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“What does Tilly want?” Egan asked, lifting one eyelid and looking at her.
“How’d you know it was her?” Alana said.
“The tone of your groan.”
Well, she had been groaning a lot about Tilly lately so the response probably was immediately recognizable.
Alana didn’t bother with the repeated response when she glanced through the rather lengthy message. “She’s reminding me of the agenda and specific times for the life celebration. She’s also reminding me that she expects you to be there but not cause any waves.”
He didn’t groan, either, but rather gave a flash of a dry smile. A smile that vanished when he focused on her face.
“Don’t let her upset you,” he insisted.
“I try not to, but I don’t like the way she’s treating you. In fact, I’ve considered boycotting the celebration to let her know I don’t approve of pretty much anything she’s done in the past couple of weeks.”
He sighed, nodded. “I’ve considered not going, too. But if I stayed back, it would be to punish Tilly, and I’m holding on to the notion that the day isn’t about her. It’s not about us. It’s about Jack.”
There it was. All spelled out and in a nice little nutshell. Jack wasn’t Tilly, and he wouldn’t have approved of what she was doing. Still, Jack would have probably appreciated the town celebrating his life.
And that’s what Alana would do, too.
She moved back closer to Egan and ran her hand over his fine right butt cheek. Then, she ran her hand over the equally fine left one. He responded by rolling onto his back and giving her that front side view she’d been fantasizing about.
“How long before you have to leave for work?” he asked.
Alana checked the time again. “A half hour.”
Egan didn’t waste a second of those thirty minutes. He pulled her down to him for one of those kisses that made her wish there were more time but thankful that it’d be enough for a quickie.
Alana returned the kiss, adding some little nips on his mouth while her hand went exploring. She climbed on top of him so she could slide her palm over all those muscles and found him hard and ready. She smiled and took his mouth again while she multitasked by fumbling around in the nightstand drawer for one of the condoms she’d put there.
“We could play carrier landings,” she murmured, sliding the condom on him. Apparently, she tortured him more than a bit while doing that because he grimaced, groaned and begged for mercy.
“I’m guessing you’re the deck of the carrier,” he gutted out.
“Oh, yeah. And you’re the fighter jet, which by the way has a phallic shape. So, let’s see if you can land it just right.”
He did.
Without any trouble whatsoever.
He piloted right into her and sent her body into a reverse tailspin. Her breath vanished. Her heart went haywire. But the rest of her was already climbing high with the slam of pleasure.
It took some doing to get her body to move and not just hover over him and absorb that pleasure. She wanted Egan in on this, too. And he cooperated, all right. When she started the thrusts that slid him in and out of her, he caught onto her hips and helped.
They found the rhythm. The right rhythm that meant he was landing in just the right spot for that pleasure to consume every part of her. When she couldn’t fight the climax any longer, she moved in and captured his mouth with hers. That was the only afterburner needed to finish her.
Moments later, she finished Egan, too.
Alana accomplished her “landing” when her now sated, limp body dropped onto his. Until they were chest to breast and still mouth-to-mouth. Pre-sex kisses were amazing with Egan, but the post ones were equally stellar.
She wasn’t sure how many of those minutes had passed, but Alana decided to refuel by staying in place and getting some post-sex jollies by feeling his body against hers. While her breathing and heart rate leveled, she tried to count off the minutes until she had to get up.
There was still a minute or two on her mental clock when there was another sound, not a text this time but a call. Alana automatically cursed, but then she realized it wasn’t her phone but rather Egan’s.
He maneuvered himself to the side of the bed, dug through his flight suit on the floor and came up with his phone. “Blue,” he grumbled. He jabbed the Accept as if ready to blast his brother for the interruption.
But he didn’t.
