A/N: Okay, another chapter for you, just because you're all lovely and asked for it nicely! This is where things change pace...rating has changed...consider yourselves warned.
Jen let out a breath and it felt as if her whole body was deflating. He was right. It wasn't going to work, but that didn't make it any less humiliating to have gone to his place for no other reason than to have sex – and to then have him turn her down.
"Come on," House ushered her in the door and Jen mutely obeyed his directions to sit on the sofa, not thinking clearly.
She had showered and changed, agonised over her lingerie selection and then applied her make up carefully. She'd spent ten minutes in the car trying to screw up her courage enough to just knock on his door. But her hands were shaking and she felt nauseous with nerves – the idea of being naked in front of him wasn't the least bit arousing and she was sure that every fibre of her body announced that to him loudly.
"Seeing as you're here, you might as well have a drink." House pushed a glass of whisky into her hands. He felt sorry for her, but there was no way he could have sex with someone who was that conflicted about whether or not she wanted it. Watching her in the car agonising about whether or not to even come in the door had decided him. When he had a woman, he wanted her to be at least excited about the idea – better yet, begging. Jen looked pretty and he could tell she'd made an effort, but the anxiety pouring off her was a definite buzz-kill. He couldn't even tell whether she was disappointed or relieved or embarrassed. He figured it was some insane female cocktail of all three.
Jen took a sip of the amber liquid, still not concentrating on anything other than her own raging embarrassment and – she had to admit – anger with herself for messing up the opportunity he'd presented her. She spluttered as she swallowed the burning liquid, the gasp in her throat pulling her out of her reverie.
"What is this?"
"Whisky."
She pushed the glass back into his hands. "I don't drink whisky."
"Well it's about time you learned. Then at least you'll get something from this visit."
Jen cringed and blushed even harder.
"I'll put some water in it. Apparently the connoisseurs reckon that's okay, but I've always considered it cheating."
He went into the kitchen that Jen could see off the living room and quickly brought back the glass and thrust it into her face. She looked up and met his eyes and for some reason, she felt as if he was daring her; she could see a challenge sparkling in his blue depths. Well, she thought, she'd failed the first challenge rather spectacularly, maybe this one she could just about manage. She grabbed the glass and took a small swallow, bracing herself for the burning heat in her throat. But the water subdued the fire of the whisky and she was able to appreciate the softer subtleties of the drink. She ran her tongue around her mouth and tasted the woody, smoky, toffee flavours it had left behind.
"Hmm," she said hesitantly, not sure what he would be expecting of her, "I think I could appreciate what you see in this."
She saw approval flash in his eyes and he moved away from his somewhat intimating pose standing over her, taking a seat on the sofa.
Jen sipped her drink slowly, listening as he gave what sounded like well-rehearsed speech on the finer points of single-malt highland whisky. It gave Jen a conversational starting point and she told him all about a New Year's Eve she spent in Edinburgh, walking the Royal Mile and watching the lone piper on the walls of the castle bring in the new year.
As night closed in, their conversation roamed broadly over their respective travels and he asked her more questions about her studies and her PhD thesis. Jen got more information about his work and an unexpected, several-minute-long diatribe about the idiocy of hospital administrators. When he got passionate about a topic his blue eyes sparkled with humour and his whole body became somehow animated, all part of the message he communicated. She was conscious of a new level of awareness of him – he still had that magnetising gaze that made her tummy go wobbly, but he was starting to capture her mind as well as her body. Jen realised that when she slipped into this easy talking with him, somehow her worries and all those inner demons were silenced. Once she stopped focusing on herself and started to think about him and about their conversation, her nervousness drifted away.
It wasn't until House reached over to refill her glass for the fourth time that Jen realised she was actually feeling quite light-headed.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked, carried away enough with their easy banter to have forgotten her mortification at his rejection when she'd first arrived.
"Why would I want to do that?" he asked, his tone matter-of-fact. "I seem to recall that you actually came here willingly for the sole purpose of going to bed with me. I doubt I needed to play the 'drunken lay' card."
Jen wasn't sure how to balance the conflicting feelings of shame and anger battling for supremacy at his words. She stood quickly and grabbed her purse, searching for her car keys.
"I'm going home."
"No you're not."
"Yes, I am." Jen finally pulled the keys from her purse and took a step toward the door, surprised when her foot didn't quite go where she wanted it to. She looked down, confused.
House leant up from his lounging position on the sofa and easily swiped the keys from her hand.
"You're drunk."
"I am not drunk," Jen protested. But she decided to sit down again until she worked out what was going on with her feet. She frowned. Maybe she was a little bit drunk?
"Hey, I'm feeling the buzz here and I'm twice your size. You're not driving home."
"I'll get a cab," she challenged.
"You do that." He shrugged.
Jen got up again and decided she really should go to the bathroom before she went out into the cold to find a cab. She weaved up the corridor, still quite shocked by how unsteady she was on her feet. She'd been so carried away by their conversation she'd actually managed to get drunk without even noticing.
Closing the door loudly, Jen frowned at herself in the mirror. Why did this man manage to intimidate, infuriate and inflame her all at the same time? It was a very good idea to leave now and put this whole sorry mess behind her. Next time Sarah tried to talk her into going to a bar she would most definitely be staying at home on the sofa with a DVD and a glass of wine. Or maybe a whisky, she thought as she concentrated on the smoky flavours still lingering in her mouth.
Shaking her head at herself, she got sorted to leave, taking way too long to pee and wash her hands because her body refused to obey her commands exactly. Turning to leave she saw that another door led through to his bedroom, a dark room with heavy furniture and a big, comfortable-looking bed that had been made by pulling the comforter into place and that was all.
Looking at the bed, Jen was suddenly overcome by tiredness. She'd had barely any sleep the night before, and the nap she'd had on House's office sofa that morning felt like it had been years ago. And the rest of the day hadn't exactly turned out to be restful. Maybe she could just lie down for a minute and then get a cab when she felt better? Yes, that sounded like a good idea.
--
House watched Jen stagger her way to the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat around at home and had an interesting, challenging conversation with anyone other than Wilson. It made him think, if the sex thing wasn't such an issue, Jen could be half-way decent company.
When she didn't emerge from the bathroom for a while, House sighed, thinking she'd either passed out or was throwing up. Neither of which he wanted to deal with. He rose and limped up the corridor. He was about to knock on the bathroom door when he glanced into his bedroom and caught sight of her lying on the bed, fully dressed, her purse dumped unceremoniously next to her.
"Hey," he complained loudly, walking into the bedroom and over to her. "You can't sleep here."
"Why not?" Jen answered sleepily.
"Because it's my bed."
"I'll just have a little rest and then I'll go home. Okay?" She looked up at him with one eye squinted open and smiled crookedly.
House sighed. He had a feeling, a little tickle at the back of his brain, that this woman could be bad for his peace of mind. Very bad. He didn't like the idea of pouring her into a cab, who knew if she'd get home safely? And he was certainly in no condition to drive her himself. He sighed again.
"Well then, get undressed and get under the covers. I don't want your hoof prints all over my sheets. I'll get you a glass of water."
He turned and went back to the kitchen to give her privacy, mumbling about the inconvenience and the fact that she'd probably already got dirt on his bed by getting on it with her shoes on.
When he returned to the bedroom she was tucked under the covers up to her chin with her eyes closed. He put the water next to her, stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed. The gentle brain fuzz from the alcohol and the soothing sound of someone else's breathing made him fall asleep almost instantly.
--
Jen woke up, her mouth dry from the whisky. Glad to find a glass of water next to her on the nightstand, she gratefully took a few large gulps and then lay back. Once that immediate problem was fixed she became more aware of her surroundings and the pieces fell into place. It was sometime in the middle of the night, she was in bed with Greg, at his place, and they had absolutely not had sex. Not even kissed. How pathetic was she that she could even manage to be in bed with a guy and still not get laid?
Her mind whirled with images of being in bed with Matt and of the times when they'd actually had good sex. It had happened occasionally. Enough that she knew to miss it.
Next to her, House groaned quietly in his sleep and shifted in bed. Jen looked over at him and smiled ruefully. So close and yet so far…
Although the light in the room was dim she could see that in sleep his face lost its hard edges, and without those confusing and provoking blue eyes gazing back at her, she could see glimpses of the boy and the young man that he once had been. She could also see his bare shoulders – lean, but rounded and corded with muscle, and she couldn't resist reaching over and stroking a fingertip along his collarbone.
When she saw that her light touch hadn't disturbed him, she took the opportunity to hook her finger under the sheet and lower it slightly, exposing more of his chest to her view. She figured he must have found some way around his leg issue to get a workout, because although he wasn't going to win any body building competitions, he was nicely toned and, she thought, very easy on the eye.
Jen couldn't help running her hand along his breastbone and then snaking across one side of his chest, threading her fingers through the light dusting of salt-and-pepper hair she found there. She pressed her fingers into him gently and felt the delicious combination of firm muscle and satiny skin that sent a little shiver back through her arm and into her body.
She wondered if there was something unseemly about feeling him up when he was asleep. She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, pausing and wondering if she should continue. But the fact that he was sleeping made her feel bold, gave her courage – she didn't have to listen to his quips or see any expression of disappointment on his face from her inexperienced touches.
She'd forgotten how much she loved men's bodies, all their angles and curves; the wonderful surprise of soft skin like a hidden secret. And now she had one at her disposal, lying right there. The night before, Jen had cracked just one eye open to watch him strip to navy-blue cotton boxers when he got into bed, and what she really wanted to see was the curve of his hipbone and the sweep of hair leading down from his navel. That was definitely her favourite bit. A dart of desire shot through her just imagining it.
She decided she didn't think he'd mind if she just looked. And maybe touched. Just a little.
Carefully she lifted the sheet and comforter away from him and folded it back over his legs. She waited a moment, to see if it would wake him, but he didn't move. Softly, she stroked a hand over his hip, skating down his leg and running it back up the inside of his thigh. She couldn't help a smile of delight when she saw the twitch inside his boxers. Of course, she rationalised, he was asleep and it was just a physiological response – he wasn't really aroused by her – but still it was pleasing.
Despite knowing that she really should return the bedcovers to their appointed place and try to get some more sleep, Jen leant over and pressed her mouth to his chest, her tongue exploring his nipple and delighting in the salty, musky taste of him. She was so absorbed by her own need to touch and taste all of him that she lost her hesitancy. She didn't have to worry about whether or not what she did turned him on, because it was all about pleasing herself.
Unable to resist touching him intimately, her hand caressed him over the thin fabric of his shorts and her kisses moved lower, over his chest and stomach. She spent quite a while exploring the skin just inside his hip, her kisses interspersed with little nips when the urge to almost eat him alive became too strong.
Jen paused and took a deep breath. She was suddenly certain what she wanted, emboldened by the darkness; made brave by his passivity. She knew where she was going, what she was going to do next, and she was teasing herself by drawing out her anticipation.
Finally she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and lifted them over his now evident arousal. The shadow of her hair as she let it brush over him was intoxicating and she took him into her mouth, not worrying about rhythm or technique, just tasting and teasing.
In the back of her mind, Jen knew he was unlikely to stay asleep for long once her lips were around him, but it still took a while for her to register that his hands had tangled gently through her hair and that he was ever so slightly thrusting up into her mouth. Still she ignored him, pretended this was for her, somehow finding a way to disable all those voices in her head that wanted to tear her down. She pictured a group of little cartoon gremlins stuck behind a barricade, shouting and waving their ugly little fists in anger at not being heard. The image made her chuckle and the vibration in her throat provoked a moan that brought Jen's awareness sharply back to where she was and what she was doing. She lifted up for a moment, not daring to look at his face, and shook her head. He got her implied message and took his hands away, letting her set the pace.
Jen went back to her lazy exploration of him, touching, licking, kissing, sucking. There was no hurry and she took her time tasting every part of him, even when she felt him tense under her and knew he wanted more. She noted that he kept his hands next to his hips – clenched into fists, yes, but resisting the temptation to force her to do his bidding. That little gesture of restraint was enough for Jen to decide she could trust him. He wouldn't hurt her. And after all, he'd said he wanted to help her.
She grabbed one of his hands and lifted it to the nape of her neck and then bent down over him, one hand wrapped around the base of his erection, her mouth taking him in fully. A small groan left her as his hand caressed her face, his fingers running down the side of her throat and his thumb gently tracing her jaw line.
"Jennifer…"
She heard her name as he growled it with a sleepy, gravely voice. He set the pace with gentle pressure on her head and Jen focused on the suddenly powerful feeling of knowing he was at her mercy. Hearing him say her name in that desperately sexy way was better than any compliment she'd ever received. She bent to her task with renewed enthusiasm.
His climax was her reward. She swallowed his liquid heat as the elixir that proved her mastery over him and over herself and the temporary respite from her demons. Jen realised she didn't even really need an orgasm herself, that in some strange way she'd already got what she needed.
She worked her way back up the bed, dragging the comforter with her. She was surprised when House's arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, but he didn't say another word.
Silently, Jen snuggled her body into his and let sleep overtake her.
--
House woke up because his arm was numb and his leg hurt. Lifting his head slightly to see the clock on the nightstand he saw that it wouldn't be dawn for a couple of hours yet. He lifted Jen's head to pull his arm out from underneath her and rubbed it to restore the circulation. He looked down at the sleeping woman, still amazed that short, shy Jen gave head like a professional. He half wondered if it had been a dream as he got up to stretch out his leg and take a Vicodin.
He still wasn't sure what had brought it on. What magical transformation had happened that he went to bed with a frigid, scared little girl and woke up to find a wanton woman drawing his cock into her hot little mouth?
He was unable to solve the riddle and all thinking about it had done was to give him a hard on from the memory of her skilful lips. Moving back into the bedroom, he paused on Jen's side of the bed to look her over. The t-shirt she'd gone to sleep in had ridden up and he could see the lower curve of one of her breasts just under the seam. It reminded him that he still hadn't seen her naked and those breasts had been teasing him for almost two days now.
He leant over and lifted the hem of her shirt higher, baring both breasts to his sight. Already hard from recalling Jen's midnight performance, he felt himself harden further, and watched as her nipples peaked with the cool night air brushing over them. She was gorgeous, round and full and heavy; he remembered feeling their weight in his hands as they'd kissed on the sofa.
In her sleep, Jen shivered and rolled over, away from House's intensive gaze. She pulled the sheet closer to her chest for warmth and in doing so, bared her butt to him. She was wearing skimpy black panties with a little white lace trim and he thought that he'd never seen anything quite so erotic in his life.
She'd been stealthy in her approach to him, he reflected, touching him while he slept, allowing him to surface only when she was ready for him to participate in their lovemaking. He smiled, suddenly understanding how she had invoked the sensual side of her nature – it was the very fact that he had been asleep that had allowed the wanton goddess to have her way with him.
He could do the same to her – touch her and stroke her in her sleep, waiting until the sensations invariably woke her. But he didn't think so. He wanted to watch her experience every moment of what he was about to do to her.
He walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down facing Jen. He put one arm firmly on her bottom and pulled her in tightly to him. The feel of her slightly chilled naked breasts against his chest was heavenly and he sought her mouth with his.
She was startled, woken suddenly and slightly disoriented, but House didn't give her time to get her bearings. After kissing her roughly, he pushed against her shoulder, laying her back in the bed. He rose his torso over her, lowering his mouth to make love to her breasts; taking a peak into his mouth, he nipped her gently with his teeth and then laved her with his tongue.
"Greg?" Jen didn't know what to make of the sudden passion being laid on her. He didn't give her time to think, assaulting her senses on all sides with his caresses and kisses.
"Jen?" he replied, mockingly. He wound a hand down between her legs and was very satisfied to feel how damp her panties were. Getting him off had obviously given her a thrill too. He pushed down her underwear and dipped his fingers into her slick juices, spreading them over her folds and teasing her with gentle brushes of his fingertips.
"Take that t-shirt off," he growled.
Too stunned to do anything but comply, Jen reached down and pulled the shirt over her head. As soon as it was gone, he bent his head back to her breast, sucking hard on a nipple, pleased that it provoked a sharp gasp of breath from her. After a moment he stopped, concentrating on the movement of his fingers between her legs, increasing his pressure and rhythm.
Jen sighed and couldn't help her legs falling open to allow him access. She watched with lidded eyes as he lifted his head from her breast and gazed down at her flushed body, working his hand on her in a way that was shortly going to be her undoing. Then it suddenly occurred to her that she was naked and he was staring at her. She didn't want him to stop what he was doing to her, but she couldn't have him looking at her like that. She quietly moved her arms over her belly, trying to hide her podgy stomach from his sight.
"What are you doing?" he asked, immediately noting a change in her body, a new tension – and not the good kind.
"I just…" Jen stammered, trying to explain herself. "I don't want you to see…"
House blew out a breath in frustration.
"Look woman between those tits and that ass, my eyes are full. And happy. Let it alone."
He removed his hand from between her legs to pull her arms away from her stomach. Jen groaned at the loss of his touch and cooperated with him if for no other reason than to get his fingers back to work immediately.
"Please…" she pleaded.
"I love it when a woman begs." He really did. "Do it again."
Jen blushed, but complied. "I want you to touch me. Please."
"Here?" House asked, teasing her by stroking the outside of her hip.
Jen shook her head.
"Here?" He ran his hand along the inside of her thigh.
"No," she whispered.
"How about here?"
Jen groaned and arched her back as his fingers penetrated her, his thumb grazing her clit and making her pulse jump.
"Say it," House demanded. "Here?"
"Yes, there," Jen breathed. "Don't stop."
House snorted with satisfaction and buried his head against her neck, gently biting the soft skin under her ear and then kissing it better.
The sound of his breathing in her ear was all that it took to push Jen over the edge and she cried out, her body clenching around his fingers and her breath catching as the orgasm that had been building ever since he'd first kissed her in the bar finally broke.
Like he had when he'd woken her with his kiss, he barely let her catch her breath before he pulled on her arm to flip her onto her stomach, pushing a pillow under her hips. Jen was still feeling pleasurable aftershock contractions in her pelvis when she heard the condom wrapper tearing and then felt him behind her, nudging at her entrance.
She expected him to take her in one forceful thrust but was again moved by his tenderness as he went slowly, letting her body adjust to him. He hadn't forgotten that it had been a while for her and was taking care to make sure she was comfortable. Jen felt a little hitch in her heart that she immediately tried to quash, focussing instead on the unique and wonderful feeling of him filling her, fitting a void that she hadn't, until then, been aware of.
Jen pushed back against him, impaling herself on his full length, already feeling herself rising again on the slope towards orgasm. She waited for him to begin thrusting, but instead he rocked gently back and forward, his hands on her hips, tilting her pelvis up and down slightly as he moved. Jen wondered what he was waiting for when suddenly she felt a jolt of exquisite sensation run through her. She gasped and heard his murmured noise of satisfaction.
Then he began moving, and with the first thrust Jen was instantly back on the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm. It was as if her clitoris had turned inward and with every stroke he brushed against it, raising her pitch but not giving any relief. She felt almost tortured by the sensations, thrashing her head back and forth against the pillow in an effort not to lose her mind.
"So good, so good…" she mumbled, somehow needing to verbalise what was happening to her, just in case he thought she was dying in pain rather than pleasure. Because she had to be dying.
House couldn't remember the last time sex had been this hot and this sweet. She was unbelievably wet and tight and her little moans of pleasure combined with the sight of the creamy globes of her ass in his hands made for a heady mix. He was close and trying to hold off, but it wasn't going to be long.
He pulled her hips up, creating space between her belly and the pillow. Reaching around with one hand he pressed into her centre and was rewarded by the keening sound of her cry as she bucked and her body began to contract. The sensations of her already tight little body squeezing around him further was more than he could bear. With a long, heart-felt groan, he let go, feeling himself empty into her as she milked him dry.
He barely had the energy for it, but somehow he managed to pull out of her, remove and discard the condom and then collapse on the bed next to her. After his breathing had almost come back to normal he turned his head to check on Jen. He couldn't help one side of his mouth curving up into a smile as he saw she hadn't moved and, in fact, looked as if she couldn't. Eyes still closed, hips still raised on the pillow, she could have been comatose if not for the hitching of her chest as she tried to reign in her breath.
"You okay?" he asked, reaching over to shake her shoulder gently, slightly worried by her stillness.
"Oh fuck," she whispered back, still breathless. Her eyes opened and stared into his, an amazed and awed expression. "So that's what sex is."
