“Lie back,” I ordered, as I spread her legs.
“Wh-what? What are you—ahhh, oh, Andrew. More, more … please … more …”
Her encouragements pushed me, as I pushed her toward the edge of the cliff. My whole attention was centered on her center of pleasure. I had one goal, and that was to hear her scream my name.
I brought her legs around my shoulders, angling her so I could reach her deeper. Her hands grabbed on to my hair. I could feel her unraveling, her hips undulating wildly. She was almost there, almost at the edge, and judging by the volume of her moans now, about to fly off.
Reluctantly, I pulled away from the sweet depth of her and trailed kisses along her inner thigh. I wanted her begging. I wanted her incoherent.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Tia glared at me. She looked rumpled and sexy and frustrated.
“Andrew! That’s not fair … I was so close.” I chuckled at her disgruntlement, as I came up to kiss her.
And then I wasn’t laughing anymore. Tia’s hands grabbed me where I most needed her. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Her hand was firm, stroking me up and down, as the other hand played with my balls. Tia had very talented hands. I would never look at her hands the same way again.
Both of us watched in fascination as her hands stroked me. I loved the hunger reflected in her eyes, and I almost came right there when her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. I was not strong enough for this torture. I wasn’t going to last if she kept going.
Pulling her hands off of me, I leaned over her body and attacked her hungrily. There was no playing around this time. In the past, I had been too impatient and too focused on my own pleasure. What a fool I had been.
My tongue found her little nub again and flicked lightly on it. Blowing on it, before sucking it in my mouth. That was enough to tip her over. Screaming my name, her hips arched off the bed as she rocked against my mouth, as I tried to prolong her pleasure. I moved up, kissing her while I held her tightly. Tia was beautiful as she lost control. She tried kissing me back, but her kisses were frantic, uncoordinated, interrupted by lingering waves of pleasure.
“Andrew,” she gasped, her hands moving to grasp me. “I need you now.”
“I didn’t bring a condom. Next time—”
“Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m on the pill. Hurry!”
“Impatient, aren’t you?” I teased, relieved that I didn’t have to wait until next time, as I lined myself up at her entrance. She was so damn wet.
“More, more, more …”
Heart soaring, I kissed her gently, slowly, as I slid inside of her. We both gasped. She was so fucking tight. And warm.
Sex before had been good. This—I didn’t remember it being this amazing ever. I tried to go slowly, to savor this. Until Tia lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper into her. “Let go, Andrew,” she whispered against my cheek, squeezing my cock with her warm pussy.
I lost control.
There was a beast inside of me that only she could soothe. I drove into her again and again and again. I was mindless to everything except how her body gripped me, welcomed me. “Tia, I can’t—I’m going to—” I growled. The tension was building. I was chasing after release even as I wanted to prolong the pleasure for her.
“Let go, Andrew. I’m right here.”
I pummeled into her again, spilling my seed inside of her. It was pleasure so intense that I wasn’t sure I would survive. I held onto Tia. Her hands stroked my back gently, as if she understood. Collapsing against Tia, our bodies wrapped around each other, for once in my life, I felt peace.
She had chosen me, and I was hers.
Chapter Twenty
Tia
April 10, 2010 (never sent)
Andrew,
Sometimes at night, I dream of you. I wake up wanting and lonely for you.
Ting
I hadn’t realized until now how exhausting it was to argue with yourself. You knew all about your own weaknesses and, unlike arguing with others, you couldn’t slam the door and leave.
For the first time in over a month, I was finally at peace. The emotional, heart-led part of me had taken over my scared self and made the decision to run toward Andrew. And I couldn’t have been happier.
After that tremendous, out-of-this-world, fantastic orgasm, I drifted off to sleep in Andrew’s arms. This time when I woke up in bed with my husband, I stayed in his arms.
With sleep still hanging over me, I traced the lines of the muscles on his arms, over his chest. Andrew should parade around naked all the time. With me wrapped around him, holding a sign that said, “Hands off. He’s mine.”
Mine.
I sighed dreamily.
The first sign that he wasn’t asleep was the rising, insistent hardness pressing against me. Surprised, I looked at his face.
A smug grin met mine. Oh, how I loved his crooked smiles. Looking relaxed and younger, he kissed me.
Unlike the earlier tempest, this was gentle, slow, as if we had all the time in the world. He was sampling me, exploring the parts that he had missed during his rampage earlier. The tenderness did nothing to slow down the hunger that grew for him.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and rocked against him. Growling, his hands moved to cup my ass, squeezing as he ground against me.
“I need you again, Andrew,” I demanded, no longer caring how needy I sounded. I just needed him. Inside of me. Filling me. “Now, Andrew.”
Chuckling, he dipped his fingers inside me, drawing out a moan. He growled against my ear, “Tia, you are so wet.”
I blushed, but what could I do? Andrew was a sexy, sexy man who knew how to use his tongue and his cock and, now, his fingers. I could be embarrassed by how turned on I was. I could feel how hard he was against me. I squirmed in the bed, trying to get him closer to the part of me that was aching and so, so ready.
Rolling back, Andrew pulled me on top of him. His grin was wicked, as he said huskily, “Use me, Tia. Show me what you like.”
And I most certainly did.
The next time that I woke up, it was dark and quiet outside. The bedside clock read one o’clock. Nuzzling closer to Andrew, I breathed him in. He smelled like Irish Spring soap, mint, and something wonderfully familiar.
“You ready for round three?”
Laughing lightly, I propped myself up to look at Andrew. “I think I need more recovery time. You wore me out.”
A cocky grin covered his face as he kissed me quickly. His hands roamed over my body as if he couldn’t get enough. I knew the feeling. If I had energy, I would have totally felt him up too.
“Besides, don’t guys need lots of time in between?” I asked.
“Not if there’s a sexy, naked woman in their arms and it’s been ten years. I could go for a few more rounds.”
“You mean ten years since we last had sex?”
Andrew paused for a half-second before answering, “Yeah, something like that.”
“What does that mean?” His evasiveness piqued my curiosity.
“Nothing really, it’s been ten years.”
“What has? Me or sex in general?”
“In general.” His tone was guarded, as if he expected me to judge him.
My mouth dropped, as I sat up in bed and stared at him. That couldn’t be it. Andrew was hot, in a slightly unapproachable way, and charming, when he wanted to be, and smart. He was a potent combination.
My brain had to send a stern message to my jaw to pick itself up. “What? How? Are people in Chicago blind? There’s a Netflix show where couples date without seeing each other at first, and they still manage to hook up once. Stop laughing! Seriously, what repellant did you use?”
Sitting up so we could be eye level, he ran his hands through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. In a defensive tone, he said, “I was on scholarships in college and law school, so I had to study a lot to maintain my grades. I work
ed to pay for my living expenses. It didn’t leave me a lot of time to date.”
“You didn’t go to a party and just randomly hook up with someone?”
“After what we had, it felt cheap to use someone’s body to get over you. I didn’t, I don’t ever want to use others. It’s not that weird, okay?”
“Okay, okay.” My mind was reeling with the fact that I had been his only. In an age of one-night stands and too many options available with a swipe of your finger, Andrew was an anomaly.
My anomaly.
In a surly and slightly angry voice, he said fiercely, “I hate the thought of you being with anyone else but me. Hate it. I don’t judge you. You thought you were divorced. But I hate the thought of someone else knowing you physically, of touching you, of—”
“Shhhh.” I kissed him again, running my hands gently along his muscly-arms to soothe his pride. Also, because my hands liked his muscles, and it had been a minute since I had touched him. Andrew relaxed a little into my touch. “I haven’t … I mean, I’ve done stuff. Just not, you know, sex.”
Shock colored his face. “How is that possible? I know how that’s possible for me. You were engaged. And you look like this. And you are amazing.”
I laughed. Then I shrugged lightly. “Physically, for a long time, I wasn’t ready. Emotionally, I was scared of getting pregnant again. You know how sometimes, if you are scared of something, that fear grows? I became too scared to have sex. Every time someone would try, I freaked out. I assumed that once I married Clayton, I would feel different.”
“Huh. Why me, then? Why now?”
I paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. For once, I didn’t have questions holding me back. It seemed right. I imagine it was similar for you. There was…there is something very right about us.”
“Undeniably.” His admission was hot soup on a wintery day.
Smiling broadly, I joked, “I guess we’re both kind of prudes. Would have fit right in during the Regency period.”
Andrew’s lips quirked. “Would I be the rake that wasn’t actually a rake? Do I get to be a duke and have a butler too?”
“As long as I have a lady’s maid to bring me hot chocolate in the morning and light my fire,” I teased back.
His voice dropping into a deep baritone, Andrew said, “I thought lighting fires was my job.” His hands crept dangerously close to my still-naked breasts.
“I accept your offer, sir.”
Before his hands reached their destination, he stopped. Pensively, with a tight smile, he asked, “I’d like to not talk about other guys while we’re naked in bed together. However, I’m curious—how do you feel about officially cancelling the wedding? Are you okay?”
The conversation with Clayton. Ompf. That felt as if it happened a lifetime ago. In some ways, it had.
“I’m surprisingly okay,” I began, swatting his hands away from my breasts. They were too distracting. “I’ve thought for a while that Clayton wasn’t the right choice, even if we didn’t work out. I still care about him because he’s an awesome guy. But ultimately I chose you, Andrew. You. I have too many feelings for you.”
Seeming mollified, Andrew pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. Though I felt bad for breaking up with Clayton, I knew Andrew was absolutely the right decision for me. It had taken a little bit of internal wresting to feel confident in my choice. This time, I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Andrew unless I was fully in it. The overwhelming sense of relief mixed with the headiness of being with Andrew only reminded me that I had made the right choice.
In case Andrew wasn’t completely convinced how serious I was about starting over with him, I continued, “I’ve already told the wedding planner, who has cancelled everything. Once I told my parents, they handled all of my Chinese relatives who were planning to use my wedding as an excuse to stockpile US-made purses and vitamins. What, why are you smiling?”
His tentative smile flashed into a big grin, making Andrew’s eyes crinkle at the ends. Gah, he was distractingly handsome. And he needed to smile more. He wore smiles very, very well, especially when it was the only thing he was wearing. On a mental Post-it, I added a daily to-do: “Make Andrew smile, or even better—laugh.”
“I’m happy,” he whispered, his voice dropping, as he framed my face with his big hands. His warm lips sought mine hungrily. It had been too long since he kissed me. He should always be kissing me and smiling. And not wearing clothes.
He pulled away from me, wringing a happy little sigh out of me. His eyes were triumphant and hopeful and something else that I was too scared to define. “I wasn’t sure you would tell your parents. I’m glad you did, and I’m happy you’re still here.”
My answering grin was so wide I could feel my cheeks being squeezed. I said, “Not going to lie, I was terrified. I thought about never telling them. The first night at home, I almost texted Pippa to see if she knew of a casting agent who could hire a Clayton look-alike to go through a fake wedding with me.”
Horror shone on Andrew’s face, even as one side of his mouth tugged up in the beginnings of a smile.
Giggling at the memory of my late-night frantic googling, I said proudly, “After some major inner dialogue, a fake marriage seemed more work than just telling my parents the truth. So naturally, I did what they used to do to me when they had something serious to discuss. While stuck in a car on the way to a Thanksgiving party, I told them. My mom cried. My dad lectured on my impulsiveness. Then we pretended everything was fine at the party. On the way home, they cried and lectured some more. The next morning, my mom steamed some buns and cut me a pear, and—”
I laughed at the memory of the plate of pears appearing in front of me as I hid in my parents’ office. “After that peace offering, I knew everything was going to be okay. They’re still confused and upset and have dredged up all of the lectures—poor health, working in a zoo. But at the end of the day, they’ll have to deal.”
Feeling shy all of a sudden, which was weird since I had been naked in front of Andrew for the past few hours, I whispered, “I had hoped that you would give us a chance. If ‘us’ was a possibility that you wanted to explore, I had to stand up for us, which I didn’t do last time with my parents. I didn’t want to hide us and have you think I had doubts.”
“You’re amazing,” Andrew said, right before he kissed me again, this time with more urgency. “You’re crazy to ever doubt whether I would want another chance.” Kiss. “I always want another chance.” Kiss. “I’m crazy about you, Tia.” Kiss.
Pulling back slightly, Andrew looked at me intently. “Crazy about you, my Ting Ting. You won’t regret this.” That promise and something infinitely tender in his voice made my heart beat faster.
Words threatened to bubble out, words that I wanted to shout to strangers or add in big caps to my annual, cheesy Christmas e-newsletter. “Merry Christmas! This year, I published a peer-reviewed paper. Oh, by the way, I got the maybe-love-feels for my ex-but-not-really-ex-husband, whom most of you didn’t even know about. Surprise!”
Okay, okay, maybe that wouldn’t be the best place to make an announcement about Andrew and me. But the thought that Andrew might be in future e-newsletters… filled me with giddy energy.
Ten years ago, both of us were still trying to figure out who we were, beyond who our parents were. Neither of us were comfortable with ourselves. That insecurity had poisoned our relationship. Now, our families and backgrounds were parts of us, not the definition of us.
I was also so very cautious about scaring away Andrew. While he was miles better now at expressing himself, he was not gushy. And all of these unsorted and unspoken words inside of me were full of gush. We were on day one of maybe happily ever after, which meant that I had plenty of time to make him spill his feelings and accept mine. For now, it was enough to just be with him.
Actually, scratch that. I did have one more demand. On that I was much more certain he would accept.
Trying to b
e sexy, but probably looking funny, I wriggled my eyebrows. “So, how about round three?”
Andrew’s laughter burst out. Checkmark making him smile and laugh today. With a small tilt of his head, he drawled out in that sexy, sexy voice of his that made me think of naughty things, “I’m at your service.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Tia
May 1, 2010 (never sent)
Andrew,
Yesterday, I signed my acceptance letter and sent in the deposit check. I’m off to college in the fall! I want to reinvent myself at college. I’m going to see if “Tia” sticks—she seems like someone confident and happy. No one will ask if my parents own a laundromat or Chinese restaurant (even if my parents technically do, since the ski lodge has a couple of restaurants and laundry service) or ask me how to pronounce my name. I’ll go to parties at college, drink while underage, have drunken hookups. Maybe.
But the “Ting” part of me stays with you. It’s the part of me that hopes that you are okay. It’s even the silly part of me that thinks maybe one day, we’ll find our way back to each other. Like I said, silly.
Yours,
Ting, for now
Thursday night, I had my weekly meeting with my teacher’s assistants to discuss recitation materials and prep work for finals. Teaching was one of my favorite parts of being a professor. Instead of it taking away from my research, it gave me a much-needed break from hunching over my laptop, three monitors, and cell phone trying to solve the world, one model at a time. And sadly, not the hot-models-with-abs kind.
Modeling and researching the latest AI technologies was a mostly solitary job. Outside of saying hello to coworkers when I went to the bathroom (very brief hellos, because who wants to delay someone from peeing?) or awkward conversations while waiting in line to order food (stop asking me which sandwich I’m getting, because it’s always the hot pastrami with mustard), I was locked in my office, with the occasional conference call with my collaborators.
Give Love a Chai (Common Threads Book 2) Page 18