The Road Home – Chapter 3

Thursday July 14, 2005 12:14AM

There are no cabs in sight, not one. It’s odd. Usually, I can find one at the cross streets on Seventh, but as I walk along the block there’s nothing. Well, not nothing, there are plenty of people—all crowded onto the cobbled sidewalk, already inebriated, anxious to get a head start on their weekend drinking—but there aren’t any cabs.

I contemplate returning to the bar, to the warm bosoms and fake smiles of the redhead and the blonde. A threesome could be really fun tonight, a good way to take my mind off of…well…everything. I close my eyes and let myself imagine it for a moment, then think better of it and tug my cell out of my back pocket to call the cab dispatch office. I nearly yelp with surprise when the phone chirps in my hand, announcing the arrival of a text. It’s from Nicole.

You owe me one.

Grinning, I type a reply: I owe you two. I’ll buy you a couple beers next time I see you.

“Make it a couple whiskey shots, and you’re on.”

This time I do yelp when I hear that gravelly femme-fatale voice coming from somewhere behind me. Slowly, I turn to find Nicole standing a few feet away from me, giving me a wicked grin. Well fuck me sideways ‘til Tuesday, this is a surprise.

I watch with a combination of fear and awe as she saunters toward me. Goddamn, the woman is hot. I thought it the first time I laid eyes on her, and I’ve thought it every time I’ve seen her since. She exudes sensuality. Every gesture and movement she makes lingers, a slow seduction. And I can’t seem to drag my eyes away, watching the hem of her short skirt ride the tops of those tight thighs as she moves.

Shit. Did I just lick my lips?

She’s not even your type, I try to remind myself…again. Yeah, but she’s so damn pretty. No, scratch that—with her delicate features, puffy plum lips, big green eyes, lean, lithe body, and legs for fucking days—she’s nothing less than gorgeous. Just the sight of her gets my heart pumping. It probably doesn’t hurt that she’s wearing a latex dress. Sweet baby Jesus, the thing is practically painted on. I go a little lightheaded as all of my blood rushes south.

“Well, hello there,” I say, then want to kick myself. Well, hello there? Really? I give her a grin, trying to play it cool, but I have no clue how to play this at all; which is new. This shit usually comes so easy for me. I’m a Grade-A Casanova, a fucking legend at the game of seduction. If there were a certification course in The Chase, I’d be the goddamn instructor. So how is it that in a matter of seconds, this woman has thoroughly scrambled my brain and turned me into a bumbling idiot?

Nicole’s grin turns wicked, and she bats those long eyelashes at me, laying the ground work for my undoing. Jesus Christ, the woman is terrifying. She’s a clear and present danger, a maneater, a praying mantis, a black widow. And me, I’m the poor bastard unwittingly tangled in her web, about to have my head bit off.

“About those drinks, can I get a raincheck?” I try to save myself from impending doom. “I was just about to catch a cab and head home.”

“I can give you a ride.” Oh good lord, the double entendre.

I tilt my head, watching her with suspicion as I ask, “Why would you want to do that?”

“Maybe I don’t want to drink alone.” She cocks a hip, and the breath rushes out of my lungs as that skirt inches up a bit further north. “Do you have anything to drink at your place?”

I nod dumbly, speechless.

“Well, then…”

I shake some sense into my head, “Actually, I can stick around here for a couple more.” I nod toward the bar I’ve just left. Nicole’s grin turns wicked as she follows me inside, where I find us two stools at the bar. As I sit, I glance across the way to the blonde and redhead, they’re watching, and they’re not smiling anymore. I look away, to Mags when she approaches to take our order.

“Two shots of Jack—”

“Jack?” Nicole frowns at me, then turns to Mags. “Make those Jameson, not Jack.”

I raise an eyebrow, and Nicole slowly crosses those long legs, then says only. “Trust me.”

Trust? That’s a tall order. When Mags brings the two shots over, Nicole pushes one in front of me. I eye the drink with suspicion, and not because it’s Irish rather than Tennessean whiskey, but because it’s trouble. This little fucker will be to blame for all the bad decisions I make for the rest of the night. Wasn’t me. Oh no, not my fault. Blame the drink.

Nicole lifts her shot as she asks, “What should we drink to?”

I have no idea. I shrug.

“How about to trying new things,” she says as she clinks it against mine. Speechless, I just nod and follow her lead, then nearly choke on my own drink as I watch her throat move when she swallows.

Nicole sets aside her glass and turns her whole body to face me, her crossed legs the only thing between me and the bottom hem of that rubber dress. Christ, who wears a rubber dress in July? Shit, I’m staring at her crotch.

I look up with a jerk of my head to find Nicole watching me. For a good long minute, neither of us speak; neither of us do a thing. We just stare at each other. Then, slowly, she tilts her head and lifts her hand like she’s going to touch my face. Instead, she reaches for a lock of my long hair. I flinch, surprised, then watch as her delicate fingers twirl and play with the ends that fall close to the bottom of my pecs.

During the summer, I almost always wear my hair in braids, but after the day I’ve had, I couldn’t be bothered. In a brief trip home for a shower and change, I only had the energy for a comb through before I tugged my clothes on and came to the bar. It’s dry now, and shines in the warm lights over the bar.

“You have nice hair,” she says.

I blink. I swallow. I clear my throat as if to say something, but I’m speechless. What do you say to that? Thanks?

“It’s so black, it’s almost blue.”

I nod, and the movement sends more of my hair falling around my shoulder to brush against her hand. She strokes her fingers through a few strands and the sensation makes me lightheaded. Distracted by her touch, I nearly yelp when she places her other hand flat on the top of my bar stool, right between my legs. I shrink away to avoid the fingers-brushing-against-my-cock form of physical contact. I’m already mostly hard, and I’d rather she didn’t know it.

Nicole notices me cower, and her grin turns mischievous as she leans right into me. Her tits brush against my chest, and her mouth hovers at my ear for a long moment, and all I can sense is where she’s touching me and the sensation of her hot breath against my cheek. Then, with that phone sex voice of hers, she purrs, “It’s funny that you called me a peach. I’ve been told I taste like one.”

Fuck. Me.

With that, I’m fully hard and salivating like Pavlov’s fucking dogs. I nearly bust out in a choking cough fit, but manage to keep it together, maintaining my outer cool even as my inner letch wants to dive to his knees and learn the truth of that statement firsthand.

With the deadly grace and patient prowl of a panther, Nicole straightens up, pulls her hand off my chair, and slowly slides her ass back onto her stool.

Eyes wide, heart racing, cock hard as fucking steel, I watch her every move, practically panting. Holy fuck, she’s seducing me. I’m being seduced. This rarely happens. I’m usually the seducer, not the seducee. Gotta say, the view from this side of the fence doesn’t suck.

Getting off on the idea that this goddess wants me enough to chase me, I get some of my swagger back. I give her my version of a wicked grin, and ask, “Does that offer for a ride still stand?”

****

I burrow my hands under that tight rubber skirt and clasp my palms to Nicole’s bare ass as I pick her up. She wraps her strong legs around my waist. Jesus, her body is so hard yet so deliciously soft. I can’t wait another minute to be inside her, yanking her strip of a thong aside as I push my way in. I slam her back against my fridge, and she moans loud and low from both impacts.

Incredible. She feels incredible.

I drive deep into her and moan at the feel of her tight little pussy gripping me. She moans, too, and I love the sound of it. I want to hear it again. I fuck her harder, faster, anything to get a reaction out of her.

Even though I’ve got her suspended against my fridge, she still manages to take charge. Hugging her arms around my neck, she grabs fistfuls of my hair and yanks. My head falls back and I hiss at the pain. It hurts so fucking good. When she bites me on the neck, I howl and almost come.

Holy fuck.

I stumble and we both nearly hit the deck, but I recover and turn, flattening her back on the kitchen table. I pull her arms off my neck so I can stand up straight with her laid out like a feast before me. I grab at the top of her dress and tug it down until her tits pop out. I fill my mouth with one and my hand with the other as I proceed to fuck the everloving shit out of her. She arches up and screams out when she comes for me, and the sound of her ecstasy is a gift I savor.

Then she pulls away from me.

I frown, but in an instant, she’s turned the tables again, pushing me backward until my ass hits the chair by the wall. Before I can recover or complain, she springs onto me and seats herself back on my cock, her knees planted on the chair on either side of my lap. She rides me hard and fast. And my God, I had no idea how fun all that muscle could be in bed…or in the kitchen, as the case may be. I groan when she pins my neck between her arms, grips the chair behind me, shoves her tits in my face, and rides me like a bucking bronco.

I look up at her and find her staring down at me, watching me lick and suck her tits as she fucks me. When we make eye contact, she holds my stare, and I wouldn’t dream of looking away even if I could. In that moment, it’s like I connect with her, fully fucking connect, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

In that instant I see her, feel her, taste and smell her, but I want more. I want to know her. The thought terrifies me and I nearly lose my erection. But then she smiles, and it’s got to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I come right then and there, then watch in awe as she rides my orgasm to her own.

Damn that was good. No. Better than good, that was—

In an instant, her expression flips from bliss to blasé, and I feel a chill on my lap when she moves off of me. Standing in the middle of my kitchen, she pulls her thong and skirt back into place, and pops her top back up over her tits. I try not to frown, watching her redress.

Crap, we’re both still fully clothed—myself, with pants wrapped around my ankles like an idiot. I raise my ass up to tug my jeans back on, tossing the condom in the trash bin before I button up the fly.

I’m usually so much more suave, taking my time, enjoying all the sights, sounds, and flavors before I move in for the kill.

Not this time. The instant I had Nicole in my apartment, she b-lined for the kitchen, looking for a beer. I practically tackled her as I fell to my knees and pressed my face between her legs, desperate for a taste.

A peach, indeed.

But now…shit, things are awkward, and not in the usual, “thanks for the tumble, maybe I’ll call you” sort of way. More in the, “where do we go from here?” sort of way.

It’s so fucking quiet in here. I feel the need to speak, to say something really clever. But what do you say after you’ve just nailed the ex-girlfriend of your best friend’s new boyfriend? And, insult to injury, it’s some of the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?

I reach into my back pocket and yank out my smokes. As I light up, I offer one to Nicole. She shakes her head and crosses the room to my fridge, yanking out two long necks. She slides into the chair across from me and pops the caps off using the edge of the table and her fist.

Hot.

“So.” Nicole takes a sip of her beer as she pushes the other one across to me. “What was the emergency today? What sort of accident did Ariana have?”

I nearly choke on my beer and raise my eyebrows at her. She wants to talk about Ari? Now? “Uh…”

Nicole watches me closely as she takes a long sip of her beer, then slowly licks her lips.

“She was hit by a car,” I mumble, mesmerized by that mouth.

“Oh shit.” Nicole actually looks genuinely concerned for Ari, and that makes me like her, which is funny, considering I just fucked her. “Is she okay?”

“She’s banged up pretty bad, but she’s tough. She’ll be okay.” I shrug, if only to mask how much the day’s events have affected me. “Thanks again for the phone numbers.”

Nicole stares at me for a moment, then stands and opens her gullet as she chugs the entire bottle of beer. Hot. “Well, listen, this has been fun, but I gotta go.”

Uh…okay.

I feel oddly bereft as I walk her to the door. I think I want her to stay. I kind of want to sit with her, maybe smoke and drink with her, or, I don’t know, fuck her again or just watch some shit on TV.

I frown. The hell is wrong with me?

At the door, I search my head for something clever to say, but nothing comes to mind. We stand for an awkward moment, with her just on the outside of the threshold. Finally, I give her a thin grin and lamely offer, “Drive safe.”

Nicole cracks a little half smile and slowly turns away to leave. I surprise us both when I clasp her hand in mine and pull her back around to face me. Then, I kiss her.

In the first instant that our lips meet, I realize it’s our first kiss. And, man, I am such an ass for completely skipping that step earlier during all the sex.

In the second instant, as her velvet soft lips move against mine, I realize I really like kissing her. She tastes so damn sweet, and those lips…Christ on a biscuit, those lips are pure heaven. I cinch my arms around her waist and pull her against me as the kiss grows in intensity. Her hot breath punches into my mouth as I slide my tongue into hers, taking her with long, languid strokes.

Holy. Christ! Kissing shouldn’t feel this good. Kissing has never felt this good. This feels too…right. It’s almost—fuck me—it’s almost romantic. With an abrupt jolt, Nicole and I both pull away and blink, dumbfounded and breathless.

“I have to…” She backs away, her shaky hand going to her lips.

“Okay.” I slowly nod.

“Go,” she finishes on a gasp, then turns and leaves.

I never once take my eyes off of her, and I’m disappointed that she never once turns back to look at me. She just saunters off, those killer hips swishing with each step she takes to leave me.

I have to physically clutch onto the doorframe to stop myself from jogging after her, finding her at her car, bending her over the hood and sliding home again.

Home? I frown, then shake my head to dislodge the thought. What the hell just happened?