Complex Kisses (Here & Now Book 1) Read online

  God I hope so.

  As I slowly inch his zipper down, Eric grabs a handful of my ass and another handful of my hair. Using both hands I tug a little at the opening of his pants. He lets out a grunt, letting me know that he’s ready for what I have to give. With my eyes glued to the tight grip of his boxers, my entire body tightens in anticipation of what’s next.

  “Jamie,” Eric rumbles in my ear, his fist clenching hard at my nape. “Give me your mouth.”

  I’m tempted to get on my knees and do exactly that but he’s forcing my head up, not down. Turning my face up to meet his, I lunge for him.

  Eric answers with a quick, simple kiss before pulling back to leisurely trace his tongue over my bottom lip. His tongue continues its seduction by sweeping up into my mouth, slowly and softly caressing my own.

  He thinks he can torture me with this slow burning desire?

  Yes. He absolutely can. It’s a sweet torment. I can play that game too.

  As Eric’s mouth works its irresistible magic I slowly, lightly rake my fingernails across his pelvis, right above the band of his boxers. Feeling his abs jump at my touch, I’m tempted to watch my next move to see if I can make other parts of his body jump as well. But kissing Eric is so potent, so drugging, I can’t pull away. Casually I curve my hand over the elastic of his boxers, working the material down bit by bit, the side of my finger gently brushing his cock as I slowly expose him.

  Breaking our kiss with an angry sounding growl, Eric grabs my wrists, stopping my exploration. Bringing both hands up over my head he pins my entire body to the rock wall with his own.

  “You first,” he pants.

  Keeping my hands pinned with one of his own, he drags the other down my arm, over my collarbone and lightly over a breast. When my chest juts out from his touch, he moves his hand back up to squeeze.

  I can’t stop the low moan from leaving my throat. It feels so good to have his hands on me. I knew it would.

  His hand leaves my breast on a pained protest, that dies in my throat when I realize he’s taking off my top. My hands are freed as Eric lifts the offending garment up, over my head. Taking advantage of that freedom, I quickly wrap my arms around his neck.

  “Look at you, beautiful,” he whispers. Reaching up, he watches his own fingers, in thrall as they lightly stroke over my skin. “All flushed from excitement.”

  “It’s your fault for turning me on so much.”

  “It’s fucking sexy. You are fucking sexy.”

  His hand descends back down over my breast, dragging the cup of my bra down as he bends his head to my chest, taking my nipple in his mouth. An electric current runs straight from the spot he’s sucking, down to my aching core. As his tongue works one peaked bud, his hand plucks at the other, and I writhe from the delicious sensation. Licking and sucking turns to nipping and biting. The slow, gentle Eric dissolves as I continue to arch my back, a fist full of his hair, holding him to my breasts. As my throaty moans intensify, so does the pressure he applies.

  “Eric. Oh God, baby. I need … I need …”

  With his mouth working its way up my neck, my sense of control is quickly slipping.

  “I’ve got you, beautiful. I know exactly what you need.”

  Yes, he does.

  Leaving no time to contemplate his words, he quickly moves into action, grinding his hardened length up against my heat as he works his hand down the front of my pants.

  Whoever the genius is that invented leggings deserves a gold star or a first-place medal – something to honor the achievement of creating pants with both comfort and easy access. The extra stretch in the material gives Eric enough room to easily move aside my thong. Slicking his hand over my sex, he discovers just exactly how worked up I am. Using my own wetness his fingers dance up over my clit, circling my sensitive flesh, making my breath catch in my chest. When he pushes one and then two of his fingers inside of me, I moan out a sigh. When he curls those fingers, hitting a magically reactive spot, never triggered by a man before – all while his thumb flicks back and forth over my clit … well, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to maintain consciousness. It's the type of reaction you see when two elements collide. Things spin out of control. Chaotic turbulence ensues. The whole world blurs. My only awareness - the feeling of absolute ecstasy taking over my body.

  “Fuck yeah. That’s it, Jamie. Give it to me.”

  The hard rock wall, bruising my back, doesn’t bother me. I don’t care that my moaning and begging to God have exceeded a volume considered appropriate. Being so turned on that I can hear the wet sound of Eric’s fingers moving in and out of me, probably should be embarrassing. But it’s not. Barely aware of any of these things, I simply spread my legs a little wider, allowing Eric to pump his fingers harder, faster.

  “You like that, beautiful? Does it feel good?”

  “Yes!” I moan, ecstatically.

  I’m so close. Eric’s talented fingers getting me there, very quickly. All the wonderfully dirty words coming out his mouth, urging me on. The way he focuses on me, on my gratification – it’s a high all its own. One I’ve never experienced before.

  “That’s it, come on. Let me see you come, Jamie.”

  But I don’t want to leave him behind. Blindly reaching out, I find his half hidden cock. Freeing his length fully from its confines, I stroke him just as fast and hard as he’s working me.

  “Mmm,” he groans, “Oh fuck, that feels good.”

  Hearing his pleasure, knowing I’m giving him that, combining it with the perfect pressure of his fingers - my mind’s already gone - my body follows. Completely undone.

  “Yes! Oh my god, Eric!”

  The world explodes.

  With blinding intensity, my entire body seizes at release. Wave after wave of euphoria, erupting throughout me.

  Sweet torture turns to pure bliss.

  Coming down from my climax, both of us panting heavily, Eric gently moves his hand away. But I continue gripping his very hard erection.

  I’ve peaked, but he hasn’t.

  Well, that just won’t do.

  Kissing him softly on the mouth, I whisper huskily, “Your turn.” And then drop to my knees before he can protest what I’m about to do.

  Nope. I am not shy about sex. Not at all.

  The sight of Eric’s straining erection is enough to get me worked up again, despite having just barely come down from orgasm. Licking him from root to tip, I look up to see the most glorious man I’ve ever laid eyes on, with his arms braced against the rock wall, staring down at me. His mouth is parted and his eyes glazed.

  He looks vulnerable.

  He looks perfect.

  He looks like I’m going to blow his mind.

  Wasting no time, I take his full length in my mouth and suck him off like a goddamn porn star. Lots of tongue, spit and hollowed out cheeks. I even gag a couple of times. At first, Eric tries to be a gentleman, holding my hair and quietly cursing, while he remains completely still. But it doesn’t take long for him to understand.

  I don’t want him to be sweet.

  I like him dirty. I like him rough. I want him real.

  I get what I want when he starts thrusting in and out of my mouth, letting go of his inhibitions and the ridiculous need to protect me from himself. When he’s close, he tries pulling away, but instead of letting him go, I grab his ass with one hand and his sac with the other, working him furiously.

  “Oh, fuck! Jamie! Fuck!” With a raw shout he comes down my throat.

  And I love every minute of it.

  Now, this is the part that’s usually awkward for me. As demanding and upfront as I can be during sex, it’s the after party that isn’t usually much fun.

  But with Eric, nothing about this moment is uncomfortable.

  Not my tits hanging out of my bra.

  Not his inability to stand without support of the rock wall.

  Not the come he wipes off my bottom lip.

  Not even his tongue back in my mouth af
ter his cock has just been in there.

  Everything between us feels natural and right.

  Rubbing myself back up against him, I kiss him with abandon. It feels so good, so involved, so promising, so profound and so very, very scary.

  Why does kissing him feel so complex?

  It’s not supposed to feel this way. I’m not supposed to feel a stronger bond with him because of mutual orgasms. When I told him I didn’t know what this is, or where I’m headed next in life, I truly meant that. The one and only thing that I do know is that I’m not in the proper head space for emotional attachments. The world I’ve built for myself and my son has become a minefield this past week. Feeling anything more than a sexual urge toward Eric could be a dangerous thing for me. One more distraction from my version of the real world and my next step might literally blow up in my face.

  Still, I can’t deny that something is brewing between us. Something that sex isn’t going to dissolve. Call it fear of commitment or emotional immaturity, I’m just not ready for more. But my body is. I know, despite my better judgment, Eric and I are nowhere near done. A hand job for me and a blow job for him is a nice way to get things started, but not nearly enough to satisfy the craving that I have for him.

  My lips leave his on a sigh, his finger tracing down the side of my face.

  “I think I like being in your club,” he announces.

  With a loud, almost maniacal laugh, I reach up under his shirt, pinching his nipple. Hard.

  “Fuck! That hurt!” He laughs.

  “Who said I’ve agreed to let you join?” I taunt.

  “Oh, shit. That wasn’t enough to get me in? I thought the orgasm was the price.”

  “You thought just one would do it?” Smiling at him wickedly I suggest, “Let’s make another deal.” Fixing my bra, I reach for my shirt, hanging off an evergreen limb.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’ll promise to let you into my club as a temporary, full time member. You’ll have all the rights and privileges of a normal member, until I say otherwise. In return you promise to let me take you back to my hotel right now and leave the hospital for tomorrow.”

  “I think I can live with that deal. Just one question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “How many members are in this club?”

  “Past or present?”

  “Both?”

  “You don’t really want to know my sexual history do you? That’s kind of a big topic for someone I barely know.”

  “I’d say you know parts of me pretty damn well after what we just did. And before – all the things we talked about? But I guess I can respect your position. We’ll leave the past for later. But I need to know about the present. That’s non-negotiable for me.”

  “That’s fair. Okay – here’s a compromise. For almost a year and a half, there’s only been one member of my club.”

  “Dylan?”

  “No. Not Dylan. It’s been well over a year since he and I were together like that.”

  “Who?”

  “Me. I’m the best partner I’ve ever had,” I say truthfully, and he laughs at me. “I’m serious, Eric. I haven’t had sex in seventeen months.”

  It’s a sad, sad truth. Sadder still - even with a partner, most of the time I had to get myself off. Even with a lot of direction, the men I’ve been with couldn’t seem to get it quite right. Not that I’ve been with many men. Three hardly even counts. Maybe I haven’t had enough time or opportunity to find the right partner – a man who understands what my body needs. Or maybe, after becoming a mother, I just never gave any man the chance to get to know me well enough.

  Eric just proved, rather proficiently, his ability to take me over the edge. I wonder if we can repeat that performance. Or was I just sex starved and desperate? It doesn’t feel that way. Something tells me to expect great things.

  “That sounds like a challenge to me, beautiful girl.”

  “Does it? Funny. It just sounds like honesty to me. No pretenses. Remember?”

  * * *

  The cab of Eric’s truck would have been filled with sexual tension, had I not come down with a major case of conscience.

  He’s still hot as hell, with those amazing biceps bunching and flexing as he shifts the truck into gear. And I’m still really tempted to just ignore the distracted driving law and climb into his lap - the big bucket seats seem like the perfect size for two.

  But in the back of my mind, my conscience is screaming at me. It started as a gentle whisper, reminding me to be careful. Then quickly, that little voice became a loud, impatient bitch, shaming my carelessness.

  Eric is brushing off time with his brother for me, while I forget my own responsibilities. The guilt is easy to ignore when being near Eric makes me feel so good. We hadn’t even pulled out of the parking lot before I was calculating the drive and how long it would be until Eric and I could get naked together.

  But that bitchy inner voice is right. As nice as it is to put aside our troubles for a little while, we can’t forget about them completely.

  “If we’re not stopping in at the hospital, I should probably call and check in,” I give in to my ill-timed morals.

  “Good idea. Set your mind at ease. Maybe you can get an update for me too.”

  The nurse who answers my call seems bored as she explains, there’s been absolutely no change in my father’s condition since I’d seen him that morning. She notes that he spent the majority of his afternoon and evening sleeping and she promises to have someone call immediately if there is any change, as usual. Her tone almost makes me feel guilty for asking. Or maybe my guilt is more for leaving him alone most of the day, with no one but a nurse to care for him. Either way, I’m definitely feeling a bit remorseful.

  I’m forced to put the phone on speaker so Eric can get information about Caleb. If he’s feeling any of the guilt I am, I can’t hear it in his tone. The quick conversation with Caleb’s nurse sounds practically cheerful. He sounds so regret free. How does he do it? Am I being hyper-critical? Jealous?

  The call ends and the brief eye contact he makes with me is tinged with sadness. Maybe he’s not so worry free after all. Maybe he’s still putting on that false, cheerful smile – hiding his hurt from the rest of the world.

  My contemplation of Eric’s emotional status is easily forgotten when his hand comes into contact with my upper thigh. Squeezing me tightly, his fingers fan out over my leg, reminding me of what it was like to have those fingers deep inside of me, only moments ago. Conscience or no, I can’t help but feel heated by his touch. But I still have one more person to call. I can’t do it with my mind on sex. Gently, I move Eric’s hand, alleviating some of my anxiety.

  Placing an evening call to Hunter is routine but this time I feel like I should be going to confession afterward.

  Hunter answers with enthusiasm, like always, and immediately all my worry disappears. He barely gives me time to say hello before he’s rambling on about his day, keeping me up to date on his class activities and after-school band practice. He asks for the millionth time if we can get a dog like his best friend Jackson, and then finally asks how I am and how things are at the hospital.

  “I’m fine bud. Everything is fine. How about you? Are you sure everything is still good with Jackson’s parents? Maybe I should talk to them again.”

  “Everything’s fine mom. But I’m tired now, so I think I’m just going to bed.”

  Since it’s only a bit after eight o’clock this seems incredibly strange. My kid is one who’d normally beg to stay up late, and then conk out two minutes later. Offering to go to bed early is completely out of character.

  “Okay, bud. But you know, if there’s anything you need to talk about, anything at all … you know I’m always here for you. No matter what. Okay?”

  “I know mom. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Hunter. Have a good sleep. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”

  I pause when he doesn’t hang up immediately.
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  His breathing sounds a little heavier. With a choked cry he calls, “Mom?”

  “Yeah, sweetie. What’s the matter?”

  “When are you coming home?”

  My heart, already broken from having been away from him for so long, completely shatters. My previous feelings of guilt are dim and inconsequential compared to the sharp, twisting anguish taking hold of me.

  With a tear trailing down my face, I answer, “I don’t know yet, bud. But I really miss you. Maybe you should come here for the weekend.”

  “No, it’s okay. I just miss you. A lot.”

  “I know, buddy. I miss you too. So much.”

  “Okay. I’m okay. I love you, mom.”

  “I love you too. Goodnight, sweet boy.”

  Eric reaches back over and squeezed my knee. It’s a compassionate, reassuring touch. “You okay, beautiful?” He asks, sincerely.

  “Yeah. He misses me.”

  “Of course he does.”

  “This is different. I shouldn’t have left him there. I’m a horrible mother.”

  “Jamie, I have a very hard time believing that you are anything but a fabulous mother. I’m sure you gave it a lot of thought. You had reasons for not bringing him with you. Right?”

  For a moment I struggle to remember what the reasons were that lead to such a monumentally bad decision. Hunter is my world. I have left my entire world to come here. Why? What mother in her right mind leaves her nine-year-old in the hands of practical strangers? Strangers! I’ve only met them a few times! And he’s been there for an entire week.

  Oh God!

  How much longer do I have to be here? Does he need me?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Jamie!”

  Fuck.

  How many times has Eric called my name? And why are my fingers and toes tingling? What’s wrong with me?

  “Jamie! Goddammit, beautiful. Don’t make me pull this truck over … just fucking breathe. Breathe!” Eric demands.