Bearly Hanging On (The Jamesburg Shifters #6)(24)
He lifted her effortlessly off him, and sat her back down so that his pubic bone ground against her clit with every breath he took. Those strong, clutching hands grabbed at her ass and he pushed his thumbs into the muscles of her hips, massaging away pain she didn't know she had.
"Sorry," she said with a smirk. "I don't mean to, it's just the—"
He stuck one of his fingertips into the tendon between her thigh and her sex, sending a spasm, then a jolt of involuntary laughter, bursting from her lips. She slapped at his chest. "You son of a bitch! How'd you know that was my tickle spot? And oh my God, I just said 'tickle spot.' I'm a baby."
"You're the cutest, tallest, sexiest, smartest baby I've ever seen if you are," he said. His voice was aged gravel that could have made quotes from Monty Python skits sexy enough to drop her panties. "But I had a feeling that if you got that wiggly at some whiskers, you must have at least one other good one."
She was blushing, and smiling, and laughing as the muscles between her legs stretched at Ryan's entering her. The thickness of him, the heat of his body moving inside hers, it would maybe have made a lesser woman scream. But Jamie? Jamie just giggled with pleasure - always the giggles.
The hot flush running up her neck turned to a sweet ache when he pushed deeper, holding her in place and guiding her with his hands. She pitched forward as an entirely different sort of spasm clenched the muscles between her legs.
"Don't you need a... you know?" she asked as they both breathed harder and faster. She felt Ryan’s pulsing heartbeat through the hand she had on his chest.
"Condom?" he laughed. "You're dreaming. No matter how fertile either of us is, I think dream babies are a stretch."
As though to prove it, he drove into her deep and hard, but so slowly that her toes curled in automatic response. "This isn't gonna take long, if you keep it up like this," she was sighing in between words, her head back and relaxed as her nerves flared and her muscles tightened.
"Good," he whispered, sitting up and cupping her body against his before turning her over so that she was on her knees. "We don't have very long before you wake up."
He was so deep, so painfully, wonderfully deep, that Jamie thought if this weren't a dream she might actually die of pleasure. And then he grabbed her hair.
A fistful, done just the way that makes it thrill and please, but not hurt. He yanked, forcing her head backward as he pushed into her again and again. Jamie arched her back in response, and he lay against her, bare chest on bare back, their sweat mixing, and sucked a kiss behind her ear.
Ryan pulled away, then drove forward again. She felt him shudder inside her, and before she knew it, Jamie was letting out the tiny, gasped breaths that signal one hell of an orgasm.
When she opened her eyes, the darkness in her room was complete. The blackout curtains she used did their job very well, even though it was somewhere around noon. In the cool stillness of her bedroom, the only thing she could hear was her breathing as her heart pounded in her chest. She flopped one of her hands sideways onto the mattress, in the silly, vain hope that it would land on a bear.
Sweat ran down her back, down her face, pooling slightly in the hollow of her throat. She let out a loud groan, a dry laugh.
I'm going to go nuts, she thought. I have to see him. I have to do... something. I don't even know what I need to do, but if this keeps on, I'm going to be certifiably bat-shit crazy.
She always liked that term, though it never did make much sense. Bats, at least all the ones she knew, were practical, almost to a fault. Showing emotion wasn't their best trait, but frugality, logic and reason? Sometimes she had a hard time telling her dad from an android, she remembered with a laugh.
The memory of her fantasy was still lingering in her nose and on her sticky-wet fingers. She could still taste his kisses, still feel the way his tongue slid around her nipples, teasing them to life. But then, that's all it was. Just a fantasy.
He was a real man, with real problems; she a real woman with a whole host of her own. How in the world could they get past reality? Did they even need to? Maybe the better question is why was her first thought was about avoiding reality instead of figuring out how to make it work.
She laughed softly as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a thigh-length tunic that fit snugly - when you fly around all the time, snug fits keep embarrassing situations to a minimum - and brushed her teeth. I should go see Thor again - best dentist... hell, the only dentist I've ever been to who wasn't bothered about the fluoride application making my teeth get bigger.
As she went about the morning rituals of dressing, hair pinning, and wing maintenance, she listened to the soft drone of a morning talk show on Jamesburg's single news station. Mostly it was the normal day to day drone of uninteresting small-town news, but something caught her attention.
"This just in, reports are coming from Whit Whitman of News Channel 3 that all of the local grocery stores - that is, both of them - were burglarized during the night."
"Oh shit," Jamie swore, cheeks burning.
Whit Whitman was the literal silver fox who had delivered the news in Jamesburg for as long as anyone who hadn't gone insane from extreme age remembered. He was as sleazy as they came, he was a womanizer, and his hair was so perfectly sculpted that it wouldn't move even in gale force winds. That last part had been proven plenty of times when he stood outside in some kind of tempest, his suit lapels whipping all over the place, garbage flying through the air, people fighting to keep on their feet, but his hair defiantly stood, stock still, giving the middle finger to wind gusts and rain alike.