Man Cave, page 9
“You… can’t?” Her confusion was endearing. Sweet. Totally fucking hot.
“No.” Abso-fucking-lutely not. I proved it by sliding a finger over her center.
“Ohhh.”
“Secondly, this is your vulva and this…is your labia. Right here is your clit.” She gasped at the light stroke. “This” –I slid a finger inside of her– “is your vagina.” I slipped my finger from her, slick to the first knuckle with her arousal.
She whimpered and I continued on.
“What I’m interested in is your pussy, which is this.” I cupped her, all of her.
Keeping my palm where it was, I stood, then set my other hand on the bed beside her head, loomed over her so all she could see was me. Her eyes widened and she was so fucking pretty.
“And Mallory, I love pussy.”
I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard. A flush crept down her skin, so pretty. Everything about her was so blatant. So open and responsive.
“Did I answer your questions?”
She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, her breath picking up.
“Good. You okay if I eat your pussy now?”
“Oh gosh.” Her eyes fell closed and she took a second. Yeah, she was thinking too fucking much. “Yes.”
Good. Excellent, because my mouth was fucking watering. I settled back on my knees between her parted thighs, my hands sliding down that silky skin as I went.
Instinctively, she tipped her knees inward, a sign of unintentional modesty, but it offered none. From what I knew of this woman, she wasn’t all that modest. She was a very empowered, very forthright woman. But naked and her pussy on display, she wasn’t in charge, I was. She instinctively felt that power shift.
Sliding my hands back up the insides of her thighs, I held them wide, then leaned and licked from her clenching little hole to her clit, cleaning up the mess she was making. For me.
Fuck, I loved her taste.
“Oh my God,” she blurted out. I smiled against her hot, scented skin. Already forgetting to curb her words. Perfect.
“Do this with anyone before?” I asked, setting a palm on her lower belly and using my thumb to pull back the hood on her hard little clit. It was swollen and right there for me to suck and flick with my tongue.
“Wh–what?”
“Ever get your pussy licked before?”
She shook her head, pretty much thrashed it from side to side.
Instantly, I felt like a fucking caveman.
Was it wrong to know I was the only one to know how she tasted, how she whimpered? Yes. But I didn’t give a shit. Not when her sweet taste was on my tongue and her scent in my nose.
“Theo, please. I need more than a lick. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
She begged and swore so sweetly. I grinned and I didn’t remember the last time I found someone so amusing. Refreshing. Endearing. Delicious.
Reaching down, I shifted my dick in my pants. All I had to do was slide the zipper down and I could thrust right inside her. I’d have all of her sticky sweetness coating more than just my mouth.
No. Another time. Now I’d have the perfect treat. It was time to take what was mine.
Her pussy. Her orgasms. Her moans and screams.
I flicked her clit with my tongue, rimmed her entrance with a finger. Circled both, around and around. Watched her carefully for how she tensed, gasped, melted.
Then I added a finger, pressing against her g-spot I’d discovered the week before.
By the time she was coming on my face and fingers, her thighs were pressed into my ears, her fingers tangled in my hair, her juices soaking my short beard.
“Fuck!” she cried, clenching around my finger, a glorious dousing of her arousal dripping down and onto my palm. Her clit pulsed and lengthened against my tongue, and I didn’t stop. She came once. She’d come again. “This is insane, I can’t believe… what was that…more, yes, don’t stop.”
She was uninhibited in her need. Focused on her pleasure. Mindless.
Because of me.
After I was done with her, she wouldn’t even remember Tom’s name or any guy from Vegas.
I didn’t ease up. The opposite. I added a second finger, pressed and curled on her g-spot as I sucked at her clit some more.
“Theo, too much. Slow down, no more! Don’t stop. Oh!”
Yes, my name. She knew who was between her thighs. Knew who gave her pleasure.
She was incredibly responsive, highly orgasmic, regardless of what she thought about herself. The second time she came was gentler, but intense because all her muscles relaxed except her inner walls, gushing and milking my fingers as if wishing it was my dick.
Sweaty, panting, and sated, Mallory didn’t move. Didn’t bring her legs together when I sat back on my heels and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I love eating pussy, Mallory,” I told her.
I wanted my mouth on her some more, but I had to stop.
I’d shown her what it was like to get her pussy nice and eaten. Given her orgasms that would ruin her for anyone else. She was perfect. Her pussy was perfect. I was addicted. Possessive. I wasn’t done with her. I wanted to get my dick inside her, watch her squirm and shift as she adjusted to being crammed full, but not now. Not at Mav’s house.
“Fair warning.” I stood, took in how perfect she was, bare and wanton, wrecked and completely ruined. Yeah, Tom was out of the fucking picture because no one would see Mallory like this but me. Because I did this to her.
Total. Fucking. Caveman.
The only thing better than the sight before me would be to see my cum dripping from her.
Soon.
I shifted my dick again, then headed for the door. My job here was done.
21
MALLORY
* * *
From my spot at the back of the assembly room–a strategic location so parents and teachers were spaced around the room–I watched as Mrs. Fujikawa, Ethan’s mom, shared with all three first-grade classes about her job as an architect. It was the annual first-grade career day, which meant the entire morning was devoted to various parents sharing fun facts about their jobs. So far we’d heard from a woman on ski patrol at the resort, a dad who ran wilderness trips, and another who was a sign language interpreter.
Ethan was the speaker’s third child, so she had a knack for keeping the kids engaged.
All eighty of them were seated around a semicircle of risers completely enthralled because she just finished using a glue gun and popsicle sticks to quickly build a little bridge. As she did so, she explained how it was an architect’s job to make sure it was sturdy by using triangles and math. She stopped and got the kids doing a drum roll as she placed a brick on the top to prove it.
The kids gasped and murmured in awe at how it held up. It was pretty impressive.
Regina, one of the other first-grade teachers, joined the woman at the front, thanking her for her presentation, directing the kids to share their thanks. They clapped and Ethan ran up to his mom and gave her a hug–and snagged the popsicle stick bridge to show off later.
“I’m not sure if I can top that.”
A familiar voice cut through the excited chatter of all the kids.
I turned and there was Theo. Here, at the school.
I blinked, confused. “Um… hi.”
His dark eyes raked down my body and took in my black jeans and Hunter Valley Elementary red sweatshirt. It had a big falcon on the front, the school’s mascot. I was covered head to toe, in complete contrast to how he’d left me the night before, his mouth glistening with my arousal, his short beard coated in me.
Coated.
I’d been naked. Sprawled wantonly across the guest bed.
He’d gotten me off… twice, with an insane tongue/finger combo, then left.
No reciprocation. He’d been fully dressed, and I’d been completely bare. Legs spread wide.
After that, I’d crashed hard. The day had been hell. I hadn’t slept in jail the night before. God, jail. Seriously, I was still processing being arrested. And me, for solicitation? I hadn’t even seen Theo’s dick and I was the one having to post bail for offering sex for money.
Totally ironic.
The long trip home had been far from restful. And it seemed two orgasms were the best sleeping pill around.
But when my alarm went off this morning, reality came crashing back. As I’d brushed my teeth, I made a mental list.
I had to go back to Las Vegas, stand before a judge and explain that I wasn’t a prostitute and why the undercover cop thought I was one.
I had to find the money to actually get to Las Vegas to do that. And a lawyer.
I had to keep all of that a secret from the Hunter Valley gossip grapevine.
1-3 didn’t take into account Theo and his exceptionally dedicated and focused oral skills. Or the fact that we’d never kissed. That he didn’t linger after satisfying me. That he didn’t seek reciprocation. I felt… serviced.
Of course, every woman in the world would be happy with being serviced by Theo James. He’d said if I wanted sex, it’d be him to do it with. He didn’t say date. Or use the relationship or love words.
Even though I’d made the bold statement that I was marrying Theo–more than once–I had no silly notions about that actually happening. I hadn’t had epic expectations from Tom either, but I did ultimately want to find someone. Get married. Sure, I’d kept pushing that I was going to marry Theo, but that had been loud-mouth me. Theo didn’t want marriage.
He said he was going to give me sex, without dick penetration. Until I got on birth control. Then I’d get The Dick. I hoped. If I got the shot at my appointment this afternoon, the one I read up on, I’d be covered immediately. Not that we wouldn’t use condoms as well. He’d said two forms of protection.
I didn’t want kids but clearly Theo didn’t either. Or he didn’t want to be tied to me.
I totally caught on to that. He might be a vigorous and thorough lover–from what we’d done so far–but we hadn’t even kissed. No foreplay, although how he licked and sucked on my nipples the night before probably counted. He was so unbelievably hot… but distant at the same time. There was a connection, chemistry, between us. But no attachment.
Beneath my plain bra, the nipples he’d worked over so well the night before now tingled. Good thing the sweatshirt was loose because he’d see how hard they were otherwise. Same with everyone else in the assembly room.
“Whatever you’re thinking, I want to do to you later,” he said, leaning in close, not that anyone could overhear.
I flushed. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, and I was sure I was as red as my sweatshirt. My mind just went on a trip somewhere inappropriate for being in a room full of first-graders.
With a quick throat clear, I asked, keeping my voice just above a whisper, “What are you doing here?”
Theo leaned against the wall and tipped his chin toward the front of the room where the fire chief was presenting. “Mac pretty much blackmailed me into participating.” He didn’t sound that thrilled about the idea, especially since it took coercion to do it.
“You know Mac?”
He nodded. “Firefighter training on Saturday.”
“Ah.” I didn’t know how Mac had blackmailed Theo, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood to share.
The kids clapped for whatever Mac just said. He was in his bunker gear and held his helmet and oxygen mask up for the kids to see.
“What am I supposed to say to these guys?” Theo asked. “Mac says I have a stick up my ass.”
I quirked my lips and stayed silent.
“You think I have a stick up my ass?” he prodded his eyes clearly concerned with this possibility.
“You had an intense job. A lot of responsibility. I think… I think you’re serious. Focused.”
I liked that focus when it came to giving me orgasms.
He was quiet, as if considering my words. I tried to be as diplomatic as possible. Compared to his brothers, he really was serious. Sometimes he did have a stick up his ass, but I had a feeling Mav had one too before he found Bridge. Maybe Silas did as well, but I hadn’t been around him all that much. He was quieter instead of intense.
As for Dex being serious? No way.
“I have no idea how to talk to eight-year-olds,” he admitted.
“They’re six,” I clarified.
His jaw clenched. “Six? Even worse. I deal with trauma. Bad stuff. Not learning how to interact with them and shape their small minds.”
I found his concern amusing. Theo wasn’t what anyone would call tender. Or sweet. Or warm and fuzzy. The way he’d abandoned me with my orgasmic haze, I’d say he wasn’t a cuddler.
He seemed to really have no clue what to do with children.
“They’re not off to med school tomorrow, so make it fun,” I instructed. “Silly even. If you polled them, they want to either be a princess, an astronaut or a snowplow driver.”
“I’m guessing no parent is a princess?”
“You’re the fill in for her. Her tiara was being cleaned,” I said with a straight face. “You’ll do fine. Have fun, but it’s always nice to throw in a reminder of how to be safe.” I pointed to Mac who was on the floor demonstrating Stop, Drop, and Roll. The kids were laughing as he flailed around like an upside-down turtle at the end.
“Safe. Fun. Got it.”
The ominous tone sounded more like he didn’t have it at all.
I studied his profile as he watched Mac explain what he would look like during a fire so the kids wouldn’t be scared before putting on his oxygen mask so they could see. He wrapped up quickly after that.
“Well, shit. He has stickers,” Theo muttered as Mac pulled a stack from one of the many pockets on his bunker pants.
I bit my lip, trying not to smile.
He must’ve known he came next because he pushed off the wall but turned to me.
“My place, six.” His gaze held mine. Direct and potent as usual, none of his kid-wariness visible. “Come hungry. I will be.”
Oh fudge.
22
THEO
* * *
“Boys and girls, now that you have your stickers, settle down.” Mrs. Sanchez, the first-grade teacher Mac introduced me to when we arrived, patiently waited for the room to go quiet. “It’s time for Dr. James to share with us about being a doctor.”
The kids clapped as I moved into the center of the amphitheater, but I could tell they were distracted by the SWAG. Why did Mac have to give out stickers? The only thing worse than going after stickers would be if he handed out puppies.
I cleared my throat. Sixty or seventy wiggly, squirmy kids sat before me crosslegged. They were like puppies. My mind instantly went to the boy who died on the operating table. The one whose death didn’t have any emotional impact on me at all. These kids were just a little bit younger than he’d been. These kids could get in a car after school and be hurt in an accident, their vehicle totaled just like the one from the fire department practice on Saturday morning.
The boy who died had been ejected, no extraction needed, like practiced.
But these little innocent faces, completely clueless to what could happen in life, wanted to hear from me about my job.
The one that made me feel nothing.
“I’m Theo James and I’m a doctor.”
The kids stared at me or stared off into space.
“Anyone got a mom or a dad who’s a doctor?” I asked.
Three kids’ hands shot up.
“Anyone been to the doctor?”
Pretty much everyone’s hand went up.
I glanced over all the little heads and saw Mallory in the back where I left her in her cute fucking school sweatshirt. She made a funny face and tipped her head back and forth. Either she was having a seizure or giving me a reminder to make it fun.
“Everyone’s been to the doctor. Good. You don’t have to always see a doctor when you’re sick. It’s important to go to see a doctor to make sure you’re healthy and stay that way. To get shots you need so you don’t get a communicable disease.”
Mallory’s eyes went wide and stared at me like I was insane. Or an idiot. I was speaking as if I was at a conference full of boring trauma surgeons who found joy in a splenectomy at three a.m.
I just told a roomful of little kids about shots. Communicable diseases.
Clearly, I was the smartest idiot around. Mallory was right. I was serious. I glanced at Mac, who was only shaking his head in clear disappointment.
Holy shit. I had a stick up my ass.
I left Denver and moved to Hunter Valley so I didn’t turn into–or any more into–one of my boring, monotonous colleagues who didn’t engage with anyone on a real, personal level. I was standing here, in a roomful of fucking kids, because of the decision to escape and now I was behaving exactly like the person I didn’t want to be.
Lighten up, James! Get your shit together. People have feelings! They want fun. Excitement. Joy.
I could be fun. I could be fucking fun all day long.
I glanced at Mac again. The fucker. No way was he and his stickers were going to be more likable than me. I was the cool doctor. I, Theo James, was cool.
And competitive.
Not only did trauma surgeons not like to lose–because that meant a patient died–but I also had three brothers, one a professional hockey player whose job was to always win.
Mac and his stickers were going down.
I pulled the imaginary stick out of my ass and tossed it aside.
“Who here has farted?” I said, my voice carrying across the big room.
Kids giggled and some covered their faces with their hands. Parents and teachers around the room gasped and stared at me wide eyed. Yup, I just went there.
A few hands went up, all boys.
“Come on,” I said, moving my hand in a circle. I pointed at Mac. “I bet the fire chief farts.”
His mouth dropped open and his ears turned red. He couldn’t lie. Not to a roomful of kids.
