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And waited. And waited. He was doing his silent smoldering thing, and it was agonizing to go this far out on the limb, and just stay there, fighting for balance.
One last, desperate sally before I retreated in ignominy and despair.
“One more thing,” I said. “I want to give you a blowjob.”
His eyes went blank. “What? You do?”
“Yes. We never got around to that last night, so I’ll make it my first priority. I hope you’re not too shocked, but the last few days have pretty much burned away all my maidenly shyness. I can’t promise any world-class technique, but I think that going down on you right now would be the absolute highlight of my day.”
Liam blinked. Swung his ax in a big arc. It landed in the block with a thunk that made me jump. He grabbed my cat carrier and headed toward the house. “Follow me.”
I trailed after Liam, up the steps of the wide wraparound porch. So dizzy with the success of my last-ditch ploy, I barely even saw his home. Just a vague impression of fresh-smelling, airy, minimalist rooms, big windows, sparse furnishings.
In the living room, he knelt down and flipped the lever that opened Moxie’s carrier. The cat poked her head out, sniffed his hand, and stalked away to investigate this new situation, tail high.
I wanted to break the tension somehow, but the purposeful way that Liam started up the stairs discouraged speech. I hurried after his long strides. He didn’t even bother turning to see if I was being pulled along in his wake. He could feel it.
So. It looked like I was going to be making good on my rash offer. My toes were curled up with excitement at the thought. But truth be told, I hadn’t pictured going down on him when the weather conditions were this, well … stormy. Tension and anger in the mix made it a little weird.
He stopped outside one of the upstairs doors. “I’m sweaty,” he said. “I need a shower.”
“No,” I told him. “You absolutely don’t.”
He gave me a doubtful look, and I waved him in the door. God forbid I lose my nerve, or miss my precious, fleeting window of opportunity. Besides. He looked great gleaming with sweat, hair damp and spiky. Salty, virile.
He opened the door and beckoned me in.
I might have guessed that his bedroom would look like this. The room was stark in its simplicity. An antique brass bed sported a beautiful Irish chain quilt. An earth-toned Navajo rug lay on the wooden floor. Musical instruments from around the world decorated the plain white walls. A straight-backed chair sat next to a narrow, upright antique chest of drawers, decorated with a photograph of an attractive elderly couple, both smiling. An old, turn-of- the-century steamer trunk.
Old-fashioned. Sparse. Neat. A room from another century.
Sunshine blazed through the open window, lighting up the rug. Liam stood in the middle of that patch of sunlight, and turned to face her, in a wide-legged stance.
So, then. No banter, no chitchat, no lead-in. He was still angry, but he wanted his blowjob anyway. Well, fine. It was a weird vibe, but definitely a hot one. And I was getting comfortable with weirdness in these strange days.
Now I just had to behave like a femme fatale. It couldn’t be that hard. I’d seen it done in films. But I was excited and flustered. My breath was coming fast, palms damp, knees rubbery. My thighs kept squeezing around a pulse of aching heat, just at the sight of him. At the thought of taking him into my mouth.
A slow, deliberate striptease was the obvious thing, but I was dressed all wrong. I needed more pieces, layers, with delicate straps, complicated lingerie, snaps and ribbons and laces, to draw it out. Not that I owned clothing like that in the first place.
As it was, I could only toss my purse to the floor by the bed, and peel off my sweater with slow, sexy deliberation. I let it fall off my fingertips and walked toward him until the patch of sunlight illuminated my body, too. The air was cool, tightening my nipples to puckered brown nubs.
I twitched my braid over my shoulder, pulled off the elastic, and unraveled it. My wavy hair rose up all around my face, electric and wild. Medusa’s locks.
The jeans came next, which revealed the appallingly plain white cotton panties, and there I was. Naked as the day I was born, but for Lucia’s sapphire pendant.
He stared at me. His burning eyes said it all. But the thick bulge of his erection backed up the smolder quite nicely.
“Do you, ah, want to sit down?” I asked.
He shook his head. Of course not. That would be too easy.
I sucked in a deep breath and reached for his belt. It took forever to get the thing undone, but he did not help me. His hands were clenched. Big fists held rigidly at his sides. Intense emotion emanated from him. I felt it against my skin, like blazing heat.
I moved to his jeans and shoved them down with his briefs—just far enough to free his cock. It sprang up into my hands, hot and huge and hard, the thick flushed knob at the end dripping with pre-come. Ahhh, yes. No lack of enthusiasm on his part.
I swirled my hands around the slick fluid that gleamed on his big cockhead and gripped him, moving up and down his shaft in a long, tight slide. He jerked, shuddered. His groan sounded as if it had been captured in his throat and wrestled into submission.
My rubbery legs gave way, and I sank down to my knees on the rug. Hungry to make him shudder and gasp, helpless in the grip of intense pleasure.