chapter Ten
It was like she’d dumped a cold bucket of water on his head.
In other circumstances, the look on his face would have been comical. Instead it was just awful. He dropped to the floor, pulling her close, a torrent of apologies falling from his mouth.
She seemed unable to do anything but weep, for the shame, the embarrassment, her many failures.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She chanted the mantra.
“No, baby, no.”
“I don’t know why—” She hiccupped and he stopped her, pressing her head against his warm chest.
“You don’t need to. Just relax. Let it go. Hang on.”
That last she thought was more comforting nonsense, but he got up and left her there, shivering and naked. Quickly he was back with a blanket and a key. She huddled in the soft warmth while he unlocked the cuffs around her wrists and ankles.
“No,” she said when he reached for her bottom. “I’ll do that.”
Unable to meet his face and the remorseful guilt she saw there, she tottered to the bathroom and leaned on the little sink, trying to let her nerves settle. Her hair looked like rats had gotten in it, but she still had not brought a brush down. She needed some truce time, to walk past the taped line and take care of some of these things.
Which meant she planned to keep doing this. Despite it all. How interesting.
She drew a deep breath.
Finally, she splashed cold water on her face, steeled herself and pulled out the phallus—not easy with the slick surface. It was dirty and she wiped it off with toilet paper. Animals full of piss and shit and blood.
That was Steel’s world, not hers. He had the grim childhood. The criminal friends. The deviant sexual practices.
And she had…something much prettier on the surface. Glossy. Clean. Manners and balls and watercolor landscapes just like all the other watercolor landscapes in every gallery housed in every historic building.
She rinsed the glass phallus with soap and water and set it on the sink to dry, wishing she had a bit of Clorox to disinfect it. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door.
Steel waited with a voluminous black robe that he held open for her. Her lips wobbling with the smile, she stepped into it and tied the sash, turning to face him.
“Why always black?”
He paused. Not what he’d expected her to say. Then he stroked her cheek with a finger that visibly trembled. “The contrast is irresistible.”
She nodded.
“Althea…” He took her hands, rubbing his thumbs over the white skin, stark against the black sleeves. Ghostlike. As if she weren’t quite real, either. “I apologize to you. I lost control. Something that shouldn’t happen.” He laughed, ragged. “Something that’s never happened to me. It’s unforgivable I know, but—”
“Apology accepted,” she interrupted. “After all, you warned me. Twice.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but—I just kind of went a little crazy. I think I’m wound up over you. I don’t know where my head’s at half the time.”
She studied him, the abandoned boy under all that tough exterior. “We haven’t done much in a normal way, have we?”
His brown eyes flashed to hers, uncertain. “No. I guess not. That’s my fault too.”
“Just stop.” She sighed. “I’m tired.”
“I’ll let you go then.”
“Not that way—can we just do something normal? Talk maybe?”
He tilted his head a little, bemused. “Want to order a pizza? Have some beers—or wine—and just hang?”
She did. It sounded perfect, actually. She nodded.
He glanced around. “I could set up some chairs and—”
“No,” she decided abruptly. “Come on upstairs. We can sit in the rooftop garden. It’s a lovely evening. I think.”
“You sure? You don’t have to, because of what I said today. I was out of line.”
“No. I mean—I’m sure. I mean, please come up.”
He nodded, slow and measuring. “Okay. I’ll order the pizza and change clothes. What do you want on it?”
“You choose. I’ll leave the doors unlocked.” With a surge of affection, she rose up on her toes and kissed him, savoring the fact that she surprised him.
She fetched her glasses and climbed the stairs, looking over her shoulder to see him watching her, his brow knitted.
Upstairs, she brushed the snarls from her hair and changed out of the robe into white short-shorts and a pink T-shirt. The cats padded to the windows suggestively and, though the evening was warm, there seemed to be a nice breeze off the water, so she killed the AC and opened up the tall windows, including the French doors to the little garden deck.
A knock on the door made her jump and she realized no one really ever came in that way. She opened the door to Steel, large in her doorway, pecs bunched against his black shirt and biceps corded as he held the red and white cooler. His hair was wet, his chin free of stubble and he smelled of bay rum aftershave. Stepping back to let him in, she commented that she did own a refrigerator.
“Bet there’s not any beer in it though,” he replied, setting the cooler on the polished wood floor. “I told the pizza dude to come up the alley and honk—wasn’t sure how you usually do it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a pizza delivered.”
He gave her a mock-astonished look and shook his head, then spotted Artemisia in the window. “You have a cat?”
“Yes—two.” So strange that he knew so much about her and not the daily stuff. “That’s Artemisia. Tassi is out in the garden.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her, crossed the room and scratched the cat’s ears, to her ecstatic delight. “You named them after the warring painters?”
“They had a contentious relationship as kittens. One minute snuggled together, the next spitting and hissing.” She shrugged. “It seemed appropriate.”
“You never mentioned you have cats.” He scanned the series of rooms, sharp eyes taking in the funny angles she loved, the décor, pausing on the various pieces on the walls. He seemed big for her space, all that intense male energy in contrast to her wicker furniture and pale watermelon throws. But Artemisia arched her spine into his hand, blinking in feline adoration. Apparently his charm extended to all females.
“It’s kind of a cliché, isn’t it? Aging single woman, lives alone with her two cats.”
“Darlin’, you are the least cliché person I ever met.”
“I doubt that.” Funny how this felt like a first date. Even while her bottom still stung from his belt. She went to pour herself a glass of white wine. “Want a glass for your beer?”
“Nah.” He pulled out a can from the cooler, popped the top, took a sip and set it down on her counter. Water from the ice created a little pool and she itched to grab a coaster, though the moisture wouldn’t matter to the polished granite. “Do you want to talk about what happened downstairs just now?”
“No!” she gasped and gulped the wine.
“We have to,” he told her, quietly. “I screwed up, I know, but—”
“Not yet,” she interrupted him. “Tell me, did you study art history? That you know obscure Italian painters.”
“I read a lot.” He tucked his thumbs in his jeans and turned in a slow circle. “So where’s your stuff?”
“My stuff?”
“Your paintings, drawings, whatever. Since we’re getting to know each other.”
Her face flushed. “I destroyed them all.”
His intent gaze fastened on her. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes. As a matter of fact I did.”
“No.” He shook his head slowly, eyes serious. “You kept something. One or two—the ones you love most.”
She looked away.
“Aha!” He pounced. “I knew it. I want to see them.”
“Absolutely not!” She drank from her wineglass too quickly and choked a little.
He came around the counter and snugged his hands around her waist, holding her loosely and ducking his head to try to look into her face. “Aww…come on, baby. Let me see. Please?”
“You don’t understand.” And she felt helpless to explain. “They’re just…terrible. I can’t bear to see you laugh at them.”
“I won’t laugh,” he promised, suddenly solemn. “I would never, ever laugh. Not at you and not at art. I’ve been there, I know what it’s like—to hang yourself out there.”
He would. It must have been something to show his work to people, before anyone signed off on it being art instead of porn. But then, he was clearly so much braver than she was, in so many ways.
“In my bedroom closet,” she sighed.
“Lead the way.” He gestured grandly, with a little bow.
She dragged her feet, not sure why she was doing this. While he surveyed her bed, with the fanciful wrought iron posts and white lace curtains fluttering in the breeze, she opened her closet and took out the set of carefully wrapped paintings. She set them on the dimity spread, all three of them. Taking a calming breath, she unwrapped the brown paper from each one. Then stood and studied them, not looking at Steel, terrified of what she’d see in his face.
Trying to assess them objectively, she still saw what was always there. The colors were muddied, the lines all wrong. Derivative, uninspired. Poorly executed.
She sighed. “Say something.”
His hands slid around her waist and he pulled her back against his chest, kissing her temple. “They look like you smell.”
Her laugh surprised her. “That’s absurd.”
“Not at all. I knew nothing you have hanging up was yours—and I would have known these. They whisper of you. Like rosewater and lemonade and that slanting light just before sunset. But I don’t see all of you here.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s more to you than this. You know what I see in you.”
A tremor passed through her at the thought of those wild and insanely erotic moments in the basement that he’d captured on canvas. “I don’t want to think about that right now.”
“No worries.” His lips trailed down her cheek and his tongue touched the shell of her ear, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. “Tell me—why are they so small?”
“They’re the usual size for watercolors.”
“But didn’t you tell me small is harder for you to see?”
“I’m surprised you remember that conversation.”
He turned her in his arms and looked at her, sadness in his gaze. “I remember everything about you, lovely Althea.” His lips brushed hers, tentative, asking a question. She slid her arms around him and he relaxed into it, lavishing her with tender kisses.
Broken by the sharp honk of a horn.
“Pizza guy,” he murmured against her mouth. “I’ll go pay and meet you on the porch?”
“Okay. Just let me wrap these up.”
“You don’t have to hide them away, you know.”
“I do.” She pulled out of his arms and she knew her smile must look sad. “For my own peace of mind, I have to.”
It felt weirdly normal, sitting out on the deck under the warm sky, surrounded by her potted flowers, eating the meat-lovers pizza and chatting with Steel. He dropped the topic of her art and, thankfully, didn’t bring up any of the basement activities, either. They talked about little things, town gossip and the often bizarre politics of the art world.
They lapsed into quiet. In the full dark, crickets chirped, and a lovely jasmine-scented breeze blew in. Romantic and lovely.
“I’m sorry that I freaked out,” she offered, finally.
“No, honey. I told you—I’m the one who broke the rules. I knew that was an uncomfortable thing for you and I just had to go there…” Disgust at himself ran through his voice and she laughed. “I’m glad I amuse you.”
There, at least he sounded more like himself. She reached out and took his hand, cold and damp from the beer he’d been holding.
“You always do, don’t you? I think that’s part of why you fascinate me. You just have to take a little more, to push the boundaries, to shock and unsettle people.”
He was quiet. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“Until you terrify your girlfriend, that is.”
Her heart warmed. Despite the oddness of their relationship, she was his girlfriend. He was right to expect to come to the ball with her. “You didn’t scare me. I just…have never liked doing that. I don’t know why.”
“You don’t have to know why. It just is. We all have our things.”
“I’m sorry. I know that for guys it’s the best part.”
Steel laughed, full-throated. The neighbors would hear. Let them, part of her whispered. Her own voice.
“Althea, darlin’—it is not the best part. Guys who think that are just a*sholes.”
“But it’s nice.”
“Of course it’s nice. It’s just not everything.”
She’d never had a conversation like this with a man. It felt freeing. Fun.
“I like it when you do it to me,” she told him. “I want to be able to do it for you.”
He squeezed her hand. “You don’t ever have to, as far as I’m concerned. Despite how I behaved, I don’t ever want you to do something that doesn’t turn you on.”
“You stopped. When I said the safe word, you stopped immediately. I think I should have said it sooner.”
A dry chuckle coughed out of him. “Uh, yeah. That would help, sweetheart.”
“I want to try again. You said you could teach me.”
“Tonight?” He sounded surprised, but also—yes, excited. His thumb passed over her palm and she could practically feel his skin warming. “You’ve been through the wringer. We don’t have to do everything right away.”
“Tonight.” Before she started obsessing about it. “But on my terms.”
“Name the terms,” he breathed.
“I want you to wear those chaps and your motorcycle jacket. Nothing else. Meet me in my bedroom.” Exhilaration spun through her. This is how it felt to take control. Good. Powerful.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “And may I say, I love the way you think.”
* * *
She lit candles, covering them with hurricane lamps to amplify their glow and protect the flames from the warm ocean breezes. She put on a white negligee Abby had given her, just a simple column of silk, and let her hair fall loose. On impulse, she slipped on very high pearl sandals. Then she just waited.
He’d raised an eyebrow when she handed him a card with the codes for the various doors, but didn’t comment. Really, he didn’t need to.
The front door opened and she took a breath, steadying her nerves. But all hesitation fled when he stopped in her bedroom doorway, bracing his hands on the molding.
Oh. Yes.
The black leather jacket hung open, showing the tanned chest beneath, the erotic coil of the dragon tattoo. The dusting of hair arrowed down his midline, pointing the way to the chaps hanging low on his hips and framing his erect cock.
“Nothing like a little contrast,” she whispered, riveted.
“May I come in, Miss Althea?” He asked it humbly, giving her all the power. She stood, enjoying the way he took her in.
“On your knees, yes.” She threw it out there, to see what he would do.
Eyes glittering with lust, he lowered himself to his knees and crawled across her white carpet. Not quite humble, though. More like a predatory cat, stalking her, gaze challenging her.
He paused at her feet and pressed a reverent kiss to the toes revealed by her strappy shoe.
“Thank you for wearing these shoes,” he breathed. “They’re beautiful.”
She hadn’t thought about how he liked shoes. Serendipity that she’d put them on. She sat back down on the foot of the bed.
“To express your gratitude, you may kiss my feet as you wish.” She tried to sound imperious, but her breath fluttered. His curly head bent low, pressing fervent, hot kisses to her arches, ankles, a tongue darting between her toes and making her gasp. The chaps left his ass bare and she could just see the taut curves of it. The sensual haze swamped her, leaving her languid. Like a goddess.
“Stand up,” she murmured, loving how he obeyed immediately. “Hold onto the rail over your head.”
He wrapped his artist’s hands around the curlicued horizontal bar that connected the posts at the foot of the bed, standing before her. On display. She stroked his cock, enjoying the velvety skin, the strength of the hot blood under it. His face tensed in a rictus of concentration. Pinching the tender tip, where a bit of fluid leaked out, she luxuriated in the way he responded. The way he tried to focus into the distance, to control himself.
“Teach me,” she ordered.
“Reach into my jacket pocket—there’s something in there for you.”
She felt around and felt a hard cylinder, pulled it out.
“Lipstick?”
“All blowjobs are better with red lipstick.” Steel winked at her. “It’s one of the rules.”
She got up, went to the mirror and stroked it on. She’d never worn red lipstick in her life. The scarlet color screamed in startling contrast to her skin, blatantly sexual. She began to see his point.
When she sat on the bed again, Steel took one look at her and his cock flexed along with his curse of pleasure. Well worth it.
“Now what?”
“You like ice cream, princess?” At her uncertain nod, he smiled. “Lick the head, just like an ice-cream cone you’re tasting for the first time. Slow and easy. Think about enjoying it like that.”
She flicked her tongue against the reddened head. He groaned. Emboldened, she sucked the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around, experimenting, tasting. His skin there felt velvet smooth, salty and a hint of sweet. She traced the ridge under the head. The skin of his shaft felt different than on the head, soft still, but with that underlayer of hardness. She checked his expression. He had his eyes screwed shut, his face tense.
“Is that wrong?”
His eyes flew open. “F*ck—it’s so good I’m counting baseball stats not to come in that gorgeous crimson mouth right now.”
“Oh.” She gazed at his cock, suddenly nervous.
“I won’t. I’ll tell you so you can pull away, okay? Just…please. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”
“No,” she said, digging in. “I know there’s more. Deeper, you said. I want to learn this.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, eyes glittering. “Okay—start like you were before. Awww…damn. So sweet, so hot. Now work it deeper. Draw it in. Make your mouth soft.”
His voice trailed off into a groan and he flexed his hands on the bar. Easing her way into it, she took him deeper into her mouth, full against her tongue, large and hot. Too full. Feeling a flutter of panic, she gagged and pulled back.
“Wrap your hand around my cock at the root,” Steel coaxed. “You’re in control. You decide how deep I go. If it’s too much, just ease back little, relax and try again.”
“Like this?” She held him at the base and sucked him in a little. That did make it better. In control.
“It all feels just fine. You do just what you want to do.”
“Look at me then.”
Holding his gaze, she slid the straps of her negligee down, letting the silk fall off her breasts. His gaze fastened on them and she stroked her nipples, loving the way his muscles flexed, as if he wanted to seize her. But he continued to hold onto the rail, hers to command.
“Spread your legs,” she told him, stroking his strong thighs. She could cup his balls now, so she played with them while she held his cock tame with her fist. They were fascinating, the way they floated inside their sacs, heavy and slick. She scratched them with her nails and Steel hissed. He obeyed, watching her, beads of sweat running down his face.
Holding his balls, she sucked in his cock, just as far as she liked, stroking him in and out of her mouth. He tasted of sex and man, the sense of him filling her nearly as strong as when he was inside her. This, then, was why women liked to do this.
That and having this man so tightly leashed to her, shuddering under each flick of her tongue.
“How do I take it deeper?”
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Tell me.”
“Relax your throat. Do like when the doctor asks you to say ‘ahhh.’ Ohhh…shit, yes. Breathe—breathe through your nose, slow and even. Keep it soft, easy. Exactly so… And stop. Right now.”
Althea pulled back, alarmed by the pain in his voice. “What? Did I hurt you?”
Steel gripped the rail, head hanging as he panted, his cock bright red and shining with streaked lipstick.
“No—so good. I can’t hold back. If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, I need you to stop.”
She thought about it. Thought about his demands, that she take all of him.
“Is it better that way?”
He wiped his forehead on his jacket sleeve. “There’s a thing—yeah. A woman swallows your come and it’s…I dunno. Can we discuss it later? Frankly I’d like to come any way you’ll let me right now.”
She’d save it for next time. Besides, she wanted him inside her. Selfish or not.
“Do you have a condom?”
“In my other jacket pocket.”
She took it out, tore open the foil and smoothed the condom onto him, taking the opportunity to squeeze him as she did, enjoying his muttered curse.
“Stay where you are,” she told him and rose, letting the gown fall to the floor. She turned back the covers of the bed, neatly and carefully, making sure his gaze followed her. She started to take off the shoes, stopped and left them on for him, ignoring her mother’s horrified voice shrieking in her head about shoes on the bed. Defiant, she lay back on the heaped pillows, drew up her knees and spread her legs.
“Christ, Althea…” Steel ground out.
“You may service me now.”
She said it lightly, playfully, then shrieked when he dove on her. His mouth fastened on her sex, hiking her thighs up over her shoulders and driving her into an instant frenzy. He licked, nibbled and sucked at her like a wild thing, and she wrapped her hands in his hair, begging him incoherently for more.
He crawled up her body, her thighs still hooked over his shoulders, and stopped, poised at her entrance, feral gaze drilling into her.
“May I?”
Mute, she nodded, then threw back her head when he plunged into her. The depth, the intensity was nearly unbearable, and she writhed beneath him, clinging to him, digging in her nails. Emotion, pleasure indistinguishable took her in a great wave.
Steel kissed her, their tongues twining, and they went over together, inextricably entwined with each other.
* * *
He stayed the night, shucking the leather and snuffing the candles, then cuddling her close. She fell into sleep, barely aware of the cats settling onto the bed with them.
In the morning, she woke to the sound of Steel murmuring to Tassi, calling him a good little tomcat. She opened her eyes, taking in his very tousled hair and stubbled face. Tassi was splayed unashamedly on his back, paws wide while Steel rubbed his belly.
“He doesn’t have much ‘Tom’ left,” she said. “I’m afraid that was taken care of quite some time ago.”
“Shh.” Steel gave her a mock stern look. “Never speak of it. We didn’t hear a thing, did we, Tassi? No—you’re a manly cat.”
She giggled and he flashed a grin at her, then leaned in and kissed her.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” She suddenly felt a little shy.
“I know you need to get up and open the gallery. Can I see you tonight? I have something special in mind. No rules. No games.”
“Okay.” What was he up to now? “Do I dress up?”
“No. Grubby clothes.”
“I’m not cleaning that basement.” She climbed out of bed, her body feeling limber and strong.
“No, darlin’.” He followed her and gave her a friendly pat on the bottom. “Much, much more fun than that.”