Sex Machine: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (9 page)

“Why didn’t you?”

It’s hard for me to talk about that time in my life, when I traded my dream for the woman who gave me everything. “You may not remember, but I was a voice major at Juilliard in New York when Gran got sick.” I shrug, as if the memories of that time aren’t still as painful now as they were then. “I left school to come home to care for her, and I never went back.”

“How come?”

I choose my words carefully. “Losing her was a very tough thing for me. It messed me up for a long time.”

“She was all you had.”

“Yeah.” She’s been gone ten long years, and I’ve yet to feel as at home with anyone as I did with her. Thank God for Lauren, Julie and Scarlett and the rest of my friends who do their best to fill the void, but nothing and no one can ever replace the person who loved me best of all.

We drive past El Cosmico, a Marfa institution. The vast eclectic campground offers guests everything from “luxurious” Airstream campers to Sioux-style teepees to Mongolian yurts.

“The campground is busy this weekend,” Blake comments.

“There’s a festival at the Chinati,” I say, referring to one of the two foundations in town started to maintain the legacy of the late Marfa artist Donald Judd. He brought the arts culture to the town in the 1970s with his installations and non-museums where art was permanently displayed rather than cycled in and out.

Judd’s patronage of the arts in our town is a big reason my Desert Babies business has done so well. People come from all over to our isolated little town in West Texas to experience the art culture. In addition to my booming Desert Babies business, I sell a lot of desert landscapes, and my photographs of the Marfa Mystery Lights are some of my bestsellers.

“How’d you go from majoring in vocal performance to running a photography studio?” Blake asks.

“That evolved from what had been a hobby in school. When Gran was sick, I’d take advantage of every chance I got to get out when her friends would come stay with her. I’d drive out to the desert and take pictures for hours. It was the only way I could relax. By the time she died, I had a lot of work ready to go. I used some of the money she left me to lease the studio, and then almost ten years went by without me realizing it.”

“Life happens.”

“Something like that.”

“I did sort of the same thing when I finally made it to college.”

He didn’t have to tell me about the football scholarship to Texas A&M he ended up turning down because of the injuries he suffered in the accident that killed Jordan. The whole town knew about that.

“The minute they sprang me from the rehab hospital, I did a semester at UT in Austin, found out college wasn’t for me and went to work for my uncle. I bought him out when he was ready to retire. Like you said, ten years went by, and here I am.”

“Are you where you want to be?”

“I guess. I can’t imagine doing any other kind of work or being stuck in an office all day.” He shudders. “That would kill me. Garrett already wants to kill me half the time because I suck at keeping track of receipts and expenses and other crap that gets his panties in a wad.”

“Lauren wants to date him.” The words are out of my mouth before I take even one second to contemplate the magnitude of what I’m doing.

Blake glances over at me. “Is that so?”

I’m struck by how gorgeous he is, with a sprinkling of golden whiskers on his jaw, lips swollen from kissing me and eyes as blue as the endless Texas sky. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Speaking of someone wanting to kill me.”

“Might be info he’d like to have.”

“As long as my name isn’t attached to that info.”

“Your secret is safe with me, darlin’.”

I shouldn’t want to swoon at him calling me that. Texas men call all the females in their lives darlin’. But coming from him to me… Well, it’s a good thing I’m sitting down. “Where’re we going anyway?” We’re on 67 South, heading toward Presidio.

“Just a little further.” That’s all he says, so I settle in to watch the world go by in our remote corner of the state. We’re hours from El Paso to the northwest, Austin to the east and San Antonio to the southeast. There’re not a lot of places we can go in this direction without ending up at the Mexican border.

Most of the time, I love the isolation of Marfa. I love my small town with the artsy flair and the tourists who come for music festivals and art events that happen throughout the year. There’s always something going on in town, which keeps it from getting boring.

The song “Sex Machine” by James Brown comes on the radio, and I lose it laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Blake asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“This song.” I fan my face and dab at the laughter tears in my eyes.

“What about it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Don’t worry. I already know that’s what they say about me.”

I’m horrified. “
How
do you know that?”

He shrugs. “I’ve always known. It’s no big deal. Hell, it’s true.”

I’m oddly, strangely hurt for him. “It’s not true,” I say quietly.

“Why do you say that?”

“There’s so much more to you than
that
.”

“Not that much more. Not anymore.”

Not since he lost Jordan. That’s the part he leaves unspoken. Nothing has been the same since he lost her, but he isn’t the unfeeling robot he’s made himself out to be. I saw cracks in his armor during the two nights I spent with him. I saw it in his expression when he appeared at my door last night, not seeming to understand why he was there or what he wanted from me.

I witnessed his need to connect to another human being. I understand that need better than most ever could. For reasons I can’t explain even to myself, I reach across the bench seat for his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he curls his fingers around mine, and we ride that way for another five miles before he takes a right-hand turn onto a dirt road that ends at a construction site. Or rather, a renovation site. Something about the place is familiar to me.

“Where are we?”

“Jordan’s grandparents’ farm.”

“Oh, I remember! There’s a swimming hole on the property.”

“Yes.”

“What’re you doing out here?”

“I bought it about a year ago, and I work on it whenever I can.”

For some reason, this strikes me as unreasonably sad. I clear the emotion from my throat. “What do you plan to do with it when it’s finished?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Come take a look.”

We get out of the truck, and he waits for me at the front, extending a hand to help me over a log. He doesn’t let go once I’ve safely landed on the other side.

I try not to make too much of this, but I secretly thrill in the excitement of being here with him, of holding his hand, of the connection I found with him in bed, in the shower and sitting next to him at breakfast. Life is a little less lonely with him around, not that I think he’s here to stay or anything.

The two-story house used to be gray, but the paint is faded and chipping. We take sagging stairs onto a rickety porch, where he releases my hand to unlock the front door and gestures for me to go in ahead of him. “Careful,” he says.

I see why when I get my first look at the inside, which has been completely gutted.

“Let me give you a tour,” he says with that small grin. I’m starting to realize that’s as much of a smile as he has anymore. Pointing, he says, “Living room/dining room/kitchen all one big open space with a laundry room and half bath off the kitchen. Let’s go upstairs.” He takes my hand again and leads the way up the stairs. “Master suite to the right, hall bathroom and two bedrooms at the other end.”

We go into the area he’s designated as the master suite. It’s a mess, but I can see the potential. “This is a great space.”

“I think so, too. And the wood floors are original to the house. All the wood will be amazing when it’s refinished.”

“Why don’t you send one of your teams in here to get it done faster?”

“I want to do this one myself, and I’m not in any rush.”

“Do Jordan’s parents know you bought it?”

“Yeah, I asked them if they minded before I did it. They were thrilled. They said it’d be nice to keep it in the family.” He rubs his hand over the exposed wood walls, and I realize this is a labor of love to him.

“That’s nice of them.”

“They’ve always been nicer to me than I deserved.”

“They don’t blame you, Blake. No one does.”
Only you
, I want to say, but don’t.

He keeps his gaze averted, but I see the tightness in his jaw and face.

“If you ever need help with painting or sanding or anything simple like that… Let me know.”

The tension lifts when he looks at me. “I just might do that. Maybe you could take some before-and-after pictures for me.”

I smile up at him. “I’d love to.”

He looks down at me, his eyes dropping to my lips as he raises a hand to caress my cheek.

I feel that soft touch in every cell of my body.

“You’re so very, very pretty, Honeysuckle.”

I’m inordinately moved by the compliment, and I absolutely love his endless nicknames for me. “Thank you.”

He tilts my chin up and brings his lips down on mine.

I wrap my arms around him and lose myself in the sweet, tender kiss.

Blake backs me up to the exposed wall and presses his lower body against mine as he tilts his head to better the angle of the kiss.

What are we doing?
I want to stop everything to ask that question. Why can’t we seem to sate this craving for each other? Where has it come from all of a sudden, or was it always there, simmering below the surface every time we were together over the last few years? Is that the reason I was so easily convinced by Lauren to step way out of character and proposition him in a bar? Have I wanted him all along?

I don’t have any of the answers to these questions. I just know that I like the way it feels to be held and kissed by him. I like being pinned below him in bed and impaled by his giant cock as he stares down at me with heated blue eyes. I like everything about him, if I’m being truthful, even the darkness that lives within him.

He withdraws from the kiss slowly, stroking his tongue over my bottom lip. His hands are cupping my face, and when I open my eyes, I catch him watching me with heat and hunger in his gaze. “Want to check out the swimming hole?”

“Sure.” I’m up for anything that extends our time together. Even as I tell myself not to get attached, that’s turning out to be harder than I thought it would be. With every kiss, every touch, every confidence shared, he’s working his way under my skin.

I
have
no idea what I was thinking, bringing Honey out here. This is a place I shared with Jordan. Honey doesn’t belong here. Except, I like having her here. I like showing her the work I’ve done so far and telling her the plans I have for the rest of the renovations. I like the questions she asks and the interest she shows. I like the way she reached for my hand in the truck when she seemed to know I needed the comfort, and I like how soft her lips are under mine.

She follows me downstairs and through the war zone that will one day be a showplace. I’ll see to that, and I’ll do it myself. If it takes a year or five years, I’ll bring it back to its former glory. Jordan was close to her paternal grandparents, and we spent a lot of time out here visiting them, swimming and looking at the stars on dark Texas nights.

In a weird way, I feel like I’m doing something for her by bringing her grandparents’ run-down farmhouse back to life. They’re long gone now, both of them dying within a year after they lost her. Though no one has ever said so, I think they died of broken hearts. I can certainly understand how that might be possible.

I shake off those thoughts now and try to focus on the present rather than the past that never leaves me alone for long. “If you want to wait here, I’ll grab a blanket out of the truck.”

“Sounds good.” Honey wraps her hand around one of the new wood beams I installed on the porch to hold up the roof that had been in danger of collapsing when I bought the place. Shoring that up had been the first thing I did after the closing.

I jog the short distance to my truck and grab the blanket I keep alongside my tools in the workbox in the truck bed. Returning to the porch, I hold out a hand to Honey, inviting her to join me. Her gaze locks on mine as she comes down the stairs and takes my outstretched hand.

Why does it feel so damned right to be here with her? To hold her hand? To watch the way her taut, lithe body moves in the lightweight sundress that shows off her exceptional curves? Why does it feel so good to kiss her and hold her and draw strength from her? She’s so gutsy and brave, making her way almost completely on her own since she lost her Gran, and I admire her greatly for that.

I don’t know what I would’ve done without my parents and family to prop me up when the load got too heavy for me to carry alone. I never would’ve survived without them.

Honey hasn’t had that support and has thrived anyway. She’s never played the “poor me” card or lamented her lack of family. Rather, she’s played the hand she was dealt and played it well. I admire her for that, too.

We walk together in easy silence. She doesn’t feel the need to fill every second with mindless chatter the way some women do. I add that to the growing list of things I like about her. The swimming hole is about half a mile from the house. I know this because Jordan once convinced me that half a mile is far enough away to make love at the swimming hole. The entire time, I’d been sure her grandfather was going to appear at any moment with a shotgun.

He hadn’t, but the fear of that shotgun led to a less than satisfying encounter. The memory makes me smile, which is a welcome relief from the agony I usually feel when I think of her.

“What’re you smiling about over there?”

I consider making something up, but then I decide to go with the truth. “I’m thinking about the time Jordan and I came out to the swimming hole right around dusk, after dinner with her grandparents, and she talked me into more than a swim out here. The whole time I was waiting for her grandfather to show up with the shotgun he kept over the door. The fear gave me performance anxiety.”

Honey laughs along with me, and by sharing it with her, the memory takes on the sweet feeling of nostalgia rather than the grinding, endless pain of grief. The nostalgia is a welcome relief.

We’re sweating from the relentless heat of the midday sun, and the freshwater spring looks incredibly inviting as we approach it. I haven’t been out here in years, not since the last time I was here with Jordan. Even when I was thinking about purchasing the twelve-acre spread, I didn’t come out here. It was just too painful and raw.

But now, with Honey here with me, it feels new again, like we’re creating something from the ashes of what used to be.

Her big brown eyes light up with pleasure at the sight of the water. “I’d forgotten how pretty it is out here.”

Fields of wildflowers give the arid landscape a splash of much-needed color.

“It really is.” I spread the blanket on the ground next to the water, realizing we aren’t going to last long out here in this heat. “I didn’t think to grab sunscreen.”

“That’s okay. I put it on after my shower.”

“You did?”

“Yep. That’s Gran’s training. She was always preaching about protecting my skin from the West Texas sun, as if the sun is more potent here than anywhere else.”

“Your skin is lovely.” I drag a finger down her arm. “Smooth and soft and the color of honey.” I watch her nipples peak under the bodice of her dress, and just that quickly, I’m hard for her again.

“Gran wouldn’t be happy about the tan, but I can’t seem to completely avoid the sun, and I wouldn’t want to anyway. A girl’s gotta live while she takes care of her skin.”

“True,” I say with a grunt of laughter. “It’s kinda hot out here.”

“You say that like you didn’t know it’d be ninety-something today like it is every day this time of year.”

I glance over at her, and her saucy smile does something to me. It penetrates the wall I’ve put up around myself to keep out anything and everything that could hurt me. Desperate to recover my equilibrium, I tear my gaze off her and look at the water. “Want to swim?”

“I didn’t bring a suit.”

“Neither did I.”

“Oh.”

“There’s no one around for miles and miles.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know how far my property extends and what’s on either side of it, which is not much.”

She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth, and I can see that she’s considering it.

I stand and pull the T-shirt over my head and then extend my hand to help her up. “Double dog dare ya.” I haven’t said those words or anything even remotely playful to anyone in longer than I can remember. They feel good rolling off my lips. I unbutton my jeans and push them down, kicking them aside.

Honey takes a long, hungry look down my naked body, stopping at my cock, which is so hard it stretches up to my belly button. She licks her lips and shocks the living shit out of me when she drops to her knees to take me into her mouth. Is this the same girl who was just worried about getting caught skinny-dipping?

Fucking hell,
that feels good
. I let my head fall back as I bury my fingers in her soft, silky hair.

“You have the most beautiful cock in the whole world,” she says in a husky, sexy voice that travels straight to my balls in a bolt of electricity that has me on the verge of coming. “So hard and big and long.” She strokes me with her hand and tongue, taking me to the edge of insanity before she sucks me in again and nearly finishes me off. I tremble violently, like a boy getting his first blowjob, but she makes everything feel like the first time again.

Lashing me with her tongue, she picks up the pace of her hand on the widest part of my cock.

“Honey… Stop.” I pull myself free of her mouth and drop to my knees to kiss her. We fall to the blanket in a tangle of arms and legs. I reach beneath her skirt to find her simple cotton panties soaked through. I groan from the realization that pleasuring me turned her on. Pushing her panties aside, I push two fingers into her wetness as our kiss goes from sweet to fierce in an instant.

This is utter insanity! We’ve already done it three times today. That would usually take care of me for a week, but it took only an hour for me to want her again. Withdrawing my fingers, I pull her panties down her legs, toss them aside and push into her slowly, carefully, keeping in mind that she has to be sore after our marathon weekend.

Her back bows and her legs fall open in a helpless surrender that goes straight to my heart. Dear God, what is she
doing
to me? Her tight pussy clamps down on the head of my cock, making me see stars. I pull on the top of her dress until her breasts spring free and feast my mouth on her nipples.

This is hot, sweaty, no-holds-barred passion. There’s no other word for it as I fight my way past the resistance of her internal muscles to enter her fully. She lets out a keening cry as the widest part of me stretches her to the absolute limit.

“I love your hot, tight pussy,” I whisper in her ear.

She whimpers, and her muscles grip me like a glove.

“I love to fuck you, Honey Nut Cheerio.”

A gasp of laughter escapes from her clenched jaw.

“Do you love to fuck me, too?”

“
Yes
,” she cries. “Yes, I love it.”

A low growl comes from somewhere deep inside me as I pick up the pace, hammering into her now, mindless of soreness or the hard ground beneath her or the hot sun on my bare ass or anything other than the exquisite pleasure that overtakes me every time I’m inside her, especially bareback.

I reach under her to grasp her soft ass cheeks and pull them apart to go deeper into her. I press my middle fingers against her anus and let the wetness from her pussy ease the way as I push my fingers into her.

She ignites, screaming as the orgasm hits her hard and fast.

I have to bite my lip to keep from joining her, but I’m not finished with her yet. Not by a long shot. I ride the waves of her orgasm until it finally dies down. Then I withdraw from her so suddenly, she lets out a squeak of surprise. Moving quickly, I turn her over and drag her up to her knees before driving into her again from behind. Now her sweet little ass is right in front of me, and I can watch as I push two fingers into her back door.

Everything inside her goes tight when I do that, and it feels so fucking good. I alternate strokes of my cock and fingers, making sure some part of her is always full of some part of me. She screams as she comes again, harder than the first time, so hard there’s no way I can hold out this time. I explode inside her, coming like I haven’t had sex in a year rather than an hour.

We land on the blanket in a sweaty mass of limbs, aftershocks rocking us as we try to recover our breath. After a long period of quiet, marked only by the sound of our heavy breathing, we begin to disentangle ourselves. I help her sit up, brush the hair back from her face and tilt her chin up so I can see her eyes. She’s glowing. I’m not sure if it’s me or the heat or a combination of both, but she looks lovelier than she ever has before.

I kiss her softly and help her up and out of her dress, which seems unnecessary after what we just did. I lead her toward the water, scooping her up into my arms to carry her over the rocky edge. I keep her close to me as we drop into the water.

Honey wraps her arms and legs around me and rests her head on my shoulder.

A sense of peace comes over me, the likes of which I haven’t known in so long, I almost don’t recognize it for what it is. I’m content in this moment. And then I remember I told her last night that I could give her only one more night. Just that quickly, my feeling of peaceful contentment is upended by my reality. I have nothing to offer her. I’m a shell of a man who powers through life with the goal of surviving each day. I can’t condemn a sweet, beautiful woman like Honey to that kind of existence. She deserves so much more. But damned if I don’t wish, for the first time since I lost Jordan, that I could be someone different for her.

But she’s here with me now, and I vow to enjoy every minute I have left with her soft curves pressed up against me. And when I take her home, I’ll kiss her good-bye and go on with my life. As much as that will hurt, it’s the right thing to do. It’s the
fair
thing to do.

She reaches up to run her fingers through the hair that covers the nape of my neck, and I’m filled with longing for what can never be.

What a lovely day this has been. The sun is setting in a fireball of oranges and reds as Blake drives us back to town. We spent hours in the water, drying in the sun, and making love. It was blissful and relaxing and a million other things I don’t dare allow myself to think about. I don’t want it to end. I’d offer to make him dinner, but I don’t want to overstep his boundaries. If I push for more than he’s able to give, he’ll run away. I don’t want him to run away. I want him to keep coming back, but only if that’s what he wants, too. So I bite back the urge to suggest more.