The Best Laid Plans (7 page)

He played her body like they’d been intimate a hundred times before. He knew just what to do, where to touch, how hard to press. She didn’t have to direct him at all. He read her body like her needs were tattooed on her skin. No one had ever done this for her before, and she couldn’t do anything but lie there loving it. Maybe next time she could tie him up to the headboard and make him crazy for her. Would there be a next time?

“Fuck yes!” She screamed as the first orgasm slammed through her, curling her toes and ripping her thoughts apart.

***

Her pussy clenched his fingers, and he tasted a subtle difference. She was about to come. He increased the pressure of his hand, and gently sucked at her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she shook, then grabbed the headboard and cried out a moment later.

He continued after she’d climaxed, but slower, gentler, knowing how sensitive a woman becomes after an orgasm – especially one that hard, judging by how tightly his fingers had been squeezed.

When she no longer trembled, he slid his fingers out of her and sat up. That should do her for this evening. As hard as he was, he would send her home like this. Let her think about what had happened tonight, and come back for more tomorrow. For the rest tomorrow. He’d leave her satisfied but wanting.

She sprang forward, knocking him to his back at the foot of the bed. Before he could recover from the surprise, she threw a leg over him, and straddled his stomach pinning him down, facing his feet. He tensed to get up and move her off of him – this wasn’t part of the plan.

Then she leaned down and took him in her mouth, and the plan flew out the window.

Pleasure seared through him in time with her hot mouth, and the hand that stroked his length. He opened his eyes, and saw her legs spread wide, her pussy a few inches in front of his face. The sight of her almost made him blow his load right there. He firmly grasped her thighs and pulled her back, close enough to reach with his mouth again.

He nuzzled down, and licked out, finding her swollen nub again.

“No!” She looked back at him. “It’s my turn.”

“You don’t get a turn.” He licked harder, faster. “In fact,” he spun and flipped her on her back, like she weighed nothing, full of lusty adrenaline. He leaned over and looked deep into her eyes. “You’re just going to lie there and take what I give you.” He bit her shoulder.

“But I—”

“Unless you want me to stop.” He ran the tip of his dick up and down her wet folds, not penetrating, moving away as her hands grabbed at his ass, trying to pull him inside her.

“Don’t stop.”

“I won’t if you quit trying to climb on top.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” she cried.

“Let me get a condom.”

“Hurry.”

Her impatience filled him with warmth, and he wanted to stretch this moment out like warm taffy, so he took his time removing a condom from the nightstand. Jayne rubbed his back while he sat on the edge of the bed and put it on. He moved over to her on his knees, lowered himself, and kissed her neck.

“Just fuck me now, Malcolm, please!”

He pulled back to look at her. Frustration filled her eyes, and he literally couldn’t take it anymore. His name cried from her lips was too much – he pushed into her, hard and slow, savoring the first thrust. Her lips found his, frenzied, passionately, as tears of relief sprang to her eyes. He pulled out and filled her again, loving her tightness, marveling at how they fit each other perfectly, no space between them now.

She cried out and turned her head to the side, closing her eyes.

Malcolm stopped, pulled back until he’d almost completely withdrawn, and propped himself on his elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She looked confused.

“Then stay right here with me, Jayne. Will you do that for me?”

She bit her lip and nodded, obviously shy at the thought of looking at him while they made love. He smiled down at her and thrust into her again.

God, her face was so expressive, broadcasting her pleasure. She angled her hips more severely, seeming to try to hold onto him without hands when he pulled out.

Heat and pleasure built steadily between them. He didn’t want to rush it, but soon he could prolong it no longer. He moved faster and faster, watched the blush creep across her chest, felt her tighten even more around his cock. He smothered her mouth with a deep, slow kiss as she came again, so she cried out in his mouth and he breathed her pleasure in.

He came a moment later while she still trembled and clutched him tightly to her.

Jayne came to without opening her eyes, feeling gentle fingers trailing lazy lines up and down her spine. It felt so nice she leaned into the hand – and then it all came flooding back in a tangled, delicious rush that tightened her nipples. Malcolm. She smiled and turned toward him.

“Good morning, Jayne.”

And then his lips were on hers. His hand stroked up and down her side, and she couldn’t stop her back from arching with his movements until he went lower to rest on her hip. His hands were gentle, but his mouth was not. He nipped down her neck, sending tiny jolts across her skin and waves of heat between her legs. He didn’t ask; he claimed.

And she savored it.

He slowly made his way down her body. She tensed, waiting for his mouth to land
there.
So close …

Her eyes flew open, and she knew something was very wrong. Natural light seeped in from around the blinds.

“What time is it?” A bad feeling invaded her belly.

“Nine-thirty.”

“Shit! I’m late for work!”

“Call in sick. Call in sexy. Say, ‘I can’t possibly come into work today because I am being ravaged on account of I’m too hot to wear clothes.’” His mouth made contact with her, tongue stroking her in a way that made her want to wrap her limbs around his head and lock him in place, but she wrenched away from him. The effort made her hips buck in protest.

Did they have time? The office was only a few blocks away … but damn. She had to change, which meant a trip home first. “I can’t. I have a meeting.” She sat up, slinging her legs over the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, looking for her clothes, remembering they were outside the door.

“Allow me.” Malcolm stood and walked from the room, deliciously naked, and came back a moment later. He handed her the bra and dress.

She slipped into the bra, and had the dress over her head when her legs were moved apart, and his mouth landed on her clit again.

Oh God, yes. Yes!
No!

“Malcolm, I can’t!” she moaned, hating her job for the first time.

“That’s,” he grabbed her hips tightly, “a real,” and bent forward, licking and sucking at her with an intensity that made her back arch, “shame.”

Her body rocketed toward release, but her mind still fought it. “I have to go. There isn’t time.”

And he stopped. The bastard
stopped
and she’d been seconds away from—

“I don’t want to make you late for work. I’d better call you a cab.” He walked out of the room. Jayne sat, dizzy for a moment. When she finally remembered her words, she cursed him under her breath.

***

The cab ride home was excruciating. Malcolm had deliberately brought her to this height, whipping her body into a hyper-sensitive frenzy, and then stopped so she’d have something to think about all day. Every bump of the road vibrated through the seat, nudging her thighs against her crotch. Jayne couldn’t stop clenching her thighs, frustration screaming through her protesting nerves. He’d done this on purpose to drive her mad with wanting!

And it had worked.

He’d told her to come by after work if she wanted to pick up where they left off this morning. The door would be open and she could just walk right in. It was like he thought she was a stray cat looking for a scrap of food from a kindly stranger.

No way in hell she’d cave in and return to him. That would be giving him more power than she wanted him to have this soon. Or at all.

But oh, God, she wished she was still in his bed with him right now. There was something about him, something deep, and dark, and intense. She wanted to dive into him and not come up for air. He’d been the lover she’d waited for. Her nipples ached thinking about the way he’d made her body sing beneath him last night.

There was no way she could give that up any time soon.

Though this morning’s little power play didn’t sit well with her, she couldn’t help but smile. He certainly knew what he was doing.

The cab hadn’t stopped before she’d thrown cash at the driver and dashed into her building. The elevator ride took forever, but she finally crashed through her apartment door and slammed it shut. Leaning against it, she could wait no longer.

She ripped her panties off and in less than a minute finished with her hand what Malcolm had started with his mouth.

***

Malcolm went back to bed after she’d gone, needing some rest. Instead he’d found nightmares. He dreamed he was back in school, rushing to make it from the bus into the relative safety of the building before he was jumped. Again. He clutched the guitar close to him, hoping that they wouldn’t wreck this one like they’d done the other. Dad said they couldn’t afford another one. His heart slammed in his chest, a bead of cold sweat ran down his back.

He half woke, rolled over, and dozed back into another nightmare.

The after gym class shower was painful at best, but worse now that the football team had taken Malcolm on as their mascot of Team Torture. Jeff and Tim had moved to the showerheads on either side of Malcolm, framing his fear with their huge, rude bodies. They reveled in doing Jonathan’s bidding even when he wasn’t around to see them torment Malcolm. They fed on his fear like the special protein shakes the coach made them drink, delighted in knowing they intimidated him.

It was always worse before the beatings. Never knowing where the first punch would come from. Never knowing when it would happen. Paranoia growing so thick it choked him until it was almost a relief when their fists met his face. Or back. Or stomach. Pain didn’t matter to him – he knew that no matter how bad it hurt the attack would eventually end. They’d get bored and leave him alone until the next time. His bruises and cuts would eventually get better.

This time it was different. They didn’t do anything to him. He’d showered, and left the change room unscathed. They hadn’t even done anything to his clothes, or pissed in his backpack. It should have made him relax, but it just made it worse. Maybe they had something planned for after school instead. It wouldn’t be the first time they jumped him on the bus. Last time, they’d left him bleeding, and an hour’s limp away from home. He’d had to walk the whole way in socked feet because they’d taken his shoes before kicking him off the bus.

When his friend Ian invited him over to hang out after school, Malcolm eagerly accepted. He hadn’t hung out with Ian in a while, having been too into music lately, but he looked forward to doing something normal, and relaxing. Ian had always been way more into gaming than Malcolm, but it would be a nice change. Plus, Ian had a car, which would make his getaway a quick one. They’d probably get away from the school before the football team realized what had happened. Safe for another day.

If only he’d known.

His subconscious, in the interests of self-preservation, dragged him awake before he went to his friend’s house in the dream.

In the memory.

Malcolm sat up in bed and shoved the tangled sheets away from him. His mouth was dry and his heart thumped heavily. He pulled on a pair of jeans and went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice to erase the taste of fear from his tongue. Fuck. This feeling had become unfamiliar. Fear. Ten years of working out and martial arts training had changed him into a self-assured man and given him a physique people didn’t want to fuck with in a dark alley. He’d competed a while in kickboxing tournaments, and done well. Self-confidence meant he didn’t move like a victim anymore, either.

He wasn’t that kid. Didn’t even go by Dylan anymore. His real name was gone, and so was that scrawny, pathetic victim. He shook the remnants of the dream from his mind and focused on the present. On Jayne.

Now that she’d gone, the reality of last night – and this morning – came crashing down on Malcolm in waves of triumph. He’d done it. She was completely gorgeous. They’d made love. No. Fucked. He’d fucked her. Phase one of the plan was done. If nothing else, he had known her in the second most intimate way possible. The most intimate was phase two – getting inside her heart. Making her fall in love with him. Clearly this would be a bit tougher than seducing her.

In bed she’d been amazing, but still closed off. Making eye contact, connecting with him, had been a big deal for her. Her obvious skills showed she’d had a lot of sex. But the way she shut down in bed, made it purely physical, showed him she was inexperienced in making love, in taking sex to the next level: intimacy. She could have sex with someone without being intimate at all. He needed to get past those barriers to win her over, otherwise he’d be relegated to nothing more than a physical relationship.