Kaleidoscope
Page 51
So he put his hands to her waist and pulled her off his cock. She cried out as he surged out of the water, taking her with him by bending at the same time, wrapping her around his neck.
She cried out again but this time it was, “Jacob!” as the slap of cold air hit them, her hands grabbing onto him as best she could.
He went to the French doors, threw one open, got them in the warmth and pushed it closed. Then he stalked to the couch.
“Jacob!” she yelled again. “We’re all wet.”
He bent his back and neck, tossing her wet and na**d on his couch. “Don’t f**kin’ care.”
“We’re gonna ruin your—”
“Spread, baby. Now. One leg over the back of the couch. One foot to the floor.”
She shut up, her eyes locked to his, her face flushed, hair wet, tangled and all over his couch. She opened her legs, throwing one over the back of the couch, putting one foot to the floor.
Fuck him.
Gorgeous.
He covered her, took her mouth and thrust deep.
Her arms rounded him and her whimper raced down his throat.
Soon, her pu**y convulsed as she took his c**k and her whimpers turned to heated mews.
But he was close too.
And he brought them home together, bodies and mouths connected, her cry mingled with groan.
Magnificent.
* * *
Two days later…
It was four o’clock in the morning and Deck was in Emme’s library, at her desk, computer on, file spread out at its side, working.
He’d decided that, once they sorted the outside and the kitchen, he’d talk her into focusing on this room because he liked it.
She’d cleaned it, polished the copious wood of the shelves and carved paneled inlays and it was furnished. But there were holes left from the rewiring and parts of the wall that were not wood but plaster had been papered circa 1968 and whoever chose the wallpaper had not chosen something that would become retro chic. There wasn’t much of it, but it was so bad, the little of it there was was an eyesore.
“Honey, is everything okay?”
He turned and saw his girl, barefoot, hair tousled and in his shirt, only a few buttons done up, walking his way.
Seeing her in his shirt, he mentally calculated the distance to the guest room, inventoried the library’s furniture and decided on the couch and uninhibited noise. No way their sounds would carry up to the guest room, even if her mom and dad were awake.
Still, they’d close the door.
“Things are fine,” he answered as she stopped at his side.
Her eyes slid over the desk and computer and he turned in her chair, a big baronial one she said she inherited from her father when he redecorated his office in Denver.
“Come here,” Deck murmured. She looked to him, down to his lap, around the chair, hesitated a second then climbed on, knees in the seat beside him, ass to his thighs.
He put hands to her ass, pushing up his shirt and finding no panties.
He started to get hard.
Fuck, he’d had his share of women, but none had made him react like Emme did.
He knew it wasn’t all about her beauty, that hair, those eyes.
It was about her going wild.
And it was that her face still registered surprise sometimes when he was giving it to her, she knew she was going to get it, it wasn’t going slip away, and he liked that. It was cute. It was hot. But it was something only he gave her, which was well beyond cute or hot.
It was also, he reckoned due to what they had before, that she trusted him so she felt free to explore, opened herself to him and let him take what he wanted, was comfortable and relaxed so he could guide her there. Enough to wander around without panties. Enough to sleep na**d when he asked. Enough to come hard, never be guarded, occasionally expose uncertainty and let him take over and guide her out of that too.
It was just Emme.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asked, and he stopped concentrating on the feel of her ass in his hands and focused on her.
“Told you I only sleep four hours a night,” he reminded her and he had, over murgh makhani and turtle sundaes, before the pool, two nights ago.
Her eyes held his as her hands slid up his chest to his neck.
“Is this healthy?” she asked softly.
“Been like this my whole life, baby. Never had any issues with fatigue.” He glided his hands up her back, pulling her closer and she didn’t fight it. “It’s just me. Looked into it, it’s not unusual. Other people are the same.”
“Are those other people exceptionally bright, like you?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” he answered, liking also the way she teased him about his intelligence, brought it up often. It was something she understood, something she was not in awe of but that didn’t mean she didn’t admire it. She did. She made that plain, just in a playful way that meant she wasn’t intimidated by it as many people, men and women, were.
“So, are you working?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
Her eyes wandered to the desk then back to him.
“You said you’d never talk to me about your work,” she remarked in a leading way.
Deck didn’t like this turn of conversation.
Close to her ending things, Elsbeth bitched about this. Mostly the fact that, in establishing his business and reputation, he didn’t make near the money he did now. But Elsbeth was not the only woman Deck had in his life, nor was she the only one who bitched that what he did was confidential, he couldn’t share, but also, sometimes what he did was dangerous and he wouldn’t share in order not to cause concern that was unfounded.
Because Deck never took an uncalculated risk.
And Deck was very good at calculation.
He took one hand from her ass to brush her bangs out of her eyes as he suggested, “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this at four o’clock in the morning.”
To that, she strangely asked, “Do you mind talking about Elsbeth?”
He didn’t know where she was going with this new conversational turn, but he answered, “No.”
“She never told me about your work,” Emme shared.
“That’s because she also didn’t know.”
She nodded, pressed closer and continued, “Though, she did say that you didn’t make much money doing it.”
“Back then, I didn’t,” Deck confirmed.
“That’s obviously changed now, what with your mini-mansion and environmentally unconscious pool-heating waste.”
He grinned, wrapped his arms around her and again confirmed, “Yeah, Emme, that’s changed now. I established a reputation, jobs more frequent, I can charge more.”
She cried out again but this time it was, “Jacob!” as the slap of cold air hit them, her hands grabbing onto him as best she could.
He went to the French doors, threw one open, got them in the warmth and pushed it closed. Then he stalked to the couch.
“Jacob!” she yelled again. “We’re all wet.”
He bent his back and neck, tossing her wet and na**d on his couch. “Don’t f**kin’ care.”
“We’re gonna ruin your—”
“Spread, baby. Now. One leg over the back of the couch. One foot to the floor.”
She shut up, her eyes locked to his, her face flushed, hair wet, tangled and all over his couch. She opened her legs, throwing one over the back of the couch, putting one foot to the floor.
Fuck him.
Gorgeous.
He covered her, took her mouth and thrust deep.
Her arms rounded him and her whimper raced down his throat.
Soon, her pu**y convulsed as she took his c**k and her whimpers turned to heated mews.
But he was close too.
And he brought them home together, bodies and mouths connected, her cry mingled with groan.
Magnificent.
* * *
Two days later…
It was four o’clock in the morning and Deck was in Emme’s library, at her desk, computer on, file spread out at its side, working.
He’d decided that, once they sorted the outside and the kitchen, he’d talk her into focusing on this room because he liked it.
She’d cleaned it, polished the copious wood of the shelves and carved paneled inlays and it was furnished. But there were holes left from the rewiring and parts of the wall that were not wood but plaster had been papered circa 1968 and whoever chose the wallpaper had not chosen something that would become retro chic. There wasn’t much of it, but it was so bad, the little of it there was was an eyesore.
“Honey, is everything okay?”
He turned and saw his girl, barefoot, hair tousled and in his shirt, only a few buttons done up, walking his way.
Seeing her in his shirt, he mentally calculated the distance to the guest room, inventoried the library’s furniture and decided on the couch and uninhibited noise. No way their sounds would carry up to the guest room, even if her mom and dad were awake.
Still, they’d close the door.
“Things are fine,” he answered as she stopped at his side.
Her eyes slid over the desk and computer and he turned in her chair, a big baronial one she said she inherited from her father when he redecorated his office in Denver.
“Come here,” Deck murmured. She looked to him, down to his lap, around the chair, hesitated a second then climbed on, knees in the seat beside him, ass to his thighs.
He put hands to her ass, pushing up his shirt and finding no panties.
He started to get hard.
Fuck, he’d had his share of women, but none had made him react like Emme did.
He knew it wasn’t all about her beauty, that hair, those eyes.
It was about her going wild.
And it was that her face still registered surprise sometimes when he was giving it to her, she knew she was going to get it, it wasn’t going slip away, and he liked that. It was cute. It was hot. But it was something only he gave her, which was well beyond cute or hot.
It was also, he reckoned due to what they had before, that she trusted him so she felt free to explore, opened herself to him and let him take what he wanted, was comfortable and relaxed so he could guide her there. Enough to wander around without panties. Enough to sleep na**d when he asked. Enough to come hard, never be guarded, occasionally expose uncertainty and let him take over and guide her out of that too.
It was just Emme.
“Why can’t you sleep?” she asked, and he stopped concentrating on the feel of her ass in his hands and focused on her.
“Told you I only sleep four hours a night,” he reminded her and he had, over murgh makhani and turtle sundaes, before the pool, two nights ago.
Her eyes held his as her hands slid up his chest to his neck.
“Is this healthy?” she asked softly.
“Been like this my whole life, baby. Never had any issues with fatigue.” He glided his hands up her back, pulling her closer and she didn’t fight it. “It’s just me. Looked into it, it’s not unusual. Other people are the same.”
“Are those other people exceptionally bright, like you?” he asked.
“Don’t know,” he answered, liking also the way she teased him about his intelligence, brought it up often. It was something she understood, something she was not in awe of but that didn’t mean she didn’t admire it. She did. She made that plain, just in a playful way that meant she wasn’t intimidated by it as many people, men and women, were.
“So, are you working?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he answered.
Her eyes wandered to the desk then back to him.
“You said you’d never talk to me about your work,” she remarked in a leading way.
Deck didn’t like this turn of conversation.
Close to her ending things, Elsbeth bitched about this. Mostly the fact that, in establishing his business and reputation, he didn’t make near the money he did now. But Elsbeth was not the only woman Deck had in his life, nor was she the only one who bitched that what he did was confidential, he couldn’t share, but also, sometimes what he did was dangerous and he wouldn’t share in order not to cause concern that was unfounded.
Because Deck never took an uncalculated risk.
And Deck was very good at calculation.
He took one hand from her ass to brush her bangs out of her eyes as he suggested, “Maybe we shouldn’t discuss this at four o’clock in the morning.”
To that, she strangely asked, “Do you mind talking about Elsbeth?”
He didn’t know where she was going with this new conversational turn, but he answered, “No.”
“She never told me about your work,” Emme shared.
“That’s because she also didn’t know.”
She nodded, pressed closer and continued, “Though, she did say that you didn’t make much money doing it.”
“Back then, I didn’t,” Deck confirmed.
“That’s obviously changed now, what with your mini-mansion and environmentally unconscious pool-heating waste.”
He grinned, wrapped his arms around her and again confirmed, “Yeah, Emme, that’s changed now. I established a reputation, jobs more frequent, I can charge more.”
