Sunday, May 13, 2012

PLD Chapter 6


CHAPTER 6

The sun shining through the curtains woke her up way too early the next morning. She squinted, making a mental note to get some thicker curtains and turned over sleepily to glance at the clock on her nightstand, wondering if it was really as early as it felt.

But what greeted her, instead of the time, was Clay Whitlow.

Keeley shot up, sitting straight in her bed and ran a hand through her hair, now wide awake. Actually, not too bad a way to wake up, she conceded after a little of the shock wore off. Then she laughed at the fact that she’d actually been startled. She’d honestly thought it would have been impossible to forget the previous night.  

She slid slowly out of bed so as not to wake her still sleeping companion and walked around the wheelchair to the bathroom connected to her room.She splashed some water on her face and brushed her teeth quickly. Then, she leaned against the doorframe watching Clay.

He was sleeping on his back, one arm across his stomach and another tucked under the pillow his head was on. She noticed his left foot twitched slightly underneath the covers. He looked so peaceful and even in sleep he had a slight smile, one that matched the way she felt inside. 

Keeley meandered into the kitchen to put on some coffee and find something to munch on for breakfast, still not believing that there was a man in her bed. Maybe I should’ve started getting those papers out of the front seat a long time ago, she thought wryly.

But then another thought came to her: Whoa. They were moving fast.

She shrugged that one off though, deciding she didn’t care. Especially after last night.

She heard something and looked up to see Clay wheeling from her bedroom into the kitchen, grinning sexily, hair mussed and shirtless. She hadn’t been wrong about him having an excellent upper body.  But nobody should wake up looking that good, she thought a little begrudgingly as she pulled her own limp hair into a ponytail and hoped that her day old mascara didn’t have her looking like a raccoon.

“Good morning,” he said, wheeling around her and grabbing one of the two coffee cups off the counter.

“Make yourself at home,” she replied with a grin. Clay set the coffee cup back on the counter and spun around quickly, knocking her knees out from under her and catching her quickly in his lap. “Oh!”

“Make yourself at home,” he said with an easy, flirtatious smile. Clay seemed to be one of those people who was always happy and in a good mood, but it seemed that the morning after brought out an especially jovial side of him.

Keeley playfully slapped his bare chest as she hopped off his lap. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed he grabbed the push rims of his wheels, pushed up and suspended in the air for a few moments, then dropped back to the seat of the wheelchair. Hmn, hope he’s not doing that because I was sitting on his lap or something, she worried briefly. 

But she ignored the urge to ask what he was doing, instead walking over to her fridge. She opened the door, exposing the sparse contents. “Breakfast?” she asked waving her arms in a grandiose gesture. 

Clay wheeled over to where she was standing and peered around her, a wry grin on his face. “We going to have lettuce and turkey on toast?”

“Hey, there are some canned biscuits in there too!” she replied indignantly, rummaging around in the back of the fridge. 

“I wasn’t complaining about the lettuce and turkey,” Clay said laughing and trying to make amends. Keeley sort of huffed, trying to appear to be mad but really failing. She was finding it increasingly hard to be anything but impressed and smitten by Clay Whitlow—especially after last night. 

As she threw the biscuits on a pan, she noticed Clay looking around the kitchen, taking in the Andy Warhol she had on the wall and the coffee cups strewn everywhere. “So,” he asked. “This is the lair of Keeley Burns?”

“Yah. It is indeed,” she said a little sheepishly. “Impressed at my housekeeping skills?”

Clay threw his head back in laughter as an answer. Then he spun around and meandered into the rest of the house. Keeley liked how he was making himself at home, not making her feel like she had to entertain him. Even after years together, before they’d been married, she’d always felt as if Brent needed to be entertained, which was not her forte. 

She put some coffee on as the biscuits baked. Hope he likes coffee, she thought. Because that’s a deal breaker if he doesn’t, she thought with a laugh. Keeley was still chuckling to herself a few minutes later when Clay came back. “Done exploring Mr. Whitlow?”

“Aye, I am. Think I’ve learned everything I need to know.”

“Oh really?” She asked, trying to raise an eyebrow and look nonchalant. 

He grinned and nodded. “You like pastels, I could tell from some of the staples in the floor that you used to have carpet,” he ticked them off one at a time on his fingers. “You have a beautiful piano in the corner of your living room so I bet you can play,” she shook her head and blushed. He grinned knowingly and then continued. “And you seem to like art. Landscapes, abstract, all kinds. That painting of a lighthouse in your living room, I think might be my favorite. But I didn’t see an artist’s signature.”

“Yeah,” Keeley sighed. “My mom never signs her stuff for some reason,” Keeley answered. 

Clay looked impressed. “She’s a painter?”

Keeley laughed. “Oh no. She illustrates children’s books. She paints like that for fun. Says it’s ‘relaxing’. Dad says that’s just an excuse to feed her addiction to oil and canvas. Painting in both of our opinions is anything but relaxing,” she finished and shook her head as if remembering a particular incident. “Anyways, she say’s since she’s not selling the things, she sees no reason to mar the work with a signature.” 

Clay chuckled. “So your mom’s the artistic one then?”

She shook her head with a wry smile. “Nope, she’s just one-half of the dynamic artisan Burns’ family sensation. My Dad’s a musician, a strings expert. Plays piano for ASO, going on, oh, thirty years now?” She paused and opened a drawer, procuring a notepad and pen. She quickly scribbled something down and held it up for Clay to see. Ruefully she asked, “But did I inherit any of those artistic genes?”

He bit his lip, smiling slightly but completely unsure of what to say about the pathetic looking stick figure in front of him. Luckily he was saved from answering by a burnt smell that suddenly permeated the kitchen. “Keeley, what’s that—” 

“The biscuits!” she exclaimed and ran over to the stove which was smoking. She coughed and grabbed the pan out, just about choking on the smoke. Clay had his arm across his face to shield the smell from his nose. She scrapped the biscuits which were far beyond golden brown on to a plate and looked at them forlornly. “Shit.” 

She wracked her brain, thinking of something else they could eat for breakfast and was still looking down at the biscuits when Clay wheeled over to her and grabbed her hand. He smiled as he craned his neck to look at the burnt biscuits. “Guess you didn’t inherit any baking genes either huh?” 

Keeley huffed indignantly and grabbed the nearest pot holder, the smokiest one, and threw it towards him. “It’s not my fault I’m not June Cleaver!” 

Clay laughed heartily and caught the towel. He tugged her back down onto her lap. That’s what you get for trying to impress him with skills that are nonexistent in the first place, she thought, still mortified at her disastrous attempt at baking. Clay smiled brightly as he nudged her with his elbow. “And that’s quite alright. Because the ladies at Queen Street Grocery make biscuits and gravy that’ll melt in your mouth,” he paused and glanced at the clock on the stove. “And, I do believe they just happen to be open at 9:30 on Sunday mornings.” 

***

Keeley sat at the table silently, her lips pursed in a tight line, trying to hold back her grin. “Come on,” Jan whined. “Tell me, tell me!”

But she just shook her head again, causing Jan to huff. “You suck.” 

“Oh, that’s real grown up.” Keeley scoffed. 

“It’s just as grown up as not telling me about Saturday night just because I couldn’t talk to you on Sunday!” Jan shot back.

Keeley chuckled and received a glare from Jan. She was having a lot of fun with this teasing thing; she wasn’t really mad, it’d be impossible for her to get mad at Jan, who’d been in Columbia all week for a psychology conference. When she’d tried calling her friend the next day to tell her of the previous night’s escapades she’d received an automated voicemail informing her she was out of town for a conference all week and would return personal calls later. She hadn’t even been available to skype. So, now Keeley was having fun. 

“Jan, it’s just, after ten years of being friends, a wedding, a divorce, lots and lots of hangovers, too many years of being roommates, and two premature funerals in which we comforted each other, you make me wait a week, before I can tell you about the first sex I’ve had in over a year!”

Jan frowned. “Well believe me babes, I’d have much rather been listening to you tell me about that than listen to a bunch of blundering old Ph.D.’s talk about the latest studies of binge eating in men!” 

Finally, she could hold it in no longer; she burst out laughing. “Jan,” she said, reaching over and patting her hand. “Oh Jan.” 

This time it was Jan’s turn to laugh as she realized she’d been had. She tossed her balled up Chick-fil-a napkin in Keeley’s direction and rolled her eyes and grinned wickedly. “Well, somebody must have had good sex if they’re in this joking of a mood.” 

Keeley blushed, memories from the night flooding back to her. She nodded. 

Jan continued. “It’s about time too. It’s been long enough that you’re practically a virgin again.”

“Jan!”

Jan laughed, waving her hand indicating Keeley should go on and tell her all about it. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m quite proud of you, five years ago you never would have done this sort of thing. And I know he was happy. He looked about ready to jump you the entire time at the carnival and the bar. And you him.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “That is, assuming he can jump.” She added. 

Keeley rolled her eyes. “After Saturday night, I don’t much care whether he can jump or not.”

Jan raised her eyebrows in question. Keeley lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned across the table so her best friend could hear. “Because let me tell you, I have never felt as good as I did after he was done doing whatever he did down there. Jan. He blew Brent out of the water.”

Her friend gave a low whistle. “Damn girl. You snagged a looker and a guy who on the first date went there instead of immediately demanding regular old sex,” she threw her French fry down dejectedly. “Some people just get all the luck.”

Keeley chuckled, blushing again. She thought she was pretty lucky too. Brent had never wanted to give her oral; she’d have to practically beg for it and even then he was less than enthusiastic. 

But Clay—Clay was different. In so many ways, she thought as she let her mind wander back to the previous Saturday night. 

She’d awkwardly invited him in, the words coming out of her mouth not nearly as smooth as she’d intended. But, being the gentleman he was, Clay had simply ignored her blundering and stumbling words and leaned across the seat, planting a kiss squarely on her lips. She remembered being surprised at how warm his lips were, especially since she was freezing from having been caught in the rain. His lips were softer than she’d imagined, contrasting oddly to his rough-outdoorsy looks. 

She had pulled away first, ignoring the shockwaves of pleasure traveling up and down her body and tried to say something witty about taking that as a yes. He had laughed it off and she watched him transfer quickly out of the car, feeling herself surprisingly turned on by every move he made. 

Finally they’d made it inside, into the bedroom. And then the old Keeley had come running back in—the self-doubting, unsure girl that she’d been the entire time she’d been married to Brent. She’d hesitated, not knowing what to do or where to go once they’d entered her room, wondering if she’d made a mistake by inviting him in. 

She glanced at Clay and noticed that at her hesitation his playful and sexy expression had turned guarded. And she thought about the wonderful week she’d had; it took her only a moment to make up her mind. 

Keeley leaned down and kissed him, hoping he’d realize that was her apology for hesitating. His expression turned back to the one he normally wore and he grinned as he kissed her in return, causing her body to pulse in every spot that he placed a kiss. It had awoken something deep inside of her that she’d tried to bury; she had felt a longing and hunger for more. As her body had continued to respond to the barrage of kisses just as it had the first, she remembered  wondering how on earth a guy that could evoke these emotions could be single. She supposed the wheelchair might have something to do with it but shit, at this point, the whole wheelchair thing was the farthest thing from her mind. Because, honestly, wheelchair or not, she’d never felt so turned on in her entire life, not even by her ex-husband. 

And then—then, she’d experienced probably the most enjoyable oral sex she’d ever had. 

Clay had started by gently kissing and licking the insides of her thighs. Then he’d slowly made his way to her clit, barely moving his tongue but sending waves of pleasure through her body nonetheless. She blushed just remembering how her body had quivered in pleasure as he bombarded her senses for several minutes, utilizing mouth, tongue, and hands; caressing her and touching her in places she’d forgotten what it was like to be touched in. 

She had finally screamed in release, shaking from the pleasure and slightly embarrassed at her antics. Keeley had smiled sheepishly, blushing and feeling hot all over as he re-emerged from the end of the bed, grinning crookedly.

Keeley distinctly remembered thinking, Now, that is a man who knows what he’s doing, as she watched him transfer quickly onto the bed. He placed two hands on the bed and propelled himself and twisted around expertly onto it, legs getting a little tangled in the process. Clay sort of grabbed them and tossed them, effectively straightening them out. Then he had looked to Keeley, wrinkling  his nose. “Not exactly sexy, huh?”

She’d smiled and shrugged in response, rolling over on top of him. She ran her hands over his chest—hairy, not in a lumber-jack way, but just enough to be masculine and sexy—and had let one finger follow the line from his chest to his navel. Everywhere she touched, she laid a light kiss.

Keeley had paused for the briefest of moments when she passed an area a few centimeters above his navel where she could literally feel and see the muscles disappearing; his chest taut with muscles, his waist tapering off with wasted muscles that disappeared into his pants. She a made a move towards the button, but then in one swift move, all of a sudden she was on her back getting lost in the deep green eyes above her. “Not so fast,” he had said with a crooked grin and shook a finger at her.

“But we’re on the hot tamale train tonight—fast is the only speed!” She had replied, wondering how long his arms would support him like that. Good God Keeley, you could’ve said anything, and that’s what you came up with?

Clay had laughed, still propped up on his arms and above her. He dipped his head and gave a quick kiss. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy the questions running through her mind. She moved back above the belt and stretched her neck to reach his collarbone, planting a light kiss there, smiling when he fell back against the bed and gave a soft moan in pleasure. She had discovered that apparently, Clay’s upper body was sensitive, making up for what she assumed his lower body lacked. Keeley had gone for his nipples next and smiled in content success when she felt his body quiver underneath her and heard him moan loudly. 

Afterwards, she had fallen back onto the bed and curled up next to him and he wrapped his arms around her. She had drifted off quickly, not even noticing that he had gotten up and taken his jeans off, and awoke the next morning to his face instead of her clock.

Keeley sighed, not wanting the memory of that night to be over, and tried to decide on what she could tell Jan in the middle of a Chick-fil-a filled with children under the age of five. Finally she opted for something that was sure to make her best friend of ten years laugh. “Jan,” she said laughing. “You’ll never believe what I told him though.”

“What?” Jan asked, her eyes growing wide.

“I told him that we were on “the hot tamale train” and that the only speed was fast,” she said.

Jan reached across and slapped her in the back of the head. “Oh my God! You did not quote Mary Murphy!”

Keeley nodded in shame as. “He said we were moving fast and that was my answer.”

“Oh babes,” was all Jan had to say as they both snickered at Keeley’s awful bedroom talk. 

17 comments:

  1. YOW. What is it with the updates tonight? Just a couple paragraphs in, and suddenly I'm fanning myself just knowing they're waking up together. I was worried you weren't going to fill us in, but we got lucky there :)

    More, more, MORE!

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  2. Wow, so I know this sounds lame, but this Wednesday is definitely "hump day" and I LOVE IT!

    Wonderful!

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    1. Oh, MAN, Eleanore, that is such a good idea! I think every Wednesday should have sex scenes indeed :D

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    2. LOL hahaha love it "hump" day!!!

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    3. Ok Jane, can we mark SttS down for next Wednesday? I'm not so patiently waiting for Jules and Jeff's turn. :)

      Of course if you want to post that sooner I'd be more than happy...

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    4. Ha! Well, you may get to see something hot sooner rather than later, since all of the action from last night has encouraged me to move up the timetable :) I'll have to work pretty hard to get it in in time, though!

      (That's what she said...)

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    5. Haha y'all are cracking me up with the whole hump day thing!

      Not that I'm adverse to the idea though... ;)

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  3. Thank you for another amazing update! All the authors have updated their stories magnificently!

    I love these two characters! Is there any way we can get more dialogue out of Clay? I always want to hear more from the opposite sex. Or at least give us an idea of what he is thinking.

    I mean don't get me wrong, I love the female POV but I would really like to hear more from Clay and what he thinks :)

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    1. I will certainly try to get more dialogue out of Clay in the coming chapters! :)

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  4. This is such a rare treat to have such talented authors all sharing such exceptional stories with us.
    Your imagery is vivid and your characters, memorably lovable.

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  5. Love this story and these characters. Thanks for the update. Can't wait to read what's next!

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  6. Yay, more Clay please.. and Keely too :) Realy good writing, can't wait for more! Thank you.

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  7. I'm loving this story more every chapter, it's so good.
    I will be waiting for the next update.

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  8. *fans herself briskly*

    Thank you.

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  9. Well, EJ, I had you down as a good girl but now your saucey side appears! I loved it and can't wait for the next stage of their relationship!

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    Replies
    1. Heehee, I'm going to take that as a compliment! :)
      I think :)

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