Tight
Izzy
“PULL ME OUT.”
I heard Johnny’s growl but chose to ignore it.
And I chose to ignore it because he had his back to the pillows shoved up against his headboard, his knees cocked, feet in the bed, thighs spread wide, both his hands in my hair, and his cock was in my mouth.
He looked amazing like that, spread out for me, offered up to me: his broad shoulders, cut collarbone, wide chest with its sprinkling of black hair across his pecs, large nipples, the boxes of his abs standing out like he was doing crunches instead of getting a blowjob, the dark hair on his forearms, dense on his thick thighs.
He felt amazing in my mouth, silk over steel.
He tasted awesome, like musk and man.
And I loved who I was right then, kneeling between his legs, sucking him off, feeling what I was giving to him as his hips jerked uncontrollably, the noises that rolled up his chest and out of his mouth abrasively, his strong fingers clenching in my hair restlessly.
I was the woman who could make this man react like that, feel the way he was holding back from thrusting into my mouth, but I knew he needed it and it was costing him, because he liked what I was doing so much he wanted to take more.
And I was the woman who was dripping wet between my legs, fighting the trembling that threatened to overtake me because I liked the taste of him, the look of him, the feel of him, the knowledge of how much he got off on what I was doing to him with just my mouth, the power all that sent surging through me, vibrating in my clit, knowing in that instant he was all mine.
I wanted to take him there. I wanted to kneel between his legs and watch him explode for me. The ones I’d caught, he was beautiful in orgasm, almost agonizingly so.
And I wanted that, spread out for me, offered up to me . . . all mine.
I kept at him, sucking harder, adding a hand wrapped around him and stroking tight.
“Iz, pull me out,” he grunted.
I kept at him.
“Eliza, fucking pull me out.”
I lifted my eyes to his, pulled him out of my mouth, but stroked him harder with my hand and felt the shudder score through me at the dark hunger carved in his handsome face.
Suddenly, I was flat on my belly in the bed. A quiver ran over me when his knees pressed against the insides of my thighs, spreading them so wide I felt the pull in my muscles.
I whimpered through the sound of crinkling foil and then whispered, “Johnny.”
Fingers dug into my hips as they were hauled up.
I started to come up on all fours but Johnny planted a hand in the middle of my back, shoved me back to the bed and growled, “Down.”
That didn’t cause a quiver.
That set me to shaking.
And it set my sex to soaking.
He then caught my hair, twisting it in a fist so it pulled at my scalp and I whimpered again as I trembled before him, now offered up to him.
And loving it.
“Keep your knees wide,” he ordered, gave a rough but gentle yank on my hair and drove inside.
My neck arched, I cried out and instantly started coming.
“Like my cock?” he asked harshly, thrusting deep and fast.
“Yes,” I moaned through my orgasm.
I felt his thumb circle my anus and my legs locked, my hands clenched his sheets and my climax stuttered.
“Johnny,” I whispered.
“No, baby?”
“No.”
His thumb slid away to become his hand sliding across the cheek of my behind. He grasped my hip, kept pounding, and the climax shot back so forcefully, I was panting into the sheets.
“Arch your back,” he commanded.
I did as told.
“Give me more,” he grunted, the sound of our flesh connecting getting sharper, each slap coming faster.
I reared back into him, spread so wide, taking him hard, feeling exposed, now all his.
All Johnny’s.
And that was better.
Another orgasm began to rock through me and I gasped as it came.
“Yeah,” Johnny growled, sounding turned on and pleased, and close himself to coming.
He went faster, twisted his hand in my hair, “Now up, Izzy.”
I came up on all fours, my head back, my spine arced to the bed, my body slamming back into his drives, my climax still burning, making me do all this with full body tremors.
“God, fuck, Izzy, fuck,” he groaned.
I glanced back at him to see him watching me take his cock and another shudder tore through me.
He let my hair go, seized my hips and forced them to connect with his brutally as he took me through his orgasm, his grunts exploding in the room.
I whinnied through them, a series of hums, pants and soft cries, until he slowed, the power drifted out, gentleness drifted in, and then he finally seated himself deep and I dropped back down to the bed, my cheek against his soft sheets.
I felt it as he glided one finger lightly along my spine from where it sat between my shoulder blades, through the arch, up the small and it kept going, skating between the cheeks of my behind. My hips twitched and his finger trailed out and he flattened both hands on my bottom and pulled out.
He tipped me to my side.
I tilted my eyes up to him. He looked in them then exited the bed, flicking the sheets over my body.
I watched him walk to the bathroom, only Dempsey following him (Swirl had settled in somewhere for the night) and I was too spent to think of the steaks he’d broiled for us earlier that had some strong garlic and herbed cheese crusted on top and were utterly delicious. Or the fact he’d bought ten bottles of wine for me to choose from, four red, five white and one sparkling, all the whites chilled in the fridge.
I also didn’t think of the sated but remote look in his eyes that I caught before he left me in his bed. Nor did I think about how he said not a word after we shared the most intimate thing a man and woman could share before he took off to go deal with the condom.
This last was his way. He’d done the same thing at my house.
Though at my house, when he’d come back, he’d teased me about my girlie bathroom, focusing on the pink wire basket shelves on the wall filled with corked bottles of girlie pamper stuff and thick wash clothes and natural sponges and loofahs and pink cotton balls.
I had a feeling I couldn’t tease him about his bath salts.
I watched him come back, semi-hard, condom free, all beautiful. He flipped a switch on the wall during his return, which put out the canister lights in the ceiling around his kitchen and pendants that hung over his island, lights he’d dimmed before he’d taken me to bed.
Dempsey followed him, and Johnny gave him a distracted head scratch as he watched me while he finished walking back to me. When he made it to the bed, I scooched away. He lifted the sheet and slid in.
Dempsey took a hint and wandered off.
Johnny dropped the sheet, settled back against the pillows with his shoulders high against the headboard, and only then did he reach for me, hauling me up so I had a cheek to his chest.
I slid an arm around his stomach and rested there.
I didn’t snuggle in. Johnny wasn’t mine to snuggle.
But when he pulled me to him, I allowed myself to relax into it.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
“I tell you to stop sucking my cock, babe, you stop sucking my cock.”
I blinked at his chest.
His fingers were trailing on my lower back, light, sweet, even tender but his voice had been mildly ticked and very firm.
And it continued that way as he carried on.
“I went for your ass. I felt it even before you said no. I asked, you said no. I stopped. I tell you to pull me out, you pull me out.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, now not feeling his fingers lightly, maybe even tenderly trailing. Only feeling the burning ball of humiliation that was blazing through my body.
I didn’t know what to do. I’d never done something so wrong in bed and then been called on it like that. I didn’t know how to proceed.
And worse, I’d loved what I’d been doing and thought he had too.
But apparently, he had not.
I stared beyond his chest at my clothes on the floor and I whispered, “Maybe I should—”
“You’re thinking of bailing and I’m just saying it like it is. No need to get sensitive about it. Just don’t do it again.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” I was inching away. “But I still think maybe I should go.”
Johnny stopped trailing his fingers along the small of my back, yanked me up his chest, took one look at my face and went completely still.
“I really . . .” I stopped and started again. “I didn’t think about it, but I have to wake up even earlier to get home and see to the horses and get ready for work, so maybe I shouldn’t spend the night.”
“Christ, Iz,” he murmured, still staring at me.
“So I’m just gonna do that, go home, I mean,” I said, bracing to push away from him.
I saw his hand heading my way like he was going to cup my face at the same time I saw the gentleness settle in his expression.
But I now had a plan, which was mostly a mission that didn’t include allowing Johnny to be gentle with me, to touch my face in a way he never had and wasn’t allowed to do with who we were. So I darted up a hand and pushed his away at the same time I shoved into the bed to launch myself over him.
However, in the midst of this, I somehow found myself on my back in the bed with Johnny on top of me, and that hand I’d pushed away was tenderly cupping my face.
“Izzy, baby, I’m so sorry. I should have found a way to deliver that more gentle,” he whispered.
“No, that’s okay. I mean, no . . . you should feel free to be frank with me. But just to say, you know . . . again, that I probably should get going.”
“That was spectacular,” he said softly.
“I’m glad you thought so. Now, I know you get mad when I get like this but this time I really kinda need to go.”
“The way you took me, Izzy, it was so beautiful, watching my cock sink into your pussy that was so goddamn wet, it was sleek. Your face, Christ. Your face. You’re so damned pretty but when you get like that for me you’re unbelievably beautiful. I wanted to claim all of that. I wanted to be inside you every way I could. So I went for your ass.”
“It’s okay. I mean, that’s all very nice and thank you for that, it means a lot and it means a lot too that you listened to me during, you know . . . what you were going to do with your thumb and felt I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I didn’t give you that when you were communicating about what you didn’t want but now I need to—”
Johnny cut me off. “You swallow?”
The question was so bizarre, for a second I forgot my mortification and stared at him.
“Sorry?”
“Cum. Do you swallow?”
Oh dear Lord.
“Um . . .”
His eyes got even softer.
“I didn’t think so,” he murmured.
“Johnny, I—”
“Ten more seconds of your mouth, babe, you wouldn’t have had a choice but to swallow.”
I felt my eyes get big. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” His lips hitched. “Oh. You do know that’s what happens when you give phenomenal head?” he asked.
“Phenomenal?” I breathed and his eyes warmed.
“Baby, you knelt between my legs, worshipping at my cock. You were so into it, never had that in my life. It was beautiful. Top that, you got talent. So yeah, but maybe phenomenal doesn’t cut it. Outstanding. Superior. Stupendous. Unbe-fucking-leivable. Take your pick.”
“I wanted to watch,” I whispered.
“What?” he asked.
“I wanted to . . . not, um, with my mouth. I was going to finish with my hand and I wanted to watch.”
His eyes warmed a different way, his body shifted on mine and his voice sounded kind of growly when he asked, “You wanted to watch me blow for you?”
I nodded.
“And who was going to take care of you?” he inquired.
“I hadn’t . . . well, thought of that part, but it was kinda going the way that it would have, um . . . happened naturally.”
He gave me his sexy grin before he bent his head, flicked my earlobe with his nose, kissed my neck, lifted his head and caught my eyes again, but when he did he was a lot closer this time.
“You think you could come just by watching yourself make me come?”
“Evidence was suggesting that,” I told him uncomfortably.
Another sexy grin. “How ’bout, if we do that, you kneel to the side so I can get a hand between your legs and help with that?”
“I think that sounds . . . doable,” I breathed.
It was then that something slid over his face that wasn’t sexy or warm or sweet, but seemingly alert, like he’d just remembered something. Then uneasy, and if I read it right, it ended remorseful before he bent in to touch his lips to mine and pull away.
“Dogs need to be let out before we settle in?” he asked quietly.
“I think Swirl’s down for the night but Dempsey probably could take a wander,” I answered then began to make an impossible move, the impossibility of it being me lying under him. “I’ll do it.”
“I got him,” Johnny said, sliding his thumb across my cheek before pulling away from me.
He put on his jeans and nothing else before he whistled, and I looked to the room to see Swirl lift his head from his spot camped out on Johnny’s couch but otherwise not move, but Dempsey trotted Johnny’s way.
Man and dog went out the door and I heard them clamber down the stairs.
I pulled the sheet to my chest wondering about the unease and remorse I thought I saw in Johnny’s face.
Then I pushed the sheet aside, got out of bed, found my panties and tugged them on. I also tugged on the rust-colored T-shirt Johnny had discarded that had a very cool, faded, peeling away yellow decal that was designed to look kind of like an old-fashioned, fifties motor oil ad that said, On My Way Home, the only place to be.
That done, I went to my purse and took it with me to the bathroom.
I grabbed my toothbrush out of it, used it. I then unearthed the travel-size facial cleanser I’d brought with me and used that too. Finally, I found the travel-size moisturizer and I used that as well.
I tucked everything in my purse and found Johnny and Dempsey were back when I returned.
His eyes were on the T-shirt and his lips were now curled up at both ends.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he teased.
“I can’t brush my teeth naked, Johnny,” I returned.
His gaze came to mine. “Yeah you can.”
I rolled my eyes, dumped my purse on his island and headed toward the bed.
Dempsey came up and rubbed against me, so I stopped to give him some pets before I headed toward the bed where Johnny stood close to it, not taking off his jeans, just watching me with my dog.
But when I got close, he hooked me around the belly and pulled me into his front.
He then wrapped his arms around me loosely.
I put my hands to his chest and tipped my head back to look at his face.
“I’m a guy who likes to control what he gets in bed.”
My body jerked against his in surprise at this announcement and his arms tightened.
“I’m thinking that isn’t lost on you,” he carried on. “And maybe it also isn’t lost on you that I got rules. You come. Then I come. That was not the way things were going. I was gonna blow before I gave it to you and that is not acceptable to me. I liked what you were doing. Too much. It was taking my mind off where I needed to be at, that being seein’ to you. I got slightly pissed about that and didn’t communicate that very well. I was unintentionally a dick, but I was still a dick and that wasn’t cool. I said I was sorry but I want you to know, Iz, that I really am.”
This moved me a great deal.
And maybe this was why he’d looked remorseful.
Something that relieved me a great deal.
“Thank you, Johnny,” I said softly.
“You can wake up when you normally wake up. I’ll follow you home and deal with Serengeti and Amaretto, get the dogs sorted, feed your cats and make you breakfast so you don’t have to miss any sleep.”
I relaxed into him.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t but I’m gonna.”
I smiled at him, and my hand, of its own accord, was sliding up with the intent to cup his jaw, my feet itching to roll up on my toes to kiss him, but I stopped both.
I ended up squeezing the spot where his neck met his shoulder instead of doing something more affectionate, more familiar, not where we were or who we were. But I hid my disappointment I couldn’t have that, couldn’t give that, by continuing to smile.
“Are you saying we’re done having sex?” I asked.
He returned my smile. “Had my big workout today, babe, and you gave me my second one, so it sucks, but yeah. I’m wiped.”
I gave his shoulder another squeeze. “So you do do healthy things.”
“This body is not a miracle of nature.”
“Do you eat vegetables?”
“Protein shakes but there’s an occasional green smoothie,” he admitted.
“I knew it.”
He chuckled.
Then he let me go, shoved me gently toward the bed and his hands went to the button on his jeans.
I crawled into his bed with his T-shirt on.
He joined me and reached out to turn out his light while I did the same with the one on my side.
I settled in and didn’t have time to begin to wonder if he would hold me on an occasion where I didn’t pass out in his arms due to lots of insanely good sex.
He pulled me into them, tucking my back to his front and curving his body into mine.
“You need me to set the alarm?” he asked.
“Isn’t it set?”
“It’s set for six thirty, not five.”
I was usually on the road to work at six thirty.
“I have an internal alarm,” I told him.
He kept hold of me with the arm under me but rolled his body away. I heard a beep and then he was back.
“Just in case,” he muttered.
I hated it that I totally could fall in love with this man . . . but I couldn’t.
I hated it that he was all mine and I was all his . . . but only when we were having sex.
I hated that I knew when it was over that I’d miss this and miss it badly . . . but I’d rather have it while I could than not have it at all.
But I had it now and it was beautiful.
It was also guiding my way to understand what to look for that was right and good for my future.
The problem with that was, I was terrified what was right and good was only right there in that bed with me and nowhere else on this earth.
I didn’t hate that.
I didn’t allow myself to think of it.
If I did, I didn’t know what I’d do.
I didn’t know what woke me.
I just woke.
I also didn’t know how I knew instantly Johnny wasn’t with me.
But I did.
I rolled to my back, tentatively reaching out an arm to his side of the bed.
He wasn’t in it.
I heard a whine, and as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw Dempsey at the door in the wall of windows.
Outside it, I could barely make out Johnny’s chest where it was positioned at the railing, his face as well, his bottom half and hair blended in the night because his hair was dark and he was wearing something dark down below.
He was turned, looking toward the creek, like the first time I woke up in his house.
I rolled back and looked at the clock.
It was just past two in the morning.
I didn’t know what to do.
However, my body did.
It scooched to the side of the bed, and with experience, my feet carefully found their way to the floor, knowing Swirl would be asleep there beside me so I’d have to find my way without stepping on him.
He was there.
I felt him move to lift his head and murmured, “Shh, baby. Just going to check on Johnny.”
He settled back in and I got out of bed.
Dempsey came to me.
I gave him some head scratches then headed to the door.
I saw Johnny more distinctly from closer as I opened the door and his head turned to me.
I shoved my body in the narrow crack I’d opened the door, so Dempsey wouldn’t come out, and called softly, “You okay?”
“Come here.”
“I don’t want to intrude if you need—”
“Come here, Eliza.”
Keeping Dempsey back, I slid out the door, closed it and moved to him.
Even though I was only going to position myself close enough to have a conversation with him, weirdly, powerfully, almost violently, the instant I got close enough for him to reach out to me, he did, yanking me into his arms and holding me tight.
Not loose.
Not casual.
Not sexual.
Not nonchalant.
Tight.
Oh my God.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, rounding him with my arms too.
“I’m a dick.”
“What?”
“I’m a dick.”
“Johnny, if you mean what happened earlier, it’s okay—”
“Shandra called yesterday.”
My body turned to stone.
“Out of the blue, haven’t heard from her in years, she calls.”
Again of their own accord, and I didn’t stop them this time, my hands slid up his back over his shoulders so I could curl them around either side of his neck.
That neck bent so he could stop looking over my head and instead look at my face.
“Her dad’s sick. She’s coming back.”
The blow that caused after two breakfasts, two dinners, one phone call, one text exchange and lots of sex was far more extreme than I was ready for.
But I withstood it without letting on I endured it.
And I did that for him.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“I should have changed our plans and met you at Home. Shared it there. Let you go back to your place knowing where things were at. I shouldn’t have brought your dogs here, made you come here, fed you and fucked you and acted like a dick to you and let you be cute and sweet, all this making me a total dick.”
“You want her back,” I surmised.
“Fuck no,” he stated tersely.
The pads of my fingers dug into his neck.
“No?”
“Babe, she left me for reasons I can’t get into and she took my dog with her. The reason she left is still out there, even though she says it’s gone. I’m not setting myself up for her to gut me again.”
“She stole your dog?” I asked in disbelief.
“I let her have him. She needed someone to protect her.”
God.
From what I was learning that was so very Johnny.
“Regretted it the instant she walked out my door. Ranger was a great dog. Missed him so much, never got another one. But it was still the right thing to do.”
“Okay.”
“I can’t give you what you deserve.”
I endured that without my body reacting as well, like lurching, moving like it suffered the blow that it did.
Instead I said gently, “I know. I’ve known since the beginning. I only understood when Deanna told me about Shandra. But I know, Johnny. You aren’t a dick. You told me without saying anything where we were, and I like you, so I made the decision to stay there so you shouldn’t feel bad. I get it. I totally get it. I always got it. I knew where we stood. So please, don’t feel bad about it.”
His arms pulled me even closer as his forehead came down to rest on mine.
“You’re an amazing woman.”
Now I was understanding all those women who complained when men broke up with them and said things like that making them wonder, if that was the case, why they broke up with them in the first place.
I’d never been broken up with. I’d always done the breaking because I’d always chosen poorly.
I guess in a different way I was still doing that.
I gave his neck a squeeze and got up a bit on my toes to press my forehead deeper to his. “And you’re an amazing guy.”
“I’m sorry I went through with tonight.”
I pulled my forehead from his and forced a bright smile on my face. “And deprived me of garlic cheese encrusted steak and fabulous sex? Now, if you’d done that, that would make you a dick,” I teased.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his arms spasming around me.
My voice got soft again. “Johnny, it’s okay.”
His voice was soft too. “I wish I met you before she fucked me up.”
“It didn’t happen that way. It happened this way. And from how you’re talking, it was good for you like it was good for me. So let’s have that and not bring anything bad into it. It is what it is and we had what we had. I’ll go, and if you ever want some good guac or to hang out with Wesley, you know my number and maybe you’ll swing me a deal on my next oil change.”
“I still wanna take you camping.”
I melted into him.
“But I’m not gonna take you camping,” he whispered.
He wasn’t going to take me camping.
Why, after two breakfasts, two dinners, one phone conversation, one text exchange and a lot of sex did that sound like someone cancelled Christmas forever?
I pushed up to him, kissed him, pressing my lips lightly against his, harder, opening my mouth. His opened, I slid my tongue inside. He sucked it deeper for a second then slid mine out as his tongue invaded my mouth.
We kissed like that, gently, unhurried, for a long time in the chill of an early summer night by a creek with a water wheel splashing behind us.
After we were done, he led me to bed and he held me close, and I wanted him to make love to me but he was not that man. He would hold me but he wouldn’t take any more from me than he already had.
I fell asleep before he did.
But I also woke before he did.
And as quietly as I could, I got dressed. I found a pad of paper. I wrote him a note. I refused to look at him asleep in bed as I propped it on his nightstand. I got my dogs. We got in my car. And we drove home.
It wasn’t until Buttercup was on my shoulder, Wesley hopping on my counter chirping, that my phone also on the counter chimed with a text and I glanced at it, seeing the whole text under his name on the screen.
You too.
My note to him had said, You’re the best. Thank you for being that.
I finished up making breakfast and eating it, and I did all that silently, gently, unhurriedly crying.
After work that evening, walking up to my front porch, I wasn’t resolutely thinking about catching up on all the chores I’d missed being with Johnny as I’d made myself resolutely think about all the way home.
I was staring with some dread at my wicker rocking chair.
When I made it to the chair, I stood in my high-heeled shoes staring down at the seat.
On the gingham pad, propped up against the floral pillow, was a Ball jar filled with water and overflowing at the top with pale pink peonies.
I’d noted vaguely the night before, in my excitement to get to Johnny, that the fat peony bushes that hugged the back of his mill had gone full bloom.
And they were all pale pink.
In front of the jar was a rolled up piece of rust-colored material.
I took it up, unfurled it and a piece of paper fell out.
It was the On My Way Home T-shirt I’d slept in the night before at Johnny’s.
I bent down, picked up the paper and read,
It’s a good memory.
I hope.
For me it will be, Izzy.
Always.
~J
He didn’t mean to be cruel, I knew it. He meant it to be what I hoped one day it would become.
Sweet.
And when I bunched the T-shirt to my face and smelled he’d laundered it, I knew he meant that to be sweet too.
But I wished he hadn’t washed it.
I allowed one tear to fall, soaking into the material.
Then I sniffed, pulled the T-shirt away from my face and moved to my door in order to let out my dogs.