Road Games Read online

  I continue to kiss Kara while I have this internal conversation. I’m surrounding her, trapping her between myself and the refrigerator, and I’m a bit taken aback to realize that I like it. I like the feeling. I like being the one in control. I understood when I was planning this little ambush that the only way I’d be able to do the right things at the right times would be to imagine the shoe on the other foot. My brain quickly tosses me an image of the situation reversed, with Kara in control, and I think, What would I like her to do next?

  I slide my hands up and grasp the lapels of her jacket, pushing it back over her shoulders and down her arms as I wrench our mouths apart. The red blouse is sleeveless and the freckles on Kara’s pale shoulders wink at me, causing my mouth to water.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” I whisper with reverence as my eyes rake over her. Her chest is heaving and she blinks rapidly, her eyes cloudy with confusion and desire. I latch my mouth onto one bare shoulder, pressing my teeth in more firmly than she’s used to. She inhales sharply and fists her fingers in my hair. The feeling is not unpleasant.

  “Honey,” she says and her voice is strained. “What—”

  “Shh.” I silence her with my lips. I’m getting into this, much to my own astonishment. It helps that Kara is so much smaller than I am. If we were the same height, I don’t know that I’d be pulling this off, but as it is, I’m able to subtly steer her around the kitchen until she’s backed up against the part of the counter that sticks out like a peninsula.

  What would I want next?

  While my tongue is buried deeply in Kara’s mouth, I feel my way along her blouse and unfasten each button with impressive dexterity. Soon she’s standing in the kitchen in her bra and slacks and when I pull away to take in the view, her eyes are clouded and her lips are swollen a deep pink. She looks like she’s been blindsided. In a good way.

  This power trip I’m suddenly taking is pretty damn cool. Being the top has its advantages, I have to admit. The way she’s looking at me, the way her breasts are rising and falling rapidly and her chest is flushed red…I did that. Holding her gaze, I reach for the front of her slacks. The button pops and she flinches. I quirk one eyebrow and slowly lower her zipper, then give the fabric the gentlest of nudges. It falls to the floor silently, pooling around her ankles in a silky black puddle. She’s wearing a red bra and matching red panties, and my machismo falters slightly as the sight of her in all her underweared glory makes me go weak in the knees. I swallow hard, determined not to screw up when I’ve come this far.

  What would I want next?

  I kiss her again. Hard this time. Demanding. Feeling like I’m in charge. Showing her who’s the boss at this moment. Here’s a hint, doll: it ain’t you. I capture both her breasts in my hands and knead them through the silk and lace of her bra. She moans into my mouth, which sends a rush of wetness into my panties. I cup her ass and lift, catching both of us off-guard as I deposit her on the counter. Now we’re face-to-face and I have much better access. Kara wraps her legs around my hips and pulls me into her tightly. All the air seems to leave the room, but I keep kissing her. I can’t remember her ever being quite this hot.

  Our mouths still fused together, I find the clasp of her bra and open it. I give her no time to notice before I slide my palms around to the front and grab a handful of warm, pliable flesh in each one. Her nipples poke at me, making themselves known and demanding more attention. I pull reluctantly from her lips, loving the whimper of protest that escapes her, and take as much of one creamy breast into my mouth as I can fit. Then I suck hard and with enormous greed. Kara tosses her head back and groans an erotic sound I’ve never heard before. It sends a fresh, hot rush of wetness to my panties. Good God.

  Long minutes go by as I love her breasts, licking and sucking and rolling and pumping. Kara’s nearly hyperventilating, hands braced on the counter, her head still thrown back, and she’s the sexiest damn sight I’ve ever seen. I’m absurdly proud of myself at this point. I’ve taken her from chuckling over a supposed joke to being half naked and panting on the kitchen counter. In our everyday sex life, I might have been annoyed by now…annoyed that I still have all my clothes on and that she’s made no attempt to get me out of them. But I’m okay with that because I think I’m beginning to understand how this works. It’s all about the one on the bottom. She’s got all the control; she just doesn’t always know it. I see that now. At this moment, Kara could ask me to squat on the floor, flap my arms, and cluck like a chicken and I’d do it for her, as long as it meant I’d get more of her once I was done.

  Trailing a path down her quivering belly, I absorb the softness of the skin there, the faint smell of her arousal suddenly tinting the air. I stand up straight and catch her eyes. Their usual green is now almost completely overtaken by the black of her pupils. I smile at her, trying my best to put a wicked glint in my expression and hoping I succeed, not having much experience with such things. Stepping closer, I wrap an arm around her waist and lift her slightly. Our lips are millimeters apart, but I don’t kiss her. Yet. With the fingers of my other hand, I catch the waistband of her panties and pull them down and off. My eyes never leave hers as I lift the panties up and dangle them from my finger before letting them fall to the floor. Kara’s nostrils flare and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

  I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

  Not making eye contact any longer, I stare at her body instead. Her skin is creamy white; she hasn’t had much opportunity to be in the sun yet this year. She’s petite and compact, but oh so womanly, with curves in all the right places. Her taut brown nipples look painfully hard and the coarse, dark triangle of hair between her thighs is glistening. Putting a hand on each knee, I push her thighs apart slowly, listening to her breath hitch in her chest. I stare at her, at the evidence of her extreme arousal, and she lets out a tiny whimper.

  “Please,” she whispers.

  I stifle a triumphant hoot because I just made my girlfriend beg for my touch simply by looking at her. This is a power trip in the extreme and I am almost unable to keep myself from diving at her and devouring her completely.

  Instead, I take a small step forward and kiss her, pushing my tongue into her mouth at the same time I slide my fingers into the warm wet that’s waiting for me. We groan in tandem at the contact. She’s totally drenched and I’m suddenly honored that she saves this part of herself for only me. My fingers seem to move of their own accord around and through her heat and I suddenly feel relief, like I’m home. I know this feeling; I know this body. I slide into her and she wrenches free of my mouth, a gasp forcing its way from her throat. With her arm, she pulls my head to her shoulder, my name and God’s interchangeable in her heated whispers of pleasure. I push in and out of her slowly, slickly, and when her head falls back, I run the flat of my tongue up the long column of her throat, tasting the salt on her skin, almost tempted to take a bite.

  Her hips jerk and I know she’s close. I’m thoroughly in control here and I realize once again how much I like it. I’m suddenly, inexplicably grateful that I tried this little experiment; it seems to be working for both of us. Kara moans and I know it’s time to release her and bring her home. I pick up the pace and pull my head up so I can watch. There’s nothing more beautiful than actually being able to pinpoint the moment she tips over the edge. Her breath catches and she raises her chin. Holding tightly to me, she hisses my name before catching her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. A long, guttural hum issues from deep in her throat and I feel her entire body go taut like the string on an archery bow. Her legs clamp around my middle and I push into her one last time, holding her to me to keep her from sliding off the counter.

  God, she’s beautiful.

  “I love you,” I whisper as she comes down, her body relaxing little by precious little. She drops her forehead onto my shoulder, trying to catch her breath. My fingers are still buried in her warmth and I feel her inner walls twitch.

  “I lo
ve you too.” Her voice is soft, muffled against my T-shirt. We stay in this position for several long minutes before I feel her shoulders shaking and realize that she’s quietly laughing.

  “What?” I pull back with a smile and try to catch her eyes.

  She looks up at me, and her green eyes are sparkling with a gorgeous blend of satisfaction, love, and amusement.

  I want in on the joke, so I ask again. “What?”

  “Did you just top me?” she asks.

  I feign surprise. “Me?” I try unsuccessfully to suppress my knowing grin.

  She slaps at me playfully and pulls me in for a hug. I notice with great joy that she hasn’t ordered me to remove my fingers yet, so I wiggle them ever so slightly and am rewarded with a little intake of breath.

  Yup, I could get used to this game. Being the top is pretty fucking cool.

  Road Games

  Radclyffe

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s play I Spy.”

  “Another stupid game I don’t know how to play,” Christie grumped.

  I felt her pouting all the way in the front seat, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the snow-covered road to check her pretty pink lips. ’Course, I didn’t have to see them to know exactly how they’d look—full and wet and puckered just a little bit, like she was ready to blow me a kiss or flounce away.

  Except she wouldn’t be flouncing anywhere for quite some time, and neither would the rest of us. Not at the rate the snow was falling outside and given the fact that we still had 150 miles to go before we reached the condo we’d rented with some other friends for Valentine’s Day weekend. Crap. It hadn’t snowed all winter, and now out of nowhere, a blizzard.

  “Come on,” I cajoled. “It’ll pass the time and it beats singing ‘A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall.’”

  “Again,” Christie muttered. “It figures I’d get locked in a car with two jocks for a week.”

  “It hasn’t been a week,” I pointed out reasonably. “Only twelve hours.”

  “Feels like twelve years.”

  I heard Christie huff and risked taking my eyes off the narrow, twisting road for a second to glance into the rearview mirror. She was sitting sideways with her legs up on the wide rear seat of my 4Runner, looking miserable, her chin on her knees, her long blond hair falling around her face. I felt sorry for her. I felt sorry for all of us.

  Kit turned in the seat beside me to peer back at her girlfriend. “Aw, baby, it’ll be fun. Just give it a chance, okay?”

  “Okay, whatever.”

  “This is the way I Spy works,” I said hastily. “The first person picks something outside but doesn’t tell the rest of us what it is. Then they say, ‘I spy something with my little eye, something starting with the letter P.’ Then the first person to gue—”

  “Little eye?” Christie snorted. “You mean, like the one in your little dick?”

  “My dick doesn’t have an eye,” I said, grinning despite myself. Kit and Christie, my two best friends. I loved them, I really did. But being stuck in a car with them for half a day was starting to wear on my nerves. “But it does have a great big fabulous head.”

  Next to me, Kit chuckled. The SUV bounced and shimmied a little and I clutched the wheel.

  “Are you watching the signs?” I demanded of Kit, peering through the increasingly heavy snowfall and cursing my decision to try a shortcut to beat the traffic on I-95.

  “What signs?” Kit gestured to the window. “Like I can see anything through that.”

  “You’ve got a point,” I conceded. “Maybe I Spy isn’t such a good idea.” I racked my brain. We’d already been through Twenty Questions, Change a Letter, the Name Game, Alphabet, and Countries. “I guess we can just listen to a CD again.”

  Christie and Kit groaned simultaneously.

  “Okay, then the radi—” I broke off as the shimmy became a shudder. I fought the wheel, which was jumping around in my hands, and just that fast, we went into a slide. The back fishtailed off the edge of the pavement and hit the snow-covered shoulder and the next thing I knew, we were spinning. “Hold on!”

  Christie shrieked, Kit swore, and I tried to remember everything I’d learned in driver’s ed about not flipping over in the middle of a skid. No brakes. No brakes. No brakes, I chanted silently while aching to stomp my foot on the brake and put an end to the dizzying motion. With a huge whoomp the SUV plowed into something, a mountain of snow geysered up around the windows and cascaded over the windshield, and we jolted to a standstill.

  “Jesus,” Kit gasped.

  “Everybody okay?” I shouted, twisting under my seat belt to check my passengers. “Christie? You okay back there?”

  “Was it the crack I made about your little thing?” Christie said, her voice shaking.

  I laughed, loving her even more for being tough in a clinch. “That’ll teach you to bad-mouth my equipment, won’t it?”

  Kit popped her seat belt and leaned between the seats into the back. “You’re not hurt, are you, baby?”

  Christie shook her head. “Nuh-uh.” She leaned forward and kissed Kit. “How about you, honey?” Then she wrapped her arms around Kit’s neck and dove in for more before Kit had a chance to answer.

  “Don’t mind me,” I groused while they were kissing and cooing. “I’m just fine. Thanks.”

  Kit came up for air and grinned, shaking her head to flip her short dark hair back out of her eyes. “Feels like we’re in a ditch. I guess we should take a look. What was it, do you think?”

  “I’m not sure. Axle maybe.” Whatever it was, it’d felt bad. That plus the weather did not equal a good night ahead. “I’ve got flares in the back. We better set some out if we can’t get out of here.”

  I climbed out after checking the rearview and side mirrors to make sure I wasn’t going to get picked off by a passing motorist. Not much chance of that. We hadn’t seen taillights or headlights for miles. Kit joined me, and we tromped around the SUV in knee-deep snow, the visibility so poor we could barely see the road.

  “Going to need a tow,” Kit observed.

  I had to agree. The ass end of my truck was practically invisible, half in a ditch and buried in a snowdrift. We set out the flares and hustled back inside. Then I dug out my cell and called the number on my emergency road service card. Fortunately, Kit had been following our route on the map and we had a very good idea of where we were.

  “It’s a holiday weekend, and with this storm,” a very nice woman advised me, “it’s going to be at least three or four hours before we can get to you. Do you have adequate warm clothing?”

  No, I wanted to say, we came out in shorts and sandals. But I could tell she was reading from some sort of emergency checklist card, and it wasn’t her fault I had detoured into the backcountry, so I just said, “Yes.”

  “How much gas do you have?”

  “Better than half a tank,” I said, mentally whispering a quick thank-you to whatever gods had prompted me to fill up just before we’d gotten off the interstate.

  “Don’t run the engine unless you clear the snow from around your tailpipe, and turn it on sparingly if you start to get cold.”

  “Okay. What about—”

  “The temperature is well above zero, and you should be in no danger if you stay inside your vehicle until our emergency truck arrives.”

  “Thanks.” What else could I say? Forget about all the other stranded motorists and come and get me first? That’s what I wanted to say. But we really weren’t in any trouble. We had enough munchies, soda, and water for a solid day if we had to wait that long. Which we wouldn’t need to.

  “I’ll call you in an hour and a half with an update,” the nice lady said. “You keep your phone nearby and don’t use it to call anyone else.”

  She suddenly sounded a lot like my mother, and I felt myself sitting up straighter. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

  I disconnected and explained the situation to Kit and Christie.

  “We’re going to be stuck out her
e all night!” Christie practically screamed. “We could freeze out here!”

  “We’re not going to freeze,” I said testily. “We’ll be out of here before morning. Try to sleep or something.”

  “You’re not supposed to go to sleep,” Christie retorted. “Besides, you two are sitting up there where it’s warmer!”

  She was right about that. I hadn’t been wearing a jacket while I was driving, and it was still warm enough in the front seat that I was comfortable in only my sweatshirt. Kit squeezed between the two front seats and clambered into the back. Putting her arm around her girlfriend, she murmured loud enough for me to hear, “I won’t let you get cold, baby. Don’t you worry about that.”

  “Well,” Christie said, “I guess you could think of some way to keep me heated up.”

  I glanced in the rearview mirror, saw them go into another clinch, and figured they’d survive the wait. Easing my seat back enough to stretch my legs out underneath the steering wheel, I closed my eyes. Sleeping would pass the time until help arrived.

  It was very quiet in the truck. Very very quiet. Except for the sound of kisses. Funny, when you’re not actually doing the kissing, they sound different. They don’t sound slippery and soft and tingly, they sound like someone drinking after a trek in the midday sun or eating after a long fast. Wet and thirsty. Hot and hungry. Small murmurs of pleasure and satisfaction interspersed with urgent pleas for more.

  They probably thought they were being quiet as they sighed and shifted and murmured softly. It hadn’t been that long ago when Kit and I had shared a dorm room and I’d seen them both naked more than a few times. I’d never seen them doing anything more than cuddling up in bed, but it wasn’t much of a stretch to image the rest. I wriggled in my seat, suddenly restless.