Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(57)

Our mouths fused together once more, my hands happily full of Jean’s delectable soft rear. Our pelvises were grinding together, the front of my jeans getting damn tight. The woman did things to me. Things beyond my control. Not that I wanted either of us in control right then. No, what I really wanted was to reverse our positions, have her legs wrapped around my hips, and then take the whole grinding thing to the next level. Though even just kissing Jean was a treat. The kind of experience where nothing else existed.

We were halfway through the maneuver, Jean’s legs just beginning to lift and spread around my waist, when Ada made some weird outraged yodel kind of yell in the next room.

“Shit,” whispered Jean.

“We got a little carried away.”

“Just a bit.” Then, sadly, she stepped back, straightening her top. The sight of her hard nipples undid me just a bit more. Her breasts would be as nice a handful as her ass. “You okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“If you want, I’ll show them to you later.”

“Sorry, what?” My gaze returned to her face.

Only to have her point to her breasts. “I said, I can show them to you sometime if you want.”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay then.” She grinned. “Next make-out session, no shirts. Agreed?”

I was a total winner at life. Forget how much money currently sat in my bank account. Ignore my maturity levels and emotional stability or lack thereof. Jean had offered to show me her tits. The year had only just started and mine was already made.

I grinned back at her. “Second base it is.”

Ada yelled again and Jean headed her way. Though the sound from the baby seemed more bored than upset or anything. She’d had both of our attention for a minute there, and then me and her mom had disappeared. Clearly not okay.

“Hey, baby.” Jean swung her up into her arms. “What’s going on?”

Ada gurgled happily once more.

“Oh my god,” cooed Jean. “Were you not the center of attention for a minute? That’s outrageous. Worst mother of the year. Again. And you’re not even a year old yet.”

“Hello.” I gave the baby my finger to hold onto. Of course, she immediately tried to stick it in her mouth. “Cool zebra-print onesie, baby girl.”

“So glad it meets with your approval,” said her mother.

“You want me to hang with her while you get some stuff done or anything?”

“Actually, I’d love to go downstairs for a coffee and get out of here for a bit,” she said. “We could all go?”

“Sounds good.”

“All right, let me just brush my hair.” Jean passed me the baby, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek as she did so. “Won’t be long.”

“Take your time.” I settled onto the couch with Ada nestled into my shoulder. “I am completely happy right here.”

*

The next day at work I had a lot to think about.

As I walked around opening the place up, the fingers on my left hand still tingled with the memory of holding Jean’s ass. But by 10 a.m. I’d moved on to more pressing matters, daydreaming about how Jean’s tits would look, adorned with nothing more than a skimpy bra. The next tasks were to tally the books and restock the bar, which was an opportune time to speculate on what a sight they would be sans bra. Awesome, was my educated guess. Memo to self: don’t dim the lights so far tonight that you can’t get a good view.

By the time I’d finished with that business, it was late morning. A few young tourists had moseyed in for brunch, and it was game on. I fixed their Bloody Marys wondering how those two magnificent creatures would feel when I finally had them in my hands. Firm and strong, if the memory of them pressing into my chest last night was anything to go by. Not to mention how they looked when she had tried to straighten her top, and those hard nipples pressed out against the fabric. But then, tits were strange and magical things, and sometimes they’d be surprisingly soft and succulent. A box of chocolates and all that. So it was hard to know. And then there was the whole question of skin texture and nipples to be considered. Like I said, a lot to think about.

Oddly, it was turning out that messing around with Jean was twice as much fun as actually having sex with anyone else. After work the next day, I stopped by her apartment. She’d invited me over via text message. Ada was fast asleep and the lights were set to low.

“I was trying for some atmosphere, but it turns out I only own one.” Jean pointed to the thick white candle flickering on the coffee table. “Vaguely romantic second base?”

“Works for me.”

“Oh, not that I’m trying for romance here,” she quickly amended. “That’s not … damn. I didn’t think.”

“Jean, relax,” I said, joining her on the couch. “Pretty sure that having a candle on the coffee table doesn’t equal a long-term commitment or anything.” Actually, my entire life history demonstrated as much, but I didn’t think that was the best thing to mention right now.

“Okay.”

“Though you should keep more candles around in case of an electricity outage or something.”

“Yes, I’ve put them on the next shopping list.”

“Or in case of future emergency bases. I don’t know if I’d be comfortable moving to fourth base without at least three candles. It just wouldn’t seem right.”