Divorced, Desperate And Dating

by Christie Craig

  “How do you like to be held? Tight?” She squeezed the hot length of his male hardness with her palm. “Or with a soft touch?” She loosened her fist around his sex and only with the lightest contact moved up and down.

  “Both are rather nice.” He raised his hips, moving himself up and down inside her palm.

  “Where does it feel the best?” She released him and ran a finger around his bulging tip. “Here?” She stroked another lap around the velvety head. “Or here?” She ran her thumb down the back of his shaft, following a vein.

  He inhaled and hissed. “That feels…wow!”

  She chuckled. “ ‘Wow?’ Surely you can do better. I’m a writer. I need a better word.”

  He raised his head a bit, and his blue eyes, hot with passion, met hers. “No, ‘wow’ pretty much says it.”

  His grin melted something inside her, and she knew as long as he smiled at her like that, her world would be good. No, not good; her world would be perfect.

  “Okay, I’ll take ‘wow.’ For now. But let’s see if I can’t earn another word.” She chuckled, then positioned herself between his knees. She leaned forward and let the wispy strands of her hair brush over his sex before she lowered her mouth. Breathing against the tip, she heard him moan.

  “You are better than my best wet dream,” he said. His hips rose off the bed.

  “Really?” She kissed the top of his thigh and ran her hand beneath the soft weight of his balls.

  “How are those words?” he asked.

  “Better, but not quite there.” She lifted that neat little package and gently kissed each of its contents.

  “Okay, how about you’re fucking fantastic?”

  She laughed. “Is that why you have this pearly little drop of moisture right here?” She ran her tongue over the tiny opening, tasting him and loving it.

  “Sweet heaven.” His hips shifted up, then down. “You’d better wrap that baby, because it might explode on you.”

  She ran her tongue over him again. “Then explode,” she said. “Because I don’t think they wrap anything in wet dreams.”

  She drew him into her mouth, then out, swirled her tongue around the head of his sex and heard the sounds coming from his chest. His cock throbbed beneath her tongue, but before the salty taste of his orgasm came, he had her by the shoulders, pulling her up and pushing her down on the bed.

  “I don’t get to finish?” She pushed her bottom lip out in what she hoped looked like a sexy pout.

  “I want to be inside you.” He grabbed the condom from her nightstand. In one quick motion he ripped the foil open with his teeth and sheathed himself. “But I sure as hell hope you can come fast.”

  He covered her body with his. His weight was sweet. His sex, hard and ready, went right to the spot, and faster than a blink he was buried up to her navel. Pushing in. Pulling out. These were the powerful, passionate strokes of a man who knew what he wanted and was taking it. He was taking all she’d been offering.

  Each stroke went deeper, was more urgent. She worked at trying to catch up with him but then realized it didn’t matter. It would be nice to just watch him, to feel him without being lost in a climax of her own.

  But then he pushed his hand between their bodies and found her hot button. Instantly, she was lost.

  Lost in the wonder.

  Lost in plea sure.

  Lost in love.

  Seven condoms to go.

  That evening Sue stirred some boiling noodles, praying she could fix one edible meal, when Jason stepped into the kitchen after taking a shower.

  “Are you going to work tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I still have a week’s vacation.” He moved close, looked over her shoulder. “Wow! You’re cooking?”

  “Just pasta.” And please let it be good.“But shouldn’t you save that extra time for”—our honeymoon—“a rainy day?”

  “Tired of me already?” Humor laced his voice, but there was some serious emotion playing in his eyes. Then he blinked, and the emotion disappeared.

  “No. I just…I don’t need a bodyguard now. And Chase misses you at work.” She waited for Jason to say he didn’t want to go back to work because he would miss her, because he really cared, because what they had was special. She’d take anything, the smallest sign to let her know what he felt, that she was something more than…than Ms. Feng Shui.

  “You’re right. I’ll probably go back tomorrow.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge, opened it, and took two long gulps while staring at the wall. Finally, he turned around. “Who called while I was showering?”

  “Oh, I forgot. It was Benny.” She put the spoon on the stove. “He said he appreciated you talking to the DA about Beth.”

  Jason shrugged, as if it hadn’t been a big deal, but Sue knew it was. And it was just another thing she loved about him.

  He took another sip of beer. “Let’s hope they lock her up long enough to get her head straightened out.”

  “Yeah.” Sue paused. “I do think they love each other. I think people just forget sometimes.” And can go off their rockers.

  “Do they?” Jason said. He sounded distracted and shot off into the living room.

  Sue fought her disappointment, moving her gaze back to the steaming pasta on the stove. Just hearing the word love sent this man running.

  Dinner came out very edible. So why weren’t either of them eating? Sue twirled her spaghetti around her fork, sensing impending doom. Jiminy Cricket, was she stale already? She stared forlornly at the rolls sitting untouched in the bread basket.

  “You know…” Jason pushed his plate away. “I just remembered that I haven’t watered the plants in my apartment. Do you think they’re dead by now?”

  Her stomach clenched. She said, “Depends on the plant.” But a voice inside her head wept. We still have seven condoms left!

  “I should probably check, huh?” He twisted the bottle of his second beer in his hand. “But if you’d rather I ‘d stay…I mean, it’s not easy going through what you did. I could…always buy more plants. Plants are cheap, right?”

  “Depends on the plant,” she repeated calmly, but in reality she felt no calm. Was that the reason he’d stayed—because he thought she was scared? Jeepers, she didn’t want him here if that was the case. But, dear Lord, she didn’t want him to go, either. Could she pretend to be afraid? Lie? Could she pull off pretending to be afraid for the rest of her life?

  No. She wasn’t good at pretending. Not at orgasms—although she certainly hadn’t had to fake those—and not at pretending someone loved her when he didn’t.

  And deep inside she heard a voice say, You deserve better than that.

  And she did deserve better. She deserved someone to love her. But where was that someone? And why couldn’t it be Jason?

  Catching her breath, she wished someone would catch her heart, because she was certain it was about to fall and break into a million pieces. Maybe two million.

  She braved a smile. “I’m a big girl. Besides, I have a whole pack of tampons.”

  His gaze moved over her, careless, nonchalant. “Yeah. You’ve got the tampons.” He closed his eyes, opened them, and looked at her as if he wanted to say something. Something important. Something that might matter. But then he took another long sip of his beer and looked away.

  He helped her with the dishes. The kicker came when he refused dessert. Jason always wanted dessert—or at least he wanted to watch her eat it. Not anymore. She was toast. And was that mold growing on her arm? Maybe not on her arm, but definitely her heart. She had fuzzy stuff sprouting all over that organ. She felt it, too: fuzzy pain. And it was squeezing the life out of her.

  By eight that evening he had gathered up most of his things, kissed her, and said he’d see her tomorrow. The vague promise didn’t stop Sue from leaking tears the second he walked out. She leaked on the sleeve of her elephant pajamas, on her pillow, and went through a box of tissues. It wasn’t until she was bone dry of tears, cuddled up in her bed wi
th Hitchcock at ten o’clock, that Jason called.

  “What pajamas are you wearing?” he asked.

  She sniffled, praying he wouldn’t hear the pain in her voice. He might have left, but her heart hadn’t erased him yet. “Elephants.”

  “I really like elephants. Want to have phone sex?”

  “I don’t do phone sex, remember?”

  “Hmm, I guess I forgot,” he said.

  What else had he forgotten? Her chest started aching all over again. How long before he’d forget about her? How long before he didn’t even remember to call?

  Why did you leave? The question rested on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t ask it. Probably because she didn’t want to know the answer.

  Probably the same reason she’d never came right out and insisted he tell why he hadn’t called her four months ago. Because deep down, she was afraid the answer would be because she just hadn’t mattered that much to him.

  And if she hadn’t matter that much then, how could she know she would matter that much tomorrow?

  Did this mean she had trust issues?

  Maybe. Okay, yes, she’d admit it. She had trust issues. Sue Finley had major trust issues. But she’d lost too many people she had trusted to always be there for her. How could she not have some trust issues with someone she really didn’t trust? Someone who offered no promises.

  “How’s your plants?”

  “Hanging in there.”

  Silence filled the line.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Tired,” she said. Dying inside.

  “Do you want me to let you go?” he asked, his tone solemn. Never.“Probably.”

  It had been hell. He hadn’t slept a wink. His gut hurt. Was this what it felt like to lose an arm?

  Jason pulled into Sue’s drive and stared at her house as the sun rose. He hadn’t lost her, he told himself and gripped the steering wheel so hard his hands hurt. Leaving was the right thing. They were lovers, damn good lovers. So what if she didn’t need him in other ways? She needed him for sex. Wasn’t that enough?

  He waited at least another thirty minutes before he went inside. Letting himself in, he quietly walked to her bedroom. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her, all warm, cozy, and sleeping. She was so damn beautiful it hurt to look at her.

  But look he did. He soaked in her image, the petite curves swathed in cotton elephant-print pajamas, her right ankle tucked under her left, her hair a blonde halo around her head. His heart wanted to scream out words he’d never said, promises he’d never made to anyone. But such an action wasn’t him. He couldn’t allow himself to want something that badly. He was a one-day-at-a-time kind of guy, not the kind that made promises or expected them. And for that reason, he stopped wanting what he couldn’t have and started thinking about what he could.

  He stepped out of his Reeboks, stripped his socks off his feet, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Unsnapping his jeans, he pushed them down and left them in the middle of the floor with his boxers. Then he walked to the bed, gently crawled in beside her, and kissed her cheek.

  She woke with a start, placing her hand on his bare chest. Her hand covered the place where his heart pounded the strongest. That heart, he felt sure, was half broken from missing her last night.

  She blinked those sleepy blue eyes at him. “What are you…doing here?”

  He ran a finger down her cheek and continued down to brush his full hand over her breasts. “I thought you might need…something.”

  He had spent two weeks learning how to turn her on slow, how to turn her on fast. Now he needed a speed to match the desperation he felt in his gut. He leaned over to kiss her.

  She pulled back, even though her eyes brightened with passion. “I…I’ve got morning breath.”

  “I love your morning breath.” He unbuttoned her pajamas and kissed her again.

  He kissed her lips, tasting Sue, savoring what he’d hungered for all night. He moved his kisses to her neck. The way his face fit in that feminine curve had him changing his mind about needing it fast. No, he wanted it slow. He wanted this so good that she felt what he felt, that she knew all the words he couldn’t say.

  Slowly he dipped his hand into her pajama bottoms, brushing it across her abdomen, feeling her muscles tighten with each pass of his palm. Her hips rose, encouraging him to take his touch lower, but he wasn’t ready yet. Catching the waistband, he slipped off her pajamas. Then he shifted his body downward, placing slow damp kisses on her breasts as he went.

  When he looked up and saw the moisture on her tightened nipples, his cock grew harder. He flicked his tongue inside her belly button and heard her moan.

  “Hmmm, you like that?” He looked up.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, her eyes closed, both hands holding fistfuls of blanket at her sides.

  “Do you like this?” He moved down, ran his tongue across the top of her pelvis.

  “Yes.” She ground her thighs together.

  “Now don’t go trying to keep me out.” He slipped his hand between those locked thighs. “Or you might miss what I’m going to do next.”

  He felt her relax, felt her hips shift in the sweet up and down motion that told a man a woman was ready. But he wasn’t ready. Not yet. He wasn’t finished loving her.

  “Spread those thighs for me.” A shot of lust hit his groin and a sense of power washed over him when she obeyed. “Wider.”

  Positioning himself between her knees, he leaned in and breathed kisses up her thighs. Staring at the pink moist flesh before him, he felt his arousal become painful.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are here?” He ran a finger up her thigh, over the patch of blonde curls, and dipped it inside the wet cleft of her sex. Her hips shot up and her knees came against both sides of his face. He pulled his finger away.

  “Don’t stop,” she muttered. “Please, I need—”

  “Relax your legs, baby.” Turning his face, he nipped the inside of her right thigh with his teeth. “Open them back up for me.”

  “Jason.” She said his name like a plea.

  “You can beg, Sue, but let me apologize now, because I’m going to take my sweet time, and you are going to just have to suffer through it.”

  Six.

  Six condoms left, Sue thought later as she watched Jason dry off from his shower. Still curled up in bed, still reveling in the three orgasms he’d given her, she watched her tan towel move over masculine perfection.

  “Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to jump back in that bed with you and crawl between your legs again.”

  She grinned, emotionally dizzy from first crying her eyes out and then finding him in her bed this morning, and then enjoying his new level of lovemaking. The man was a god.

  “Okay. I warned you.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder and dove onto the bed.

  Sue squealed, rolled off the mattress, and laughed as a very naked Jason chased her across the bedroom. But what kept her from taking him up on his offer was the use of another condom. She had to conserve them, make them last as long as she could.

  He made coffee and then scrambled some eggs while she burned some toast. He didn’t seem to mind the dark edges; he ate it anyway.

  Just as they were about to sit down, his phone rang. Sue watched him take the call.

  “No show again.” He cut his eyes at Sue and grinned. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that.”

  When he hung up, he laughed. “Mrs. Cucumber Lady needs me to call the limo service because her driver is five minutes late.”

  Sue chuckled. “Why don’t you tell her you can’t continue to do this?” But even as she said it, she knew Jason wouldn’t. He complained a little, but Sue somehow sensed he enjoyed helping the woman.

  During breakfast they talked, but for some reason a lighter mood seemed lost and the conversation felt forced. Sue found herself saying dumb things to avoid awkward moments. “Do you believe in UFOs? Did you know that talking to your plants can help keep t
hem healthy?”

  Jason helped her clean the kitchen afterward, and she continued to chatter about off-the-wall subjects.

  When the dishes were done and she was in the middle of another tangent, he backed her against the wall, putting everything he had into a kiss—his tongue, his hands, his body. But finally he came up for air and said, “I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.” He winked at her. “I’ll call you to night.” Then he walked out.

  Call. He would call her to night.

  Sue pressed her forehead to the dining room window and watched his Mustang drive away. Suddenly alone, she felt the few tears she hadn’t shed last night come a-calling. All she could think was: The man had kissed her mindless and then said he’d call her. Why did that seem so freaking familiar? It was like four and half months ago.

  No, it won’t be like that this time. Jason wouldn’t do that to her again.

  But as much as she wanted to believe that, she knew she’d grown tired of guessing what Jason felt. Deep down she believed he cared, but it was time for them to talk. To really talk. To night when he called, they wouldn’t be chatting about UFOs.

  Sue waited for the call. When he didn’t call at six, she went ahead and dressed just in case he showed up for dinner. At seven she decided to go ahead and make herself a frozen meal. She ate in the study while she gave Mama and her kittens some needed petting time. At eight, she called Lacy just to make sure Jason and Chase hadn’t gotten caught up with something at work. Chase answered the phone, so Sue hung up.

  At nine, Sue opened a bottle of Merlot and sat down with her ficus plant and Hitchcock to talk. (Since Ms. Ficus was doing well, Sue figured she deserved most of the whining time.) By ten, she’d drunk three glasses. And at ten thirty, when the phone rang, Sue and Ms. Ficus had pretty much agreed that all men were car-thieving, adulterating, bank-robbing, cross-dressing, fresh-bread-loving scumbags. She didn’t need a man. She had a piece of electrical equipment that took care of any occasional itch. And as long as she didn’t have temptation hanging around, she only itched occasionally.