If Only (Captured) Page 9

  “Too much is definitely better than not enough.”

  “I know, right?” she agrees with a raise of both pretty brows.

  Shit, this is the most ‘alone’ we’ve been and it’s difficult, tempting. I just want to pull her close to me and kiss her. She’s only around two feet away, so I don’t have to reach far. I’ve got to keep my hands to myself, she’d probably freak.

  She steps back and leans against her car. That’s made the distance between us greater, but I can still draw her to me with little effort. I anchor my hands in my jacket pockets.

  The lot is empty, but for the two of us, and our vehicles. The center is closed now. We’re by a street lamp, and it’s casting a low amber glow, just for us. It’s like the perfect setting from some fucking romance novel; ideal for a first kiss. Not so ideal for us. I can’t believe I don’t want to be alone with her now, but I’ve got to get used to it.

  I guess the phrase ‘practice makes perfect’ applies here.

  “It’s unbelievable what you and Adam can do. How did you get started?” Her eyes hold excitement and wonder, eyes that I’m constantly resisting the urge to draw. It’s intriguing how much those toffee-browns of hers say without her needing to speak the words. Women are often impressed when they find out I do Jujutsu, but that’s more about being strong and able to fight. All night and right now, I can see that Callie respects the art itself. How many things can I possibly like about her?

  Or love? Face the fact, dude.

  “We were eight and nine and one day we were in a park where a group of local guys were demonstrating it. We stopped to watch. One of them must have seen the fascination on our faces and he took us to one side and started showing us some basic moves, fighting stance and front snap punch. We were hooked immediately and started going to the recreation center where they ran classes.” She looks so gripped. I just want to grab her and tell her, “Get rid of that damn boyfriend.”

  “You don’t compete, right?”

  “Nah, it’s a hobby, and I like to keep it that way. I wouldn’t want the risk of injury, either, not with the job I do.”

  “That makes sense. Adam said you do classes with local kids.”

  “Yeah, we do a Wednesday night session with our Sensei. Now that’s amazing, they love it. It’s good for their self-confidence and discipline, and they’re so committed. Seeing the effect Jujutsu has on those kids is something else.”

  “Wow,” she whispers, a small furrow taking shape between her brows. Mind reading superpowers would be useful right now. “Oh, by the way,” she says, seeming to pull herself out of whatever it was she was thinking, “I owe you and Adam. You’ve given me some great shots tonight. I’m gonna make dinner for you both and Saffron and I won’t take no for an answer. I know neither of you want anything for this, but I have to give you something and that, at least, would make me happy.”

  “Okay, if you insist, but we really don’t expect it.”

  She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Yes, I know, but I want to.” That attitude of hers gets me every fucking time.

  “So can you actually come up with more than baby cakes?” I tease.

  “I’m a damn fine cook I’ll have you know.” You’re damn fine, that’s for sure. “It’ll be vegetarian, but don’t worry I won’t stuff you full of lentils. I will actually feed you all well; I’m quite creative with ingredients, thanks to my mom.”

  I can only laugh. And fight the urge to grab her.

  We talk about food, music, dancing, movies, her parents, my parents, and even her grandparents. Friendship, at the least, is a guarantee. No way in hell is that enough, but I’ll accept that for now. I can be patient, she’s worth the wait. She’s only eighteen, anyway. Eighteen year olds are always in and out of relationships, thinking they’re in love, right?

  How long could it possibly take?

  “Shit, look how late it is,” she says, glancing at her watch. “It’s after midnight – we’ve been here for over three hours. Sorry.”

  Sorry? “For what?”

  “I’ve taken up your whole evening. I didn’t realize how cold it’s gotten, either.”

  Moving from my seat, I straighten up and reach for my helmet and gloves. “I could say the same thing about me, don’t worry about it. I’m gonna ride behind you and see you home.”

  “That’s a little off route for you, Joe.”

  “You’re not that far from me, it’s no problem.”

  She walks to me, shifts up onto tiptoes, and hugs me. I bend forward to make it easier. Peaches. Tonight she smells of peaches.

  I’m aware it was just a general hug, no different to the ones she gave Saffron and Adam, but damn she felt good. It took every bit of restraint not to keep her in my grasp and hold her tighter. I can imagine how it would feel to have her hot little body wrapped around mine, and right now, I want that more than I’ve ever wanted anything else.

  She starts her bug and reverses out of her parking space. I follow.

  As we head out of the lot, I am absolutely certain that I love Callie. I have for most of the short time I’ve known her, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. From the first time I saw her, Callie captivated me in a way no other woman ever had before.

  Even the one I thought I was in love with.

  Twenty One: Callie

  As I drive in the direction of my house, I can see Joe in my side mirror. He looks sexy and mysterious in his shiny black helmet, tinted visor down, and his black leather jacket. He’s riding a Honda Fireblade, the color of a cloudless midnight sky. My protector.

  I love Joe, I know that for sure. It’s not ideal, and it’s not okay, but it’s the truth. I’m now facing up to feelings that were intense from the start and have only deepened with each passing week and every word we’ve exchanged.

  I love Joe.

  It’s still complicated and just as confusing, because I don’t doubt what I feel for Nick. It seems like Joe’s invaded my heart, without permission, and squeezed in there, too.

  I knew when I got with Nick that I wanted us to go the distance and over time, I fell in love with him. It’s like I got to choose falling for him.

  I did not ask, want, or expect to fall for Joe. But I have.

  The truth is, even if I wasn’t with someone else, I still couldn’t be with Joe. A girlfriend, commitment, isn’t something he wants in his life, and that would still be the case even if I was unattached. So, either way, a friend is the most we’d ever have been to each other.

  It’s the most we will ever be.

  Acknowledgment of that will make things easier. I can do the buddy thing with him and continue to be with Nick in the way I would have been, had I never met Joe.

  Maybe it’s not so complicated after all.

  I park on the street, outside my house, and Joe stops behind my car. Once I gather up my stuff from the backseat, I approach him. He lifts his visor, revealing his eyes. They’re the hardest thing to look at, even on a dark street with only artificial light. I’m certain it will get easier over time, but right now those coffee beans are intense, warm and damn right demanding. I know he only has to glance at a woman to lure her into bed. And that’s just his eyes, they say it all. He doesn’t need words – Joe Williams is devastating, and I don’t doubt that, even with my morals, if I’d met him single, I’d have let him have me right there on his table the day he pierced my nipples. Assuming he’d have wanted to, that is.

  “Thanks for escorting me back.” A slight nervousness I didn’t experience back at the parking lot starts to take hold. I’m doing my best to hide any physical evidence of my nerves and my attraction to him, both of which seem to have become more profound now that I’ve faced up to the way I feel. I’ll have to become skilled at hiding my reactions until my feelings change, I’m sure they will over time.

  I take comfort in him not knowing.

  “It’s cool.”

  “Well, you know exactly where I live now, so I’ll contact you about dinner.” I see
his smile in his eyes, just before he slides his visor down.

  When I get to my front door, I glance back, we wave at each other, and I go inside.

  I’m aware that it’s because of my guilty conscience and my sudden need for reassurance; I call Nick as soon as I get in. It’s late, but he answers, and I’m instantly soothed by his voice.

  Nick is the man for me.

  Twenty Two: Joe

  Seven years later: August 2008

  I’m sitting outside the coffee shop, enjoying some tobacco and my early afternoon caffeine fix, when Adam waves at me from BlackArt. I knock back the last of my espresso, stub out my cigarette, and head over to him.

  “This lady here wants you to check out the tat I just finished.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “Dunno, man.”

  I go into the studio, and there’s a red-head at the far end, straddling a chair, with her back to me. She’s had a naked green and gold fairy tattooed on her lower back, at the sexy part, between the two dimples either side of her spine.

  Stopping behind her, I bend over and check it out. “Very nice. Do ya like it?” I ask her, having no idea why she wanted me to see it. My brother’s work is never a disappointment.

  “Yes, I love it,” she says, in a voice as smooth as satin, effortlessly seductive. “I just wanted to know what you think.”

  “It looks good, suites you. Adam explained the after care and all, I trust?”

  “Yes, but I have one last thing to ask.” She twists her upper body around, to see me properly, her hazel gaze meeting mine. “Can I still fuck?” Ah, I see where this is going.

  Maintaining a serious expression, I respond. “Yes, of course. You’ll want to be careful with some positions, to avoid scratching or friction on your tattoo, and also beware of sweat and other bodily fluids getting on it.”

  “In that case, you better take my number.”

  And as simple as that, my Thursday night is set. I do have to laugh at that nice approach. The sexy red-head, Geraldine, leaves me with her number and a request that I meet her at eight, at a bar I’ve never been to before, but will gladly go to.

  I love how forward women can be, especially as they mature. My guess is that Geraldine is in her early thirties and successful in almost every aspect of her life, but for whatever reason, she’s still single. I made sure of that before she left.

  After finishing my final client, I go home, shower, and change into a short sleeve black button-down shirt, charcoal colored jeans, and my boots.

  The place is swanky, just as I expected it would be. Geraldine is already here, sitting on a stool at the end of the bar. Her little black dress and deep-fiery hair, travelling halfway down her back, contrast with her flawless pale skin and complement it nicely.

  I approach and order a Jack on the rocks and whatever Geraldine is drinking, some kind of cocktail. We say nothing to each other, I remain standing with my hands braced atop the bar and look at her. She holds my gaze, and right now the foreplay has begun. The sweetness of her perfume has me imagining smelling it directly from her skin and her lipstick-pink lips say more than any words can.

  The bartender places our beverages down in front of us. Geraldine pays a lot of attention to my hands, watching me handling my cash as I get the tab. I thank the guy, and my female company thanks me. Deciding to tease her, I move to her ear and tell her, “You’ll be thanking me a lot tonight.” I knock back some of the double shot, loving the familiar sweet warmth working its way down my throat.

  She smiles. “How old are you, Joe?” Her voice is sure and even more seductive than earlier in BlackArt.

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “You’re a confident young man, aren’t you?”

  I always find ladies like Geraldine to carry themselves with a lot of class and elegance. She’s all women, with a slim but curvaceous figure. Her face is naturally pretty with penetrating, hazel eyes. She’s like a real life Jessica Rabbit! She’ll be spoiled for choice, where men are concerned, and I know she only wants fun with someone like me, which makes us perfect for each other. My tattoos sometimes scream “bad boy” or “tough guy” for this type of lady, without me coming across as overly intimidating. Something about having angels on my skin seems to assist in that.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I did.” She raises her ruby colored cocktail to taste, and my attention gets stolen by her mouth. I get up close and tell her, “I want you on your knees with my cock in your mouth.” No sense in time wasting.

  Her pink lips curl up at the corners in unspoken agreement. Maintaining eye contact with me, she gets up off of her stool and turns to walk out.

  We arrive at her place, a couple of blocks from the bar, and the moment I walk through the front door she has me up against the wall. Her mouth glued to mine, she reaches over and hits the lights. There’s nothing sweet or loving about our kiss, it’s passionate and aggressive – clashing teeth, biting lips – and appropriate for two people who’ll fuck like crazy tonight and then never see each other again.

  Moaning as she makes her way to my neck, she has my shirt unbuttoned and off me in no time. Greedy, greedy, Geraldine, I do like her. “What a body, Joe,” she says, with her feather light touch running up and down my arms. “I see you workout.” She looks like she wants to eat me, which, of course, I do not object to.

  Without a second’s hesitation, she drops to her knees and starts tracing kisses across the skin above the waistband of my jeans. With my eyes closed, my head falls back against the wall. The condo is silent, enhancing the metal clinking of my belt buckle, the flick of my button, and the slow release of my zipper.

  “Fuck.” I feel her wet heat on the tip of my dick. Her palm enclosing me at the base of my shaft, she teases me with light suction and circular strokes with her tongue. Our synchronized heavy breathing fills the silence now. Sliding my fingers in among her silken strands, I grasp her hair as she works her way down my shaft, inch-by-inch, taking me all the way to the back of her throat, and a little farther. “Oh, fuck, damn.” Retreating, she sucks and her moan vibrates through my cock and up my spine. “Sonofabitch,” I mutter. Now I’m pulling on those fiery-strands tighter, which only encourages her to moan more and suck harder.

  Holding my hips and engulfing my full length with a fierce enthusiasm, this woman loves giving head. And, damn, good head game can bring a man to his fucking knees. Keeping a firm grasp on her tresses, I spear her mouth and before I know it I’m close to spilling into her throat. “I’m gonna come, decide what you wanna do about that,” I tell her. Fucking hell, she sucks harder, faster, my cock spasms, a harsh curse ripping out through my gritted teeth. She gracefully drinks it all down and doesn’t stop sucking me off until the final spasm passes.

  She stands up, meeting my gaze, her tongue swiping across her shiny lips. “Thank you, Joe.” Geraldine is more than willing to play along, and I am more than willing to give her many reasons to say, “Thank you!”

  With my hold on her slender waist, I draw Geraldine to me. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  She leads the way into a large room with a four-poster bed taking pride of place against the wall to the left. Passionate feeling red and brown dominate and the smell of her perfume lingers still. I don’t doubt those crimson sheets are real silk.

  Pausing for a moment, I watch her slip out of her dress, which slithers down her body and forms a pool of satin at her feet. All that remains is her black lace underwear, perfect for her divine curves. As she steps out of her stilettos, I approach from the rear, pressing myself against her. My attention is, temporarily, snatched by a large, wall-mounted, full-length mirror. Guiding Geraldine from behind, I usher her over to it.

  She makes eye contact with me through her reflection, the top of her head reaching my chin. Hooking my thumbs into the sides of her panties, I lower them, and she kicks them off to the side when they reach the bottom. I unfasten and remove her bra, revealing full
breasts and tight, pale pink nipples. After bracing her hands against the wall, either side of the ornate gold frame, my right leg between hers, I silently command a wider stance from her. Once I pull Geraldine’s hips back, I have a full view and easy access to the exquisiteness between her legs, bare of hair and glistening with arousal. I’m already hard again.

  With my finger tips, I skim up the backs of her thighs and over her slick lower lips, at which point she releases a long sigh. “So wet already,” I mutter to myself. I continue to float over her flesh, the curves of her butt, inner thighs, and then I slide my middle finger into her pussy. Moaning, she pushes back against me as I press deeper, stroking, slowly finger fucking her as her honey coats my hand.

  Condom on, I bury my cock in her welcoming, moist heat. Grasping her hips, holding her in place, I withdraw and drive deep into her. “Ah, fuck, yes,” she cries, and the male-ego in me wants to hear more of that.

  I get exactly what I want, her moaning loud and commanding more, as I take her hard. Her brows pull tight, her fingers press into the wall as though she wants to grab a hold of something. I take her harder, faster, and she pushes her butt back against me, meeting my thrusts, the slapping sounds of our hot, slick flesh filling the room.

  Our gazes connect through the mirror. Her moans become more pronounced and I can feel her tightening around my cock. As she gets closer to orgasm, her eyelids are getting heavy. “Keep them open. Watch with me.” Now we’re both staring into the eyes of her reflection.

  My hold remaining firm on her hips, I drive with more determination. She’s on the verge and fighting to keep focus. “Keep them open, Geraldine,” I command, keeping my voice as steady as I can – I’m not far off myself; sensations pulling and building in me, intensifying, taking me closer to the point of no return, and now her body is squeezing the life out of my dick. “Let go, Geraldine.” She goes over with a high pitched scream, only just looking into her own eyes, and I’m right behind her with my own release.

  We’re both breathing heavy, as I ease out of her. Her pale cheeks flushed and irises glazed over, she looks at me in the mirror with a soft, breathless curve to her lips. “Thank you, Joe.”