Page 29 of Space Oddities

Biting her lip, she nods. “Please.”

Her “please” sounds so sweet. Keeping eye contact, I lower my hand, time stretching out between us. It isn’t until the tips of my fingers graze her clit that she breaks eye contact, her head dropping back, whimpering, hips flexing in search of more friction. “Yes. Please. More.”

“More?” I don’t wait for an answer but delve deep, hooking my finger, rubbing until her hips begin to ride my hand, desperate for release, my other hand gripping her ass.

“Is this what you wrote? Is this what you imagined?”

Her answer is inarticulate, but I know I’m right by the way her breath catches, the way her hands move from the back of my head to her breasts, squeezing, pinching as she rides my hand.

When her brows pinch together as if panicked that she might not find release, I add another finger inside before circling her clit with the thumb of my other hand.

Crying out, her hands slap down on my shoulders, nails biting into skin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her sweet southern accent makes the curse that much hotter.

Flushed, milky white skin. Eyes wide open but not seeing, sparkling in broad daylight. Swimsuit pushed off her tits, her petite body frozen in the agony of climax. The scent of her arousal nearly making me rabid with want.

How long have I wanted her? How long have I dreamed of this?

On a whimper, her body relaxes, curling around me, every few seconds shivering in the aftermath. “Hmmm… Ian…”

“I got you,” I murmur, my hands slowing to a stop, letting her down easy. “I got you.”

And when her head drops to my chest, one of her hands over my heart, I wish it was true.

* * *

Trish

The next timeI open my eyes, I’m sprawled out on top of Ian, my towel wrapped over my bare rear end.

For all and sundry to see.

Well, maybe not for all to see, as Ian’s large, landscaped yard backs up to a preserve with trees so it’s nice and secluded. But I wouldn’t put it past Veronica to not let things like trees and fences stop her from trespassing.

And yet I can’t bring myself to care. I turn my head, my chin resting on his chest, blinking up into eyes that rival the blue sky above us. He really is pretty. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Ian’s chest rumbles with laughter, shaking me.

“I feel like I should be embarrassed,” I admit, though the feeling doesn’t resonate.

“Don’t.” He taps my nose with his finger. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard you and the girls argue on the feminist qualities of romance novels. How they are all about the woman having the choice, having the say, right?”

Not sure where he is going with this, I frown. “Uh, yes?”

“Well then, nothing to be embarrassed about. We were just the living embodiment of your newest book.”

That has my face heating, knowing that he caught me using him as inspiration. But I’m thinking the heat has more to do with arousal than embarrassment.

“Come on.” Ian curls up, his abdominal muscles apparently unconcerned with my weight holding him down. “Let’s get cleaned up and make dinner.”

At his suggestion, my stomach growls. “You can cook?”

He winks, helping me stand, tying the towel around my waist to cover me like a gentleman. “I can order.” His boyish grin dimples his cheeks.

I smile back, the heat spreading to the left side of my chest. “That works.”

* * *

Freshly bathed,sitting cross-legged in front of the TV with a carton of chicken lo mein in my lap, I’m oddly relaxed.

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