Fly By Night (2)

What are you doing? Jan quelled the voice screaming in her head. She was doing what she needed to do. It had been three long years since she’d even let anyone in her house. Being alone suited her. She hadn’t lied about that. It was safer, it was easier, and it left her plenty of time to do her work. 

The world outside was overwhelming and included far too much pain. She could see it on the stranger--yet not a strange--standing in her hallway. But sometimes she got lonely. Sometimes she just wanted to have someone touch her. But never here. No one had ever touched her here in her home. 

Jon, with his sad eyes and weight-of-the-world stress carving into his too good looks, seemed like he might just be feeling the same. She lifted on her toes and cupped his cheek. He watched her intently. His blue eyes with their prism facets swallowed her. Was he starving for a connection too?

Boldly, she brushed her lips against his. Not a real kiss, just a maybe kiss. Just a taste to see if it settled right, or if it was a--and her breath left her as he dragged her into the hard planes of his chest. His fingers almost bruising at her back as he devoured her mouth.
Like one of the ground leveling storms that rocked her house in high summer, his taste wiped out every other thought. Her fingers grappled for his shoulders and into his hair to just hold on while his mouth completely obliterated all the sensory memories she had about kisses. This wasn’t a kiss. This was a melding that transcended something as simple as the definition of lips meeting. 

He lifted her up, his arms crushing her in as his tongue found every secret she’d never known she had about herself. Fear and lust pumped inside her. He was way too much for just a fling. He was like raw lightning in a tight, disciplined body that was going to break free. 

But her body was more than willing to ride his lightning. She drew her legs up and tightened around him until they ended up against her door. Stronger than he looked, he held her tight against himself and his back thuded against the steel. Her palm slapped into the cool metal and it knocked a little bit of sense into her. Enough to rip her mouth from his, both of them heaving out a breath. 

“Stop me now. Send me on my way, January.”

His eyes held self-censure, but he wanted this as much as she did. To connect on a basic level that couldn’t be found in any other arena but skin to skin. To feel his hard flesh inside her, and to match him passion for passion. To feel a man’s hard body on top of her, the weight and the pleasure that was human contact. 

“Up the stairs,” she said in a voice that couldn’t be her own. “I don’t want to stop. I just want to feel for one day, for one night.”

He hooked his arm under her knee and shifted her until she was in his arms. She gripped his shoulders. “Hang on.”

Like she had any choice. He took the stairs two at a time, carrying her like she weighed little more than her weekly load of laundry. The upstairs was as wide open as the rest of her house. She hated to feel closed in. The entire upstairs overlooked the downstairs and the ceiling was pure glass and steel. 

Jon gasped. “Sweet Jesus,” he said and stared up. The storm had swirled into a violent black and purple cloud full of lightning and rain. It pounded down on her little house with all the fury that the July heat had fueled. 

But she’d seen it all before. She’d had this house built with the strength to withstand all the weather her wide open spaces could give. She pulled his head down to her and caught his mouth, drawing in one of those devastating kisses. The man kissed without reservation, without thought, and with enough power to light up the sky, forget the lightning.

He lowered her to the glossy dark hardwood of her bedroom. The space was almost sparse with her oversized bed and two pendant lights on either side of her bed. But there was no need for light right now. The storm blew in and took away the sun, but it was still mid afternoon and the teeming rain gave it a cozy feel that belied the nerves alive in her blood. 

Her fingers smoothed over the ultra-fine linen of his shirt. She noticed the ink on her hands and curled them into her palm, but he pressed her hand to his chest. “Just touch me.”

Her stomach flipped, but she opened her fingers again and roamed over his chest. He was incredibly firm under the shirt. Discipline and job security had to mix to put someone in that good shape. He wasn’t young, but to her it was the character of his lines and the way he held himself that had moved her. A bone deep loneliness that she could identify with.

She followed the natural dip of his pectoral muscle and parted the open shirt to find a cotton so soft she wanted to make sheets with it. “Oh,” she groaned, slipping his rougher linen shirt off his shoulders. Springy chest hair tangled above the line of his tank and lightened at his clavicle. Muscle bulged lightly at his shoulders and coiled down his arms like thing rope. 

Absently, she walked around him, tracing the patch of freckles along his shoulders and the faded S that would be just as much his as Superman’s. His back was warm and more muscle rippled under her fingers deliciously. She’d always been sensory. Everything in her home was built to curl in and comfort her. 

And he was hard--everywhere. She followed the line of his spine and belt with its rockstar steel nubs stamped into the leather. Standing behind him, she followed the line of his belt until she found his buckle, digging her fingers under the heavy silver, but not releasing the catch. 

She heard him hiss, and her nipples tightened at the sound and the heat of his back. Could he feel the twin points through both of their layers of cotton? Instead of unbuckling the worn and loved leather she scraped her nails over the hair she’d found under the cotton and denim. Flat and warm, his belly quivered under her touch. 

His head tipped back and she could feel his hands flex into fists. She could feel it in every line of his arms and flicked her tongue over the shifting deltoid muscle at his shoulder. He shifted his feet and she dipped into his jeans to find the tip of his cock reaching for her touch. She teased along the warm, silky head with her first knuckle and then raked her way up his belly. 

He had an an intriguing dip that climbed out of his jeans and firmed into a six pack that would make any man from fifteen to fifty jealous. She traced each ridge as she pulled the tank higher. The quiet groans as she touched him made her bolder. She raked her way across his abs and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. 

“Your body is fascinating,” she whispered from behind him. 

“I’ll--” he broke off in a hiss. “Christ, that feels good,” he breathed in as she dug her fingers into the muscles. Her thumbnails found the tight nipples hidden in his chest hair and she flicked them. Again, he hissed and again her body hummed. She missed touching. She missed a man’s body and this man’s body was made for touching. 

She walked around him, his hand tracing over her ass as she came in front of him. He slid one thigh between hers, watching as she molded him with her fingers once more, this time with her eyes to guide her, not just blind touching. 

The friction of his denim over her yoga pants heightened the pleasure and his fingers gripping her butt didn’t hurt either. She nuzzled her nose into he spiky but soft hair of his chest and there was the flat, little nipple so incredibly tight under her tongue. It was hot, searing hot, so she blew on it and watched it tighten even more. 

“Jesus, you’re killing me here.”

She looked up and his eyes had darkened, the crazy facets were as intense as lightning. She could feel him holding himself back. “Do you want me to stop.”

“No!” 

She laughed, looking up at him as she twirled her tongue around his nipple. “I don’t think I’ve ever handled a man quite as well put together as you.”

He tried to answer her, but she saw the quick bob of his Adam’s apple as her hand lowered to his zipper and curled her hand around his shaft. Instead of laughing, she just trailed her tongue down each ab muscle and squatted in front of him. 

Looking up at him, she nuzzled along the line of his cock trying to break out of its denim prison. And he watched--everything. Power and lust crackled inside her as her room shook with the thunder bowling its way down the plains outside. Impulsively she opened her mouth and lightly bit him through the denim. 

His mouth dropped open and she smiled up at him even as she nibbled her way up to the head, then she stood up and screeched out a laugh when he grabbed her and tossed her on the bed. It was intimate and playful where there had been an overwhelming intensity only moments before. 

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched him as he dragged his white tanktop over his head. The weight of the large square buckle left an interesting shadow just where his V got interesting. He was trimmed and so male it made her teeth hurt. 

This sleepy hooded stare was probably on about seventeen billboards over the years, but right then it was just a man looking at a woman. Right now it was just Jon and January, just wanting to feel a moment together. Just maybe wanting to feel.

It had been so very long since she’d even done that.

With one knee on the bed, her heart stuttered at the clink of his buckle opening. But he stopped, the leather open and the top two buttons showed a triangle of darker hair and lighter flesh. But just lighter flesh. 

Oh yeah. 

That one little rockstar thing had her entire body tingling in 3.5 seconds. Commando. Sweet Jesus, she was going to get her world rocked by an honest to God rockstar.
“Care to share the reason for the smirk?”

With one foot, she dug her toes into the heavy denim covered muscle on his thigh. Christ, did he have muscles everywhere? “Nope.”

He snagged her foot, and she tried to pull away, but he just twisted the lightweight cotton of her pants and jerked. She gasped as the low slung pants hit her thighs before she could save them. His eyes lit at the electric purple cotton underwear she wore. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to look at purple the same way again.”

She grinned up at him as her pants flew over his shoulder. “Purple is ma signature colllla,” she said in a perfect Steel Magnolia’s voice. 

Laughing, he crawled forward, his hand at his buttons again. 

"No,” she stilled his hand and his head jerked up, his eyes on hers. 

“Okay,” he said and retreated a step.

She curled her finger past his hand and to the denim button fly. “No, you’re not going anywhere, but God, I can’t tell you how sexy it is to see a man in button fly’s.”

His grin was back. The way his mouth quirked up and the devil gleamed out of his eyes was so sexy she had trouble breathing for a minute. How they’d gone from intense to playful in just a flight of stairs she didn’t know. All she knew is that it felt good--it felt better than anything she’d ever experienced. And all the pain she’d been dragging around was happy to be stuffed away for a few hours.

She had a feeling it would be a few hours. The man seemed to like to take his time. She dragged him on top of her and cupped the denim and the man between her thighs with a good long sigh. “Oh yeah,” she sighed as he fit himself just a little tighter into the cradle of her thighs. She rose up and moaned as the denim and the hard flesh buzzed along her swollen center. 

He loomed over her, all straining muscles in his arms and intense gaze never leaving her. She reached inside his jeans and cupped him and he finally closed his eyes for a moment. The rapture on his face guided her with each touch. He was silky and warm, hard and sensitive. 

She knew a man like him had been with a lot of women, but the sensory discovery of a new lover only happened once. And if you let yourself fall into that, the one time was could be every time. She arched up until she could reach his neck, her tongue flicking over the whiskers at his Adam’s apple, following the whorl of hair that grew around the knot there.

He dropped with a sigh, his elbows framing her hair and her head as he pushed himself into her hand.

“Harder?” she asked and increased her grip. 

He groaned and slid along her palm. She teased the delicate vein under his head and felt him jump in her hand. But she wasn’t prepared for the retribution as he buried his head into her neck and dragged his tongue up along the side of her neck to her ear and scraped his teeth over the lobe. 

He curled his fingers around the base of her neck and tilted her head back. The stubble of his jaw and the softness of his lips crossed all her wires and flooded her panties. “Mercy,” she moaned as he did it all again, this time on her left side. 

His teeth scraped over her chin and the follow up kiss had her hands falling away from him in pure female shock. But it didn’t last long. Her nails bit into his sides and dove under the back of his jeans confirming the commando theory. She gripped his ass, dragging at his jeans until his shaft was pushing hard at the cotton barrier. 

She writhed under him as his bristled chin dragged down her chest and under her own tank top. It was one of those sports type ones, with the shelf that was supposed to support a woman, but never really did. The only support it gave, was to lift her breasts and put them on display for him.

With a focus that frightened as much as it turned her on, he traced his tongue around her nipples slowly. All the while he rocked against her in a brain numbing swivel that bumped his shaft right along the hood of her soaking wet lips. Sucking in the rock hard tip of her breast, he reared up at the same time and she shouted with the pure pleasure.

She’d been so focused on touching him, she didn’t realise just how much she’d worked herself up in the process. Drenched for him, she pushed at the panties. “Inside. Inside me,” she muttered as he did that hip thing again and her whole room went black with spots. 

His other hand lifted her up, dragging her panties down as the tip of him pushed inside her and stopped. “Fuck,” he growled. 

She crossed her ankles and tried to drag him inside of her, but he wouldn’t budge. 


“Fucking muscles,” she muttered and gave a low growl of frustration. “Don’t you think we teased each other enough?” She was going to scream her very expensive windows down if she didn’t get this orgasm up and out of her system. 

Trapped.

Trapped like she was in this house some days.

It was dying to get out.

“I don’t have anything,” he said and rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t do this sort of thing anymore,” he said with a rueful smile. 

The lightbulb went off in her head. “Condom,” she muttered. Fuck, she’d totally forgotten about one of those. “Fuck responsibility,” she said and drove him inside her. 

He hissed ans stayed very still inside of her. She could see all the tendons in his neck tighten with the need to slam into her again. “Oh God,” he said and gulped in a breath. 


“Jan-” he tried to back off of her but she just rolled her hips.

“I can’t get pregnant,” she said into his neck. “Now fuck me, dammit. I’m going to scream if you don’t.”

He looked down at her, she could see the responsibility trying to break out of the lust that had them both in lockdown. “No one could hear you,” he said on a strangled laugh.

She laughed and he slid deeper if that was at all possible. She dug each fingernail into the...surprise, surprise...muscular ass that was clenched as the rest of his body. And he slowly dragged his hips back and slammed back inside of her. “God, yes,” she managed as he nailed her into the bed.

He lifted her knee higher and angled himself a little to the side and that was all it took to find that elusive spot. She’d found it a time or two on her own, but there as the rain pummelled her window, Jon did the same to her and she shouted out her thanks to all the gods she could think of, and moved onto the angels in her head.

Used and abused in the best sense of the word, she felt him curl around her from the back, leaving their bodies joined as long as they saw fit. She didn’t want to sleep--she didn’t want to waste a minute of the day, but her body had other plans.