Susan Andersen - Coming Undone

Flinging aside her pillow, she rolled up onto her knees. Naked, with that petite stature, narrow frame and barely there little breasts, she should have looked like a child.

She didn't.

She might be diminutive but an Amazon warrior couldn't have displayed more power. Conviction radiated off her in waves as she looked him in the eye.

"What do you call it, Jared, when you insist on giving me a set number of orgasms before allowing yourself your one?" She knee-walked a little closer. "You think if you do me, if you make me scream and moan, I won't notice that we're not really together in this?" She moved closer yet. "You think I won't notice that while you're making me come and come and come you're holding yourself back?" She jabbed him in the sternum. "Don't tellme you don't have control issues-I've been on the receiving end of them! And you know what I think?"

"No, but I'm just fucking breathless to hear."

"I think you're scared. Of what, I don't know, but-"

"That's bullshit!" he shot back and, whipping out an arm, jerked her to him. "You want me out of control, Peej? Fine. I'll show you out-of-control." And, lowering his head, he slammed his mouth down on hers, laying a kiss on her that was all teeth and tongue and brain-hazed sexuality.

She went up in flames in his arms and within minutes he was flat on his back, deep inside of her with his hands on her tits as she rode him like a rodeo queen, her head flung back and her nails digging into his shoulders. He could feel his testicles drawing up and a climax building at the base of his dick, and he brought a hand down from her breast to delve between her legs for her clitoris. But he had a feeling it was too little, too late, that he was about to get off without her.

As he felt his vision beginning to blur and his hips starting to lift her clear off her knees with the force of his mindless thrusting, however, she suddenly whispered something that was either an imprecation or a prayer. Then the tight sheath gripping his erection compressed around him like a satin-lined fist. Thrusting high one last time, he gritted his teeth and went off like a rocket.

A second later P.J. collapsed upon his chest, boneless as a sleeping child, and he wrapped her in his arms. Damn. He didn't feel half bad. Letting go hadn't been as traumatic as he'd expected. And basking in that lack of tension, he should have simply held her and enjoyed the afterglow.

But the hit his ego had taken with her analysis of his motives fostered a tiny kernel of discontent. Perhaps that was what set up the dichotomy between his hands and his mouth, because the two seemed to be receiving different messages. And while the former rubbed her back in soothing circles, the latter muttered, "There. Happy now? You won. I conceded control."

He wished the words back the minute they left his mouth. But it was too late, for she went from soft and malleable to stiff as a statue in his arms. Without a word she sat up, dislodging him from his snug berth inside of her, and climbed from the bed.

Her silence was a roar that beat against his eardrums as, without so much as a glance in his direction, she gathered up her clothes, strode into the bathroom and closed the door.

AFTER THE CONCERT the following night P.J. lay in her bed in the stateroom she shared with Nell. "Men are scum," she informed the ceiling she couldn't see in this small, dark hour of the morning. The bus tires hummed with a whoosh-thump, whoosh-thump rhythm as they crossed a bridge. "Well, okay, maybe not scum. But big ol' pains in the butt for sure."

Covers rustled from the other bed as Nell turned to face her. "You and Jared have a fight?"

"He holds something back, Nell. Every time we:you know:do it."What are you, nine years old? "When we make love. Or maybe screw is a better word, because that's the thing-he sort of controls me with killer orgasms while holding something of himself back until the last possible moment. And God forbid he should allow himself even that unless he's already taken care of me several times." Rolling over, she turned on the little lamp attached to the nightstand between them, blinking against the sudden light. She eyed her friend. "I know that doesn't sound like something to complain about. You probably think I'm a whiner."

"No, no, I get it. Killer orgasms are nothing to sneeze at, and a guy who can deal them out in multiples-well, you should maybe hang on to him. All the same, if he's using sex to control you-"

"Exactly." Then she frowned. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about him, though. J's not one of those I'm-gonna-cut-you-off-from-all-your-friends-so-I-can-direct-your-every-move kinda control freaks. It's more like:his father was really awful. He treated Jared like shit and one night when the old man got in his face, J shoved him and his dad fell and hit his head. Jared thought he'd killed him for sure, and he panicked and ran. That's how he ended up on the Denver streets where we met. That same night his father was murdered and for quite a while J believed he was the one who'd done it."

"Holy shit, Peej."

"Yeah. Plus his being the prime suspect was apparently what people remembered even after someone else was convicted of the crime. So what do you wanna bet the night he pushed his father in anger was about the last time he allowed himself to really lose control?"

"So what are you going to do?"

"God, there's the million-dollar question." She scrubbed at her face with both hands.Happy now? You won.

You won.

You won.

His words kept repeating in her head. And they hurt just as much as they had the first time. She felt as if she'd never be happy again, because what she felt for him didn't have a damn thing to do with competition. Never had, never would. And dammit, even if J didn't have the same feelings for her that she had for him, he ought to at least know her well enough to understand that.

"I don't know. But I've gotta figure something out. And soon. We sure can't go on this way."

THEY COULDN'T GO ONthis way, Jared thought the next day. P.J. was polite and friendly toward him, but distant.

God, so distant, and it was driving him nuts.

It shouldn't. Her stepping back should have come as a huge relief, since he'd always known their time together was finite anyway. Yet relieved was not the word that came to mind.

He shoved aside the one that did. It was too frigging emotional and besides, he didn't have time for it now. "Marvin, you got a minute?"

The driver looked up from the map he was studying at the galley table. "Sure thing, Mr. Hamilton."

"I sure wish you'd call me Jared." But he knew it was a losing proposition since both he and P.J. had tried more than once to get Marvin to call them by their first names.

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought I could but I'm just too old school, I guess. Early training taught me never to treat my employers informally."

"Which, technically speaking, I'm not. But never mind, that's not what I want to talk to you about." Glancing at Hank and Nell, who were seated on the bench seat a few feet away wrangling over the finer points of her new song, he tipped his head toward the bus door. "Would you mind stepping outside with me for a minute?"

The driver followed him off the bus, but the minute they cleared the stairs Marvin cleared his throat nervously. "Am I in trouble, Mr. H? Over the other night?"

"No-hell, no. You did an exceptional job in a lousy situation." Opening the luggage hatch, he pulled out a couple of lawn chairs and carried them over to the shady side of the bus where he snapped them open and set them up. It was breathlessly hot, with humidity to match, but it was the best he could do. "Have a seat."

Marvin perched on the edge of his chair, his hands gripping his knees.

Jared shook his head. "Relax. Look, I heard from the sheriff from the other night's episode and I just want to give you a heads-up. Lay out your options."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you and I both realized right away that Luther Menks was behind running you off the road."

"Yes, sir, that's what I assumed."

"Me, too. And while the sheriff needed more proof than our word, he just confirmed it. Menks is a real loose cannon, which means something similar could happen again. And that puts you at risk. So I want to give you the option of going or staying. I want you to know that, whatever you decide, I'll give you the best reference I can put to paper. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty for us already."

Marvin straightened in his seat. "Oh, I'm sticking, sir. And if he tries it again, then he'll be the one who's run off the road."

"I'm glad you're staying. You've been professional and reliable and I'd have hated to see you go."

The driver's shoulders had a proud set. "It's my job, sir."

"And you're a pro, no doubt about it." He hesitated, then gave the other man a crooked smile. "Now if I could only get you to call me by my first name."

NELL SAT AT THE GALLEYtable, her feet up on the chair across from her and a cold beer and a bowl of pretzels shoved aside on the tabletop as she worked at putting the final touches on her new song. Muttering to herself, she squinted to decipher her handwriting on the notes she'd scribbled during a brainstorming session with Hank yesterday.