22. Sex Hair

TWENTY-TWO

SEX HAIR

E ric was fucking me missionary style, and I was totally down with it, seeing as I was close, he had a finger to my clit that was working magic, so I was about to get hit with what I knew from recent experience would be a rocket of an orgasm.

And then he pulled out.

I did not complain, because I was learning what would happen next, I just couldn’t be sure how it would happen. Though, I could be sure I’d like it.

This time, Eric chose rolling me to my belly, hiking me up by my hips, then pounding in.

One could say I’d also learned that getting tossed around and positioned by a strong man who knew what he wanted and had some serious power in his hips was the best .

I reared back into his mighty thrusts, pressing my forehead to his bed and reaching for my clit.

I mean, seriously .

That big dick did some of the work, but mostly, my man could fuck .

“Don’t touch yourself,” Eric grunted. “Feel like fucking your pretty wet pussy for a while.”

My vaginal walls clenched at the addition of his sexy talk.

Eric let out a growly purr.

My vaginal walls clenched again.

Mm.

Righty ho. I was cool with straight fucking for as long as he could do it.

His fingers trailed a tease along my skin over the cheeks of my ass, the small of my back, my spine and ribs, while I gladly took his fucking.

Until he squeezed my ass hard with both hands and murmured, “Work it, Jessie.”

Oh, I was gonna work it, all right.

I met him, thrust for thrust, our flesh slapping violently, and I didn’t think I could work it any harder.

Until he squeezed my cheeks again, the pads of his fingers pressing deeper this time, and he growled, “Sweetest ass on the planet. Fuck .”

One could say my man was an ass man. Which was good, since I had an abundance to give to him.

But I loved that he dug that about me so much, I started slamming into him as he slammed into me.

I was close again, from just fucking, so of course he pulled out.

I was a wee bit less patient with it this time.

I lifted my head to share this but got stuck on watching him drop to his back and turning his handsome head my way.

“Climb on,” he ordered.

I didn’t hesitate.

I climbed on, impaled myself, and rode his thick dick, my eyes glued to the splendor before me. His tousled hair. The dark hunger in his gorgeous face. The liquid ink of his eyes. His wide, hairy chest, bulging pecs and defined abs.

God, how did I get so lucky?

For his part, Eric alternately watched our connection and my face before he locked on my face and put a thumb to my clit.

I knew by that he meant business this time, so I whimpered in anticipation, did it again (and a lot louder) when his thumb hit the spot…

And someone laid on the doorbell.

What?

No!

He pulled me down to full of him, his eyes aimed across the room toward the door, his lips whispering, “The fuck?”

He held me where I was while I attempted to process this devastating turn of events as he reached a long arm out for his phone on the bedstand.

He engaged it. We both saw no notifications on his screen, which meant this wasn’t Nightingale business we’d missed while concentrating on fucking.

The person was still laying on the doorbell.

Gently, Eric pulled me off his cock.

And again…

No!

A quick peck on the lips, then he said, “Be right back.”

He rolled off the bed, grabbed his cargos and was still yanking them over his superior ass as he sauntered to the door.

I scowled at the door after he disappeared through it.

I then curled thighs to tits on my ass in his bed, hoping this was just a really intent Jehovah’s Witness that Eric could send on their way, and he would indeed be right back, because we’d had dinner (Eric made spaghetti, it had some heat to it, which made it awesome). Now all I needed was a mega-Eric-induced orgasm, followed by cuddle time, and then sleep, because we had to be up at 3:15 to hit the stakeout.

On this thought, I heard a woman shriek, “ You were fucking her? ”

I blinked at the door.

Holy shit.

Savannah was back in town.

I scurried off the bed, grabbed my panties, yanked them on, then hit up Eric’s thermal.

Through this, I heard his low murmuring and her shouting, “Only because you gave up on us!”

I pulled on his shirt and hustled down his long-ass hall.

I hit the mouth of the hall and stopped to see they were standing by the dining room table, just in from the front door.

Eric had his back to me, but when her eyes scorched a path my way, catching me standing there in his thermal, while he was standing there without it, and we both definitely had sex hair (though, I’d bet Eric’s was better), he looked over his bare shoulder at me.

His gaze dipped down, then up, he shook his head, but his lips quirked, and she didn’t miss the last.

“You think this is funny?” she demanded. “You’re fucking some other woman and it’s funny ?”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” he said calmly. “I just like the view of my woman in my shirt.”

Although that brought back that gooey feeling I’d come to know very well, I watched it make her face turn a violent shade of red.

I then gave myself a second to take her in.

And for sure.

Eric had a type.

Tall. Dark hair. Beautiful.

I mean, I knew I wasn’t hard on the eyes, but I wouldn’t describe myself as beautiful.

Though, Eric did.

I was a little surprised about her aesthetic, though.

Both Stella and I had entirely different vibes, but they were pretty casual.

Savannah had on crisp skinny jeans, a skintight tan shell, a lightweight, overlong (to her calves) matching tan blazer-jacket with gold buttons, a gold statement necklace, chunky gold hoops and high-heeled nude pumps. She was also carrying a stuffy, structured Louis Vuitton purse in the standard brown and tan design.

Now, I’d admit to a small amount of envy she could pull off such a fantastic eyeliner wing. But in my opinion, she went a bit overboard on the highlighter, at least during an ambush of her ex (however, it’d be perfect for a night out). And I didn’t like to talk down about a sister—do you and work it—but it had to be said, her overuse of bronzer was practically criminal.

Or maybe it was fake tan since she had an orange-ish tint all over.

Eric took me out of my perusal by saying, “Savannah, it worries me I have to remind you we’ve been divorced for two years.”

“A divorce I didn’t want,” she reminded him in return.

“We’ve had this conversation too many times, so you need to know, I’m not doing this,” he warned.

“And I’m not doing this in front of her ,” she snapped.

“No, you’re not doing it at all, because I’m going to put you out, and if you don’t leave my property, you’ll have to explain to the cops why you won’t,” he stated.

It was like he didn’t speak.

“I had one simple request. You work on us. And you can’t even give me that?” she demanded.

“He did, you just didn’t show up at the counseling sessions,” I muttered.

Eric dropped his head, though I was pretty sure I saw his shoulders shaking.

Hmm.

Even though it looked like he was silently laughing, from the expression on her face, maybe, as this rolled on to its conclusion, I should keep my mouth shut.

She stuck her arm straight out, finger pointing at me, and demanded, “You talked to her about”—she moved to flap that hand between them—“ us ?”

Eric’s head had snapped up at her point (the man really had a thing about people pointing at me), and after she finished speaking, he bit out, “You point at her again, Savannah, shit is gonna go south.”

Totally had a thing about people pointing at me.

“How much more south can it be?” she asked heatedly. “I’m currently standing in a home my husband doesn’t share with me with the woman he’s fucking.”

“Ex-husband,” he amended.

“Your choice, not mine,” she fired back.

I could tell things were turning for Eric in a huge way even before he asked, “You wanna know how much more?”

“Yeah, obviously ,” she snarked.

But I could also tell by his tone she really, really didn’t.

He told her.

“This much more south, Savannah. She’s it. She’s the one I’ve been waiting for. She’s the one I would have left you for if I was still with you when I met her.”

Savannah gasped, which was good, she did it a lot louder than I did, so maybe Eric didn’t hear mine.

Though mine ended with that gooey feeling spreading, making me feel warm all over, and I reckoned hers didn’t end like that.

“I cannot believe you just said that to me,” she whispered.

I was right.

Hers didn’t end like that.

“You made me miserable,” Eric stated emotionlessly. “She makes me happy. And not only because, when I’m around her, I don’t feel the need to exhaust myself by dancing attendance. It’s easy. It’s quiet. She makes me laugh. Our lives fit into each other’s rather than Jess making me feel like mine is a burden and her life has to be my everything when she allows me a part in it. Every day, she does something to make me feel like I matter to her, or just matter at all. She’s honest. She shares. She’s not about bullshit. Shit is very real for Jess right now in a variety of ways, but she still asks about my day. She worries I’m not getting enough sleep. She gets in my space when we’re just talking because she likes to be close to me.”

My heart clenched because…

Wow.

None of what I did was very big. It was just what you did with anyone you cared about.

So…

Damn .

His life with her was even worse than I thought.

“Does she know about Stella?” Savannah sneered.

“Yeah. We’re friends,” I told her. “Stella is the shit.”

“They used to be a thing,” she informed me.

“I know. Fifteen years ago,” I replied.

“If anything ever happened to her and Mace, he’ll excise you before you can say boo so he can sniff after her,” she declared.

At that, Eric dropped his head back to look at the ceiling.

Which told me he’d heard that before.

Maybe a lot.

So it was me who responded to her.

“That’ll never happen, not Mace and Stella breaking up, and not Eric making a play for Stella. It’s old news. Not to mention, he’s with somebody.”

“I—” Savannah started.

“ Fuck! Enough! ” Eric exploded, and both Savannah and I jumped when he did.

Me having that reaction wasn’t a surprise. He’d never done that around me, to say nothing of the fact I didn’t think he had it in him. He was a mellow guy. That said, we were very new.

It was Savannah having that reaction that told the tale. Because he’d obviously never lost it around her, and considering all that was her, that spoke volumes.

Her eyes were also wide in shock, which spoke volumes more.

“I cannot fucking believe I wasted over half a decade with a woman who doesn’t listen, a woman who lays on a doorbell at nearly nine at night and then forces herself into my house in order to shove her shit down the throats of me and my woman,” he gritted. “We’re done, Savannah. Divorced. Finished. I moved to a different state to get away from you. Fucking clue the fuck in . We’re over .”

Her hand flitted to her throat. “My God, Eric, you don’t have to be cruel about it,” she said in a small voice.

I really should have found it in me to stop it, but I couldn’t. This bitch was a total trip.

I busted out laughing.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

Eric was again looking over his shoulder at me, and a muscle was ticking in his jaw.

At the muscle, I forced myself to stop laughing, but it was hard.

“I see we want different things,” Savannah said.

Good Lord.

“We do? You think?” Eric drawled sarcastically.

A snort escaped me.

Eric shot me another look.

I lifted my hand to him and nodded, sharing I’d be good.

“I don’t need to be humiliated,” Savannah declared.

“I didn’t ask you to my house, or let you in, just pointing that out,” Eric replied.

She looked at him, at me, back to him, lifted her chin and stated, “At least no one can say I didn’t try.”

God, Stella had this bitch down .

“Congratulations.” Eric was still drawling sarcastically. “You worked hard, Savannah. I’m just not the man for you. Now, please, can you promise we’re done with this shit?”

She huffed then shared, “You won’t see me again.”

“It took me forty-three years, and just yesterday it came clear I found the woman I’ve been looking for since I knew what girls were, and still, that vies for the best news of my week,” Eric returned.

Aw.

I was feeling warm again.

She looked shocked. She then looked hurt. After that, she morphed to calculating. That was quickly edged out by hurt again.

She waited for Eric to respond to her self-inflicted wound, and when he didn’t, she straightened her spine and announced, “I’ll just be going.”

“Excellent idea,” Eric replied.

He sauntered to the door, opened it and stood there, holding it open.

Without looking at me, she moved that way and stopped to peer up at him.

She then either extremely belatedly reached for the high ground or made another play, it really didn’t matter, he was done with her.

“Even with all this, I truly hope you have a good life and you’re happy, Eric.”

“Thrilled, Savannah, since I can confirm I got both…” his pause was so heavy, I braced in order to be certain I didn’t start laughing again, “ now .”

Ouch .

Cripes!

Though, awesome comeback.

She walked out the door.

He closed it and locked it.

Then he turned to me.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I honestly think that’s the end of it. No way she’d endure that humiliation and come back for more.”

I bit my lip because, yeah…that was intense.

I stopped biting it to ask, “Does that mean you’re okay?”

Something shifted through his face, and I recognized it.

He understood I got him because I’d asked the right question. Twice.

“It didn’t feel good humiliating her like that,” he admitted.

“I’m sure,” I agreed.

“Unfortunately, she took it to a place where there was no other choice,” he stated.

“Yes,” I agreed again. “She one hundred percent did that.”

“And it fucks me to lose my cool like that,” he went on.

I knew it.

That wasn’t him.

Really, totally, such a good guy .

“She took it to that place too,” I reminded him.

“It still fucks me.”

My poor guy.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said gently.

“Let’s just hope it’s over,” he muttered.

I could do that with him, definitely.

“Does she spray tan?” I asked with curiosity since that didn’t seem like his gig.

He shook his head. “No clue. She didn’t when we were together.”

“She certainly came decked out,” I remarked. “Her eyeliner looked done by a professional.”

“It probably was. She never wore makeup when we were together. She didn’t have the time, and she’d sweat it off in the kitchen at the restaurant if she did.”

So that was a big play coming from her.

I’d feel badly for her if she wasn’t batshit crazy.

Now to get to the meat of it.

“You’d leave her for me?”

He shook his head again, but said, “This is one of the things I’m struggling with. I didn’t think I was that man. And as amazing as you are, it wouldn’t even occur to me if she was who she pretended to be in the beginning. Since she isn’t that person, absolutely.”

“You shouldn’t struggle with it,” I told him. “We didn’t meet while you two were together.”

“I know that, honey. But even if we did, I also know I’d end it with her so I could have you.”

Ummmmmmmmm…

That made my gooey feeling hit such an overdrive, it was a wonder I wasn’t a melted pile of Jess oozing across the floor.

“Wow,” I whispered.

His brows drew down. “I thought we understood each other.”

“Well, just to say, if by understanding each other you mean my telling you that I may have looked at black wedding dresses while researching the best way to fry a hamburger yesterday, and that doesn’t freak you way the fuck out, then yes.”

I wasn’t quite finished talking, but since he’d started stalking, I didn’t say more and instead started backing up.

“Uh…” I still didn’t finish since he said nothing and was still stalking as I retreated.

He cocked his head to the side (yes, still stalking).

“Black wedding dresses?”

I nodded. “And no DJ. Or cake cutting. Or toasts. Or… oof !”

That last was because he rushed me, dipped down like a football player about to make a tackle when he got to me, then he threw me over his shoulder.

Another oof! escaped when he dropped me to my back on his bed and a third one happened when he landed on me.

There it was.

I didn’t need him to give me an orgasm anymore. I’d just had three.

“We’re not there yet,” he said softly.

“No,” I agreed.

“When we get there, I won’t care what you wear. But you look amazing in black.”

God, this guy was the best .

His hair had fallen over his forehead, so I smoothed it back then held his head in both my hands.

“Good,” I whispered.

“You’re not gonna have The Smiths and The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees and Nine Inch Nails and My Chemical Romance and Bauhaus piped into the reception, are you?”

I was impressed by his command of goth rock.

“You forgot Joy Division,” I joked.

He grinned.

Then he kissed me.

When he broke it, he said, “Sorry you had to put up with that.”

“I’m sorry you did.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his beautiful eyes roaming my face. “That’s you.”

“What’s me?”

“You think about me.”

“Eric, baby, I hate to inform you of this, since it’s clear you dig that about me, but I’m not unusual. Most everybody would be more concerned about how you reacted to what just happened than how it affected me.”

“Jess, honey, I hate to inform you that you might be right, but there are also a lot of people who are completely self-involved.”

“I’ll give you that. But I feel the need to drive the point home that all the things you said I give to you are just normal things normal people give to people they care about. I’m not special.”

A funny look crossed his face. “You’re not special?”

I shrugged against the bed. “Not really. I’m way into you. I’m thrilled you’re way into me. And we do click in all the good ways.”

I still wasn’t done talking when he said, “Jess, you spent six months scouring Phoenix to find your brother.”

“A lot of people would do that.”

“And you teamed up with your friends to solve cases in order to stop people from being hurt, the last two nights doing that meant you dragged your ass out of bed and hung out in a cold, abandoned warehouse keeping watch on a homeless camp.”

“The first night I fell asleep through it,” I reminded him.

His lips tipped up before he said, “My point is, you’re not normal. You give a shit. You put your ass out there to make a difference. Homer doesn’t touch anything without putting a plastic bag between it and him, but you’ve touched his heart. Mary would not be in a hotel room with a bed and a thermostat she can control if it wasn’t for you. The General wouldn’t have a place waiting for him in a facility in Scottsdale if it wasn’t for you.”

This was news.

“The General has a place?”

Eric shook his head. “I forgot to tell you. Yeah. We just need to figure out how to get him there. But don’t change the subject. I didn’t say I’d leave my wife for you, if she was still my wife, because you got a great ass and extreme talent in sucking cock.”

I couldn’t help my smug smile at hearing that.

Eric ignored it.

“It’s because you’re all that’s you.”

I was all that was me.

Shit!

I was either going to cry, or hug him, or both.

This had to stop.

“Great,” I said smartly. “You’re all that’s you too, and it isn’t all about your big dick and sexy bedhead. Can we stop being gooey now? We’re here. We have our shit tight. Savannah’s gone. Hopefully that’s over for good. Now, we have to be up mega early. I just had three orgasms. But you haven’t had one, so, if you’re accepting orders, I’ll take another one while you get yours.”

His brows shot up. “You just had three?”

I took my hands from his head and counted them down on my fingers between our faces.

“The fireman’s hold. Tossing me on your bed. Landing on me. One, two, three.”

“You like to get physical,” he murmured.

“Uh. Duh,” I replied.

I got that out. And then about three seconds later, I was naked (and I didn’t make myself thus). Less than three seconds after that, I was being kissed breathless. And a little bit later, I was fucked that way.

In the end, I got two more orgasms.

Eric got one.

Poor baby and his male biology.

But a big fat yay for me.