Free KeyParty by Jayne Kingston

as he slid into her, inch by amazing inch.
    She sighed out his name as he buried himself to the root,
loosened the grip she had on his waist and angled her hips as he shifted up her
body, burying himself even deeper. She pulled her legs up high and gripped his
rib cage with her knees.
    “Don’t be gentle,” she told him, clicking her tongue twice
and giving him a little kick in the ass as though he were a pony.
    He rolled his hips in a tight circle and she nearly came out
of her skin at the pressure of the movement on her clit.
    “Hold on, cowgirl,” he chuckled, pulling back and then
slamming back into her.
    She clutched at him as he drove her wildly, ruthlessly, to a
screaming climax. And when he rocked his hips through his own orgasm, the
aftershocks that rippled through her as she felt every twitch and pulse of his
body really did bring tears to her eyes.
    * * * * *
    “Are your parents still in Homewood?” Ben asked. He was
standing at the stove in nothing but a pair of red-and-white board shorts,
pouring whipped eggs into a pan.
    Rachel was sitting at the little breakfast counter between
the kitchen and living room in his apartment, wearing one of his t-shirts and
her barely there underpants. She was wide awake despite her body feeling
deliciously loose-jointed.
    “My mother moved to New Mexico to live near my aunt after I
decided I wanted to spend most of my time in London between tours on the
boats.” She fiddled with the glass of ice water he’d given her, turning it in
place in its small puddle of condensation. “She lives in a green community in a
house made out of up-cycled tires. It’s pretty cool really. All the houses are
completely off the grid as far as power usage goes. Everyone knows everyone in
her little village. Her neighbor on the one side is a retired actress who’s now
in her early seventies and writes mystery novels under a pen name.
    “I can’t tell you her real name as I have been threatened
with a long, slow torture if I do.” She smiled sweetly when he gave her a
narrow-eyed look over his shoulder. “I can tell you her pen name is Max LeFevre
though.”
    His eyebrows went up and he turned toward her, omelette pan
in hand.
    “I’ve read all of the Gage Knight books.” He looked
incredulous. “You’re telling me a seventy-year-old woman writes those?”
    Gage Knight was the main character in a paranormal mystery
series about a private investigator, who may or may not have had a legion of
God’s highest-ranking angels as well as the Devil himself in his back pocket.
The books were hip and edgy, and peppered throughout with some of the dirtiest
sex scenes Rachel had ever read.
    “A seventy-three-year-old mother of three, grandmother of
seven and soon-to-be great-grandmother of one writes those,” she clarified.
    He narrowed his eyes again. “You sure you can’t tell me her
real name?”
    She shrugged in mock helplessness. “Sorry.”
    His cool, dark eyes sharpened. “What if I torture it out of
you myself?”
    “I’d love for you to try some time, but not on an empty
stomach.”
    He slid the eggs onto a waiting plate. “It does kind of take
all the fun out of the game if you cave too fast because you’re undernourished
and weak,” he told her, leaning across the counter to kiss her, making the room
sway once more.
    “My mom invited me out there when I told her I was ready to
come home,” she said when set the plate in front of her. “My dad’s still in
Homewood. He offered to let me stay with him too, but I really love the city.”
    He nodded. “I know what you mean. Even when I start working
at the Homewood Center full time, I don’t know that I’ll move there. Not right
away, anyway.”
    “You’ll be the only car on the road heading out of
Chicago during rush hour.”
    “Which will be all right with me.” He laughed and started cracking
eggs for himself into the mixing bowl.
    She dropped her fork at the sound of keys in the front door.
Ben looked at the