“Traffic might have been a little heavy.” Delaney
conceded, her untethered hair swinging as she closed the Mercedes door with a
grimace that said she knew he was going to rag her about it. She
wasn’t wrong. “That and we didn’t leave the city until eleven. Marilee
is off today, so I had to go open the shop, and then Petra made me change
clothes when I got to her house.”
“That’s obvious.” The preppy little ensemble
she wore was fine, if a little overkill compared to his cargo shorts and
sleeveless tee, but it clearly did not come from Delaney’s closet. “And
I told you traffic was going to be a bitch.”
“It wasn’t the only bitch.” Pearl emerged from
the vehicle’s trunk with an overnighter and pillow in tow, pointing an
accusatory finger at Petra. “Somebody got raging bitch
hangry halfway here, demanding that we stop for food and making us even later.”
“Pearl, don’t make me spill blood on the man’s driveway. Hello,
Jon. Your home is lovely.”
He issued a perfunctory smile for the most socially
conscious of the group while mentally rolling his eyes. She simply
couldn’t let go of the façade and Jon didn’t feel like calling her on it today,
so he descended the three porch steps to join them on the driveway. “Thanks. I’ll
give you the tour after you’ve had a chance to relax.”
“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”
Too much trouble? Maybe he did feel like
calling her on it. “Jesus Christ, Petra. Isn’t that
why you came?”
“Well… partly,” she admitted without embarrassment,
dumping a heavy-looking satchel on top of the matching roller bag. “Could
you point me to somewhere I might freshen up?”
“Who cares about fresh? I have to pee
like you wouldn’t believe!”
As he relieved Delaney of her little duffel, they both
grinned at Pearl’s candidness. “I have a feeling my house is never
going to be the same, Mou.”
“Probably not, but it’s your own fault.”
“A blame I’m willing to accept. The
guesthouse is around back, ladies.” His nod pointed them in the
right direction, and a tattered tote bag jockeyed for position on Delaney’s
shoulder as they fell in behind the other two. Putting a guiding
hand at the hem of her pastel sweater, Jon told her, “Nice car, by the way.”
“It’s Petra’s, but we don’t let her drive.”
“For the love of God,” the maligned woman huffed over her
shoulder. “It was one incident
with the parking brake three years ago – in an unfamiliar vehicle. Let
it go, people!”
“Not happening,” Pearl called from the front of the line. “You
peeled us to a standstill in moving traffic trying to roll up the window – and
then pulled in front of another car. I’m never letting that shit go,
Deathwish.”
“Was it that bad?”
Delaney shrugged as the other two women stumbled over
their feet and bags, pushing one another aside to be the first in the door and
to the bathroom. “Petra’s actually a good driver. She’s
just so vocal about my shortcomings that I’m obligated to return the favor whenever
possible.”
“I think that’s the true definition of a sibling,” he
laughed as they crossed from the porch into the guesthouse. Neither
Petra nor Pearl was in sight, but their bags had been abandoned in the
combination living/dining area, so they must have found bathrooms. “Master
bedroom is on the left if you want to claim it before they get a chance.”
“How many of the bathrooms have tubs?”
“Only the master.”
“Then that’s Petra’s. She’s a bath freak,”
Delaney told him, meandering past the seating area toward the doorway on the
right – and the two guest rooms beyond.
She poked her head to the left first, and he could
visualize the hardwood floor and maple furniture that were as warm as the
butterscotch walls and curtains of complementary plaid. That room
was all about warmth and comfort, but Jon knew it wasn’t the one Delaney would
choose to claim.
When she backtracked to the other, it was to find the
same floor and white bedding, but those were the only similarities. Whereas
the first guest room was all about warmth, this one was awash with cool
relaxation with its stark white furniture and draperies softened by pale
accents. Throw pillows, walls, and even the milk glass lamp on the
nightstand were chilled with one of Delaney’s favorite colors – pale blue.
As predicted, the tattered tote bag landed at the foot of
the bed, and she turned with a demure smile. “Pretty.”
“I like it best of these, but my room is nicer,” he
remarked casually, dropping her duffel next to the dresser.
In her apartment this morning, she’d made it perfectly
clear that they wouldn’t be sharing a bed.
The decision was probably the right one, but that didn’t make him like
it any better. That’s why he was subtly trying to sway the vote.
“I would hope the master suite is nicer than the
guesthouse,” she observed dryly, and the steely eyes that watched him fold both
arms were completely unreceptive to his hint. “Are your boys here?”
“Yeah. In the pool.”
Her chin fell with a slight nod, and Delaney tugged at
his forearms until they opened enough for her to step into the circle of them. A
light embrace looped around his waist, and she let her head fall back with a
smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Jon cinched an arm under cardigan-covered shoulder blades
while the other hand immobilized her head to remind himself how good that smile
tasted. Unhurried lips found the succulence hiding inside her dimple-flanked
mouth, and a dawdling tongue delved deep to discover flavors of coffee, sugar
and Delaney.
“Mmmm,” she purred into his mouth while little fingers
burrowed under his shirttail in search of skin.
The purr went deeper when she uncovered her prize and stroked along Jon’s
waistband.
That little noise made him instantly hard, because it was
the same one she made when sucking his dick – like she was PMS and he was a
gallon of chocolate ice cream. He should’ve fucked her this morning,
but they’d gotten up late, and then there was the whole unexpectedness of her
last-minute decision to come here. There hadn’t been time, and his libido
was frustrated by the piss-poor scheduling.
“I’m going to fuck you.”
Jesus, that throaty chuckle didn’t do a damn thing to
soothe his hard-on, nor did the slow rumble of thunder in her eyes. She
wanted to be fucked as much as he wanted to give it to her – how he wanted to give it
to her.
Hard, raw and sweaty.
“No, you’re not,” she murmured, blatantly playing with
fire when teasing fingers roamed Jon’s rib cage before retreating to trace his
spine. “Not now, anyway. How far are we from the ocean?”
Slipping beneath the hem of her conservatively short
skirt, Jon gripped a handful of ass and kneaded it, unwilling to admit she was
right. They weren’t going to do anything with so many people
wandering around, including his kids. He was open with the boys
about sex. They knew everything there was to know about the physical
act, but Jon had no desire to provide a live demonstration.
“About a block, why?”
“I’ve never had sex on the beach.”
Lifting a critical eyebrow as compact curves flattened
against him, he inquired blandly, “Do you know how many beds are on this
property?”
“Nope.”
“A lot. And every goddamn one of them is more
comfortable than sand.”
Thunder rumbled again in the smoky depths of gray, and
her lips took on a different slant – a secretive one meant just for him. “You
know I like being uncomfortable.”
Yes. Yes, he did and that meant they were
going to fuck on the beach like horny teenagers tonight. His knees
hurt just thinking about it, but horniness loomed large to dwarf the envisioned
pain. He’d do a lot of things to get
between her legs, including sneaking a hand under…
“Petra claimed the big bedroom,” Pearl announced from a
few feet away, passing through the hall to the other bedroom and effectively
bursting their bubble of foreplay. “No surprise there, but did you
buy an Apple Watch, Laney? And since you
didn’t close the door, does that mean you’re open to spectators while you
screw?”
Jon snorted with laughter as Delaney’s head fell into his
shoulder and shook back and forth while she muttered, “This was such a bad idea
all the way around.”
“Please tell me she’s more professional when working. Or
is she going to say every goddamn thing that pops into her head at Jesse’s
thing?”
“She’ll behave,” Delaney promised, peeking around his
shoulder with a little frown. “I think.”
“So, was that a ‘no’ on watching or the watch?”
Jon twisted toward the door, taking Delaney with him to
shield the tent in his shorts when answering, “Both.”
“Tragic but expected on the sex thing. Can’t
blame a girl for trying,” Pearl rationalized with lackadaisical shrug. “But
if she didn’t buy a watch, why is there a brand-new one – still in the box –
next to her phone on the coffee table?”
“Because I bought it for her.”
This was the part of the day that could get touchy.
She’d accepted maracas, a hotel room and the
forget-me-not ring from him all without a quibble. Today, however, Delaney had shown what he
thought was an aversion to his wealth. Something about flying in a copter caused her to dig stubborn
heels and defiantly drive the length of Long Island. That was the only logical explanation he
could come up with, and it had Jon unsure how she’d react to his latest gesture.
Pearl considered it a no-brainer and dark eyes rolled
back in their sockets. “Ugh. Laney, do you understand how
jelly I am? It’s like… off the charts green from my colon to my
brain. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate your guts.”
Ignoring her friend’s theatrical envy, Delaney twisted
her neck and peered back at him with confusion. “You bought me a
watch?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “You weren’t the only
one late getting out of the city, so I called to ask one more time about you
flying out with us. Somebody at the shop answered your phone.”
“That must’ve been Katya, since she’s working today.”
“The Icelandic blonde? Yeah, she’s the one I
picked it up from.”
She was also the one who had eye-fucked him twelve times
in two minutes. He had the feeling she would’ve put up the “Closed”
sign for the real deal if he’d shown the slightest interest.
That’s why, when she held onto the phone for a
split-second too long and smiled like a barracuda with tits before releasing it
into his custody, he made a point of not blinking. There was no
movement at all that could be misinterpreted when he wrapped his fingers around
the iPhone and got the hell out of there.
The only thing she got from him was a succinct thanks as he walked out
the door.
The best thing he could take away from that encounter was
that, hours later, the memory of it was enough to significantly deflate his
dick.
Any lingering arousal was killed by Delaney’s dramatically
woebegone, “Freeeeep! I must’ve left it on the counter after texting
Marilee about the bank deposit.”
It would be funny if she wasn’t so obviously
tragedy-stricken, and Jon gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. He
didn’t really mind the forgetfulness. She so clearly had her shit together
in every other way that the personality quirk was cute, albeit inconvenient.
“No big deal,” he assured. “But I thought
maybe a watch would make life simpler. Hard to forget something
that’s strapped to your arm.”
“Damn. The man’s not only hot, he’s brilliant. Why
didn’t you think of it two years ago, girl?”
“Why didn’t you think
of it?” Delaney countered Pearl’s snarky accusation. “My lack of phone bothers
you more than it does me.”
“Because I use an Android. That whole Apple
thing is beyond my circle of awareness.”
“As are most things,” came his lover’s wicked drawl
before she angled to look at him again. “It’s actually a good
suggestion, but I would’ve preferred that you kept it as a suggestion instead
of getting one. How much do I owe you?”
Jon didn’t even flinch.
From the minute he’d made the impulsive side-trip to the Apple store, he’d
known this scenario was a possibility. He
also knew that telling her to keep her money would probably fly with the grace
of a fifty-pound turkey, so a compromise was in order.
It was a good thing he’d had all afternoon to think of one.
Tucking a stray lock of hair behind one of her ears, he
met openly questioning eyes with an easy smile. “Pick out furniture
for my apartment and we’ll call it even.”
No comments:
Post a Comment