For You(53)

I wasn’t prepared for it. I’d been in his arms a lot lately and it felt good, better than I remembered because it was better, to have him hold me, this man, this Colt, older, smarter, stronger, more experienced.

But I hadn’t had his arms around me and his mouth on mine and my hands on the hard muscle of his bare chest and my bare legs tangled up with his while he was leaning against his kitchen counter, I was leaning against him and we were in his kitchen with me in my nightshirt.

I didn’t even try to push away. I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue inside. It swept in and I felt the spasm between my legs, instant wet and ready, and I moaned into his mouth because it felt so damned good.

I went up on tiptoe, pressing my body to his. My hands slid up his chest, his shoulders, my fingers went into his hair holding him to me as his arm tightened around my waist, the other hand going up. I felt the weight of my hair lighten as he gathered a bunch in his palm and held it against the back of my head.

We went at it, wet and rough and desperate and I wanted him so badly I had visions of pulling down my panties then his shorts then jumping up to wrap my legs around his hips and guiding him inside. I didn’t need foreplay. I just needed that kiss and Colt.

“Hey kids, we’re goin’ to Frank’s for… fuck!”

I would have torn away but although Colt’s head came up his arms got so tight I couldn’t move an inch.

“Jack, get out of the way, what’s the matter with… oh.”

Dad, calling loud, probably thinking he was going to wake us and coming up the rear and around grumbling at Dad, Mom.

Everyone stared at everyone else.

I didn’t look at Colt but both Mom and Dad looked like they wanted to kick themselves while simultaneously looking like they just remembered it was their birthday and found out they’d won the lottery.

I had no idea what I looked like but testing Colt’s strength with a cautious pull at his arms which only grew all the more tight I knew he had no intention of letting me go. I made the decision not to fight it in this uncertain situation and I stayed where I was.

When no one said anything, I waded in. “I could do Frank’s.”

“We’ll come back later,” Mom said.

“You don’t have to come back later,” I told her, trying another tug at Colt’s arms and finding them just as resistant so I gave up again. “You bought enough food to feed an army, we could do breakfast here.”

“Why don’t you come back?” Colt spoke and I could not only hear his voice, I felt it rumbling against me from crotch to chest and it felt far from bad.

“We’ll come back,” Dad said, backing out.

“We’ll give you some time. An hour,” Mom said, backing out with Dad.

“Jackie, an hour?” Dad muttered.

“More than an hour,” Mom amended hurriedly.

“How ‘bout we let them call us?” Dad suggested.

“Good idea,” Mom muttered and Dad, one arm extended to grab the door, Mom having disappeared, took one look at me and Colt, gave Colt a nod and then he shut the door.

I pulled back a lot harder against Colt’s arms but those arms didn’t budge.

I tipped my head back to look at him, putting steady pressure on his shoulders with my hands.

“Let me go.”

“Why’d you name your cat Wilson?” he asked.

In my confusion at his inane and insane question, my steady pressure ceased.

“What?”

“Wilson. Weird name for a cat.”

“Colt.”

He grinned. “Better than Mr. Purrsie Purrs.”

I put the pressure back on. “Colt.”

His neck bent, dipping his face to mine and he murmured, “Great kiss, baby.”

The pressure ceased and I whispered, “Colt.”

“I liked it.”

“I think I need to move out,” I announced.

He ignored me. “A lot.”

“Maybe I’ll move in with Joe-Bob. He was in Vietnam. Maybe he knows hand to hand combat.”

“When you moaned in my mouth… fuck,” Colt muttered, his arms giving me a squeeze.

“Will you stop talking about the kiss?” I squealed.

The grin came back but he said, “You aren’t movin’ out.”

“I think it’s best.”

“You wouldn’t know what was best for you if it smacked you on the ass.”

“Colt.”

“Though, I’ll give it a try.”

“Colt!” I shouted, giving his shoulders a shove and succeeding in gaining about three inches of space before his arms went tight again, hauling me right back.

“You wanna go to breakfast with your parents?” he asked.

What I wanted was to find a safe place in the world, one, little, safe place. I didn’t care if it was a cardboard box in an alley in the scummiest section of New York City. If it was safe, with no murderers or bitchy ex-girlfriends of the guy’s bed I was sleeping in or ex-high school sweethearts who yelled at me and teased me about what I called my cat and who could kiss way, way better than he did twenty-two years ago, then I wanted to be in that box.