Gina's Fantasy Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2017 Cooper McKenzie

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-462-6

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For my Muse

  GINA’S FANTASY

  Romance on the Go ®

  Cooper McKenzie

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Flynn looked at the small black and silver digital recorder he had pulled from his pocket and laid on his dresser just a moment before. His fingers twitched with the urge to push PLAY. Gina had told him she used it to capture additions to her many to-do lists, ideas for her volunteer activities, new book ideas, and whatever other random other thoughts crossed her mind that she did not want to lose.

  He had once wondered when she had time to type up the verbal notes she made, but she said she worked straight from the verbal notes instead of typing them up. When he asked her what secrets she told the recorder, she smiled that smile that knocked every thought out of his head except the need to push her up against the wall and kiss her.

  “Things I need to remember. Thoughts I can’t share with anyone else. Secrets and fantasies others might not understand.”

  He wanted to tell her she could share anything with him but held his tongue. If she shared all her secrets, would she expect the same from him? Did he really want to know all the random thoughts she caught on the digital recorder?

  Picking up the rectangular box, he cradled it in his left hand as he debated whether he should invade Gina’s privacy or not. Should he listen to her words, her secret thoughts?

  How had she gotten it into his pocket? He had stopped by for one of his occasional visits and had hung his jacket on the hook by the front door. She had not gone near it, or so he thought. Maybe while he was in the bathroom after the hot-hot-hot sex they always engaged in when he was there? Or when she had given him the hug she always gifted him with just before he left?

  As he shifted the recorder to his right hand, a flash of color on the back snagged his attention. It was a bright pink sticky with the words track six written on it. Did she mean the message for him? Had she purposely slipped the recorder into his pocket for him? He had started teasing her about telling the machine all the deep, dark sexual fantasies she had never shared with him because she claimed she could not say the words aloud with him looking at her.

  Though she wrote three-alarm, white-hot erotic romance ebooks, Gina had been raised to be a good Carolina girl. And good Southern girls never talked about their secret wishes and dreams. With anyone.

  Since they had started sleeping together the year before, they had fulfilled all sorts of fantasies of his. Not only did Gina like the daring places, times, and ways they had enjoyed each other’s bodies, she had yet to refuse any challenge he put before her. Whether it was late-night sex in the back seat of her car in the parking lot of her office, to showing up at one of their mutual volunteer efforts wearing only a bra under her short dress, she was up for anything. The only downfall was that she still had a hard time verbalizing her wants, needs, and desires. Would listening to track six yield any insight to her thinking? Had she finally given in to his request and recorded the sexual fantasy she most wanted to live out with him?

  He swore softly as blood began to pool in his loins as he thought about what he might learn about his woman. Was he was daring enough to push the button? He set the recorder back on the counter. After refilling his coffee mug, he stood and stared at the machine as his cock tented the front of his sweatpants.

  Since he had the day off from his job as a county sheriff, he had planned to spend the rest of the day in his comfy clothes, working on the seemingly endless shit-to-do list which hung from the refrigerator.

  And he would.

  In a few minutes.

  Just as soon as he listened to her dictation.

  Picking the recorder up once more, Flynn studied it. Though she had listed track six in her note, he pulled up the first file and pushed play. Holding the tiny speaker to his ear, he frowned. Her voice was too soft to make out her words clearly. His cock began to throb as he went to the front hallway where his MP3 player sat plugged into its charger.

  He pulled his headphones from the tiny music player and plugged them into the recorder. Slipping the ear buds into his ears, he sighed once he could hear clearly. He smiled as the sound of her husky voice washed over and through him.

  It took only a few seconds to realize the first track was a shopping list.

  The next track was a random to-do list.

  The third contained a thank you note to a friend for the birthday gift she received, though her birthday was not for another two weeks.

  He hesitated before pushing the button for the next track as his conscience prinked at him. Was he invading her privacy by listening to all the files? Surely, she had to know his curiosity would prevent him from only listening to the one track she told him to.

  Shoving down momentary recriminations, he pushed the button for track four and listened to silence for several long seconds. The same dark silence met him on track five. Then he pushed the button for track six and found himself holding his breath as he waited for her to speak.

  ****

  The day before.

  Gina sat in the Adirondack chair her brother had built her and stared across the backyard. Her heart squeezed with a strange combination of joy of finally being in the home she had dreamed about all her life and a hot bitterness that Flynn was not here to share it with her.

  Sure, Flynn had his own home, his own life, and did not seem interested in letting her into it, but she was tired of hearing from him only when he was horny or bored at work. Their relationship, if it could be called that, had been unconventional from the beginning, and though she wrote unconventional books for a living, Gina was really a conventional, old-fashioned kind of woman.

  After more than three years of late-night phone calls full of daring fantasies and erotic imaginings, and once-or-twice-a-month, fly-by visits where he always seemed to leave in a hurry to be somewhere else afterward, Gina had decided it was time to challenge Flynn to step up or step off. His suggestion of talking out her deepest, darkest fantasy for him to use as a step-by-step directive in pleasing her seemed like the perfect way to let him know how she felt.

  If only she had the courage to say aloud that she was tired of being the dirty little secret hidden in the back of what must be a skeleton-filled closet. That she needed to be more than an entry on his endless to-do list, an entry that he may or may not get to this week.

  She wanted more than a phone call every couple of weeks or a visit when his female roommate, who Gina wondered whether or not was really just a roommate, was at work or out of town, or he could slip away from whatever he was doing in the evening. If she were a just a roommate, why did he take her out on dates and not Gina?

  Why couldn’t he tell her how he felt without using that evasive male language that just confused her and made her question everything?

  Why couldn’t he spend an evening, or an entire night, with her without leaving her feeling guilty about it afterward?

  And why couldn’t she ask him any of these questions during one of those few times the
y were face to face?

  Blinking away the tears that blurred her vision, Gina picked up the digital recorder that had become an extension of her left hand over the past months. She found it so much quicker to record her random, racing thoughts than trying to remember them long enough to write them in one of the many notebooks that lay in every room in the house. Invariably, she would either forget the idea before she wrote it down, or lose the note before she could do anything about it.

  She set the tiny machine to record on the last track and then took a deep breath before pressing the “record” button. “I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting to hear,” she said, her voice soft and low, “but you wanted to hear the deepest, darkest fantasy that I couldn’t tell you in person, so here goes.”

  Taking a deep breath, Gina closed her eyes, opened her heart, and just let the words go. “I would love to spend a day watching you work, being creative, and help if I possibly could. I would like you to take me out of the tiny box you have me in marked “Sex and Stories” and see that, like you, there is more to me than my job. I’d like to know I mean more to you than a quickie when we’re both stressed, or the blowjob that relaxes you but leaves me walking around in wet panties the rest of the day, trying to figure out how to entice you to return so I can tie you to my bed and keep you there for a day or two.

  “I’d like to spend an evening with you, make a meal together that ends up on the verge of burning because we’re waltzing around the kitchen, kissing, and holding one another close. After we eat, you would come up behind me as I’m washing dishes, push my hair out of the way so you can brush your mustache over my skin then catch me when my knees buckle.

  “I want to spend an evening cuddling on the couch, watching the news until our attention turns to each other and we start making out,” she said and then took a deep breath for courage before continuing. “I want you to spend the night, not because you’ve had too much to drink, but because you don’t want to leave.”

  Gina swallowed and wiped tears from her cheeks as she tried to regain enough composure to continue. “When we’ve reached the limits of our control on the couch, I want us to stand and slowly strip off each other’s clothes, leaving a trail behind us as we make our way to the bedroom. Then we would make long, slow love to one another, giving and receiving overwhelming pleasure before we fall asleep in each other’s arms. I want to wake in your arms before the alarm goes off and start all over again. I want you to stay around long enough for a cup of coffee before you give me a long kiss and a longer, tighter hug before leaving to start your day, only to call a few hours later because you miss me and need to hear my voice.”

  Wondering if she had gone too far, even though she still had not reached the crux of her deepest fantasy, she continued in a hoarse whisper, “I dream of the day you to tell me I’m important to you, and not just because we’re good in bed together. I need to know if there will ever be more between us than these once-or-twice-a-month, hot, steamy phone calls, and hit-and-run sexcapades that we’ve gotten so good at over the last three years. I dream of the day you invite me out in public, or tell someone that I am more than just a casual acquaintance. I wish you could tell me how you feel about me. I want to be able to tell you what I’ve held back saying for so long, that I love you, without you running for the hills in fear.”

  Having said everything she had been thinking about saying for months, Gina backed up to the beginning and listened to every word. As she did, she began to question the wisdom of her actions.

  Did she have the guts to give it to him?

  If she did actually find that courage, would he be so focused on the pain-filled tone of her voice that he missed the meaning of her words?

  Would he try to make her deepest desires a reality?

  Or would he disappear from her life because she was asking for things he would not or could never give her?

  Chapter Two

  As Flynn listened to the recording, he could envision the day, the evening, and the night as Gina described them. He sucked a breath as his free hand brushed across the front of his jeans, pressing lightly against the bulge of his erection. His hard cock throbbed as his mind’s eye showed him what could be between them beyond sex.

  His heart clenched as he dragged in a long breath at her declaration of love.

  And then there was only silence.

  Though he heard her words, he could also feel the pain that had filled her tone and the tears she tried so hard to hide. But he knew her voice well enough and knew what talking out her fantasy had cost her.

  He began to pace the house, subconsciously trying to outrun the truth in her words. He had not realized his actions had hurt her so deeply or for so long. Had it really been three years since their first, unique meeting?

  Causing Gina pain was the last thing he had ever wanted to do. He had not given it much thought, but had assumed they were both content with their arrangement. Though he did have to admit that he wanted her more than he was able to be with her. With his work schedule as it was, he sometimes lost track of time and it would be weeks before he realized he had not talked to his sexy, spirited Gina in a while.

  He had kept things between them, without telling anyone else the true nature of their relationship, to protect her. And himself, his conscience reminded him. Living with one woman in a totally platonic relationship and being with Gina in a completely non-platonic one kept things simple. Except things were anything but simple, as her dictation had just informed him.

  Maybe it was time to make a few changes in what even he had to admit was his too busy, too full, life.

  But what if Gina decided the changes came too little, too late? As she had said, it had been more than three years since their first meeting. Three years of talking, teasing, laughing, and the most adventurous sex, by phone, and in person, that he could ever have imagined.

  To be able to go from hello to orgasm without doing much more than a few short strokes towards the end still amazed him. Talking to Gina was always a highlight of his day, whenever he had time for it.

  Flynn forced himself to listen through her recording a second time. His body reacted again to the sound of her voice. The need to see her, hold her, and love on her until neither of them could do more than breathe, and snuggle closer to the other, rode him hard. But he held back running for his truck.

  When she finished speaking this time, he realized two things.

  First, she was the bravest person he knew for sharing these thoughts with him.

  And second, she had to be the most generous person on Earth. In everything she said, she made no demands, set no time limit for him to take action, and did not even threaten to walk away if he did nothing. Instead, she did as she had been doing for most of the time they had been together. She stated her case, had her say, and then left the ball in his court to either make a play or turn and walk away.

  But he knew she was thinking about what she had done. She was probably having second, third, or even fiftieth second thoughts about the wisdom of her actions.

  Did she regret sharing her fantasy with him?

  Did she really want him to open up his life and let her in?

  And if he did, would she want to change him?

  His ex-wife had wanted that, but he could not stand sitting around, watching the insanity that was on television these days. He preferred to keep moving and stay busy. Then more questions jumped into his brain.

  Would they be able to meld their very different lifestyles?

  Would she even be willing to try?

  Suddenly, Flynn realized he was overthinking things instead of doing as he usually did—fly by the seat of his pants.

  But for the first time in longer than he could remember, what a woman thought, what she did, how she might react, was important to him.

  “Well, old man,” he said to himself aloud as he tucked the recorder into the front pocket of his jeans and headed to the garage, “what are you going to do about it?”


  That question stopped him in his tracks in the middle of the kitchen.

  What was he going to do about it?

  ****

  Two hours earlier.

  As soon as Flynn’s truck disappeared around the corner, Gina gave in to the fear that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. Her recording would freak Flynn out, and he would be gone. She would never hear from him again. If she did, he would either ignore her completely, or act like she was a customer of his specialty furniture-building business and nothing more.

  That was, after all, how he had treated her the few times they had crossed paths in public in the past. It had been especially hurtful when she had seen him with his roommate, a woman Gina was crazy jealous of even though she could never tell Flynn.

  Or maybe she had by slipping her digital recorder into the pocket of his jacket when he had given her the good-bye hug she always demanded as he took his leave. She savored those hugs and their memories stayed with her long after the other reminders he had left on her body had faded.

  Turning from the front window, she forced herself to walk into her office, sit at her desk, and try to work. She was behind on her work, but her thoughts stayed on Flynn. No matter what she tried, she could not focus on the story she was currently writing.

  Finally, she gave up, closed that file, and opened a new, blank one. Sometimes it would help her creativity if she got all the extraneous thoughts out of her mind. Since Flynn now had her recorder, she would have to type them out of her head instead of talking them out.

  An hour later, she closed the file without saving it. There was nothing in those pages that she wanted to keep.

  Sadly, she had also come to no decision about what to do about Flynn either. Once again, she had placed all the power in his hands. All she could do was sit back and wait for his response.