Complicated, Page 2

  Greg paused with an agonized grunt, buried deep inside her. “Is it too hard?” he gritted out. There was perspiration beading on his forehead and at his hairline, and the line of his jaw was so tightly clenched she could see the tension in the muscles of his face.

  “No,” she choked out, trying to pump her hips to get him moving again. “It’s so good. Don’t stop!”

  He made a sound that was almost like a growl and pitched his hips forward again.

  “Yeah!” she gasped, her spine arching instinctively off the bed. She was sweating beneath her blouse and jacket and was still trying to dig her heels into his ass for more stability. “Hard! Fast!”

  Greg picked up his speed until the bed was shaking wildly, the headboard banging against the wall and the springs squeaking in loud resistance. Victoria’s whole body was bouncing, her breasts jiggling and her clit getting delicious, indirect stimulation.

  She stopped trying to smother the sounds of her response. She cried out in loud, frustrated abandon as he worked her up toward climax. Every time she tossed her head, more of her hair slipped out of her once neat chignon.

  “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, grunting as he concentrated on every hard thrust. “You feel so good.”

  She whimpered in response. Then gave a sob of pleasure on his next stroke in.

  “Can you get your legs higher?” His voice was strained, and his hot gaze so possessive she might as well be naked.

  She tightened her thighs and managed to get her heels even higher up his back. The move caused him to sink into her even deeper.

  “Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

  Victoria was afraid she would melt from pleasure, heat, and a self-conscious kind of pride. She’d been quiet and bookish all of her life, competent and committed to her career. She’d dated on and off but nothing particularly exciting. Everyone had always treated her like the shy girl-next-door.

  She’d never dreamed she could make a man look and sound the way Greg did at the moment.

  Like he might swallow her whole.

  He continued his strong, rhythmic thrusts, although he was now just pushing inside her without pulling out very far.

  The intense sensations, the erratic bouncing of the bed, the feel of his hot, heavy body above her and the knowledge of how far he was out of control all combined to send Victoria mounting even higher toward an shattering orgasm.

  Her loud cries turned into harsh, choppy sobs as all the muscles in her body tightened.

  “That’s right, baby.” He gave a few last rough pushes inside her. “Come for me.”

  She came, her body freezing in an involuntary arch before the spasms of pleasure sliced through her.

  Greg pushed against the contractions of her pussy and forced out a series of low, rough exclamations as his own tension finally released as well.

  They both came hard, leaving them breathless and exhausted as they finally collapsed in a heap of limbs and damp clothing.

  “Wow,” Victoria croaked, buried beneath Greg’s warm weight.

  “Yeah.” He was panting against her neck, occasionally pressing his lips softly against her skin.

  “I guess winning an election makes you horny.” Her words were light in an attempt to find the pleasant balance that had always sustained their casual, sexual relationship.

  “Something like that.”

  Victoria winced as he moved above her. Her back was stiff, her thigh muscles were sore, and her pussy would be raw after that kind of sex.

  Evidently sensing her discomfort, Greg lifted up and slowly pulled his softening cock out of her wet, sensitive channel.

  She couldn’t stifle a moan as she straightened her legs and tried to sit up.

  “All right?” he asked, his observant eyes watching her closely.

  “Yep.” When she managed to sit up, she had to close her eyes at the resulting dizziness. After a moment she recovered and looked down at her damp, crushed outfit. “My poor suit.”

  He chuckled and stood up. Since his trousers were halfway off already, he let them fall to the floor and then stepped out of them with his shoes. Pulling off his tie and jacket, he headed toward the bathroom. “It looks pretty good to me.”

  “Smug bastard,” she said without any heat. “You could have at least let me take off my shoes before you fucked me like that.”

  She heard the water running in the bathroom before he came out wearing just his boxers.

  He was a well-built man with broad shoulders, fine arms, and tight belly. The dark hair on his chest tapered down into an irresistible line that disappeared into his waistband. She discreetly leered at him as he came back over to the bed.

  He grinned, his smile crinkling his rugged face. “What are you complaining about? You’re not the one who’s going to have bruises on his back from those damned heels of yours.”

  He was teasing, but Victoria stood up and peered at his back. The skin had reddened into angry streaks where she’d dug her heels into his flesh. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  Greg just chuckled and stretched out on the bed, looked pleased, sated and relaxed. “I’m not.”

  She stood beside the bed, fidgeting with her wrinkled clothes, suddenly a little awkward. She rubbed her thighs together inconspicuously, feeling kind of sloppy from what was left of Greg’s semen between her legs.

  They’d used condoms at the beginning, but now they relied on Victoria’s birth-control, since neither was fucking anyone else.

  She went to the bathroom—to clean herself up a little and to ease her strange awkwardness.

  When she returned, Greg was propped up on one elbow, obviously waiting for her. “Why don’t you spend the night?” he suggested, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost two, and you look tired.”

  Victoria swallowed and tried to think quickly. Their relationship was just about sex. They’d never spent the night together, and his invitation made her heart race with nerves. Not because she thought he had ulterior motives—she knew he was just being friendly and generous—but because she was always careful to avoid anything that would make her treat their relationship as something deeper than it was.

  They were both happy with casual sex. But she had to work very hard for it not to get complicated—at least, as far as her feelings were concerned.

  But Victoria was tired, and the big bed—especially with Greg’s handsome, nearly naked form in it—looked incredibly inviting. And for some reason she really wanted to stay the night with him.

  “Well,” she began, fiddling with one of the buttons on her jacket.

  Greg stretched a hand toward her in invitation, grinning at her beguilingly.

  She relented without any more of a struggle, letting him pull her down into the bed beside him. She giggled, resisting as he tried to roll her into an embrace. “You can at least let me take off my shoes now.”

  Greg grumbled under his breath but relented, contenting himself with leering at her as she bent up each leg in turn and unbuckled her shoes, dropping them over the side of the bed.

  When she started to take off her lace-topped thigh-highs, he propped himself up on one elbow and objected, “Leave them on.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What exactly do you have in mind? A man of your advanced years shouldn’t strain himself, you know.”

  He just laughed and gently stroked his fingers along the line of her leg.

  Victoria was thirty-one. Greg was forty-three. She liked to tease him about the difference in their ages—knowing he wasn’t a bit insecure and would never be hurt or offended by it.

  Greg was the most confident, self-contained man she’d ever met. It was nice not to have to worry about wounding a delicate male ego, which she’d had to stress about in every previous relationship.

  He moved above her and nudged her up so he could pull off the jacket of her vintage suit. Then he started to work on the tiny buttons of her pink silk blouse.

  She relaxed and let him undress her. And only after he’d remove
d her skirt, leaving her in just stockings and her matching bra and panty set, did she say, “Seriously, though. You were rather, er, vigorous before. I’m not sure I’m up for any more thrusting tonight.”

  He gave a huff of amusement and mouthed her breast softly through the satin of her bra. “That’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m not going to be up for anything for a while anyway.”

  “Then what are you doing?” She arched up as he suckled her nipple through the damp fabric, her body responding immediately despite the powerful orgasm she’d just had.

  “Amusing myself before bedtime.”

  She couldn’t help but giggle at his dry tone, but she didn’t argue anymore. He took off her bra and worked over her breasts for a while until she was breathless and newly aroused. Then he slowly made his way down to her belly and spent some time kissing and stroking it.

  Her belly wasn’t as flat as she’d like it to be, but he didn’t seem to mind. He mouthed the soft flesh with gentle skill until he’d reached the waistband of her panties.

  “Greg,” she groaned, closing her eyes and tossing her head back and forth against the pillow. “Greg, can you… I need…”

  She parted her thighs and gave a harsh sigh of relief when she felt him nuzzle between her legs. He mouthed her intimate flesh through the satin of her panties until the fabric was moist and Victoria was moaning in sensual torment.

  He spread her thighs farther apart and used his tongue to stroke open her folds through her panties. Then he closed his lips around her clit, finding it even through the barrier of the fabric.

  He sucked, the additional stimulation from the wet satin making the whole thing even more pleasurable.

  Victoria wriggled in response to the sensations and stared down at his head between her thighs. Saw his thick dark hair, flecked slightly with gray. Saw his mouth against the white satin of her panties.

  She came with a long, lingering moan and then felt a warm flush of satisfaction spread over her entire body.

  “Thank you,” she murmured as he pulled himself up and stretched out beside her again.

  “You’re welcome.” He settled her against him, his arm tucked snugly around her. “Men of my advanced years tend to be pretty good at that.”

  Victoria had been so relaxed she was on the verge of drifting into sleep, but at this she opened her eyes to check his expression.

  When she saw he was grinning at her, she grinned back. “Men of your advanced years tend to be good at everything.”

  She saw his expression change. Realized with a thrill that he genuinely appreciated the compliment.

  It was nice—that she had pleased him. That she could please him. Even though a year ago she would have insisted he was far beyond her grasp.

  And it was nice to cuddle up beside him like this and play with the coarse hair on his chest.

  It was nice to hear his breathing slow down after he reached over to turn off the light.

  And it was nice to feel the heat of his body as the darkness of the room surrounded them.

  It was nice to fall asleep beside him.

  And it was ironic that she hadn’t known this was something she’d been missing for the last three months.

  ***

  She woke up slowly—first recognizing that she was unusually warm and cozy, then feeling a big, solid body beside her, then realizing that the skin of her cheek was clinging hotly to someone else’s skin, and finally hearing the slow breathing of the man beside her.

  Greg. It was Greg beside her. She’d slept with him all night and was still snuggled up against his side.

  He was still asleep. Victoria had never seen him asleep before so she opened her eyes and lifted her head.

  His face looked younger with his features relaxed from sleep and the shadow of the dark growth of the beginnings of a beard was more obvious than usual. He needed to shave. And his dark eyelashes looked oddly fragile against the skin under his eyes.

  She was just about to peek under the sheet to see if he had a morning hard-on when he opened his eyes and caught her.

  “Good morning,” she said, covering quickly by pretending she was tucking the sheet more securely around his chest.

  “Hi.” He gave her a perplexed smile. “What were you doing?”

  “Nothing,” she lied. Looking desperately for a distraction, she asked, “What time is it anyway?”

  When she saw the time, her focus shifted dramatically.

  “Shit!” She jumped out of bed, conscious that she was naked except for her little satin panties. Her body wasn’t bad—curvier than she would have preferred but certainly nothing to sneer at. But she wasn’t used to parading around without any clothes on. Ignoring the flicker of self-consciousness, she said, “I’m late. I have to teach a class at eight o’clock.”

  Greg looked lazily over at the clock. “Wow. Is it already seven-forty? I must have slept like the dead.”

  “Me too.” Frantically trying to rehearse the time remaining, Victoria realized she’d have no time for a shower. It would take almost fifteen minutes to get over to the university, which left her five minutes to get dressed. “Damn it. We should have set the alarm.”

  “Sorry about that. What class do you have to teach at eight?”

  Victoria flung back the sheet, grabbing at her bra when she found it. “A library class,” she explained impatiently, clumsily trying to fasten the hooks on her bra. “On how to use the library.”

  Greg looked genuinely curious. “You mean they don’t know?”

  She’d found her blouse on the floor and was buttoning it as quickly as she could. “Most freshmen are clueless. They don’t even know how to find books—much less periodicals and academic journals and—” She broke off as she stepped into her straight skirt and zipped it up.

  She still had her stockings on, so she wouldn’t have to mess with those. She ran over to the mirror and gave a shocked squeak at what she saw. “Help! Why didn’t you tell me I looked so horrible?” Her mascara had smudged a little, one of her cheeks was bright red from being pressed up against Greg all night, and her hair was a disaster.

  “I thought you looked pretty good.”

  She snorted, almost choking as she splashed water onto her face. “That’s either an outrageous lie or else a sign of some perverse impulse men have to see their women looking well-fucked and exhausted.”

  She bit her lip as she dried her face, glad she was out of sight of the bed. She hadn’t meant to say “their women” as if she were implying she was his woman.

  She checked her face again, not having the time to spare to beat herself up for such a minor slip. One side of her face was still redder than the other, but that would hopefully fade in a few minutes. Her face was scrubbed clean, but it was better than before.

  She scrambled over to her purse, which she’d dropped on the floor in their frantic stumble toward the bed last night. As she grabbed a comb, Greg said, “Nothing perverse about it.”

  “What?” She glanced over at him distractedly as she tugged the comb through her tangled hair.

  “Enjoying the sight of my woman well-fucked,” he explained.

  Her mouth dropped open ,and she stared at him, almost diverted from her urgent rush to get dressed.

  He looked rather well-fucked himself—lazy and content, stretched out on the bed, with rumpled dark hair and that delicious five-o’clock-shadow. Victoria had to fight the urge to crawl back in bed with him.

  “What?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. Clearly he didn’t place any of the significance that she had on the “his woman” thing.

  “Nothing,” she bit out, taking her long blonde hair and knotting it up in a sloppy chignon. She took her wire-framed glasses out of the case in her purse and put them on. Then studied herself in the mirror as she pulled on the jacket to her suit. “How do I look?”

  “Like a librarian,” Greg said with a smile. “Like a librarian who has just been tumbled in the back room.”

  She sco
wled at him.

  “And you should probably put on your shoes,” he added.

  “Shit!” She’d almost forgotten and had to dig under the bed to find one that had been kicked under it.

  It was seven-forty-seven when she picked up her purse again. “All right. I have to go. I’m already going to be late.”

  “You should be all right. Don’t rush too much and have an accident.”

  There was something oddly sweet in the remark that Victoria didn’t have time to process fully. But she went over and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth—an impulse she never would have acted on had she been thinking more clearly. “Okay. Bye. I had a good time last night.”

  “Me too.” Greg’s voice had grown warmer and more textured. “I’ll give you a call later.”

  Victoria flew out the door, ignoring the strange confusion she felt in the much more understandable flurry of the rush to get to work on time.

  She never should have spent the night with him.

  ***

  “So who is he?”

  Victoria turned around at the sound of the teasing, ironic voice. She’d been pouring herself a cup of coffee in the break room, needing it after her mad race to the university earlier this morning and her distracted attempt to teach the library class.

  Her effort to instruct the freshmen with her typical calm reserve had been woefully unsuccessful.

  “Of whom are you speaking?” she asked with a skeptical arch of her eyebrows.

  Jeanie snickered. She was an attractive woman with an ever-changing hair color and a bohemian taste in clothes. Today her hair was relatively discreet—brown with a few streaks of purple—and she was wearing a broomstick-skirt with an ethic print. “Don’t try to intimidate me with your snotty use of grammar. Who is he?”

  Victoria had always liked Jeanie, despite the way the woman always teased her about being uptight and wearing prissy clothes. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “You’re holding out on me. I’ve suspected something for a while, but now I know for sure. You’re wearing the same outfit you wore yesterday, and you ran into work a few minutes late looking like you’d barely managed to get dressed. And every time you move a certain way, you wince.”