Eli’s night was quiet, a determination made by the melancholia that came with the memories of Zoe. La Bohème on DVD, baked brie with pears, and a nice pinot to round it out. Menial tasks like preparing food and sipping wine to devote his brain to so that he didn’t have to focus on the emotional upheaval during his day.
Any time that his mind lingered on his memories of Zoe for more than just an instant, he felt exhausted. More so since he’d admitted his feelings for his partner, Bex, to himself at least. It had been coming since she’d transferred in from teaching firearms at the Academy at Glynco and was assigned as his partner. One look at her long almost-ruby red tresses and long, long legs and his better sense had deserted him.
Though most people found her personality to be abrasive, he actually appreciated the forthright way that she dealt with the world around her. She didn’t play games, personal or professional, and had no patience for those who tried to play with her. Intelligence and integrity were sexy to him, as was her dedication to the comfort and safety of her witnesses.
Watching her today with Violet, he could see a level of comfort and affinity between the two that was unusual. Even in his slightly-addled state, he could see that she’d taken a personal interest in this one. One thing that very few people knew about her, and he counted himself among those lucky few, was her capacity for compassion. As prickly as she was to most people, if she truly liked you, she would go to hell and back for you.
She and Zoe had that in common, the outward appearances differing wildly from the actual experience, at least for him. Eli didn’t normally seek comparisons between the two women, because he wasn’t normally as beholden to his past as he had been today. Thoughts of his lost love and his assuredly unrequited crush on his partner had just left him drained. Alas, as he lay abed, worn out and vaguely drunk, Queen Mab had other plans for him.
Autumn was in its nascence, the first chill of the air that seemed to stick around, the wind that was cool enough to numb the cheeks without cutting to the bone. It was a soft season, gentler than its sister, winter, but that had always been true of middle children.
He and Zoe walked back to campus from the mall, having spent the entire day there since she’d gotten off work. He’d been floored by the walking fantasy of her coming out of the library with her pleated plaid skirt and button down shirt under her trench coat, combat boots, and the requisite thigh highs. He now knew she wore those solely, and garter belts, but only because he sat next to her in class now and was close enough to see her adjust her skirt when she sat. Throw in the signature pigtails and he stayed half-hard most of the day, every day.
They were actually spending a great deal of time together, in class and out. Eli found her to be highly organized and motivated, both traits he shared and thus they worked extremely well together. Those were far from the only similarities between them, and Eli found that with every geek joke, scientific formula, and French poem, he had fallen further under her spell.
Today, after they left the library, they went immediately to the mall and she got a coat that would keep her warm in the high desert winter. Instead of going back to campus, they made a day of it, lunch, window shopping, and then a movie, in this case Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, and a quiet Italian dinner. They’d gotten take out desserts, planning on munching in their rooms back on campus as they worked on the homework they’d forsaken for the day out together. It was decadent and appealed to his more romantic inclinations, especially in the darkened theatre with his arm stretched across the top of her seat. Zoe had noticed but hadn’t commented, instead choosing to snuggle up against his side slightly while they enjoyed the movie. The scent of cinnamon filled his head and made him smile. Everything about her was either hot, spicy, or both, even the way she smelled.
“I’m pretty sure,” she declared after they’d trudged about a block, “that I could have gone the whole rest of my life without seeing Kevin Costner’s naked behind.”
Eli caught her amused sidelong glance and an answering grin raced across his lips. “It was only for a second.”
Zoe stopped, her eyes wide and mock-serious with her hands on her hips. “But it’s a second I can’t get back! What if I wanted to do something important with that second later on? Like cure cancer or buy new panties with ruffles on the butt?”
The image of her in the panties with the ruffly backside and nothing else was enough to seize up his lungs for a moment. “You can do all that in a second?” he croaked out. Ever since that first kiss, she’d taken great pleasure in teasing him with the idea of it happening again. He remained optimistic.
The dimples that cut into her cheeks as she grinned did nothing to ease his sudden affliction. “I can sure as hell try.”
They laughed as he escorted her back to the three-story walk up that served as her dorm. He kept his hands deep in the pockets of his long wool coat to keep from reaching out to hold hers. It was an old-fashioned gesture of affection, a physical demonstration of where his head and heart were leading him. Zoe wouldn’t have laughed if he’d shared what was on his mind. He knew that about her, but he felt like it was too soon to just blurt something like that out.
Eli was still lost in thought when they got to the front door of the building. She fumbled for a moment with the keys, her pouch, and the leftovers, before he took the keys and opened the door for her. “Have a good night, Zoe.” He figured it was best he leave before he did something stupid like—
“You’re not coming inside? I thought we’d eat the cannoli together. I have coffee . . .” She looked so cute there, under the yellow sodium D light, leaning against the door. She looked into the darkened stairwell and then back at him hopefully.
“Okay, you twisted my arm.” It was just coffee and a cannoli, nothing more. He could do this. He wasn’t some hormone-addled Neanderthal incapable of being alone with a woman without taking liberties with her.
The smile she gave him made him resolve right then and there that he would make her smile like that at least once a day for the rest of his life. “Up two flights, apologies in advance.”
Eli never even thought of asking for an apology as he followed the swish of her short, little skirt up the stairs. He only wished the lighting was a little more conducive to actively enjoy it. The dorm was surprisingly quiet, but it was a Saturday night, so it wasn’t completely unexpected.
Zoe’s room was just off the stairwell, a solo room in a hall with about twelve other students, though it may as well have been a flophouse from the smell and overall state. Flyers hanging off the wall and on the floor, various articles of clothing poking out from under doors and the ever-present aroma of pot and urine. “This is . . . different.”
She smiled an apology over her shoulder as she opened the door to her room. It was like another world when she turned on the light. First thing he noticed was that it was clean, the floor, the organized desk next to the door, even the futon was made, with black sheets naturally. He followed her in and found that in addition to being unusually tidy, it smelled like cinnamon and apples, just like she did.
“I’ll take your coat.” She’d already put hers away and had a hanger out to do the same with his.
So much for a quick exit. He handed her his coat, amused that even in her boots, the bottom of his coat dragged the ground. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
Zoe was a flurry of movement, pulling bottles of water from her mini fridge and pouring them into a plug-in tea kettle, setting up coffee mugs on her desk and getting out her French press. “Thanks, it’s not home, but it’ll do. Why don’t you have a seat while I finish this up?” She gestured with her head towards the futon as she turned on some classical music on the radio and ground up the coffee beans.
Eli took a seat at the far end of the futon, presumably the head of her bed, if the placement of the alarm clock and the well-loved teddy bear on her nightstand were any indication. He picked up the bear and looked it over, no tag on it, one ear just slightly lower than the other with some telltale ad hoc surgical stitches, patches of fur worn away. The bear had had a hard life. “You sleep with a teddy bear?”
She came over to the couch with a plastic fork, small paper plate and a cup of coffee for him. “No, but Brownie and I have been traveling companions for several years now, and I saw no need to change the arrangement just because I left home.”
“Brownie?” Of course her bear wouldn’t have a normal name like Teddy. He put the bear back on the nightstand and took the coffee from her. He couldn’t help watching her legs as she walked away to get her own mug and the dessert.
“Brownward T. Bear, world traveler extraordinaire. He goes where I do. That’s been the agreement since birth. It works for both of us.”
Eli would have liked to pay attention, but her skirt fluttered up as she sank down onto the futon and he might now be able to swear in court that her panties matched the plaid of her skirt and he might have to fall over dead in response. He took a drink of his coffee to cover his reaction to having all the blood in his body suddenly sluice southward. “Wow, this is great coffee.”
She gave him the huge grin again and he felt his stomach do that fluttery thing again that it did when she smiled at him. “Glad you like it. The coffee they have here is horrible. I told them that if I wanted to drink turpentine, I’d be an art major, but I don’t think they found the humor in that.”
He was in the middle of bringing the cup to his lips as she said that, and fortunately stopped himself as he chuckled. Nothing sexier than snorting out scalding hot coffee all over your date, or so he’d heard. “Nice. So explain this whole cannoli thing to me. You saw them on the menu and got so excited. I was afraid I was going to have to tranquilize you to get you home.”
“Ooh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Zoe’s voice dropped to a seductive octave and she licked her lips. She’d been doing that a lot around him lately and he was finding it very hard to remain a gentleman while she did it. She opened the white foam container and got out the dessert.
He held out his plate and looked it over suspiciously. A fried pastry tube filled with cream and chocolate chips, covered in powdered sugar. “Okay? Still not seeing the hype.”
She got out her own and put it on her plate, abandoning the plastic fork entirely. “This is the closest thing to heaven ever created. It does things to your tongue that I’m pretty sure are illegal in most states. I think you just need to put it in your mouth and try it.” Her description left burn marks on his brain, and he had to move a little to make the fit of his pants more bearable. “In fact,” she scooted closer to him on the futon, her skirt riding up dangerously high enough for him to see the red bows at the tops of her stockings, “you can even have some of mine.”
Eli’s hands fell to his lap as she held the pastry to his lips. He leaned forward a bit to take a bite, his mouth filling with the rare joy that is sweet ricotta, chocolate chips, and the pastry shell. “Wow.” She was right, it was pretty spectacular, though he had to wonder how much of it was the food versus the delivery system of a scorchingly hot girl in a button up white blouse, a tiny plaid skirt and white thigh high stockings.
Her smile was pure temptation. “How good is that?”
She was about to take her own bite when he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Since you fed me my first bite, I figure it’s only fair if I . . .” his voice died as she immediately dropped her hands and looked at him expectantly. Taking his cannoli, he leaned forward and held it to her lips with one hand, the other he had under her chin to keep the powdered sugar from getting all over her clothes. He hadn’t realized the phallic implications until she looked him in the eye as she took a bite and then closed her eyes on a deep moan of ecstasy. The deep intake of breath startled him, because he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding it. He needed to leave, now, but there was no way he could get up without his tortured state being obvious to her and pretty much anyone else who cared to look.
“Eli?” She, too, sounded out of breath for some reason and when he looked up at her, she was biting her bottom lip in a way that only made his situation more desperate. “You have some schmutz . . .”
Zoe reached up to touch his face and he knew that if she touched him, he might burst into flames, so he shook his head and she took her hand back with a look of confusion. He made a half-assed attempt at brushing the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did I get it?”
She shook her head, and he tried again, and she laughed, closing her eyes for a moment. “No. Let me . . .” She took both their desserts and coffee mugs and placed them on the floor before she moved until she was sitting right next to him on the futon and he could move no farther back. Placing one hand on his thigh, high enough to be the sole focus of his attention, she leaned over and traced her tongue over his bottom lip, looking him in the eye the whole time.
When she sat back, he was confused for a moment but only until she pulled out the rubber bands holding her pigtails in place. She shook her hair down and he gave in to the urge he’d had since he’d first seen her, touching and running his fingers through it. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand as he played in her long tresses.
Zoe opened her eyes and met his gaze, her eyes flickering occasionally to his lips as she replaced her hand on his thigh. “Eli?” her voice was barely above a whisper, carried on the faint strains of deBussey in the background. “Would you kiss me?”
Would he . . . ? He would move Heaven and Earth for her and then move it back without complaint if she changed her mind. Would he? He cupped the back of her head as they leaned towards each other, meeting in the middle. Her lips were warm, moist, and as eager to receive him as he was to be there. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth and she gasped, the sound setting his blood on fire. He gathered her close to him as he deepened the kiss, his hands on her hips as he moved her until she sat in his lap, feet dangling off the side of the bed.
There was no way to disguise the effect she had on him now, and he liked the way she squirmed against him, even though he was in the throes of the sweetest agony. He made short work of the row of buttons on her blouse, sliding his hand in to touch the warm skin of her stomach.
She gasped at the contact and he pulled back from the kiss to judge her reaction. “Is this okay?” he whispered, afraid of giving his full voice to it lest it be some beautiful dream. Instead of speaking, she shimmied her shoulders, letting the shirt fall down her arms behind her, revealing a pale pink bra that looked like it might snap and overflow with her next breath. He traced a finger along the top edge, fascinated by the trail of goosebumps he left in his wake.
“Eli . . .” It was a question, a demand, an entreaty, and a compliment wrapped in a single murmured word. Her mouth was on him then, this kiss solely hers, one hand behind his neck, the other on his shoulder as he tested the weight of her breast in his hand, and teased her nipple through the silk with his palm.
With his other hand, he was trying, and failing, to unhook her bra, finally conceding to the two-handed approach and tossing it on the floor, barely missing the cannoli. He wanted, no, he needed to see her, and thus moved her back so that he could look his fill at her breasts, full and high with tips the color of café au lait.
Not one to be passive, Zoe took the opportunity to shift so that she now straddled his lap, his hardness straining against her soft warmth. She ground against him, both of them groaning at the contact.
He brought his hands to her hips to hold her in place; it was either that or embarrass himself. “I . . .” It was monumental, seeing her like this, and he was overwhelmed by the emotion as he traced lines from her soft shoulders to the fullness of her breasts. “‘She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes . . .’”
A sly smile played on her lips as she reached for the first button of his shirt. “Mad.” The second button, “Bad.” The final four, “And dangerous to know.” She peeled back his shirt, her fingers trailing down his chest to his waist and back up to his shoulders. Leaning in, she pressed against him, completely skin on skin, whispering, “You’re definitely hotter than Byron,” right before she kissed him.
This kiss was way beyond anything he’d experienced before, the heady feeling of her nipples brushing against his chest and the gentle serpentine of her hips against him as he held them. One hand slid from her hip to her knee and under the hem of the plaid skirt that had been teasing him all day, the other tangled in her hair. He toyed with the satin bow at the top of her stocking as he trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, reveling in her whimpers and soft moans. The spot beneath her ear yielded especially promising results. “Wrap your legs around me.”
Zoe pulled back with a skeptical look, but did as he asked, the maneuver made difficult by the boots she still wore. Still, she managed, and once she did, he lifted her and moved them both, so that she lay on her back beneath him. “Impressive.”
He grinned bashfully and brushed a quick kiss across her lips in response, a tactical error as she tightened her legs around him and held him to her as she deepened the kiss while grinding against him. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to last until he got her clothes off. He broke off the kiss and nipped her lip when she pouted. Moving to sit back on his heels, he looked over at her and almost lost it right there. Zoe with her black mane wild against the pillow and no shirt, her skirt ruched up lewdly around her waist and the incontrovertible proof that her low cut string bikini panties were the same red Stewart plaid as her skirt. The best part? No garter belt, just stockings with bows and combat boots. It was like every wet dream he’d ever had.
She came up to her elbows, looking for all the world like a centerfold model, complete with insouciant pout. Reaching out to touch his stomach, the feel of her fingers sent a jolt of pure desire through him as she slowly walked them down to the button on his jeans. Her eyes met his, green and blue and completely focused on him, a question, a request. He nodded and the corner of her full lips kicked up in a smile as she sat up to properly undo his jeans, dragging out the process until he thought he might lose his mind.
If Eli had had any idea that his day would end like this, he would not have worn his Looney Tunes boxers. It was one thing to wear them to class; it was something entirely different when someone else was going to see them in an intimate context. Zoe, apparently, had no problems with them, opening his jeans and stroking the ridge of his erection behind the thin blue cotton.
“Zoe . . .” he put all of his increasing desperation in his tone. She was going to finish him off well before anything else happened. She looked up, her eyes large with the affectation of innocence as she pulled down his boxers and stroked him fully for the first time. He hissed like she’d burned him as her soft hand stroked him and drove him closer and closer to completion.
“Eli.” His eyes came open and she crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to lean down and kiss her while she touched him. He did as he was bid, putting everything he was feeling, the sensations welling up as she continued to torment him with her hands.
Tearing his mouth away from hers, he rested his head on her forehead, every breath sawing in and out of his lungs. “Zoe, I’m gonna . . . God . . .” and it was too late. He surged over her, his final thrusts against her body, spilling himself all over her skirt before dropping down on top of her, his face in her neck, drinking in the overwhelming smell of cinnamon on her skin.
His senses returned as he felt her hands, cool and gentle, tracing patterns on his back under his shirt and in his hair. “I feel like I should apologize.”
She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Why? It washes.”
He appreciated her pragmatism, even if he was a bit startled by it. The fit of giggles that threatened were distinctly at odds with his suddenly languorous state. “I meant besides that . . .”
“Mmm?”
It was hard to form coherent thoughts when she was wriggling beneath him. “You didn’t . . .” he didn’t know how to say it without being terribly tactless.
“Oh, I know.” She sounded amused, not upset. “I mean, do you have somewhere you have to be in the morning?”
Eli rolled to the side and leaned on an elbow to look down at her. She was Venus, beautiful and perfect. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked quietly, matching her hushed tones.
Instead of answering, she grabbed his wrist and laid his hand on her breast. “Only if you want to.”
His thumb rubbed back and forth across her nipple, the sensations making her bite her lip and shift her legs restlessly. Oh, he wanted to, more than he wanted to keep breathing. “I want to.”
A lazy smile spread across her lips as she cupped his cheek and drew his face down to hers. “Good.”
Eli brushed his lips lightly over hers as he plucked and teased her nipples, reveling in each of her broken breaths and quiet gasps. He deepened the kiss as he trailed his hand down her trembling belly to the waistband of her skirt. Finding the zipper on the side, he pulled back to watch her eyes as the fabric parted and he hooked a finger around the elastic side of her bikini panties. “Are you sure this is okay?”
Zoe bit her lip, her eyes never leaving his as she gave a shaky nod of assent. It was a heady thing, this incredible tenderness he felt in his chest. She was giving herself to him completely like no woman had before, and he felt this responsibility to make this as amazing for her as it was for him.
Wriggling her hips a little, the skirt and panties migrated over her stockings and down her legs, tangling around her boots until she kicked them off, sending them flying across the room. She broke the kiss with a laugh, holding his face in her hands, a look of pure wonder in her eyes. With delicate fingertips, she traced his features, cheekbones, nose, jaw . . . “This is not . . . I never expected . . . this,” she whispered.
Tracing baroque patterns over the tops of her thighs with the fingertips of one hand, he ran his fingers through her hair as he nuzzled his nose against hers. “I didn’t, either. But I’m not complaining.” A horrible thought occurred to him. “Are you?”
“Am I still mostly naked with you?”
Seizing the opportunity, he took a long look down her petite frame, over her beautiful breasts, her taut belly, the gentle flare of her hips, her muscular legs like warm marble, she was, in a word: stunning. “Everything but the stockings and boots.” And he really liked the stockings and boots.
She touched his chin to bring his eyes back to hers. “Then I’m not complaining.” She tunneled her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth to hers for a deep kiss and he trailed his fingers up her inner thigh, brushing against the jet-black curls between her legs. She bent a knee, angling her hips towards him in silent invitation.
Taking full advantage, he swallowed her moan as he tentatively explored her slick folds, completely humbled by the fact that she was this aroused, for him. He knew when he found the spot he was looking for when she arched her back with a deep groan, turning her face away from him with her eyes squeezed shut.
Eager to please, he rubbed the hard little nub, trying different techniques until he found the one that had her hips rising rhythmically to meet his hand as he touched her. He could tell from the flush on her chest, her ragged pants, the way she said his name, that she was close, and he wanted to do this for her, bring her as much pleasure as she’d brought him. Leaning down, he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling as he slid a finger into her tight channel, right as she came apart for him. He stayed close to her as she slowly came back to herself, pressing small kisses to her chest, neck, and face.
Watching her, feeling her come had been so arousing, something he hadn’t thought about or expected, but he found that as she moved against him, he was more than ready for round two if she was.
Her hand on his cock startled him. Great minds and all that. “Um . . . what are you doing?”
“I think that should be readily apparent,” she said with a laugh, giving him a goofy, sated grin. “I don’t know . . . I thought . . . maybe you wanted to . . .” She looked at her hand and its current preoccupation.
He wanted nothing else, ever, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. If she needed some time to recover, the least he could do is grant her that. “Only if you want to.” Stringing words together was becoming more difficult as her touch became more confident, insistent.
She bit her lip, a habit he found endlessly sexy, much like her penchant for stockings. Her hand continued to inflame him, and he knew she needed to make a decision soon before his body made its own choices.
Her lip slipped out from between her teeth, full and shiny wet. He couldn’t help it, leaning over to kiss her, tasting her lips had become the most addictive drug on the planet to him. When they broke the kiss, they were both breathing harshly and he knew from the half-lidded look in her eyes that she’d made up her mind.
“Condom?” they both asked at the same time, and laughed. Then they each went for their respective stashes, a tangle of kissing, caresses, arms and legs, until they separated to find their treasures: hers in the drawer of her bedside table and him, in the inner pocket of his jacket. When they faced each other, they each had a square packet, the one issued at the beginning of the year by the health department on campus in order to stave off STDs and pregnancies.
Eli gave her a crooked smile as he walked back over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I guess the administration’s plan is working.”
“So it would appear.” She gave him a crooked smile as he took the packet from her hand and tossed both on the bed.
Threading his fingers through her soft black waves, he cradled her head as he leaned down and took her mouth in a tender kiss, conveying everything he couldn’t with words. Zoe twined her arms around his neck as he held her, kissing him back with equal ardor. He walked them over to the bed without breaking the embrace, eventually moving so that he was lying on top of her, her head on her pillow.
He stopped kissing her long enough to dispose of his shirt, shoes, pants, and underwear, depositing them in a pile with her bra next to the bed. Pawing through the sheets, he came up with one of the condoms. Rather than show her his nervousness over the fact that he’d never done this before, he figured he’d brazen it out. Fortunately, it only took a couple attempts and he was ready to go.
Eli stretched back out over Zoe and just looked at her. He brushed the bangs out of her face, marveling at the look of enjoyment and arousal in her bright eyes, her lushly beautiful mouth. She moved her legs and settled him against her center, her eyes widening on a gasp as he ground his hips against her. He positioned himself at her entrance and she put a hand on his shoulder.
At his look of concern, she simply said, “Just go slow, okay?”
He nodded and took her mouth in a deep kiss as he pushed into her, meeting a lot more resistance than expected. It was incredibly tight and it was hard to think, but one look at her face, her closed eyes, her teeth embedded in her lip, and he knew that he was not the only novice in the room. “Do you want me to stop?” She shook her head but didn’t speak, and he didn’t even know if she was breathing. Her inner walls grabbing him, massaging him, it was intensely pleasurable, and after he had made it all the way in, he held as still as he could while she adjusted to him.
“Zoe?” he kissed her neck, her jaw, her mouth. This would be no fun at all if he was the only one enjoying himself.
She offered him a tremulous smile, cupping his cheek with her palm. “I’m okay, really.” She pulled him into a kiss as she rolled her hips against him in a way that had both of them suddenly breathless. “Just go slow,” she said again, and he now knew why.
He started at an agonizing pace, withdrawing and plunging back in with infinite care, ever mindful of her body’s reactions to him. Eventually he found a rhythm that they both enjoyed, and he felt the familiar sensations in his legs, his balls. He knew he was close, and the way she was moving told him she was, as well. Grabbing her knee, he moved it high on his hip, giving him a better angle to increase her pleasure as he ground against her. She found her release calling his name, over and over like a prayer and he followed her into ecstatic oblivion.
As he lay there with her, his forehead against hers as they shared each breath, he suddenly understood a great deal more about the world than he had, even five minutes ago. This is the reason for poetry, art, and even war, and killing. This was perfection, in a small dose and he could not believe he’d found it.