Goin’ Home
It was hot, a close-to-Midsummer kind of night, and the air was scented with the magnolias and honeysuckle that were in bloom. She led the way around the corner, off Jackson Square, and they walked in silence until she stopped in front of a house. Set back from the street a little way, it was a typical nineteenth-century, slightly run-down rambling old place; Logan could see a light on in one of the top floor windows. An arbor stood at the entrance from the street, its lattice thickly overgrown with ivy and jasmine.
“This’s me. Well—I have the ground floor.” He pulled her off the sidewalk, under the arch of the arbor where they were in the shadows. He took her face in his hands and she reached up to rest her own hands over his.
“I don’t have to come in,” he said gruffly. “You don’t—owe me or anythin’.”
He could feel her lips curve into that slow smile. “I want you to, though.” She turned her head a little to one side and he felt her lips against the inside of his wrist. He sucked in a breath at the touch. “Come on.”
He let her lead him up onto the big, sprawling porch and she reached into the mailbox for the key to the door. She opened the door wide for him to pass; he came in and stood awkwardly while she closed the door and moved past him to turn on a lamp that stood on an end table. He looked around.
They were in a large room, furnished with slightly shabby pieces that she’d probably gotten second-hand. It was a pretty, feminine space, with flowers in vases and artwork on the walls. The whole place smelled like her.
Marie turned at the archway that led into the kitchen. “Want a drink?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want?”
“What’ve you got?”
She went into the kitchen and he heard her open the refrigerator. “There’s beer.” She stood up so she could see him over the low wall between the rooms. “Not Molson. It’s Amstel Light.” She shook her head before he could answer. “Never mind.” She hunted further. “Vodka…and bourbon.”
“Bourbon.” He slung his jacket over the back of the slipcovered couch and set his knapsack down beside it. She came back into the room, carrying two bottles and two glasses filled with ice pinched between her fingers. She moved to set everything down on the coffee table.
“Want to sit down?” He came around and sat down on the couch. “Say when.” He let her pour about two fingers before reaching for the glass.
“Thanks.” She poured some for herself, then picked up the other bottle. “Coke? What d’you want to ruin good liquor like that for?”
“I didn’t offer you any, you notice.” She took a sip and added a little more Coke. “I like it sweet.”
“You can’t taste the bourbon that way.” He took a long swallow of his own drink.
“Really?” Then she was moving towards him, and the next thing he knew she was on his lap, her knees straddling his hips, and her mouth met his, slightly cold and tasting of Jim Beam and Coca-Cola. He managed to set his glass down on the end table before he spilled it. She drew back. “Hmmm. Might have to rethink the Coke after all.”
He took her drink and set it down beside his, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down for another kiss. Her arms went around his neck and he slid a hand under her shirt, up the smooth curve of her back.
He wanted to see her, and he reluctantly freed his lips from hers. “Put your arms up.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip before she raised her arms from his shoulders. He stripped the clingy black top over her head and tossed it onto the couch. One hand found the catch of her bra between her breasts and released it. She arched her shoulders a little and let it fall onto the floor.
“Light touch there, mister.” He grinned when he recognized his words being thrown back at him. Christ, she was gorgeous. He lowered his head to one rose-tipped breast and ran his tongue down its soft swell. She let her head fall back and he ran his hands up between her shoulders, pulling her closer and burying his face against her chest.
Her hands ran up his arms, his neck; they tangled in his hair and pulled his head back. This time her kiss was fiercer, more demanding; when she broke away her eyes were dark with desire. She tugged at his shirt. “You too.”
He didn’t want to let her move far enough away for him to get the shirt off, frankly. Instead he shifted a little, hitching forward so he could stand. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he lifted her. “Where’m I takin’ you, baby?”
“Through there.” She fastened her mouth on his neck as he carried her in the direction she’d indicated, finding a spot where his neck met his shoulder, and it almost made his knees buckle. The windows were open in her bedroom, letting in a soft night breeze that stirred the curtains, and he lay her down on the bed. He loved that the bedclothes were rumpled, not smoothly made up; he could imagine her sleeping here other nights, her long limbs tangled in these sheets that smelled of her. He kissed her again and felt her hands at his waist, pulling off his shirt; he let her strip it over his head and then her hands moved down his chest; his nerves were on fire wherever her fingers traveled.
He moved down her body, tasting every part of her, and she writhed under his touch. He sat back and slid a hand under her hip, lifting her leg up, and ran his hand down until he could reach her ankle. She was wearing sandals; he slid the first one off, then let that leg down and reached for the other. He found the fastening of the leather pants she wore; they laced and it took him a moment to work the strings free. Then he slid the butter-soft leather down her hips, taking her underwear with it, and his earlier wish was fulfilled; she lay naked before him, her legs splayed loosely over his.
She propped herself up on her elbows. “Like what you see, sugar?”
“Hell, yeah.” Like it? She was perfect, her skin creamy white in the moonlight, and he hadn’t seen a woman in his life he’d wanted more.
“I want to see you too.” Her voice was breathy and husky at the same time. She moved then, tucking her knees under her, and he stood up, kicking off his boots. She crawled forward, to the edge of the bed, and reached for his belt, tugging him closer. He let her undo the belt and slip it free, and then her fingers were on the buttons of his jeans, working them free. She had her lip caught between her teeth in the same expression she’d had when concentrating on her shot at the pool table. Now she had the buttons undone and she pushed the jeans down his hips. She rose up on her knees, one hand closing over him as the other ran over his chest. He wound one hand into her hair as she brought her mouth to his body, the hand that was on him stroking slowly as her lips teased his chest and stomach.
He let her go long enough to shove his jeans the rest of the way off. She looked up at him. “I love the way you smell,” she whispered. She took his hands and drew him back down onto the bed with her.
He stretched out beside her, pinning her down with a leg thrown across hers, and ran a hand up her body to cup one of those perfect breasts. She reached towards his face and he seized her wrists, stretching her arms out over her head. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth; she raised her head, trying to free her hands; he moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling and licking. “Hold still.” It came out in a growl.
She caught her breath, but stopped fighting his hold. He bit her neck gently. “That’s a’ girl.” He let go of her hands and she didn’t move. He worked his way down her body, spellbound at the way she shivered at his touch. He let one hand slip between her legs and she threw her head back, a moan escaping her. “Relax, darlin’.” She took a deep breath and stilled herself.
Logan ran his tongue into her navel, feeling her muscles tighten at the slight invasion, then at last bent his head over the curls between her legs. God, her scent was unbelievable, heady and rich, and she was already wet and ready for him. He breathed out over her sex and she moaned once more; it was a sound he wanted to force from her again and again. Then he flicked his tongue over her, tasting her for the first time, and the moan turned into a whimper. She didn’t move her arms from where he’d put them, but she clutched the bedclothes in her hands as he continued to tease her with his tongue.
He focused his attention on her, his senses inundated: the soft thighs under his hands, the sounds she made as he caressed her, the musky taste of her, honey-rich and exhilarating. She was beautifully responsive to his touch; she seemed to hold nothing back, opening herself to his hands and mouth on her most intimate parts. He slid one finger into her and she gasped, arching her back with the sensation.
That’s it, darlin’. He wanted to feel her come, needed to know what she’d look like, sound like, when he sent her over the edge. He increased the pace and soon she was trembling, the muscles of her thighs quivering, and as he slid his finger deeper into her he felt her convulse around him.
“Jesus fucking christ.” Her hands slammed down onto the bed beside her and her body half rose off the mattress. “Oh, my god.” Her hands caught at his shoulders, dragging him back up, and she kissed him hungrily. Her body arched up under his, pressing against him in invitation, and he didn’t hesitate. He reached down, finding the opening of her sex, and guided himself into her with one strong thrust. She bit down on his lip as he entered her, hard enough to draw blood for a moment before the cut closed up. She was still trembling with the aftershocks of her own orgasm as he drove into her again and again; she raked her fingernails down his back and the sensations were driving him wild. He moved his hips against hers faster and she wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him even deeper into that slick heat.
He wanted to draw it out, bring her with him again before reaching his own climax, but it was too much, feeling her around him and her hands and lips on his body. She raised her head and fastened her mouth over one nipple, and it took him over the brink. His mouth worked silently against her neck as the sensations washed over him. He only just managed not to collapse on top of her, staying just enough in control to roll to one side. She moved with him, keeping her arms around his neck and holding him deep inside her with one long leg wrapped around his. She kissed him again, gently this time, and lay her head back on the pillows. “That was amazing,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Amazing didn’t begin to cover it. She shifted her hips a little and he groaned at the motion. She nuzzled against his neck.
“You sure you’re finished, sugar?” Her teeth and lips worked against his skin and if he hadn’t been ready to go again, he would have been at that. He grabbed her waist, rolling onto his back so she was astride him. She laughed and leaned forward for another kiss, the curtain of her hair falling in a sweet-smelling cascade around them both.
It was slower this time. She moved against him leisurely, sensuously, his hands on her hips guiding her. She sighed with pleasure as he moved one hand up to stroke her breasts and let her head fall back as he traced a path down her stomach. She moaned again when his fingers found her and she rocked forward against his touch. She reached forward, bracing herself against his chest, as the motion of her hips increased.
“God, yes, right there—“ She dug her nails into him again and he felt her muscles clenching around him. He sat up, sliding his hands under her thighs and bringing her legs around him so he could shift onto his knees. He supported her with one arm, his other hand going between them again to excite her further. Her mouth found that spot on his neck again and her legs clenched around him as she rode him. At last he felt her shudder again around him, making fevered moans against his ear, and he seized her hips, bringing her down against him harder and harder until he was again overcome by ecstasy. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck, her chin, her face, tasting the sweat that that trickled down the soft skin in the humid summer air.
Gently he lay her back down, letting himself slip out of her as he drew a sheet up over her. She stretched drowsily, her body moving with feline grace under the thin linen, and turned her head to burrow into the pillow a little, already half-asleep.
He rested on his elbow for a moment, gazing down at her. He raised his hand, still damp with her, and brought it to his face, breathing in that incredible scent. Almost unconsciously he ran his hand over his own neck, anointing himself with it. With her.
He reached down to brush back one long lock of her hair that had fallen forward over her face, and she sighed and shifted a little on her pillow.
God, she’s beautiful. He stayed there several minutes, just watching her, before he reluctantly sat up and reached for his jeans where they lay in a tangle of their clothes on the floor.
“Hey.” He turned; her eyes were open. “Where you goin’?”
“Back to the bar.”
She hitched herself up onto one elbow. “Why? Ain’t gonna be any more trouble there tonight.” Her drawl had increased in her sleepy satiety and she held out a hand. “C’mon back to bed.”
It really hadn’t occurred to him that she’d want him to stay. That particular intimacy wasn’t something he was familiar or even comfortable with; in fact, he was usually anxious to leave as soon as possible. But the idea of sleeping beside her, waking up with her in his arms, was almost too enthralling. He hesitated, and then her hand was on his arm, stroking gently, and he surrendered to the temptation. “You sure?”
She looked a little puzzled. “’Course I’m sure.” She tugged gently on his arm and he let her draw him back down with her; she raised the sheet to settle it over him as well. He lay back against the pillow and she nestled her head on his shoulder; he put an arm around her, pulling her close, and she sighed, letting her hand rest on his chest.
“You’re…so warm,” she murmured drowsily.
He knew when she fell asleep, felt her breathing grow slow and steady and her body relax against his. The breeze from the window brought the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine with it, and he knew he’d always associate it with her, even if tonight was the only night he was with her. He lay awake for some time, absorbing the novelty of it, before drifting off himself. The last conscious thought he remembered having was This is what it must feel like to be at home.
Then he slept.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
So what would you do at Marie's place?