Free Break On Through by Christie Ridgway Page B

Five
     
    Reed’s eyes squeezed shut as her palm measured his cock, gave it a little squeeze. He groaned, hot water sluicing down his back as she pressed her breasts to his chest, hard nipples against his skin giving away her excitement. Her mouth touched his throat and he thought of their first kiss in her living room, the shock it had given to his system—and hers. She’d tried being nonchalant about it then, and he hadn’t blamed her. When you spotted a raging fire racing your way, anyone would obey instinct and run first.
    He’d even considered letting her go. Giving up on gaining her trust. But Reed was Rock Royalty, son of one of the Velvet Lemons, meaning his DNA was handed down from a man who didn’t deny himself anything he wanted—and Reed’s hunger for Cleo Anderson was the definition of want.
    She chased droplets down his chest with her tongue, and his own nipples hardened into stiff nail heads. Teasing him, she thumbed both on her way down to her knees. He’d known she’d be like this, eager to please and be pleased. That first night, as his tongue had plundered her mouth, his hand had found the bare skin at the small of her back. She’d gone still, electrified by naked flesh to naked flesh.
    Her response had nearly had him coming in his jeans.
    Now she ran her small, straight nose down the length of his cock. Just like that, he was ready to blow, and when she gripped his balls, the sizzling coils of agonizing sensation throughout his body drew back, centering there in the palm of her hand, a hot ball of passion that then shot up his shaft. His tip was swollen, angry and frustrated with the delay, and when she reached out her tongue for one simple swipe across it—
    Semen exploded from him, ropes of it that splashed the shower wall. Reed pulled the rest of the climax from himself in short jerks, as the fantasy Cleo dissolved in shower steam. When the orgasm finally abated, he squeezed his cockhead a final time then dropped his hand. His tense shoulders relaxed, his jaw unclenched.
    He hung his head, letting the water douse his hair. His imagination was hella good, but none of these soapy interludes had driven the desire for the real woman out of him. He’d been keeping his distance from her, allowing the promise of what might be to simmer before approaching her again, but the wait was wreaking havoc with his concentration.
    He was behind on work and he’d never been so goddamn squeaky clean.
    Exiting the enclosure, he dropped one towel over his head and used another to dry off his body. It was way past noon, and time for another round in the desk chair, he told himself. Jesse had discovered it was a trapped pigeon that had left the feathers on his bed and the boy needed to find the poor, panicked creature and set it free.
    The School was full of victims and villains.
    Half an hour later, he still hadn’t opened the computer file. Maybe he should change his writing venue. Work at a coffee place. The mall.
    But the idea of creating around that many people gave him the willies.
    Go to your laptop , he ordered himself. Reclaim your space.
    In the building that was a fence away from Cleo. Her naked image rose like a genie from the bottle of his imagination and blood snaked south, causing him to begin to harden again.
    Jesus Christ. Another shower and his dick would be rubbed raw. “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” would be impossible for his pruned fingertips to type.
    Then a happy thought intruded. Maybe he had mail.
    His step was light as he exited the front door. With luck, a circular from Trader Joe’s or a catalog from his favorite store that offered leather desk accessories and expensive fountain pens would require his immediate attention.
    As he pushed open the gate, it was to find Eli Anderson standing on the other side, his face red, his expression worried. The hair edging his face was damp. He bit his bottom lip with his permanent front teeth that looked too big for his childish