That was… intensely, insanely, incredibly good. Better than any man had a right to hope
for. His inner barbarian was fucking
ecstatic over the good fortune at finding the woman who enjoyed a… well, a
barbarian. Jon wasn’t unhappy about it, either.
He found a long time ago that women became leery when he
threw off the restraints, but Delaney had begged for it. Going almost completely uncensored and
finding phenomenal sex in the process was pretty fucking amazing, as was his
partner.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Jon glanced back
over his shoulder.
Her gasping and panting had finally settled to normal
breathing, and she lay quietly with both eyes closed. The dress still hadn’t found its way off her
body, nor had the bra. She was only
truly naked from the waist down and, spent in the aftermath of their storm,
didn’t seem to care.
Jon found her bedraggled appearance oddly enticing, which
bothered him a little. To be perfectly
blunt, she was the classic picture of a used and abused whore. Hell, she was, in essence – even if it was by
her own volition.
There’d been a few of those throwaway women in his bed
over the years, and more than a few in the beds of his bandmates. He’d never
once looked at a woman in that condition and thought her beautiful. Well-fucked, yes. The object of his mass destruction, yes. Representation of a good time had by all,
yes. Maybe even a little pathetic, if he
was being honest.
None of them had ever enticed him to crawl back in bed. Not one tempted him to smooth hair from her
forehead or undress her so that she was more comfortable.
Only Delaney.
“This isn’t a one-night stand.”
“Mmk.” She took
long seconds to stretch her compact body to its full length rolling onto one
hip and squinting curiously up at him. “But
is it still a dinner date? Sex makes me
hungry.”
He found her entirely too cute for his own good.
Chuckling as he stood, Jon laid an open hand against his chest
and smirked. “Yeah. Dinner was a given, but that was good enough to get you dessert, too.”
Dimples flashed as she tried to push through her tangled
waves without much luck. “I don’t really
believe in the post-coital rehash, nor do I get into stroking a guy’s ego, but
I gotta tell you…. That was so good that
I’d think anybody else made it up. Commissioned
porn doesn’t come that well-scripted.
For real.”
Bending to hook his discarded jeans from the floor, he
pushed one leg in and grinned at her while pushing in the other and buttoning
up the fly. “I can’t argue with that,
especially if I expect an encore later.”
The dimples reappeared and lingered this time. “In case I haven’t mentioned it, I like
you. And I’m so very freeping happy to
meet your ‘not nice’ side.”
“Told you.”
She sat up, swinging around so that her legs dangled over
the mattress edge when she shrugged out of the dress and put her bra to
rights. “Yeah, yeah. But you’re not nice in the nicest way
possible, so that weakens your claim.
Toss me my panties?”
Following her line of sight, Jon located the scrap of sin
and moved around to the foot of the bed, scooping them and flinging them her
way. Delaney smiled her thanks and bent
to put them on.
When she did, Jon caught sight of something on her left
shoulder blade – something that had been covered until now.
“You’ve got a tattoo.”
She paused for a beat before standing to slide the black
lace over her hips. “Yeah.”
The artwork was feminine, and at first glance could be
nothing more that fancy scrollwork and doodads.
Closer inspection revealed it to resemble the Roman numeral two. Two light purple columns with a flourish at
both top and bottom. Surrounding it were
decorative swirls and whirls interspersed with a smattering of stars.
“Does it mean something?”
“It’s an astrological thing – Gemini. The twins.
Mind if I put on jeans? I think
this has done its job.”
She held the little black dress in her fingertips as
though it was contagious, and the shapeless
garment dangled limply without her form to give it life.
“Grab my shirt if you want,” he invited with a toss of
the chin toward where it lay. “I’m not
going to wear it.”
“Are we staying in?”
“I thought we would.”
“Cool,” she accepted, lifting it from the chair and putting
the dress in its vacant spot. Her right
arm slipped inside, and she swung her left in search of the other sleeve until
he stepped up behind her to help. When
she secured it, Delaney thanked him and hiked the navy fabric up, covering the
splash of whimsy etched on her skin.
He didn’t normally care about tattoos one way or the
other. He wasn’t sure why he cared today, but while she buttoned the front of
his shirt, Jon found himself asking, “Twins, huh? Does Petra have matching ink?”
“No.” The simple
reply came as she was rolling up an already-rolled sleeve because it was still
too long. “She thinks tattoos are tacky
and crass.”
That was predictable enough, seeing as Petra thrived on social
perception and acceptability. Hitching
hands on his bare waist, he opted to let that thought die there. Psychoanalyzing her sister didn’t interest
him.
“Purple is your favorite color, I guess?”
“Yellow,” she corrected, as
the second sleeve was folded back to match the first. “Or a pretty pastel blue.”
“Huh. With your
hair color and that ink, I would’ve thought purple.”
“Nope.” She didn’t
meet his eyes when sidling past him to the door. “Back in a minute.”
Rather than waiting for her to return, Jon followed curiously
behind, pausing in the doorway as she dug in her bag and withdrew a
hairbrush. When she moved to the huge
sofa mirror and started working it through her tatted hair, he retrieved their
wineglasses. Maybe he was just imagining
it, but he was picking up on an odd vibe.
Another drink might help, and besides… drunk sex with Delaney couldn’t
be bad.
“So you’re a Gemini?” he casually inquired on his way to
the bar. “What month is that? I don’t keep up with astrology shit.”
“I’m an Aquarius. What
do you like to eat?”
“You,” he answered, absently noticing that she didn’t
laugh.
He wasn’t imagining it.
They’d gone from afterglow to awkward in the time it took her to get
dressed. Was she having some kind of remorse? Was he?
One of them was behaving strangely, and he didn’t think it was him. She’d said any and everything to cross her
mind since the moment they met, yet now the answers were short and followed by
questions that led a different direction.
“Why do you seem so suddenly secretive?”
With her hair only half combed, she sighed, and the brush
fell to swing by her thigh as she turned to face him.
“I’m nothing close to secretive. My bra size is 34DD. Petra’s is 34C because DDs ruined the line of
her suit jackets. The shop retailed
over a million last year. My greatest
fear is dying alone. I lost my virginity
at fourteen and my father beat the crap out of the eighteen-year-old who did
it. I’ll tell you every boring detail of
my life if that’s what turns you on, but for tonight, my tattoo is in the same
category as your divorce. Okay?”
There was nothing angry about what could’ve easily turned
into a rant with a more temperamental woman.
Like every other disagreement of hers that he’d witnessed – except for
those with Petra – Delaney was good-natured while still making her point, and
it was a valid point.
He had things that were off the table for now, and she
was entitled to the same. They’d get to
those things eventually, and he didn’t mind waiting.
“Fair enough,” he granted, plucking the wine bottle from the
fridge and popping the top. “Fourteen,
huh?”
Laughter accompanied the return of her attention to the
mirror and her renewed brushing. “Yeah. He was a smooth talker who couldn’t keep his
mouth shut about taking a girl’s virginity.
It got around the locker room, where his little brother heard and told
my little brother, who ratted me out to Papa.
He deserved a butt kicking.”
“Did you at least like it?”
“God, no.” She
bent forward to get at the underside of her still-tangled locks. “It was painful, and he couldn’t have given a
nymphomaniac an orgasm in that thirty seconds.”
With a chuckle, he replaced the glass stopper in the
bottle and returned it to cold storage.
“Teenage boys aren’t exactly known for their sexual prowess. I had to work hard at it, and just about the
time I got really good, I hit the big time.
At that point, all you have to do is drop your pants to be a classified
as a sexpert.”
She flipped back up, her hair neatly flowing down her
back when she grinned at him and slid the brush onto the table. “I, for one, am grateful for your time and
effort in pursuing the craft. Seriously,
dude. Does everybody rave about you? Are you that in tune with all your lovers, or
did I just get lucky?”
“I’d say I’m the one that got lucky,” he corrected,
passing her a filled glass and turning to look for a room service menu. “I’ve never been with someone quite like you.”
She almost choked on her wine. “God, you’re one of those smooth talkers,
too! Is there anything you can’t do?”
“You think I’d admit to it if there was?”
“How would I know?” Delaney reasoned, plopping down on
the couch and putting both bare feet on the coffee table’s glass edge. “We’ve barely met outside the confines of
your job.”
“Figure out what you wanna eat.” A flick of his wrist sent
the located menu sailing into her lap before he joined her on the couch. “And we’re remedying that other problem as we
speak. Spend the night with me.”
After dinner would be too soon to see her go. As he’d discovered in Montreal, she was
engaging even fully clothed. Now that he
could have her both with and without, Jon wanted to indulge himself with her
company.
“Do rebound girls spend the night?” Twinkling eyes
softened the catty question, but he still bestowed his cockiest smile upon the
little wiseass.
“Don’t know about rebound girls, but you will.”
“Arrogant SOB,” she accused on a delighted giggle. “By the way, ‘Bounce’ is a pretty cute
nickname. It doesn’t offend me.”
“I prefer Mou.”
She sipped her wine nodded over the menu, flipping it
from one side to the other. “That’s
actually an impressive choice for an Italian boy. It kinda warms the cockles of my heart.”
“I’m gonna warm the flesh of your ass with my hand, you
sarcastic little shit.”
Dark hair swung when she twisted her head to him deliver
a flirtatious wink. “Not until I’ve
eaten. You wouldn’t like me when I’m
hangry.”
“I’m not all that sure I like you now,” he lied.
“Whatever.” Her scoff was accompanied by a rude snort,
and she flung the menu toward the coffee table.
“This crap is exorbitantly overpriced.
How do you feel about pizza? I
know a great place that delivers in this part of town.”
Delaney Gardener was endearingly exasperating, but she
brought him enough pleasure that Jon would indulge any whim she had
tonight. She could return the favor
later – in bed.
“That sounds perfect.”
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