rim. Her fist continued to stroke him furiously.
The stars exploded. She sucked him deeper into her mouth. He thought one nail traced the tight seam between his balls. With her other hand, she continued to milk him, adding layers to his climax. He bit his lip hard, trying not to call out her name to protect her, but a harsh whisper escaped him anyway. “Verity. Oh, my God, Vee.”
He needed to kiss her, to show her how badly he still wanted her. Though he was drained, his ache for her began anew, pounding in his groin as though he was still hard. He helped her stand, pulling on her hands until she sat lightly astride him and he finally captured her mouth, reveling in the slightly salty taste of himself on her tongue, something he’d never cared to do before. Her bare belly pressed his half-erect cock. He thought she made a greedy sound when she felt his shaft move between them.
Reluctantly, he let her pull away, his gaze roaming over her full breasts. Somehow, he’d pulled down the other cup. She made no move to cover them, but all that hair concealed more than he wanted.
“I want more,” he whispered stubbornly. “I want all of you, Vee.”
“Says the man who swore he only wanted to see something he forgot all about seeing.” She faked a pout and rolled her eyes.
“I still want to see it. I want to trace it with my tongue. And I want to do it somewhere you can scream.”
She pushed off his lap and rearranged her top, making him regret he could no longer see those gorgeous globes and tight nipples. “I want you,” he repeated. “This isn’t enough.” Not nearly enough.
“I’ve got a shift to finish and a bar to clean up. It’ll be daylight before I get out of here. Surely you work.”
His mind raced while he tucked himself back into his pants. “Tell me when I can see you again,” he demanded, “or I’m sitting at that bar until you get off so I can follow you wherever you’re going.”
He stood and tucked in his shirt, but couldn’t resist reaching for her again. She turned away from him and bent over, rearranging the dislodged cushions.
He slipped one hand around her, reaching to cup her breast, tugging her against him. Moving the thick length of hair aside, he placed a kiss on the curve of her neck. He couldn’t identify the perfume she wore, but she smelled delicious. “Tell me you’ll meet me, Vee. Anywhere you say, damn the time. I don’t have to be anywhere until three tomorrow afternoon… I mean this afternoon.” He thumbed her nipple through the leather with one hand, slipping his other slipped down the front of the tight garment. She straightened and pressed back against him.
He traced her navel and whispered, “I want to run my tongue around this…”
Moving lower, he found the short zipper on her pants. One short tug and he could slide his hand inside her buttery pants, encountering silken panties he ruthlessly pushed down. He felt soft curls and brushed his fingers across them. “I want to rub my face across these…”
Still searching, he found her folds. He brushed her nub, reveling in her sharp intake of breath before dipping inside her. “I want to roll this around with my tongue, lick it and suck it until you come in my mouth. God, you’re so wet.”
“Stop,” she moaned, dropping her head against his chest. “We’ve got to set this to rights and get out of here. It’s reserved, damn you.”
He increased the sped of his stroke on the hard nub. “Say you’ll meet me so I can finish this.”
“I’ll meet you.”
He stopped instantly, enjoying the way she sagged against him and the ragged rhythm of her breathing. He gave her nipple a final tweak before placing the finger he’d pleasured her with in his mouth. “Mmm, I knew you’d taste wickedly good.”
“Where’s your bottle?” she wondered aloud, glancing around.
On either side of them, he heard raised voices, other people leaving their dark love nests. He spied something gleaming against the dark floor and bent to pick it up. Not the bottle, but the thing she’d worn in her hair earlier. He held it out, but snatched it away when she grabbed for it. “I’m holding it hostage.” He smiled.
“Mike, I swear, you’re trouble on two legs.”
“You can have it back when you meet me,” he vowed. Spying the crushed bottle, he stooped to pick it up, and then looked around the curtained cubicle. “Is this back the way it should be now?”
She used one hand to sweep the plastic bottle tops into the other and gave the place a final look. “I guess so. I’ve never been in one before. Jeremy will check on it when we leave. Let’s get out of here before my—”
She pulled aside the heavy curtain and they stepped out, right into a very pretty brunette. It only took a glance to see the resemblance. In spite of the difference in hair color, they had to be sisters.
“Vee, what in the world are you doing out here?” the brunette demanded. She had green eyes, but their shape, in fact, every detail of her face was identical to Verity’s. Mike blinked. Twins?
To be continued 5/13.