“All right, Nick.”
He leaned in to touch her forehead with his. He laughed.
“I’m ready to go again, how about you?”
Veronica glanced down, still hard. Stamina. Wow. She reached down to remove the used rubber. Nick quivered slightly at the contact.
“Wastebasket, over there.”
She dropped it in a lined basket, and then reached by the bedside for another condom. Together, they slipped it over his cock.
“Guess I’m ready to go again, too.” She pushed him down on the bed. “Let me touch you Nick, please.”
Nick lay back on the pillow, hands behind his head. He smiled wickedly.
“Explore away. Touch wherever you want, whatever you want.”
She sat upright on his lower thighs, her hands roved over his broad shoulders, his impressive tightly packed pectorals, and his bulging biceps. Her fingers brushed past his nipples. They hardened immediately, and her fingers lingered on the golden-brown hair on his upper chest. Oh, so soft. A little hair on a man’s chest appealed. Nick had just enough — of everything.
Her hand roved lower toward his muscled abdomen, six pack — big time. The man was amazingly fit, perfectly muscled, and a glorious specimen of a man. What every man should aspire to. Veronica wondered how he managed to stay so fit. He didn’t play sports that she knew of. Maybe he just hit the genetic jackpot.
The part of his body that amazed her the most was his cock. Just the right size for her. Nick stretched her in ways she didn’t think possible. The feeling of fullness was indescribable. Veronica grabbed his shaft. There was so much of him, and long enough that he could go deep and touch her in that sweet spot without hurting her. Perfect. His cock twitched in her hand and a long, languid moan escaped from Nick’s lips. That from-the-toes moan of his she loved to hear. The sound sent tremors down her spine.
“Ride me, baby.”
She slowly lowered herself on his rock-hard erection. Nick moved his hands from behind his head and placed them on either side of her hips. The feel of those warm, large, masculine hands had branded her.
Veronica rocked back and forth. The feel of him, inside, so deep. Nick moved his hips up and down in harmony with her rocking. Nick sat up slightly to capture one of her breasts with his mouth. The sensations that inundated her were hard to absorb.
She placed a couple more pillows behind Nick to keep him in an upright position, and to keep him at her breasts. He moved from one to the other. She came, a star bursting orgasm. Nick wouldn’t give an inch, he kept sucking and laving.
Out of the corner of his mouth he rasped, “Keep going — again.”
She was boneless like a damned jellyfish, but she kept rocking. He spoke the truth. Surely she’d burst a vein in her head.
Was Nick saying something? Her brain tried to clear the sex haze. He wanted her to go faster. She had no idea where she found the strength.
“Jesus!” Nick growled.
His body tensed as he came. Next thing she knew, Nick laid her next to him and moved her limp arm across his chest. He curled her in next to him and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Sleep, baby,” he crooned.
Sleep? She felt hung over. Limp like a rag doll, but utterly and completely satisfied and damned happy. Her fingers curled through the damp hair on his chest, her lids lowered and she fell asleep.
• • •
Nick opened one eye. He glanced at his digital clock. The time read 3:18
A.M.
Ronnie was still asleep and wrapped around him as snug as a comforting quilt. Damn, he hated to disturb her, but he had to piss. He slowly extricated himself and she moaned and turned over, but didn’t wake. Nick padded to the bathroom, lifted the cover of the bowl, and relieved himself.
Splashing a little water on his face, he looked in the mirror. The best damned sex he ever had.
The bar closed at two in the morning, Kevin no doubt locked up and went home. His place didn’t open again until twelve noon. He supposed he should take Ronnie home before then. Maybe he should wake her now and take her home. Nick never should’ve asked her to stay, what possessed him?
Nick walked back to the bed, lay down, leaned up on one elbow, and watched her. Ronnie looked serene, peaceful, and sated. This woman was gorgeous, inside and out. Her lush, pliable, eager body was everything he wanted physically in a woman. Her face beautiful and luminescent. Those blue-gray eyes of hers watched him so studiously, no doubt trying to figure him out. The fact she was also funny, smart — and could bake — ramped up her attractiveness to him. He smiled. He pulled her against him so she curved into his body. His body stirred to life at the contact. She wriggled and sighed, her luxuriant ass hardened him further. Nick leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Nick?”
“Who else would it be,” he teased.
Nick moved his hips so she could feel his arousal. He felt a condom package being thrust into his hand. He laughed and tore open the package. Slipping it on, he nudged her from behind. Ronnie spread her legs and he slid right in, straight into her feminine core. Staying in the spoon position, he moved in and out of her with slow, sensual glides. Some minutes passed and they both came to a gentle, soul-stirring climax.
He stayed inside her and fell asleep. A deep restful slumber, the best he had in years.
Veronica opened one eye. The clock’s large red numbers read eight minutes past nine. Next to her, the space was empty. A noise out in the kitchen area pinpointed Nick’s location.
She stretched languorously like a lazy cat that had been sleeping in the sun, even spread her toes in contentment. Veronica hadn’t slept this late in ages. Of course, she didn’t get much sleep the night before.
Nick must have laid a throw over her sometime this morning. Last she remembered, they were both naked and joined. She tried to move her legs, and muscles she didn’t even know she possessed groaned in protest. It felt as if — he was still inside her. Veronica inhaled deeply, the room smelled of musky sex or maybe it was her. She needed a shower. Thank god there was a connecting door from his bedroom.
She glanced out the window, through the half open blinds. The day couldn’t be more beautiful. Veronica felt like opening the window and singing to the blue sky above while birds landed on her outstretched hands and joined her in a song of joy. She giggled at the absurdity of the scene, straight out of an animated fairy-tale. She felt like a princess this morning, how long that feeling would last is another question.
Cupboard doors slammed in the kitchen. Yes, she had the feeling Nick Crocetti would act the same way he did the last time they had sex, cool and detached. Well, this morning she wasn’t going to sit by and let him shut himself down emotionally.
Swinging her legs out of bed, she groaned slightly from the play on her muscles, gathered her clothes, and ran into the bathroom. After relieving herself, she had a look around. The bathroom was a very small room that had been recently renovated. She opened the medicine cabinet. There were five boxes of condoms on the top shelf.
Five? What did he do, buy them by the gross?
A sharp pain clutched her heart.
Again, the thought that she stood in a very, very long line galled her to no end. How many other women had been here? Did he lie when he said she was the first in his bed? She locked the bathroom door, then got down on her haunches and began digging through the vanity for anything remotely feminine, tweezers, Lady Bic razor, sanitary pads or used lipstick. She dug through the neatly folded towels, nothing. Veronica stood and inspected the medicine chest again, condoms, Band-Aids, Aspirin, aftershave, dental floss, deodorant and antiseptic. Guilt flushed her cheeks. What kind of woman goes through a man’s personal things? A paranoid one, apparently.
She closed the door and glanced in the mirror. A single tear zig-zagged down her cheek. It’d be so easy to fall for Nick Crocetti. She wiped the lone tear away and leaned in to turn on the water in the shower. Veronica had to keep control of her emotions. She was so damned afraid of being hurt again and so determined to make sure this casual sex didn’t turn into something more.
Good luck with that
, she muttered as she stepped under the cascading water.
• • •
Nick stood in the middle of his small kitchen undecided as what to do next. He heard the water running in the shower. It took all his willpower not to slip into the bathroom and join her even though he had his already. He groaned aloud at the thought of soaping up those succulent curves of hers and his body stirred to life, again. Closing his eyes, he splayed his hands on the marble countertop.
Get control.
Nick felt awkward. Never should have asked her to stay. He wasn’t used to someone else occupying his private space. The feeling was damned unsettling. No doubt caught up in the moment. He’d never slept with anyone before. Strange, considering the number of sex partners he had through the years. He always went to the woman’s place and left right after, no cuddling, no affection, no staying the night and sleeping in each other’s arms. Staying overnight was too intimate, too personal. It would start him on that road he’d no intention of traveling, toward companionship, relationship, and love. So why her? As determined as he was to keep her at arm’s length, she kept slipping past his defenses, his well-structured, reinforced barrier that wrapped around his heart.
Sunday mornings he usually cooked himself a full brunch, eggs with cheese, ham or bacon, hash browns, toast, the whole enchilada. Should he do it for her? Again, it seemed too — personal. Nick lifted his head and glanced at the box she brought from the bakery, half-dozen cinnamon buns. Give her a bun, coffee, then whisk Ronnie the hell out of here.
He padded to the coffee maker and measured out a breakfast blend he liked. He reached for two plates and placed them on his small table in the corner. When he woke around eight o’clock, Ronnie was sound asleep and curled up in his arms. It felt so damned good — so right. A feeling he could get used to. It would’ve been so easy to wake her up and make love to her again. Nick awoke in an aroused state because of what they’d shared
. Laughter, goofiness and passion.
What stunned him was Ronnie ordered the lingerie to please him. Damn, that rocked him to his soul. His strip tease, what in hell brought that on? She loved it, she laughed and clapped. The look of pure delight on her face pleased him to no end. Nick didn’t plan it, it just — happened. He usually wasn’t so spontaneous or comical. Ronnie said he could be funny. He had no damned idea he could be. New emotions rolled through him, unknown sensations. He couldn’t be any more confused.
• • •
Showered and dressed with her hair still damp, Veronica stepped into the kitchen and her breath caught in her throat. Nick wore nothing but flannel sleep pants. They rode low on his slim, muscular hips. He poured big mugs of coffee, and then turned to face her. She had to fight the urge to run into his arms and hug him tight. Nick motioned to the small table where cinnamon buns sat on a platter along with butter and fresh fruit.
“Good Morning, Nick.”
“Yeah, good morning,” he murmured.
Oh, shit. There was the tightly controlled voice and the shuttered, emotionless face. Veronica wouldn’t be intimidated or angered this time by his cool, dismissive tone. Smiling, she walked to the chair and sat.
“It looks lovely, Nick. Nothing like cinnamon buns on a Sunday morning!” she declared brightly.
He strode to the table in his bare feet and placed a large mug of coffee in front of her. All the dishes matched, unlike her mismatched bits and pieces that were stored in her cupboard. Nick sat opposite and buttered his cinnamon bun.
Taking a large sip of coffee she asked, “Nick, you’ve never mentioned your parents. Do they live around here?”
By the look on his face she might’ve asked him to pass the cream.
Finally, he responded. “No.” Interminable moments passed, and then Nick continued, “My father’s in New York City. Last I heard, driving a courier truck. My mother’s out west in a small town in Nebraska living with some rancher.”
Veronica took a small bite of the bun. “Are they divorced?”
“You really don’t want to hear this, and I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Maybe I do want to hear it, Nick. Maybe it would do you good to talk about it with someone, why not me? How did you come to be living with your uncle?” She wasn’t going to be put off by his icy glare.
Nick took a gulp of coffee, wincing at the burn. “Mom and Dad married because Mom got pregnant. They probably divorced because of me; they made our lives a misery. I suppose I was to blame for that, too. When they finally split, I was seventeen. I was a handful, getting into trouble my whole life, neither of them wanted me. Mom called her brother here in Rockland, a total stranger to me and he agreed to take me in. We lived in Newark at the time, though we moved around a lot through the Mid-Atlantic States. Dad never could hold a job,” Nick sighed gruffly. “I don’t like talking about this, about myself. My childhood sucked. The fights, the upheaval, the poverty, and most of all — the hatred. I’ve tried to forget it.”
“You’ve no contact with them at all?” Veronica asked softly.
“I get a Christmas card from Mom every Christmas, Dad? No. We’re better off, all of us. We’ve moved on. We weren’t meant to be a family. It was all wrong from the beginning.” Nick shrugged.
Veronica had the feeling his hurt went deep. To be rejected by your own parents — she couldn’t imagine growing up in such a house. Her childhood home had always been filled with love. Her parents loved each other very much; they were always kissing and hugging, even in front of her and Tyler. They all did things together, went on car trips, to Orioles baseball games, and movies. They played board games and watched TV. Sunday night, Mom made popcorn and they watched movies. Each week they took turns selecting the programming. They were all — friends. Veronica wouldn’t show too much sympathy here. Nick wouldn’t like it. She guessed that much about him. She also wouldn’t rub his nose in it that her childhood was close to idyllic. Not perfect, but pretty good as childhoods go.