24. The Genie Is on the Loose
Chapter 24
The Genie Is on the Loose
Reece was numb. Inside and out. He was a weightless being, barely aware of himself, floating in a pool of warm ecstasy. Was this how an amoeba felt? No. As far as he knew, amoebas didn’t have the kind of sex that blew one’s mind so profoundly that one could barely remember who they were or what species they belonged to.
And sex was the wrong word because its meaning was limited to the mere physical act of intercourse. Coupling. Joining. Fucking. What had just happened between Neve and him was not of this earth. It was massive , but massive on the scale of the universe, and he struggled to find ways that even came close to describing the seismic realignment deep inside him.
Otherworldly. All-consuming. Cataclysmic. Spiritual .
Holy. Shit.
He was reduced to expletives to try and make sense of the epic crossing he’d just made into a whole other dimension.
Was the experience with Neve on an entirely different plane, one that lived in the stratosphere? No, sex was an earthy thing. He was used to earthy. He wasn’t used to whatever this was. Had no clue what this was.
Gradually, dragging air into his lungs, he became aware he lay atop Neve. Yes, he needed to breathe. Needed to breathe to stay alive so he could feel that sensation sweep through him all over again. If he was to make love to her again—and he planned to over and over, as long as his body cooperated—he was going to be reduced to mere nucleons. He couldn’t think of a better way to dissolve and become particles of star stuff.
Somehow, she had wriggled her hands from his grasp, and her fingertips danced over his back, into his hair, raising goose bumps on his bare skin. Little sighs fell from her soft lips as they trailed sweet kisses along his shoulder.
He raised his head, ready to send a smile from his eyes deep into hers, but stopped short.
What the … ?
Blood decorated her chin and his shoulder where she’d kissed him.
“Neve, your chin opened up!” He touched it with his finger. “Goddamn it, that’s my fault!” He rolled off her, grabbing his gym shorts as he stood on wobbly legs. He came at her with the shorts to clean off the blood.
She propped herself up on an elbow, and a smile tugged the corners of her mouth as she pushed his hand away. “It doesn’t hurt. You don’t need to use your shorts. I’ll just go clean up in the bathroom.”
“Let me clean it up. I’m the one who did it. Besides, I need to re-glue it.” He held out his hand to her, but she hesitated. Her eyes shifted from the covers to the floor, and the flush on her cheeks from their lovemaking deepened to a crimson. She peered over the side of the bed, as if searching for something.
It hit him. Shyness had overtaken her. His heart turned a little gooey. He was infatuated with the bold woman she’d been when she’d seized him—literally—but he was also besotted by shy Neve. Sweet Neve. Funny Neve. Doctor Neve.
Leaning over her, he slid his hands under her arms and hoisted her to her feet. He began steering her toward the bathroom .
“Reece, I need to put something on,” she protested.
“No, you don’t. Besides, you’ll get blood on anything you put on.” And I really want to look at you.
In the bathroom, he flipped on the light and was immediately transfixed by their reflection in the mirror. She stood in front of him, so much smaller than he, her pale skin gleaming gold against his tanned tone.
With one hand, he cupped her chin, and the other rested on her hip. “Neve, look at you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Even he could hear the reverence in his voice.
Her blush deepened everywhere . She craned her head to look at him, obviously embarrassed. Yeah, he was enraptured by embarrassed Neve too. “Um, my chin?”
It occurred to him she needed to see herself the way he did, so she would understand how gorgeous she was. But he wanted her comfortable, so he sat her on the counter, her back toward the mirror, and wet a cotton ball he plucked from a clear jar. He dabbed at her chin, straining to keep his eyes from drifting down her body. She sat obediently, her hands flitting now and again as though she wanted to cover herself.
“I like you like this,” he murmured, hoping to reassure her.
“Bloody, you mean?”
“No, naked,” he chuckled. “I like you naked. That dress you wore in Vegas was killer, but this is by far my favorite outfit on you.”
A skeptical hmph escaped her.
He grabbed some more glue from his kit and soon had her wound cleaned and closed. “I’m really sorry. Does it hurt?”
“Stings more than anything.” Her fingers feathered over his shoulder. “We need to clean you up too.”
“I’ll let you do it.” Impulse had him cranking on the shower.
Her eyes widened. “Are you … taking a shower?”
“Yeah. So are you.”
“But …”
Amused, he took advantage of her obvious befuddlement and prodded her under the spray, where he adjusted the nozzle so he took the brunt of the water on his back. “Turn around. We need to keep your chin dry.” He spun her gently, wrapped an arm around her middle, and pulled her back against his front .
God, that felt good! He let out a groan of contentment as he held her to him, relishing the feel of her skin against his as warm water sluiced over them. His dick agreed. Not even ten minutes had passed since he’d emptied himself inside her, yet his cock was already perking up.
His free hand closed around a bar of soap. “You first.” His voice was surprisingly husky. Starting at her shoulders, he worked the soap down her spine to the flare of her waist, pausing to inspect the dimples above her drool-worthy ass.
“See something back there you like?” The smirk was evident in her voice.
“Everything. I like it all. You are a fucking goddess.”
He took his time lathering her mouthwatering globes.
“I think they’re clean,” she squeaked, a little breathless.
“Just admiring my work.” He brought the soap to her front and dropped his hand between her legs.
“Oh!”
He nudged her legs apart, one hand holding her thigh in place as he used the other to languidly brush the bar over her, taking it at a gentle pace. Soon she was leaning back into him, and the sinful sounds of pleasure coming from her made his dick grow even harder. He let her leg go and quickly slid in a finger, pumping it slow and easy while his other hand used the soap to toy with her pretty pink nipples. Being a head taller gave him the optimal vantage point to see it all.
“Oh God,” she moaned.
“Feel good?” he whispered in her ear.
“So good.” She reached around and grabbed onto his ass cheeks. “I need something I can hold on to,” she breathed.
“You grab whatever you want.”
He added a second finger and increased the tempo. Her hips bucked against his hand, and soon she was shuddering as her orgasm moved through her. Letting the soap drop, he tightened his hold on her, his arm across her chest and hand palming one breast. She sagged against him.
His fingers were inside her, but he stilled them and gave her a moment to come down. After she’d caught her breath, he whispered, “Put your hands on the wall.” He waited for her to reposition herself before he began working inside her again, adding a third finger. Her panting and mewling echoed off the tile walls as he increased the friction. Meanwhile, his thumb circled that sweet, sweet spot. He applied varying levels of pressure until he hit that pitch-perfect note that made her body vibrate like taut strings of a violin.
His mind’s camera snapped pictures of her body undulating to the rhythm of his hand and the way rivulets ran over her creamy breasts, how her sensitive peaks tightened into tiny beads when he rolled them between his finger and thumb. This was a sight that would be emblazoned in his memory banks forever.
When she climaxed this time, she came hard and fast, crying out his name. She went limp against him, and he freed his fingers and held her up, laying tongue-filled kisses along her nape, her shoulders.
He fondled her breasts, and he could feel her heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings beneath his fingers.
“So damn perfect,” he mumbled against her wet skin.
“Oh yes,” she hummed.
Life seemed to return to her limbs, and she spun in his arms, her lids heavy. Blue eyes peeked at him from beneath her lashes, and her hands twined around the back of his neck.
“That was … that was …”
He kissed her long and deep. “Yeah,” he whispered against her mouth when he finally released it.
She dropped her hand and began stroking his shaft, fingertips teasing his crown. “Someone’s ready to go already.”
“That’s your fault.” He kissed the tip of her nose. The way her body moved when he touched her, how she responded to him, was a turn-on like none he’d ever experienced. How had he missed out on this for so long?
She nipped at his jaw. “Your turn to get cleaned up.” The last two words were a provocative come-on that lit an eager fire inside him.
“I think it’s time to move this party. I don’t want your chin getting wet, and I’m already clean from standing here. Besides, the hot water’s running out.” In fact, icy needles he hadn’t registered before were hitting his back.
Outside the shower, she tossed him a towel she’d pulled from a linen cupboard. Forgotten was her shyness as she stood in front of him and let his eyes rove all over her while she casually unfolded her own towel. She had no idea how thoroughly she stole his breath, how she left him dumbfounded. He followed the curve of her neck to the swell of her full breasts, down to her narrow waist that widened into hips he wanted his hands on. Before his gaze strayed lower, she wrapped the towel around herself.
“Damn,” he hissed under his breath.
Her eyes dropped to the flagpole sticking out of the towel secured around his own waist, and she laughed. “Yes, we definitely have to take care of you. Hmm, I have an idea. Maybe instead of a foot massage …”
“We’ve got all night to do that. First, though, we need fuel.” Now that they had crossed that forbidden line and there was no putting the genie back in the bottle, he planned to get his fill of his wife for as long as she would let him—or until he had to leave.
The reminder crushed a corner of the cloud he was floating on.
“Still sorry you missed the parade?” He knocked his knee against hers as they sat side by side at the kitchen counter. The kitchen lights were off to save Neve’s headache, and three fat candles bathed the space in a romantic glow. Together, they had cooked breakfast for dinner—“brinner.” He’d made quick work of his meal minutes before, but Neve was moaning over cheesy eggs in a way that made it hard for him to keep his hands to himself. That made it hard, period. Especially because she wore only a robe, and now that he knew what hid beneath it, he wanted to go exploring all over again. He could so easily reach over and slip his hand through the gap at her neckline and touch … and touch … and touch.
She must have noticed him perving out because she sat up and cinched the opening together, though to his delight, it slackened as soon as she leaned forward for another bite of eggs.
He was dressed in a T-shirt and the same gym shorts, which were proving a poor container for the optimistic appendage that kept rising from half-mast to full-mast. Keeping himself under control hadn’t been this big a challenge since he’d been in high school. He also couldn’t remember being as aggressive with a woman as he’d been with Neve in the bedroom, but he liked what she brought out in him, especially since she seemed to like it. The way she affected him was visceral, as if he’d regressed tens of thousands of years— way beyond high school—to a feral state where no cerebral activity at any level took place. Purely primal. Remembering how she had rubbed herself with his dick, feeling her soft skin teasing his tip—not to mention her tongue, her lips—made his shaft swell to a painful hardness. Fuck dinner. He was ready for dessert.
“You okay over there?” She slid him a mischievous side-eye.
“I will be as soon as you’re done with dinner.” He rested his hand on her thigh and snaked it beneath the hem of her robe. Miles of velvety skin beckoned him to caress, and he traced tiny circles with his thumb.
“What did you have in mind?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Another impulse seized him. “I’ll show you. You keep right on enjoying your dinner. Don’t mind me.” He slid from his seat to his knees and wormed his way between her and the counter. She gasped as he swiftly undid her robe, shoved the garment out of his way to expose her creamy thighs, and pushed her legs apart. Cupping her ass, he drew her forward along her wooden seat until she met his mouth.
She let out a surprised gasp.
He splayed her wide with his fingers, and his tongue got busy tasting her, laving her, spearing her. Her fork clattered to her plate, and she leaned back in her chair, scooting forward, right where he wanted her. Her head dropped back, and she moaned … loudly. Pearl whimpered from her bed in the corner, but Neve reassured the dog she was okay, though it came out in a harsh garble Reece wasn’t sure the dog could understand. He barely understood it, and he spoke human fluently.
Pearl settled down, and Reece turned all his attention to the banquet laid out in front of him. He nibbled and feasted, holding said banquet in place as she writhed on the seat. She panted and whimpered and kicked, kindling a burgeoning need inside him that strained his cock to the point of bursting. He kept at it.
What had gotten into him? The need to know how loud he could make her scream. The urgency to find out how far he could push her. How hard could he make her come? The possibilities charged him up.
He discovered that answer a moment later when her body seized and juddered in place. She wailed her release.
And God, he loved it!
“Reece, stop!” she begged .
Pausing his assault, he looked up at her lust-drunk eyes and her flushed skin. Her chest rose and fell, making her tits sway enticingly. The sight pulled him from his crouch. He took a rosy bud in his mouth. “What do you need me to stop?” He clamped down, then soothed it with his tongue.
“I need to catch my breath,” she half panted, half laughed. “And the windows. People can see. The neighbors.”
“There’s no one there.” Furthermore, what little view the neighbors had—if they’d been there—was blocked by trees. “Even if there is,” he reasoned, “it’s too dark in here to see anything.” Argument over, he moved to the other breast and repeated his show of appreciation. Then he took command of her mouth, his tongue stroking hers so she could taste herself.
He drew back and scanned her boneless body slumped in the seat, highlighted by the candles’ amber flames. So fucking beautiful.
“You’re merciless,” she accused.
“Not true. And I’ll prove it. You catch your breath while I take the dishes over to the sink.”
“Then what?” Her breathing was still ragged, and he felt a beam of self-satisfaction warm him all over.
“Then get ready ’cause I’m coming for your sweet ass.”
She squirmed into an upright position and began gathering her robe together. He gently batted her hands away. “That’s not what I meant by getting ready.”
She caught him by surprise when she rubbed her fingers along the fabric barely containing his rock-hard shaft. “Does getting ready have something to do with this?”
He wagged a finger at her and cleared the counter. The dishes rattled as he hurriedly off-loaded them. Wasting no time, he returned and lifted her to her feet, slipped off her robe, and perched her rump on the counter. He couldn’t keep from dipping his head to suck her pearly peaks once more.
She wrapped her hands around his head, tunneling her fingers into his hair, shooting goose bumps over his scalp as she urged him to take more.
A soft giggle escaped her. “Didn’t know you were a boob man.”
He didn’t know if the label fit, but he was quickly becoming a convert. And he did know one thing. “I love your tits,” he murmured as he lavished them. He raised his head and cupped one in each hand, strumming her nipples as he mined her eyes. “Is that okay to say?” She nodded. “I love how they fill my hands.” Lowering his gaze, he blatantly admired them, relishing their weight. She ran her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and clasped them behind his neck, letting him look his fill. The gleam in her eyes bordered on a challenge.
Fuck, he was so hard it hurt.
“Lie back,” he growled. While she lowered herself to her elbows, he yanked off his clothes and pushed aside the bar stools, nearly knocking one over. He gathered her legs around his waist. Her eyes were riveted to his. Hands gripping her hips, he drove into her slick heat—slickness and heat he’d kindled inside her—and nearly lost it on that first stroke. It wasn’t merely the friction or the overwhelming sensation of being cocooned deep inside her, it was the look of pure ecstasy in her expression. Her lids closed, and her back met the countertop and arched, as if she was offering him the very thing he’d been drooling over.
“Jesus, Neve,” he grunted. “Never felt anything like you.” He looked down and watched as he slid in and out of her body. Her hips rose to meet every thrust. The sight broke open something inside him, and he pumped harder, faster, deeper, his hips flexing and his glutes straining.
Neve let out a rolling, high-pitched moan. “Reece! I’m …” Her body tightened around him like a vise as her orgasm rolled through her.
Fire pooled and sizzled like lightning along his spine, and when his release shot from him an instant later, he shouted her name so loud Pearl began barking. He collapsed, sprawled half on top of Neve, a sweaty, trembling bag of noodley muscles barely holding together his bones. He gasped for air as his climax spread through him like a warm current.
Neve’s heavy breaths matched his own, rising and falling in rhythm. Moments later, she gave his shoulder a nudge. “Better let me up so Pearl knows you’re not murdering me.”
Reece glanced over his shoulder. The dog was having a fit a few feet away from his bare ankles. He’d been so lost in their lovemaking and his own climax that Pearl’s sharp barks had faded completely away. Now that his synapses began firing in sync once more, the dog’s pitch hurt his ears.
He slid off and helped Neve to a sitting position. Leaning against one elbow, he watched her bend down and coax the dog to settle. Soon Pearl was lying on the floor, front paws stretched out, her head resting on them. Totally relaxed. Neve had that way about her; she certainly had that effect on him .
As he watched the silk of her golden strands slide over her bare shoulders and along her pale back, he realized she brought out a crazy in him he hadn’t known existed. She stirred up foreign, heady emotions inside him. He loved it. Was overwhelmed by it. Didn’t know what to do with it.
He was hopelessly captivated, ready to surrender and slip under her whisperer’s spell.
Snatching the robe puddled on the floor beside her, Neve rose and slipped it on, cinching the tie around her waist. He straightened, playing with the ends of the tie while she flipped her hair out and down her back. Then she rose up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, her big blues sparkling in the candlelight. She was so damn beautiful. He’d always thought so, but he was seeing her with crystal clarity now.
“Hey, I’ll do the dishes,” she said right before placing a sweet kiss on his mouth. That simple, intimate act stirred a different well inside him, quiet though equally strong.
As she headed for the sink, he skinned on his shorts and plopped onto a seat. Propping up one elbow, he rested his chin in his palm and watched her graceful movements as she worked. Questions tumbled around in his head.
In the past, he’d viewed intimacy one way: Sex was sex. A means to release pent-up energy. A crashing together of two needy bodies doing what nature had imprinted in them. At times the joining was sedate and at other times jolting. Mostly, it was unremarkable and ended quickly, but hopefully both parties got the satisfying ending they’d been after. Inevitably, the encounter and the woman were archived in his memory banks, rarely to be dragged to the surface again.
He’d never given much thought to the other person in the equation, beyond doing his damnedest to get her off before he got off. Down to its basest definition, intercourse was an exchange of mutual biological needs, where no heartstrings ever became entangled. And while he was ashamed to admit it, getting her off was motivated out of pure selfishness. Get her to the finish line so I can finish.
Neve was an entirely different story. Besides the past they shared, a fascinating new dynamic had come into play, one where he was spurred by an astonishing self less ness. With her, he was driven to serve—odd as that sounded—to call up his power to satisfy her needs, to make her happy. Especially to make her happy. To see her satisfied and smiling. His own needs not only took a back seat, but they were the farthest seat at the back of a train.
Okay, so maybe not the farthest. But still, making her climb that high until she reached the stars was his goal. To watch her get there was incomparable to anything he’d ever known. An erotic rush, and more of a high than any rescue he’d ever pulled off.
The difference between Neve and everybody else was glaringly obvious: He hadn’t been in love with any of his past encounters.
His head began to hurt with all the discoveries thudding through it, but a lone voice echoed inside it. I can’t let her go.
He could no longer escape it. Hooks had embedded themselves in him, and threads wove between them in a tight web. Every single one of his heartstrings was ensnared … for better or for worse.