The Best Laid Plans (13 page)

 
Probably wetting some panties with his amazing (hands) guitar playing.
Jayne smiled remembering his hands on her. The man had some skills, that was for damned sure, on stage and in bed. But she didn’t want to let him get too close. But she didn’t want him to get away either, and there was no way he’d be left alone at the end of the night. He was probably surrounded by women right now.

Why was she not at his gig again? She did a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. No prospects, no one who looked better than Malcolm anyway. She should have replied to his text, but Lisa Tristina wrote, ‘
Don’t make the mistake of being too available. Don’t make him think you’re playing hard to get. Make him think you’re hard to get a hold of. Supply and demand. The less available you are, the more priority he will put on your calls when they do come in.’

It made sense, but Lisa Tristina had never had a Malcolm-induced orgasm. He was worth burning the book for. Surely it didn’t make her seem too available if she happened to stop by his gig? If she had already been in the area … he wouldn’t have to know she’d gone there for a booty call. Not that he’d care, but some men were funny about women who were open to being friends with benefits.

In her and Malcolm’s case, more like strangers with benefits.

Sure she’d just called him last night, but technically she’d waited eight days to do so. And he had texted her inviting her to his gig, so technically the next move was hers to make.

Ten-fifty right now. If she left immediately, and caught a cab, she could be at Fresians in about half an hour. She’d be able to catch the last few songs, but she wouldn’t look like just another rabid fangirl. No sense him feeling comfortable and thinking he had the upper hand. She did think he was talented, but there was definitely no worship going on. Not outside the bedroom at any rate.

Fuck it. Her skin tingled at the thought of him. There was no way she wasn’t going.

***

The cab ride took forever, and Jayne had the driver crank the radio to drown out the sudden worry over whether or not he’d still be playing. Maybe he’d left by now, maybe he’d left with someone else, a truly horrible thought as she’d be going home with an inferior lover, or more likely alone. She didn’t want to leave with anyone but him, and that freaked her out a little more than it should have. Was she developing feelings for him? No. She didn’t develop feelings. Feelings made you weak. It was definitely just about sex. Definitely. Mostly.

The cab stopped at the bar, she walked inside, and her tension fled when she saw him still on stage, crowded by about twenty women dancing their asses off, throwing him and the other band members suggestive looks. The sudden possessiveness that filled her made her dizzy. The song was ‘Striptease For Me, Baby,’ which fit on so many levels. He wore dark jeans, and a dark green t-shirt that showed off his arms to perfection as he strummed away.

She realized he had noticed her staring. He smiled and winked at her. A couple girls’ heads whipped around comically fast to see who he’d been shining his affection on. Jayne turned and walked to the bar, hiding her relieved smile from him. He wasn’t leaving with someone else. He’d be hers tonight.

***

He couldn’t suppress his relief and happiness when she walked in, finally, over two hours late. Not wanting to make it look like he was too happy to see her, he tempered the smile with a cheeky wink. Hopefully that said, ‘There you are, Gorgeous! I am happy to see you. I knew you’d show up eventually.’

Why had she waited this long? He’d noticed that she tended to dress more formally, maybe because she always came from work? Had she planned to stand him up before changing her mind? That was bad, but the fact she showed up was positive. The scales were tipped in his favor. He’d really have to pull out the stops tonight. Hopefully she wasn’t just here to play bait and switch – make him think she was here to see him, but then duck out at the last moment, playing hard to get. Hadn’t she made him wait long enough to appease the game playing?

The games some women played were unbelievable, and completely pointless. Malcolm hated it all, had never seen the point, but even he played along with certain things. Waiting to call a woman instead of phoning her the next day. Don’t want to appear too eager. It was ridiculous – if you both wanted to go out, then just fucking call! Don’t pretend you’re not available, or interested. It was such a waste of time, but something that everyone did.

Jayne got a drink from the bar, something a rich cranberry color, and she sipped from a blue straw. He could watch her mouth all night. She didn’t try to be sexy, it just came naturally to her. Other men noticed too; he liked watching them watch her, mesmerized and unable to hide it. One guy walked up to her, but barely got a few words out before she had waved a hand, like a Jedi pulling a ‘this is not the date you’re looking for’ move. He left, and she hadn’t even glanced in his direction. She’d been too busy staring at Malcolm.

He’d coasted on autopilot, but the set ended, the gig done. He was glad they were playing the same venue the next night, as he could leave his gear locked in the back room instead of hauling his guitar and amp home. This way he had two free hands.

They couldn’t get back to his place quickly enough.

But finally, they arrived.

She was on him as soon as the elevator door closed. Hands ran wildly up his shoulders and into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He responded with slightly less passion, letting her get it out of her system, burn off the excess lust. When her hands relaxed, her kisses got slower and deeper,
then
he let himself physically express how much he wanted her.

He slid his hands across her hips and pulled her closer, let her feel his hardness before he kissed her. Thoroughly, until she was breathless and leaning against him for support. He dove into the deep, black pool of desire he always treaded when he was around her. And he didn’t come back for air until the elevator doors opened, then closed behind them.

He put his arms around her, moving her back to his stomach and walked to his apartment door, loving how she dawdled, making him literally move her forward with the press of his body the whole way. He handed her his key and kissed that sensitive spot on her neck, watching her hands shake as she unlocked and opened the door, desperate to get him inside.

She slammed the door shut behind them, he flicked on a light, and her hand grabbed at his, yanking on his arm, leading him to the bedroom. He loved her readiness, a match for his own. Her perfect ass as she hurried along undid him. He stopped half way there, and squeezed her delicious curves with both hands, filling the silence of his apartment with her breathy moan. God, she was firm and soft and shapely and more than he ever could have dreamed about. He half thought he’d imagined the perfection of her curvy hips and ass remembering her body over the past eight, now nine days, but they were even better than his memory.

I am a very lucky (bad) man.

She pulled the hem of his t-shirt up, and he let her remove it. She made an approving noise. “You should never wear clothes with a body like that, Malcolm.” Her hands traveled across his pecs, down his abs, and she caressed his crotch through his jeans. “Mmm, especially with this.”

He scooped her up, and laid her on the bed in under three seconds, mouth on hers, gently devouring her. The softness of her lips warred with the way she bit at him, wanting more, needing more. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and captured it with her teeth, grazing it as she allowed him to slowly pull it out. It hurt, and surprised him, and he wanted her to do it again. Her intensity blew him away, he’d never had a lover so sure about what she wanted, so determined to get it.

She wore a silky top that looked stiff, but stretched, and she reached down and pulled it over her head, throwing it somewhere into the darkness of his room. The lace of her bra scratched his chest as he pressed back down to her warm skin and friendly hands, laid kisses and nips down her neck. He ran his hands up her legs as he moved down her body, aiming to meet in the middle.

But he sprang up suddenly, crossing the room.

“You’re killing me over here!” Jayne moaned.

He switched the light on. “I need to see you.” He took a few steps closer. “I need to see you, and feel you—” Another step. “And hear you—” He’d reached the bed, “and taste you.”

She shone a slow smile up at him. “That does sound good.” She sat up and tugged on his belt loop. “But these pants need to die a quick death.” They fell to the floor thanks to her nimble fingers, followed by his underwear. She stood, and stroked him, and he could barely concentrate to remove her skirt. It wasn’t just her skill. She did something to him, radiated some pheromone or something that made him feel defenseless against her. She could have anything of his she wanted, she could have him, and he’d give it to her when she looked at him like that.

He shook himself. That wasn’t the plan. He had to stay strong, stay on top of this situation! He removed her bra with one hand, while he used the other to slide her panties off. She had the cutest mole on her left hip that he’d never noticed before. He bent to kiss it as he eased her to the bed. She bit her lip and tensed as he crouched and kissed up her inner thigh.

Her whole body relaxed when his tongue touched her folds and continued up to her clit. He loved how she tasted, how she moved against his mouth, the way her eyes hooded and closed with pleasure. He licked up and down and slid a finger inside her. He gently massaged inside her until her hands clenched the sheets and she threw her head back, and he knew he’d found the sweet spot because she always smiled ever-so-slightly when he did.

A dark blush began just above her belly button and spread up her chest, mirrored by a smaller one painting her cheeks, darkening in rhythm to the strokes of his tongue and hand. He would paint her pleasure all over her body this way forever if he could. But all too soon, her body signaled its rapid approach to climax, and her slick well tightened around him, wetting his fingers. Her hips tipped and her back arched, and she moaned low and deep, then reached for him a moment later.

***

He read her body like he’d written the manual. It felt so good, and intense, and fast. Almost embarrassing how fast her body reacted to him, really. But she regretted nothing, only wanted more. She reached for his shoulders, urging him on top of her, and she spread her legs for him. “No more, Malcolm.”

“Let me just—”

“Are you clean? When was your last test?”

“About a week ago. I’m clean enough to eat off of.”

“I am too.”

“I know.” His grin was wicked.

“I’m on the pill.”

“So … ”

“No condom. I need you now.”

He entered her before the last word left her mouth, transforming the syllable into a gasp. He became the only thing in the world, their pleasure the only focus, and she held onto it, squeezing him tightly, trying to merge with him. Absolutely nothing lay between them now, just skin on skin on skin. It was everything and it wasn’t enough. She could have this forever and not be satisfied, he was addictive in the best way, giving pleasure and creating need all at the same time until there was nothing left but skin, and sensations, and sighs, and screams.

And oh, yes, right there.

She’d closed her eyes shut at some point to wring every sensate bit of bliss from the moment. She opened them. Malcolm’s expression looked so serious, so focused on making her feel good. He cared so much about his partner, was so determined to give back better than what he took. At such odds with the fun side of him. She winked up at him, remembering his action at the bar. His face lit up with a smile that melted her insides, and he kissed her.

Malcolm rocked his hips harder, faster, and Jayne lost all thoughts except, “Yes!”

Last night still felt like a dream. The day was hazy around the edges, as it had always been the morning after she’d been with Malcolm. She wasn’t used to feeling this relaxed and complacent. She caught herself gapping out during lunch with Amber.

“Earth to Red!” Amber snapped her fingers near Jayne’s face. It would have been rude if it hadn’t been necessary.

“What?” Jayne smiled sheepishly, knowing her attention had wandered off. Again.

“For real, are you on ’ludes, or something?”

Jayne laughed. “Yeah, the sixties called, they want their drugs back.”

“Well, something is up. I’ve never seen you looking so dopey and fulfilled. You’re either on drugs, or I want the name, number, and address of the guy you’re fucking.”

Jayne nearly spit out her smoothie. “Amber!”

She grinned triumphantly. “I knew it! What is his name, and can I borrow him?”

“That guitar player from our night out.”

“For real? Score! He was delicious. Can I borrow him?”

“His name is Malcolm, and no you cannot. I will cut a bitch.”

“Ooo jealous. It must be love.”