Chapter 1: The Heat Before the Storm
The late afternoon sun bled through the blinds, cutting sharp lines across Jane’s back. Dave traced one with his fingertip, from the knob of her spine down to the swell of her ass. She shivered, a preemptive gasp catching in her throat.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she murmured, her face half-buried in the pillow.
“Just appreciating the view.” He bent, pressing his lips to the small of her back. Her skin tasted like salt and the vanilla lotion she’d put on hours ago. “And thinking about how much I want to be inside you.”
She laughed, a low, throaty sound. “Skip the sweet talk. We both know where this is going.”
He didn’t need telling twice. His hands slid over her hips, urging her up onto her knees. She went willingly, arching her back with a practiced grace that made his breath hitch. He took his time, kissing a slow trail down the cleft of her ass, savoring the way her muscles trembled under his mouth.
His tongue found her, and she jerked forward with a sharp cry. Her fingers twisted in the sheets. “Dave…”
“I know.” He said it against her skin, the vibration pulling another whimper from her. He loved this—the complete surrender, the unfiltered noises she made when he had her here. He worked her with his tongue until her thighs were shaking and her pleas were a broken stream of yes and please and right there.
Just as she began to pulse around him, he pulled away. She groaned in frustration, a sound that turned into a sigh of relief as he nudged his cock against her, slick from her own arousal and his saliva. He pushed in slowly, a long, burning stretch that had them both holding their breath.
“God, that’s it,” Jane choked out, pushing back against him until he was fully sheathed. The heat was incredible, a tight, perfect clutch. He stayed still for a moment, forehead damp against her shoulder, just feeling the frantic beat of her heart through her skin.
Then he moved.
It was a rough, driving rhythm from the start, the way they both liked it. The headboard knocked a dull beat against the wall in time with his thrusts. Jane’s sounds were muffled by the pillow, then loud and open when she turned her head to the side, her profile etched in pleasure.
“Harder,” she demanded, and he obeyed, his grip on her hips tightening. The room filled with the sound of skin on skin, their ragged breathing, the creak of the bed. He felt the coil of tension in his gut, a familiar telegraph from her body just before she fell apart. Her whole body went rigid, a silent scream on her lips before a long, shuddering wave of release tore through her, milking him relentlessly.
It tipped him over the edge. He drove into her one last, deep time, spilling with a groan that was half her name.
For a while, the only sound was their slowing breaths. He collapsed beside her, an arm flung over her waist. She winced as he slipped out, then laughed, rolling onto her back. “Welcome home.”
“Best part of my day,” he said, grinning. He leaned over and kissed her, slow and deep. She tasted herself on his tongue, and it made her hum with satisfaction.
They lay in a sticky, comfortable silence for a few minutes. The sun had moved, the bars of light now climbing the opposite wall.
“We’re gonna be late for the Prestons’,” Jane said, not moving.
“Screw the Prestons. Their artichoke dip is store-bought. I can tell.” He ran a hand through her damp hair. “You’re in a good mood.”
“You just fucked my brains out my favorite way. Course I am.” She stretched, catlike. “I was thinking in the shower this morning. About that thing you mentioned last week.”
Dave propped himself up on an elbow. “Which thing? The bike trip? The bidet?”
“The sharing thing.” She looked at him, her expression open, curious. Not joking.
“Oh.” He blinked. “That thing.”
“Yeah.” She traced a circle on his chest. “Just thinking. We talk about everything else. Why is that the one line we don’t cross?”
“It’s a big line, Janie.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “But we’re not exactly conventional. We like what we like. We’re happy.” She gestured vaguely between them. “This is explosive. What if… what if adding a little fuel just makes a bigger bang?”
He studied her face, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He found none, just a playful spark. “You’re serious.”
“I’m theorizing. Over drinks with the Prestons and their sad dip, I’ll probably remember why it’s a terrible idea.” She slid out of bed, padding naked toward the bathroom. “But for now, it’s fun to think about.”
The shower started. Dave lay back, staring at the ceiling. He could still smell her, smell them, on the sheets. His mind, usually so satiated after their rituals, was suddenly racing, tripping over images and possibilities he’d kept carefully boxed away.
Jane was right. They weren’t conventional. Their happiness was built on a foundation of brutal honesty and matched, insatiable appetites.
He heard her singing off-key in the shower, entirely unconcerned with the grenade she’d just casually tossed into the middle of their bed. A slow smile spread across his face.
Maybe it wasn’t a grenade. Maybe it was an invitation.