N. Walters - MacNamaras Lady

Her hands were everywhere—shoulders, biceps, stomach, back. She was careful of his wounded arm. He could have told her it didn’t matter. Sure the injury hurt but he didn’t care. Having her hands on him was more important. Besides, that’s what painkillers were for and he’d take one later if he needed to.

Everywhere she touched him his skin tightened, wanting more. Her nails dug into his back, the sting an erotic caress.

T.S. broke their kiss and went down on his knees in front of her. He yanked her jeans down her thighs. Missy helped him by lifting her feet one at a time, allowing him to strip away her pants and socks.

Her panties were white and they shone like a beacon against her dark skin. They were cut low in the front and high on the sides. The material was so thin he could see her dark pubic hair beneath it. In spite of the olive tone to his flesh, it looked pale against the darker, richer tones of her smooth skin. The image was very erotic and turned him on. He wanted to touch her everywhere.

He kissed her bellybutton, snaking out his tongue to delve into the little indentation. Her hands burrowed into this hair, holding him to her. He worked his way down, taking biting kisses, which he soothed with his tongue. Her hips moved, pushing forward.

He could smell her heat, her arousal and inhaled it deep into his lungs. His cock was harder than steel and pushing hard for release from his pants. He flicked open the button and zipper, giving himself some relief.

“Touch me.” Her words were little more than a breathy whisper.

“I plan to.” He worked his tongue over her pussy lips, touching her through the thin fabric of her panties. She sucked in a breath and then began to pant faster. He stroked the line at the top of her thighs where the leg band of her panties rested. One finger slipped beneath it.

She was hot and wet and he almost lost his mind when he touched her. Missy cried out his name, her hips arching. He shoved the panties down to her ankles, eager to remove every barrier between them. There was no hesitation as he delved into her heat.

He slid two fingers into her slick channel, stretching her.

“Yes,” she moaned. “More.”

T.S. captured her clit between his lips and sucked. He pumped his fingers in and out of her cunt, driving her up fast and hard.

Missy cried out. His scalp stung where she tugged on his hair.

“Come for me,” he demanded. He needed her to come so he could finally get inside her, bury his cock deep in her welcoming sheath.

He worked a third finger into her. A loud wail filled the air as her pussy gripped his fingers, rhythmically contracting around them as she came. He didn’t wait for her to finish spasming. He couldn’t.

He reached into his pants pocket and produced a condom. He’d made sure to get a pack when he’d stopped on the way home to get his prescriptions filled, stashing several of them in his pocket just in case. He was damn glad he had. No way could he make it to his bedroom for one. Not with Missy wet and willing.

He shoved down his underwear and quickly sheathed his cock in latex. Missy was still gasping for breath when he stood and lifted her left leg over his right hip. He guided the tip of his shaft to her slit and pushed.

She cried out again as he stretched the still-contracting muscles, forcing them to make way for him. She squirmed, the action driving him deeper. He sucked air into his lungs in several big gasps. He loved the way she felt around him—hot and moist and welcoming.

T.S. circled his hips, grinding his pelvis against hers. Gradually, she took him, inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. Gripping her ass, he began to move. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, her nipples poking into his skin. Her fingernails dug into his butt as he began to flex his hips back and forth. His thrusts were short and shallow. He wasn’t going to last.

He reached between them and found her swollen clit. He fingered her gently, wanting desperately for her to come again. He wanted her cunt to close around his dick and squeeze it hard and tight.

“Theo,” she cried. It was so strange for someone other than his mother to say his name. No one ever used it. But it felt right with Missy. An alarm bell rang in the back of his mind but he couldn’t focus on it. Not with Missy’s slick channel spasming around his shaft.

He thrust harder and faster, withdrawing a bit farther and driving deeper. Her hands left his butt and clutched at his back and shoulders. They were plastered together torso to torso, their hips working furiously as he pounded into her. She met him stroke for stroke.

“Come for me, babe. Again.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck and gently bit the sensitive skin. She cried out, her inner muscles rippling over and around his dick.

His balls tightened. His orgasm started in the base of his cock and shot up through his shaft. He yelled as he came and continued to pump into her. Missy let out a low moan and her sheath closed around him in a death grip.

When he was spent, he rested his forehead against the cool wall. He’d taken her in the kitchen against the wall. Classy. But she hadn’t seemed to mind. She’d been right there with him all the way.

He shoved away from the wall and stared down at her. Her skin was moist and dewy with sweat. Her lungs were still working to pull in enough breath. Her lips were parted. Inviting. So he swooped down and kissed her.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him with a glazed look. “Steady now.” He made sure she was okay before he pulled out and disposed of the condom in the trash.

Missy was looking around for her clothing. “I should go.”

He didn’t want that. Not yet.

He took her hand in his. “Let’s get a shower first.” He didn’t give her time to object, but pulled her down the hallway behind him.

Missy stood in the shower with water cascading over her, wondering how the heck she’d gotten here. She hadn’t planned to have sex with T.S. again. Not exactly. Okay, so she’d hoped they have sex again. It was still the weekend and she was having a fling with him. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d be back at work and back to normal and this weekend would be nothing but a memory.

Her pussy was still pulsing. She’d had two. Count them. Two orgasms in the kitchen. T.S. was spontaneous and so it seemed was she. At least when she was with him. She’d never had any problem maintaining control before.

Hard hands came around her from behind and cupped her breasts. Missy pressed deeper into his palms. She couldn’t get enough of his touch. Soap bubbled up around his fingers as he stroked them over her nipples before sliding one hand down her torso.

She spread her legs without him having to ask. In spite of her earlier orgasms, her body was primed and ready once again. He slipped two fingers into her swollen sheath and slowly separated them.

Tomorrow. She went up on her toes and moaned as he pushed his fingers deeper. She’d worry about the implications of this weekend tomorrow.

T.S. slowly worked his fingers in and out of her slick channel. She reached behind and gripped his head, turning hers so she could see him. His eyes were burning with sexual fire as she went up on her toes and kissed him.

Tomorrow was soon enough.

“So what’s going on between you and T.S.?”

Missy did her best to ignore her friend’s question. She didn’t have a clue what was going on between her and T.S. In spite of her resolve that their time together was nothing more than a wedding and drama-induced weekend fling, they were still seeing each other.

The past two weeks had gone by in a blur of activity. Missy had signed her statement at the police station. The second assailant was still at large. She shivered, trying not to think about it.

T.S.’ arm was healed, the stitches removed. She still couldn’t believe everything they’d done that weekend and him with a bad arm. Not once had he complained or even seemed to notice his injury. At least not when she was around, even though she knew it had to have hurt.

He’d called her that first Monday and somehow they’d ended up having dinner together almost every night over the past two weeks—mostly at her place, twice at his and at a restaurant three other times. It surprised her how much they found to talk about—politics, religion, movies, music, friends and work. The only subject off limits was family. Neither one of them wanted to talk about that.

They went to see a movie. Surprisingly enough, it hadn’t been one with fifty explosions, but a dramatic piece. T.S. had enjoyed it. He’d also seemed to have fun at the concert she’d invited him to. The artist was a folk singer she particularly liked. T.S. was proving to be a man of many layers. And maybe she was guilty of judging a book by its cover.

“Are you listening to me?” Candy sat down on the corner of Missy’s desk, waving her hand up and down.

“I’m listening. I’m just not answering.”

“So there is something going on,” Candy crowed. “I knew it. I could tell there was a spark between you two ever since the night of the wedding.”

The night of the attack. There was no way Missy could separate the two things in her mind. She wrapped her arms around herself to get warm. She always felt cold these days. She was still having nightmares and some flashbacks about the attack, but they were lessening as time went on.

“I’m sorry.” Candy rubbed her hand soothingly over Missy’s arm. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“You’re not.” She had to stop acting like this. The past was just that. All she could do was move forward with her life. And that was part of the problem. T.S. was messing up her plans. She still had to expand her career before she found a permanent partner, a potential husband. She didn’t have time for a fling, a man. Not now.

Although, she’d had no problem finding time for him these past few weeks.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her friend’s genuine concern jolted her from her thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Missy glanced at the clock. “How about we go out for lunch?” It was a bit early, but that only meant they’d beat the crowd.

“I’d love to.” Candy swung off her desk. “I’ll get my coat and meet you in the lobby.”

Missy shut down her computer and grabbed her jacket and purse. Her body still had twinges from last night. T.S. had come over with Chinese takeout and a movie. He’d stayed for a few hours after and made love to her several times. No, it wasn’t making love. It was having sex. Two mature adults having sex. Nothing wrong with that.

She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to beat her head against the nearest wall. T.S. was completely wrong for her. She’d made a list of what characteristics her perfect man would have and he didn’t fit many of the criteria.

Maybe her standards were a bit skewed. It had focused more on outward trappings and less on values. She’d liked him before that fateful weekend, but since then she’d come to really like him. She wouldn’t say the “L” word. It was too soon. And it didn’t matter. He wasn’t looking for anything permanent, which in a way made him the perfect guy for her at this stage of her life.

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” she muttered. She pulled on her coat and strode toward the lobby where Candy was waiting.

She needed to stop over-thinking things and simply enjoy the sex. Their relationship wouldn’t last. He’d get tired of being with one woman soon enough or she’d get tired of him. A little voice in the back of her head cautioned her that wasn’t going to happen. She ignored the warning voice and plastered a smile on her face as she joined Candy. “Ready?”

* * *

T.S. finished fitting the last piece of baseboard into place and set aside the nail gun. The apartment was really coming along. He flexed his left arm and was pleased there wasn’t so much as a twinge. It had healed well.

“That it for today?” Lucas’ brother-in-law, Justin, swiped his arm across his forehead. They’d been working side-by-side for the past several weeks on the apartment in Lucas’ building. It would belong to Justin when it was done.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He gazed around the room, pleased with the progress they’d made.

“The kitchen looks great.” Justin stood with his hands on his hips and surveyed the room, which opened into the living area. A six-foot counter with a marble top separated the two rooms and would serve as a workspace and breakfast bar.