Chapter 27

Standing in front of her closet Cilla chewed on her thumb. Sid is right, I need to go shopping. After several delicious kisses she had managed to convince Jon that she needed a little time to get ready for dinner and now she couldn’t figure out what to wear. All the clothes she normally loved just didn’t seem to fit her new relationship; her love of shabby chic and Jon just didn’t seem to gel.

Sighing, she flipped the hangars finally deciding on the black skirt with a zipper that ran up the back from hem to waist and a simple black tank. She topped it off with a lightweight black jacket and, tucking her bangs behind her ear she knelt to rifle through her shoes.

Pulling a shoebox from the back of the closet she lifted the lid and slipped the black sandals on her feet. Giving herself the once over in the mirror she frowned, she could hear Sid in her head. All black, you’re wearing all black, are you insane? You need to add some color somewhere. Cilla sighed, Sid would be right. She opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and found a colorful beaded purse she had picked up at a recent street fair and put her necessities in it. She was just closing the trunk as the knock sounded at the door.

Jon ran his hand through his hair as he waited. He couldn’t understand the eagerness to see her. He had been with her just two hours ago and now, here he was, antsy to see her, to hold her, he licked his lips, to taste her again. Hearing her footfalls beyond the door he wiped his palms on his jeans and leaned against the jamb as she opened the door.

“Hi Jon.” He smiled at her before leaning in for a kiss, “long time no see baby.” His gaze roamed her up and down, “you look great.” Cilla stepped out onto the landing and pulled the door shut, “thank you. You look nice too. That’s a great jacket.” He was wearing black jeans with a white shirt and an off-white leather jacket. They complemented each other perfectly.

Jon let her go down the stairs ahead of him, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips before homing in on the zipper up the back of her skirt. “Cil?” She stopped at the bottom and turned slightly, “Jon?” He traced the curve of her butt where the zipper was. “Does the zipper work or is it for show?” She twisted around, “it works.” She reached down and unzipped it slightly, teasing him more. He grabbed her hand, “come on I’ve got a cab waiting. We can play with the zipper later.”

As they pulled up to the curb Jon swore. Cilla looked past him out the window; there were several people with cameras just waiting for a brief glance of someone famous. Jon looked over at Cilla, “you ready for this?” She swallowed, “I guess.” Stepping from the cab Jon kept his hand at her lower back and Cilla kept her gaze averted. She heard the clicks and saw the flashes, but they just kept walking. Once she was inside the door Jon turned back and let them have a shot.

They enjoyed a cozy dinner and Cilla had nearly forgotten about the cameras until they were heading out the door again. This time she didn’t avert her gaze quick enough and the flash nearly blinded her. Jon urged her a few steps ahead of him and tried to draw the cameras away from her and onto him. They snapped their pictures and Jon quickly caught up with Cilla. “Sorry about that.” They walked on silently, hands clasped between them. “Cil?” Jon was worried that what happened earlier in the day and then this would run her off. He knew she wasn’t accustomed to the kind of attention he garnered.

When she didn’t answer Jon tugged her to a stop, drawing her to one side, leaning back against the building. “Cilla.” She looked up at him, “it’s okay Jon. I’m okay, really.” He reached up and stroked her cheek, “you’re sure? I know it’s a lot to deal with.” He took a breath, silently praying that she didn’t want the out he was about to give her. “I’ll understand if you’d rather not be involved.”

Cilla studied him for a minute then leaned in and pressed her lips to his, “too late. I’m already involved.” She pulled back, her eyes locking on his, “I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers that had been stroking her cheek curled around to her nape and pulled her closer, “good.” His mouth came down on hers; the kiss was gentle at first, then grew more demanding. Cilla’s hands found their way under the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing at the fine hairs above his belt. Jon’s hand tightened on her neck, her touch igniting a fire in his blood. Nipping at her lips he gently pushed her back from him, “we should go.” She slid her hands out from under his shirt, “you’re place or mine?” Jon tugged at his shirt and he looked up and down the street, “yours baby, its closer.”

Climbing the stairs, he let Cilla lead the way, once again mesmerized by the zipper at the back of her skirt. When she stopped to search her purse for her key, Jon’s fingers toyed with the pull. He slowly inched the zipper up, exposing more and more of her legs. When Cilla felt the cool air hitting her thighs she turned, “Jon! Can we at least get inside?” Leaving the zipper alone, he trailed his finger tips over her skin, “well hurry up already.”

As soon as the door shut behind them Jon had Cilla in his arms again. His mouth was on hers as his hands pushed at her jacket. Cilla surrendered to his mouth and her own hands pushed and pulled at his clothing. Together they stumbled across the room, stopping when they bumped into the table. “Here’s good” Jon mumbled against her neck. He pulled her top off and kissed down her chest as his fingers divested her of the bra. She groaned when his mouth covered one pert nipple.

As his mouth moved over her, Cilla managed to get the button open on his pants. She stroked her hand up and down as she struggled with the zipper “damn tight pants you wear.” Jon chuckled against her and he helped her get them unzipped and down his legs. “Better?” She wrapped her hand around him and stroked him up and down, “much.” He groaned at her touch, his mouth finding hers again as she continued to torture him.

Pushing her hands away Jon looked at her, she still had her skirt and shoes on. He turned her and leaned her over the table. Cilla gasped when her breasts came in contact with the cool formica. Jon reached for the zipper, easing it up over the curve of her ass, spreading it wide when he got to the top. Calloused fingertips stroked the firm globes of her ass, teasing the lace that encased them.

He leaned in and kissed the tattoo at her lower back, trailing nipping kisses across her skin as he slid her panties down. As he kissed his way back up her legs, he could see that she was ready for him. His fingers traced up and down and she squirmed under him, pushing back against his fingers. “Jon, please!” Pulling her hips to the edge of the table, he entered her swiftly, burying himself in her welcoming heat. “God baby.” He moved, setting a pounding rhythm.

Cilla hands reached for something, anything to grab onto, she found nothing across the expanse of the table. All she could do was lay there and take everything Jon was giving her. She shifted her legs slightly and lifted her hips a bit more and with one last push from Jon her release raced through her, her muscles tightened, draining Jon of everything he had to give.

Jon slumped over her, his forehead resting on her shoulder. “Cilla, I…” he stopped when she reached back and grabbed his wrist. “You what Jon?” He opened his eyes and started to rise, “I should get off of you.” She turned her head to look at him, wondering if that was really what he was going to say.