Birthday Wishes - The List: Book 1 Page 7

  Oh, this just got very serious.

  "I'm sorry." I leaned over and kissed him gently. I didn't know how else to comfort him, or even if he wanted it, but couldn't do nothing. "You want to tell me about her?"

  He went back to cooking. "Can we save that for another time?"

  I nodded. "Sure." Thank God. It was already far too serious. I didn't really want to delve any deeper but hadn't seen a graceful way out of it. He was a better navigator of tricky social small talk. A benefit of being an actuary? Or just part of the overall Luca package?

  He relaxed. I hadn't realized how tense the conversation was making him until I watched the stress drain from his face and shoulders.

  While the French toast cooked, he sliced fresh strawberries. He was a lot slower that I was with a knife and unsuspecting fruit, but he held his own. In fact, he probably could have given Rachel a run for her money.

  He glanced over and caught me smiling.

  "What?" He tossed a strawberry at me. I caught it and ate it.

  "You're pretty good." I nodded toward the cutting board.

  "As good as you?"

  I laughed. Perhaps not the most polite response, but who was he kidding? "Not even close."

  "No?" Luca flipped the toast. "Why don't you show me?"

  "Because you're done." He'd thrown the last whole strawberry at me. "Besides, I'm enjoying myself. This is the first time a man has cooked for me."

  "Yeah?" He blushed.

  "Yeah." I blushed right back.

  "Good." He stared at me dumbly with a small smile on his face. It was very sweet and completely ill-timed. French toast couldn't sit on a hot burner forever.

  "You're burning."

  "Huh?"

  I pointed at the stove. He wasn't past the point of no return just yet. If he moved quickly, he could save breakfast. It took everything in me to remain seated.

  "Oh! Shit." He spun back to the stove and lifted the pan from the burner. He grabbed a plate at the same time and slid the French toast onto it. He topped it with whipped cream and strawberries, turned off the stove, grabbed a fork, and joined me at the breakfast bar again.

  "Nice save."

  "Thank you." He gave a formal, short bow and laughed.

  With food directly in front of me, I was instantly starved. Thank goodness I didn't normally react like that or I'd weigh four thousand pounds. I reached for the fork and he slapped my hand away.

  "I got this." He cut off a bite and offered it to me.

  I raised my eyebrow. Was he serious? This was breakfast, not foreplay. I could totally feed myself.

  "Are you going to let me do this or do I need to tie your hands behind your back again?" He used that sexy in charge voice and I melted.

  Apparently, I was wrong. This was totally foreplay. I clasped my hands together behind my back and opened my mouth.

  "Good." He slipped the fork between my lips, his eyes darkened as he watched me lick the whipped cream from the fork.

  He fed me the entire serving, watching closely as I took the food into my mouth. I ran my tongue over my lips, over the fork, over every single thing I could think of. I really wanted to run it over his lips, but he was clearly in charge and lunging at him was not allowed. I wasn't in the mood for punishment. It didn't feel like a good match with sexy morning time. It was on my list of things for dark and seedy, not bright and cheery.

  When I finished, he rewarded me with a hungry, needy kiss and I whimpered. He could make me breakfast every day of the week if he kissed me like that at the end.

  "Such a good girl." He encircled me and gripped my hands where they were still clasped together. He held them both in one of his hands and squeezed gently, the same way he had the night before and my cunt was on instant alert, hot, throbbing, and ready for Luca. It didn't matter that all my girl parts were totally battered and aching, I longed to be filled by him again. Right here, right now.

  "Luca, please." I moaned into his open mouth, then sucked his tongue deeper.

  He ripped his lips away and I was lost. I wanted his mouth on me.

  "I want you on your knees." His hands gripped my shoulders, his fingers digging in and pushing me down before I even realized I'd left the stool.

  "Yes." I struggled for balance with my hands behind my back, but kept them there to please him. He liked them there and the way he rewarded me made it worth the effort.

  I kneeled before him and nudged the outline of his cock with my nose. It twitched and grew harder, the tip barely poking out the top of his sweat pants. When I saw it, my mouth watered, eager to taste him for the first time.

  He tipped my head back, drawing my attention to his face, and said, "Is this okay?"

  During our initial negotiations and subsequent creation of The List, we'd discussed fantasies and boundaries, as well as the business side of sex, like STD's and birth control. We'd agreed on condoms as an extra layer of protection against pregnancies, but I was on the pill. And we'd shared our medical records, so I knew he was clean. Frankly, I wasn't sure what he was asking.

  I shook my head. "I don't understand."

  "I just. . ." He stroked my hair and shrugged.

  This guy was a mystery. He was sweet and caring and gentle. And he was demanding and forceful and so very dirty. I didn't know what to say, but I knew if I didn't get him in my mouth soon, I would start begging for it. Maybe he objected to me on my knees in his kitchen for the express purpose of sucking him off. I could think of nothing else I wanted as much at that moment.

  "I want this." I unclasped my hands and drew them carefully to the drawstring on his sweat pants. I toyed with the string, then drew my thumb over the tip of his penis. "Please, Luca, let me."

  He nodded, his Adams apple bobbing hard as he swallowed.

  "Thank you," I whispered and pressed a light kiss to the tip. He jerked and grew longer. Deep throating was on his list and I'd agreed long before I'd realized how big he was. In order to keep that promise, I was going to have to do some serious work on my gag reflex. Since I hadn't yet really prepared for that, I was going to take full advantage of my hands. He hadn't scolded me for using them and I wasn't going to remind him of his earlier restriction.

  I pulled his cock out and sucked him into my mouth in one fluid motion. I fisted the base and worked the top with my lips and tongue. He held himself rigid, and his legs vibrated with tension. His fingers tightened in my hair, pulling at my scalp, but otherwise he didn't move.

  "Mari." The word came out as a strangled moan.

  I licked the vein along the bottom, then took him into my mouth again. I pushed as far as I could, then withdrew, drawing my hand along the full length until just the tip was left in my mouth. I circled it with my tongue, the sucked him in again.

  I worked him like that, sucking deeper and faster each time, but never taking him in as far as I knew he wanted. I would work on that for next time. He started to shake, and I could feel his body grow taut.

  "I'm going to--" He jerked his hips and I followed with my mouth, refusing to let him go.

  I gripped his hips, digging my fingers into the firm flesh of his ass and held him firm in my mouth. I wanted him inside me when he came.

  "Oh. . ." He gripped my head, his fingers tangled in my hair, and pulled at my scalp in the most amazing, sexy, and yet painful way. He thrust his hips forward and I came seriously close to gagging up my homemade French toast. I relaxed my throat and sucked hard to let him know I was okay. He pushed deeper, his legs trembling and the grip in my hair tightening. Then, blessedly, his cock jerked and poured into me. He doubled over as he let out a low, satisfied growl.

  He stayed there, inside my mouth as his body calmed. I teased him with my tongue and sucked gently. He flared to half-life and pulled himself clear with a moan. "Not yet."

  I pouted. Biologically, I understood the differences between our bodies, but it just wasn't fair that he could bring me off as many times as he wanted, until I was a boneless, weeping mess, and all I was allowed
was one gloriously amazing time. It wasn't enough.

  "Yes." I licked his length and he shuddered and grew harder. Another time was totally possible and I wanted it.

  He pulled me to my feet and laughed weakly. "Give me just a few minutes?"

  I kissed his mouth with as much dirty promise and I could manage and he moaned heavily into my mouth.

  "You're killing me." He sucked my tongue into his mouth and his cock twitched to life against my abdomen. He stepped back and held his body carefully away from mine. "Shower first? Please."

  This time, I led him down the hall, smiling the entire way.

  Chapter 6

  "You're finally going to do it, huh?" Rachel smiled just a little too smugly. I really needed to stop her from talking to my mom. Ever.

  "What are you talking about?" I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I was also annoyed. Clearly the only way to deal with her nosing into my business was to respond with the maturity of a middle school student.

  "You have a date with Luca." She said his name all sing-song, yet sexy, like she'd plucked it out of an deranged, adult nursery rhyme.

  "Yes, but it's hardly finally. It's not like we've known each other very long."

  "Long enough to fuck him." She was still pissed I'd done that without telling her first. I laughed. Part of it was just to irritate her, but part of my laughter was pure joy from the thought of Luca fucking me. That man made me feel and that was absolutely glorious.

  "That's silly. I started out fucking him."

  "Your relationship is backward." She flicked a piece of lettuce at me. That was the danger of working with her and food at the same time. She tended to throw things, so a food fight was always a temper tantrum away.

  "Oh my God, you're right. I should call and cancel right now." Never mind that I had my hands buried in a fickle-as-hell pie crust. I would never stop in the middle and Rachel knew that.

  "No! You can't."

  "Why not?" This was a fun game. She sounded genuinely panicked.

  "Have you seen him? You can't keep putting the man off." This is where Rachel was genuinely baffled. She couldn't understand why I would hesitate when a handsome, sexy man wanted a relationship. If it were her, she'd be all in before he could change his mind. Frankly, it was amazing she hadn't been married and divorced fifteen times.

  "I actually could, but I'm not going to." Or at least I didn't think I was going to. That had been an up and down thing ever since I agreed to go on an official date with him. More appropriately, I almost hyperventilated, followed by a bout of overwhelming nausea, then as I was sucking air through my teeth, I finally said yes. And I wanted to take it back immediately. He scared the crap out of me. As long as we focused on sex, he made me lose my breath in an entirely desirable, pleasant way. The second the conversation switched to relationships, I about lost my head in a totally bad way. I'll say it again, I was looking to get laid, not married.

  "What are you so afraid of?" She switched from annoying jerk to concerned friend. Apparently we were going to have a serious conversation now.

  I sighed and dumped my crust onto the work table. I processed thoughts better with a rolling pin in my hand. "Everything, really."

  "That's silly. You and Dillon had the nicest divorce in the history of marriage. I just don't get why you're so gun shy." That wasn't strictly true. She just forgot all the nastiness once the smoke cleared and we decided to play nice.

  "Dillon was. . ." A huge mistake. But how could I say that to any of my family or friends? They saw him as a saint. And he was, really. In some ways. I was simply not present for most of the time. Dillon was safe, non-threatening, and completely unexciting. It was like marrying my brother. Well, maybe a less annoying brother I actually liked. And my sex life with Dillon had been a perfect match for any American couple in their sixties. There was nothing wrong. There just wasn't anything right, either. It was exactly as my mom described. Perfectly good shapes that never should have been put together. And still our divorce had been a complete shock to me.

  "Just forget about what Dillon was or wasn't. You can't keep holding yourself back because it didn't go the way you expected."

  And that summed it up. I was blindsided by our falling out and hadn't trusted my own judgment since.

  "But how do I know if it's right?"

  "Oh, honey. It's not about being right. You need to give yourself permission to be wrong or you'll never live your life."

  Rachel really had been talking to my mom too much, who had said almost the exact same thing to me on Sunday.

  "He wants to meet for drinks this Saturday."

  "That's it? You're freaking out over drinks?"

  It sounded silly when she put it that way, but it was so much more than just drinks. I just didn't know how to explain. "It's. . .complicated."

  "How complicated can drinks be? Alcohol is the great simplifier. It strips away all the restraint."

  "That's not always a good thing."

  She frowned. "True."

  "Come with me." It was the perfect solution! Two people equaled a date. Three or more equaled friends getting together. Completely different.

  "Where?"

  "Saturday. For drinks."

  "Are you out of your mind? I want you to date Luca, not me."

  "Come on, Rach. You can meet a completely inappropriate man, take him home and do indecent things together, then complain for weeks because he never called like he said he would."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I do that a lot, don't I?"

  Now was not the time for her to have a crisis of conscious. She had no problem being slutty in the past and now that I needed her, she was having second thoughts? "Please?” I asked.

  "Oh for fuck's sake. Fine. But you don't get to complain when I leave you there alone."

  "Perfect."

  I dumped the dough I'd overworked and started over. With Saturday night sorted, perhaps now I could work without channeling my uncertainty into the quiche.

  #

  I paused just inside the door and let my eyes adjust to the dim light. Rachel tugged on my hand, urging me farther into the club.

  "We're not going to find him unless we go inside." She gave a not-so-gentle pull and I followed, half-walking, half-stumbling.

  To be fair, she'd listened to me rationalize at least fifty reasons why meeting Luca was a bad idea. She'd earned a little short-tempered growly time. I still wasn't convinced this whole thing wouldn't end in disaster, but it was officially too late to change. Luca just waved us toward a table. And Rachel definitely saw him.

  "Fuck," I whispered. Not that it mattered. This was a club, not church. Luca wore a tight black T-shirt that made his chest muscles pop. He really was ungodly sexy. I did the stupid girl finger wave at him and then promptly dropped my hand. What was it about that man that turned me into an idiot?

  "Jesus, I forgot how hot he is," Rachel said.

  "Control yourself." If anyone was going to drool over Luca, it would be me, thank you very much.

  "You're one to talk. You look like you're about to fall over."

  She was right, of course. I wasn't ready to admit that to her, however. "Let's go."

  This time, I pulled on her hand. Perhaps a little harder than necessary, but that was totally pay back for earlier.

  "Shit, he's not alone." As Rachel said the words, I noticed two things. The first was the equally shit-hot man sitting at the table with Luca. The second was a scantily clad club whore making a bee-line for my man. She arrived a fraction before we did.

  I elbowed her out of the way and wrapped myself around him.

  "I missed you, baby." I kissed him harder and longer than was strictly acceptable in public, but it was a club and I was laying claim. Either one was a game changer.

  He raised an eyebrow, but kept one arm possessively around my waist. Take that trashy club whore!

  "You brought a friend." Luca spoke directly into my ear, his voice low and questioning. The feel of his mouth so cl
ose to my skin made it hard to focus on the words.

  "So did you." I smiled and kissed his neck.

  "Oh, yes." He spoke to the group, breaking the intimate cocoon he'd woven around us. "My friend Richard. Richard, this is Mariposa and her friend Rachel."

  The words Luca used for the introductions were standard and simple. The reaction it evoked in me was not. He spoke my name with reverence, with pride, and with possession. And emotion in his voice made me warm in forgotten places. Not just in sexy, oh-yeah-right-there places, but also in the neglected cracks and crevices around my heart. Heat suffused my body and once again his words, his presence, his very essence, made me blush.

  All of that before I realized the significance of him introducing Rachel by name. He'd met her once. I never mentioned her before or after. He cared enough to remember the important people in my life.

  "Dance with me? Rach, you'll watch the table, right?" I pulled Luca onto the dance floor before anyone could protest. It was rude, I knew, but I didn't care. Rachel had left me standing guard over her possessions at clubs too many times to count. This was apparently a night for paybacks.

  He wrapped me in his arms, buffering me from the movement and jostling of the other dancers. "What's this about?"

  "Hmm?" I played with his collar, the soft tendrils of hair at the base of his neck, and the sensitive skin in between. I didn't want to talk yet. A week really was too long to go without seeing him or touching him.

  He drew me closer, buried his face in my hair, and let the question drop.

  We danced like that, lost in each other, through several song changes. None of them slow and romantic. A lot of teenaged girls dream of the perfect slow dance with the perfect man. The one where the tempo of the song, the noise of the room, the worries of the day all fall away and all that matters are the arms around you. Before tonight, I'd thought that kind of romance only existed in fairy tales. But I was so very wrong.

  He raised his head and looked in my eyes, searching. "We should get back. We've left them too long."