by Katy Kaylee
It was hard to tell in the dark, but I was fairly sure that Cal was blushing. “Painting that series was… it was really enlightening,” he said. “I decided—or I had just decided that fuck it, I was going to really go for this whole artist thing. And people kept telling me that I was ridiculous. That I wasn’t going to get to do a lot of the things that everyone else got to do, like go on vacation. For some reason the vacation thing was what really stuck with people, they kept bringing it up. If you don’t get a steady nine to five office job you won’t be able to go to Hawaii, something like that.
“And at some point I figured, well, if I could be a broke artist in Ohio or whatever, then I could be a broke artist anywhere in the world, so I got in my car and went on a road trip. My first stop was Chicago. I drove all over in that car, literally. Canada, the United States, Mexico, down even farther until I had to give it up to get to South America.”
I felt like a wide-eyed child again, listening to him talk about his art and his travels. “How old were you?”
“Fresh out of college, so… twenty-two? Twenty-three? A couple of years younger than you.”
Younger than I was, and already he had lived so much more than I had. I didn’t regret Fern. I adored her. But it reminded me of the mistake that I had made, and the consequences that had come with it.
I shoved those thoughts away. I wanted to be somewhat positive, damn it. I didn’t want to let the night be ruined by my own melancholy, self-deprecating whispers. “How long were you traveling?”
Cal hummed in thought. “About four years, all told. I got to the bottom of South America, decided I was freezing, got a job on a cruise ship and hopped all over the Caribbean, went to Europe, down through Africa, decided I hated the heat and went back up to Russia, the Middle East, India… all through Asia, finished up with Australia and island-hopping until I was in Hawaii and working at a hotel there.”
He’d done so much, experienced so much already. God, no wonder I had been such a child to him. Was I still like a child to him? It felt like in the realm of my own experiences, I had done so little, experienced so little, and how was I supposed to compete with that?
“The whole reason the series came about, actually,” Cal said, and I was so grateful that he was just continuing to speak, so glad that I didn’t have to fight through all the frustration with myself that I was experiencing, “is that I was working, and so I was painting at odd hours, whenever I could find the time, and a lot of the time that was at night.
“And I really found that I… I loved cities at night. In the daytime you really get to feel the individuality of the city. You get to see how that city is different from every other. But at night… cities all look the same. In a good way, though. Like you’re a part of the same… dreamland. All the harsh edges, the sharp lines, they’ve been softened. You can’t see the trash in the gutter anymore, you can only see the warm lights in the windows. And it’s unifying, because it’s the same no matter what city you’re in, so it’s almost like the whole world is one big city, and you’re all connected.
“So I did that series, I painted the skyline of each city at night, and actually, when you hold up each painting next to each other they flow together into one big painting so that it looks like one city, together, united. I thought it was a good way to express how I was feeling about it all without being too heavy handed.”
“I think you succeeded.” Cal glanced at me in surprise, and I smiled. “I really felt that, when looking at the paintings all together. I thought, wow, it really is just like one home, isn’t it? But it’s also all so different, and that’s wonderful too.”
Cal nodded, looking pleased. “I’m glad that you thought of it that way. I always valued your opinions on my artwork. I didn’t realize how much until you were gone.”
I hadn’t known that. “Why would you?” I blurted out, before I could retreat back behind my shell again. “I was just… a child. And I hadn’t done nearly all the things that you’d done. I hadn’t traveled literally everywhere in the world, forging my own path.”
Cal startled a little at that. “Is that what you think of yourself?”
I shrugged, then gestured out at the city. “This place might look, at night, like it could be Paris or Mumbai, but it’s just Nashville.”
“Nashville’s not too bad a place. It’s got a huge music scene. I loved visiting here when I was younger.”
“To visit, maybe, but it’s no Rome, Cal. What have I done with my life compared to yours?”
Cal stopped walking. “You’ve raised an entire human being, Maggie. That’s amazing. It’s a feat that I couldn’t have done all by myself. I want to try being your partner in raising her but you’ve already tackled the first four years alone, and those are some tough years. Your adventure is different but no less important than mine.”
He paused. “And if you wanted, I could always… I’d love to show you, some of those places. If you would let me.”
It was the sort of thing that I had imagined but never hoped that Cal would say to me. It sounded like the future—like he was actively thinking not just about how much he wanted me in the moment, but how he wanted me in his life, and in a permanent, long-lasting kind of way. If I hadn’t known better I would’ve pinched myself to check that I wasn’t actually dreaming this entire thing up.
“It’s a pity that whole series is sold, actually,” Cal went on. “I would love to give you a painting from it, if I had any left. I know I did one of Nashville. I did one of all the major cities in the country while I was in the United States.” He winked at me. “I guess I’ll just have to paint something else for you.”
He turned us so that we were looking out over the water. “Maybe something with water, you were always a fan of rivers. You always wanted to see the ocean.”
I was surprised that he had remembered that. I rested my head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to make anything for me.”
“I already did,” Cal said, sounding embarrassed. “After we slept together I did a whole series of a woman—it was you, in my head.”
Probably, I should have been offended, but it wasn’t really my body up on display for people to see. Cal hadn’t sketched me while we were together. He must’ve been going off of memory, and that was… that made me feel warm inside.
“I hadn’t wanted to admit how much you’d done a number on me,” he said. “But you had. And I was painting the memory of you, even if I couldn’t tell people who you were, even if I didn’t even want to admit it to myself.”
“And now you can?” I asked. “Admit it, I mean?”
Cal smiled, but it looked melancholy. “Yes. Now, at least. Better late than never, I suppose.” He paused. “Would you… would you like to come back to my home with me?”
“Your home?”
“I figured it would be nice—we wouldn’t have to worry about waking anyone up.”
Ahh. “Are you renting?”
“I got a good deal for the place, so I bought it.”
What? I knew that Cal was comfortable as an artist, but I had no idea how comfortable. Comfortable enough to just up and buy a house? Even being a famous artist didn’t guarantee financial stability. The work of most artists became appreciated later in life. “Art tends to get appreciated not in the time for which it was made, but in the time after,” Cal had told me once, I wasn’t sure what year, but it was a Thanksgiving a while ago, when I’d been in high school.
“Are you going to sell the house in Cincinnati?” My dad would be sad to have his best friend no longer living nearby.
“No, I’m keeping it. It’s near your parents, and they’re my friends, so it’s not completely useless.” He winked at me. “So, what do you say?”
Despite his cavalier tone, I could see nervousness lurking in his eyes. He had a reason to be. I hadn’t exactly been… eager, shall we say, to show him my appreciation for him.
“I say, take me home,” I whispered.
Cal’s house was big. Much b
igger than my apartment. That was the first thing I thought when I saw it as we pulled up in front. The second thing I thought was that it was lovely.
I hadn’t really given much thought to house hunting. Why would I? It was one of those ‘maybe someday’ sort of dreams that I didn’t really have time to focus on. I learned quickly, having Fern, that there were things I just really shouldn’t let myself think about anymore. I couldn’t have them, and if I thought about them, I’d drive myself crazy.
Cal was at the top of that list.
But a house was on there too. Kids were expensive, especially in today’s economy, and while my job paid all right, it wasn’t enough just on one income to expect to be able to own a house. And this house was—well, it was the kind of house I would’ve bought for Fern if I could afford it. It wasn’t too large or ostentatious, but I could see a large backyard out behind it, big enough to put a swing set or even get a dog like she kept begging for, and as we stepped inside, I could see there was room for both entertaining and for an active kid to run around, perhaps set up a playroom for her separate from the living room so that adults and kids could have their own areas.
Don’t think about what you can’t have, I reminded myself.
It was hard not to, though, when Cal seemed to be thinking so strongly about the future.
“This is lovely,” I told him honestly. Cal sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to him.
“I’m glad you like it,” he told me honestly, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes, something I had never thought I would see in Cal, especially around me. He had always come across as so confident and experienced. Could I really make him as nervous as he made me?
I knew it wasn’t smart but I wanted—oh, how I wanted. And tonight, maybe, I could pretend that I was having everything that I yearned for.
Feeling a boldness that hadn’t been in me since our first night together five years ago, I walked over and sat down—not next to him on the couch, but in his lap.
Cal made a startled noise, staring up at me, and I grinned wickedly. I felt so powerful in that moment, knowing that I could make Cal look at me like that, could make his face flush and his eyes go dark.
I ran my fingers lightly through his hair and rolled my hips, and Cal growled. “You’re a goddamn tease.”
His hands fell to my waist and I giggled, feeling giddy. Cal’s hands flexed around my waist and I ground my hips some more, making them into a figure eight. I had never given anything close to a lap dance before. Never shown myself off like this before. It wasn’t just that I hadn’t been with anyone since Cal—I had never pictured myself being like this whenever I dared to imagine myself in a sexual situation. I hadn’t thought I could be this bold.
Cal just brought that out in me. I was so crazy for him, determined to have him, that it just overrode any fear I had about making an idiot of myself, any bashfulness that still lurked inside of me.
“Do you have any idea,” Cal breathed, squeezing my waist as I ground against him, “how crazy you make me?”
I could feel him growing steadily harder beneath me, his cock swelling and pressing up against me as I grew wetter and wetter, shuddering. I wanted him inside of me so badly. It was like a drug.
The thought made me laugh breathlessly, and I ground down on him even harder. I wondered, idly, if we could both come just from this, rutting up against each other like teenagers as we made out. The idea wasn’t without its appeal. I wanted to kind of be that crazy teenager, I wanted to have that bit of madness that I’d never given into when I was younger—except that one time with Cal.
But dammi, I also wanted him to fuck me properly, so that’s what I was going to get.
I kept circling and swiveling my hips, driving Cal wilder and wilder. He groaned, his head falling back against the couch, thrusting his hips up into me. I could feel a savage grin stretching across my face as sparks flew inside of me. Fuck, it felt so good, so, so good—
Cal grabbed me tightly, stopping me from moving, and my hips stuttered to a halt.
“You’ve had your fun,” he growled, a dangerous glint in his eye. I shivered in anticipation.
“What are you going to do about it?” I challenged, hardly recognizing my own voice.
Cal’s grin was mischievous. “Oh, you’ll see.”
I couldn’t wait.
19
Cal
I should’ve known that once she got confident enough, Maggie would be a total minx in bed. She was a stubborn woman who liked to get her way, and sex was no different. She’d come onto me, after all, that fateful night five years ago.
But now it was my turn to take control.
I grabbed a handful of Maggie’s ass, squeezing, and then picked her up, spinning her around—and then continuing to turn her, so that she was now bent over the couch.
Maggie gasped as I grabbed her hair and tugged, nipping at her throat. “I think you know now how this is going to go,” I growled, smacking her ass lightly.
Maggie groaned. “Yes,” she whispered.
I smacked her ass again one more time, just to see how she jerked and shuddered in response, then shoved her clothes up and off. Maggie braced herself on the couch as I stripped out of my own clothes, and then I slid my hands over her, feeling out her curves. Fuck, she was so gorgeous.
I fondled her breast, pinching and twisting her nipples lightly, giving her just a hint of pain to amplify the pleasure, and Maggie moaned. Here, without Fern, we could be as loud as we wanted, and I soaked up every sound that she made as I slid my hand down and began to work my fingers into her. If things went how I hoped—if Fern, Maggie and I were all a family—then we’d all be living together soon and we’d have to be quiet so that Fern couldn’t hear us. I had to enjoy Maggie’s noises while I could.
And oh, how I enjoyed them.
I worked her up to three fingers, waiting until Maggie was begging for me before I spread her legs further and lined up my cock.
“You’re not going to believe how deep it goes,” I promised her, sliding in slowly. I wanted to take my time to make sure that she was ready, that she could take all of me. There was no better feeling than when I was balls-deep in her.
At last, my hips became flush with hers, and I groaned as I bottomed out inside of her. Maggie was clawing at the couch, pushing back into me. “Cal, move,” she begged.
Oh, I could definitely do that. I pulled out and snapped my hips forward and Maggie cried out in pleasure. I did it again, and again, pulling at her hair, and soon she was screaming out a constant stream of yes, yes, yes as I fucked her with abandon. Fuck, I was able to get so deep into her this way. It was amazing. I was practically going cross-eyed with how good it felt, all of that tight heat around me from balls to tip, and Maggie sounded like she was already in the middle of orgasm.
Why the hell had it taken us so long to try us this way? Jesus Christ, I was already so close to coming, and Maggie didn’t sound all that far behind.
I let go of her hair and reached around to rub at her clit and she screamed so loudly I was sure she’d wake up the neighbors, even with a bit of distance between our house and theirs. I could feel her clench and ripple around me as she came and I fucking lost it, shooting my load deep inside of her, feeling so drained and good that I nearly collapsed.
Fuck. Sex had never in my life been as mind blowing as it was with Maggie.
She was a mess afterwards, and so was I, so we took a quick shower, washing each other off under the spray, laughing and teasing before finally collapsing into bed. I was worried that I might have to persuade her to stay, that Maggie might try and leave, but to my surprise she just climbed into bed with me like she hadn’t even considered not staying the night.
It warmed my heart, more than I could say, and I nearly tripped in my haste to join her in bed, to wrap my arms around her.
I slept better than night than I had in years, with Maggie in my arms. I was dead to the world until my alarm went off, and I was gl
ad that I’d set it, because otherwise we might have just kept sleeping for ages. She was still asleep as I woke up, safe in my arms, like she trusted me.
I wanted to earn this every morning. I wanted Maggie to trust me, truly, always, and to feel like she could let her guard down around me. She had been willing to, once, and I had fucked that up, and I wanted to earn that place in her life and heart again.
Before she could wake up, I slid out of bed and went downstairs. As tempting as it was to just lie in bed with her, to watch as she slowly moved to wakefulness and perhaps even kiss her awake… I wanted to make her breakfast first, and I couldn’t do that if I was distracted by her.
Just as I was getting the first round of pancakes ready, I heard her come down the stairs. I smiled to myself without even thinking about it, warmth flooding through me. “Breakfast is ready!” I called.
Maggie stepped into the kitchen as I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat.
She was wearing one of my shirts. It was oversized on her, just enough that the collar was slipping down her shoulder a bit, and while she might’ve been wearing underwear underneath, the shirt was long enough—down to the tops of her thighs—that I couldn’t be sure. Her hair was rumpled from sleep, and fuck, seeing her in my clothes like that, I couldn’t even describe it.
“Good morning,” Maggie said, smiling up at me, and I thought I detected a sly little glint in her eye, like she knew what she was doing to me by wearing my shirt like that.
I pulled her in, kissing her. Fuck, I wanted to drag her upstairs and make love to her all day long, over and over, until we forgot that the outside world even existed. But that wasn’t how our lives went—one of us, at least, had to get back to their daily responsibilities and I knew that Maggie wouldn’t forgive me if I distracted her from taking care of Fern.