by Lily Zante
“Did you like my new yoga move”? I ask, trailing my tongue along his lower lip.
“Which one?” He nips at my lip playfully. “The one with your bottom up in the air? Or the one with you standing with a foot tucked against your thigh?”
“You were watching closely.” How is it that he’s so tender and soft now? Where’s the beast gone? The moody, surly man who skulks around?
“I couldn’t not stare at you. You’re impossible to ignore. God knows I tried.”
“Maybe you should have tried harder?” I clasp my arm around his neck and revel in the new thing we’ve now morphed into.
“I did try hard.”
His tongue delves into my mouth, explores, and duels. This is heady, like drinking a large glass of wine. My head feels light, my stomach jittery. I feel blessed that he is here, in my arms, kissing me. It’s all I’ve ever thought about since that day, and now that I know he wants me, the victory is sweet. I nip at his lips, before going for another long, slow, wet kiss. He groans then, and I feel his cock twitch against my belly. I don’t have a stitch of clothing on, and yet it feels entirely natural.
“So, you waited up for me last night?” I ask again, needing to hear how jealous he was.
“I hate that you went with him.”
“Jamie?”
“You looked so sexy in that dress.”
“If it helps you to know, I went to the party with him but it was you I thought about.”
This brings a smile to his face.
I touch his jaw, run my fingers over the sharp little hairs breaking through his skin. “I hated you.”
“Hated?” He kisses me. “Even now?”
“Would I hate you even now if we’re doing this?”
He kisses me again.
“Did you come to my room knowing this would happen?” I ask, our lips touching as we talk, his breath and mine mingling as if it is all one.
He holds my face with his hands as if this is extra important. “I came to apologize. I didn’t know you’d be wearing a towel.”
I slide my hand into his boxers and clasp my fist around his cock, pumping him gently, watching him wince and shiver. “You didn’t? What did you think I was going to do after my workout?”
“I didn’t think.” He lets out a shaky breath. I pump him some more. His cock grows and hardens in my hand.
“Having a problem getting your words out?” I tease.
He exhales again, his eyes flutter closed as I rub my thumb over his silky tip.
“I felt bad that you said you’d leave,” he manages to say. “I want you to stay.”
I assess his features, so strange to have him be this close to me. The last time we were like this, it was under the spell of the thunder and lightning in his dimly lit study. It felt not much different from a dream. This, now, in the cold light of day, this seems more real. More intense. More potent.
“You’ve played with my mind for weeks, and I need this.” I give an extra yank of his cock. He grabs my hand and stops me.
“I will come if you keep that up.”
“I expected you to have more staying power.” His hand stays on my hand which is on his manhood. These close and intimate encounters, with my hands in his pants, fill me with an urgent need. He takes my hand and moves it away, but there’s no doubting the size of his hard-on and the fact that soon enough it will need taking care of.
I pick up my towel and go to cover myself but he stops me. “No.”
“No?”
In answer, his lips trail down my shoulder and down to my breasts. He sucks hungrily at one, teasing and nipping gently with his teeth, making me feel loose and wet. Liquid heat swirls around in my stomach and lower. When he turns his attention to my other breast, I run my hand through his damp hair and yank a handful of it, holding onto it as a wave of excitement showers over me. He kisses and sucks, making satisfying sounds deep in his throat, as if he’s craved this for a long, long time. I throw my head back, lost in the wet heat that binds us together.
“I haven’t had sex for over a year,” he states, as if it’s the most normal thing to announce at a time like this.
“Over a year?” He’ll be hungry for it, and I intend to be the one he feasts on. “That’s a long time.” His hair is cold and silky against my hand. The harder he sucks my breast, the more I want him. My skin tingles with electric sparks. I am intoxicated by him, by the new and strange turn of events. Knowing he has gone without for so long makes me want him right now.
And then he does something that makes me jolt. He slides his finger inside me. It’s so unexpected, so glorious, so perfect, that I cry out with joy. He puts another finger inside. No foreplay, no rubbing or tweaking of my clit, just a straight-up thrust of his long, thick fingers. I want to come so hard. I can’t help myself. Ward plays me like an instrument, making me mewl and sigh with abandon. I moan with each tantalizing grope of his fingers.
If he continues, I will come. And I don’t want to. Not like this. I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, trying to tug at it hopelessly, so that I can yank it up and over his head, but I can’t keep my eyes on the prize, not when he’s stroking my clit like that. My brain has fogged over and I’m good for nothing right now. “This isn’t fair,” I whisper. “You’re fully dressed.”
Without a word, he stops, moves his hand away and strips down. Completely.
I can’t take my eyes off his beautiful body. It’s hard, and taut and lean. My mouth waters at the sight of his glorious cock with its glistening tip.
We tumble back on my bed, naked at last, rolling around until he gets on top of me. The feel of him against me, his hot bare skin against mine, his hard wet cock, stabbing and leaving a wet trail where he touches me, makes my heart beat so loud, I’m sure he can hear it.
He lowers his head, our gazes unflinching. “What do you want, Mari?”
That’s easy. “All of you.”
“All of me?”
“All ten inches,” I giggle.
He throws his head back, hooting with laughter. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Like this? Here?”
“Yes, like this, here.” I wish he’d stop the questions and get on with the action.
He chews his lip, his expression sobering. I prepare myself for a brushoff. “What?”
“I don’t have a condom.”
Of course he doesn’t. I like that he doesn’t carry one around with him.
“Let’s take this to your bedroom,” I mumble as our lips brush together.
“I don’t have one there either.”
I huff out in disbelief.
“I didn’t think I would need one,” he explains, putting his mouth to my breast again.
The fogginess in my brain clears. “I’m clean,” I announce. “And I’m on the pill.” He stops sucking and stares at me, his moist lips the only point of focus for me as I dive back into my murky past. “My … uh … the guy I was with before, he cheated on me. He got someone pregnant. So I got tested to make sure he hadn’t given me something. That’s why I know I’m clean. And if you haven’t had sex for—”
Ward lifts up on one elbow. “He cheated on you?” I nod, a part of my brain telling me that he’s focused on the part of the sentence I least expected. We can fuck now. I won’t get pregnant and he won’t catch anything. Instead, he presses his lips to mine gently. “I’m sorry someone did that to you.”
I kiss him back, because his lips are full and wet, and because I’m hungry for him in a desperate, shameless way. It looks like we get to do this after all.
“Are you sure?” he asks me, and it’s the gentlest he’s been, reminding me that he does have his tender moments.
“I’m absolutely sure.”
His eyes flash with desire. “But you went out with Jamie last night.”
“To make you jealous.”
He gets up off the bed, then lends me a hand and yanks me to standing. Just as I frown, feeling puzzled and disappointed, h
e spins me around so that my back is to his chest. “You succeeded.” He runs his hands greedily all over my body, massaging and playing with my breasts. One hand trails down my stomach and drops further down. He plants one of my feet on the bed, opening me up a little, before sliding his finger over my folds. The ripples of excitement this causes make me arch my back against his chest.
His cocks jabs my bottom, and my mind doesn’t know where to focus. His fingers slide and circle around my clit, and his other hand plays with my breast. I turn to the side. “Kiss me,” I beg, needing his lips on mine while I drift in and out of this sexual haze. He meets my lips hungrily, we try to kiss, unable to properly latch on. Even though he is driving me insane with his flexible fingers, it’s his cock that I need.
“Do you want me, Mari?” he asks, his voice riddled with need.
“Yes.”
“Are you ready for me?”
“Yes.”
He’s messing with my brain, with his hands in all my erogenous zones, and me at an awkward angle that stops me from exploring him as much as I want to.
He pushes me onto the bed, face-first, doggy style, and makes a sound, low and throaty. The bed dips as he climbs on behind me, his knees on either side of mine. His cock is at the ready, dipping into my wetness.
“Yesss,” I beg. A shiver runs through me as he nudges my opening with his thick tip. My hands slide forward and clutch the bedsheets as he tunnels into me. Every thick beautiful inch of him fills me while my stomach and breasts are pushed down flat. I groan in ecstasy, animalistic sounds falling from my lips.
“You okay?” He bends over my back, his hand stroking my clit, making me moan even more. “Oh ... yes ...” I cry, and then he thrusts in deep, one short sharp thrust and he’s in to the hilt.
I feel full. It’s the strangest sensation, and just as I get used to this blissful feeling, he pulls out. Then starts to thrust, setting up a pace, and every few thrusts leaning over to play with my clit. I whimper, feeling powerless, gutless, boneless. He keeps slamming into me, then pulling out, then does it over and over again. We are white heat, wet, and sticky. His cock inside me is like nothing I’ve had before.
I bury my face into the mattress, absorbing every feeling, every thrust, every touch.
Until a tinny sound breaks the spell.
It’s my cell phone.
I try to locate it with my one free arm, to see who it is because I always worry that it might be my mom. I lift my head. It’s Jamie. I let it ring and bring my attention back to myself.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Ward asks, his voice strangely hard. He’s still inside me, pushed right to the hilt, as if he’s taken up permanent occupation inside my pussy. I’m poised on the precipice of something deep and all-consuming.
My head falls to the bedsheets.
“Aren’t you?” he asks again.
I can’t answer because I’m about to fall from this precipice.
“Mari?”
“Don’t stop,” I beg. “Go harder.”
He obliges, thrusting in and out of me. I love that he owns me like this, that he wants me, that he makes me feel dirty and delicious with every thrust. It’s frightening and exciting, this new stage we’ve reached. My feelings, ripped and raw, about what this means, and what he thinks of me, fall to the side. All that matters is him, and the pleasure that drips from our oneness.
His hands grip my hips and I cry out, losing myself, forgetting who I am. I’m wasted, limbless and boneless, as he rides out his pleasure. I feel his aftershocks inside me and I push back, trying to squeeze every last ounce from him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
WARD
* * *
This has to be the best sex ever.
I turn my head and observe her side profile. I watch the rise and fall of her breasts, then turn on my side, propping myself up on my elbow so I can look at her properly.
She tilts her head towards me, the corners of her lips curving upwards into an inviting smile which makes me want to take her all over again. “You might just have erased the ghost of my ex completely.”
I reach out and run my finger along her lips. “Do you still miss him?”
“Sometimes.” She throws an arm across her chest, as if she’s trying to cover herself up.
“I’ve seen all of you,” I say, peeling her arm away. I still want to look at her naked body, now that she’s lying next to me, instead of dreaming about it. “You. Are. Beautiful,” I murmur, bending down to drop a kiss on her shoulder.
She doesn’t say anything to that, and the silence stretches out endlessly. I hope she doesn’t regret what happened. “You’re cold,” I say, watching her nipples rise without me having touched her yet. I nod, directing her to see what I see.
“Maybe it’s not the cold.” A hint of mischief makes her eyes light up. In answer, I shimmy a few inches closer and kiss her on the lips. It soon becomes one of those fevered, urgent kisses, and our bodies seem to have recovered and recharged enough to want to try again.
When I stroke her arms, I notice goosebumps. “How about we get under the covers?” I suggest. I’m not sure if she expects me to leave. I’m hoping she won’t discard me now that she’s made use of me. I don’t want to leave even though it’s what I would normally do.
A writer’s life is lonely. Mari distracts me, but she also gives me something more. Hope and meaning, maybe. Our roles have reversed. She has needs, and I took care of them. She’s a lusty, sexual woman, not a shy wallflower and I like that she takes control.
She jumps up, pulls away the covers and slides in between the sheets. “Getting in?” she asks but she doesn’t need to wait for my answer. I dive in and as soon as our bodies touch, we’re kissing and stroking one another again.
Her cell phone rings again, and this time I reach for it as its nearest to me.
“Your friend again,” I say, seeing Jamie’s number.
“Danny?”
Danny? I was worried about Jamie. Who the hell is Danny?
I hand her the phone, while rolling on top of her and planting myself in between her legs. Resting on my elbows, I watch her as she takes the call, and then I suck her breast again. Her conversation is labored, and she’s doing her best to sound normal but when I dip two fingers inside her and thumb her clit, her voice turns shaky. She struggles to maintain a normal voice and a normal conversation in a situation which is not so normal. Her back arches, her voice goes up an octave and she squeezes her legs together.
It sounds as if Jamie’s asking her about last night. Sounds as if she left without telling him. Sounds as if he wants to meet up with her again today.
I shove another finger inside her. She begins to cry out, then shoves a hand in front of her mouth to stifle her cry.
“Sorry,” she wails into the phone. She’s trying not to shudder as I make her come. “I ...uh ...uh ... I dropped a ... carton of milk. I need to clean it up.” Hurriedly, she tells Jamie she’s going to call him later.
I slide my fingers out, but my thumb is attached to her clit and she’s having trouble stringing a sentence together.
“Who’s Danny?” I ask, shifting myself on top of her and sliding inside her a few inches.
She makes a happy noise. “I love your cock.”
“I love your … womanly parts,” I say. What do I call it, so that it won’t offend her?
She hitches her hips as if she’s trying to sheath me. I pull away, but its murder for me to stay here when all I want to do is slam inside her.
“Danny?” I ask again.
“Why do you care?”
“I want to make sure I’m not treading on any toes.”
Her eyes cloud over. “I’m not a cheater.”
“I didn’t peg you for one,” I slide inside her, watch her head press back into the pillow. Her face flushes as I slowly fill her up and she stares back at me as if I’m the only man on the planet.
“Then why would you say that?” she asks, her voice breathless
.
“Someone like you, it’s hard to imagine that you’re single.” I push myself all the way inside her and hold there. Her muscles clench around me and I suck in a shaky breath.
* * *
MARI
* * *
We had sex again, and maybe another time after that. I can’t remember clearly. We must have both fallen asleep again. All I recall is curling up in his arms, and it being still bright daylight.
Now it’s dark outside. We hadn’t drawn the curtains, and the darkness pours in. I turn the lamp on but Ward is nowhere to be seen. Disorientated, I reach for my cell phone but it’s completely dead.
Most of all, I’m hungry.
And I wonder where Ward has gone.
I get out of bed, feeling a little sore. I consider going downstairs wrapped in nothing but my bedsheet but I’m worried it might be premature. I don’t know who we are yet, Ward and I. He said all the right things, but that was when he was in my bed. Out of the bed, in the cold, back to normality, he might say something else and I might not be ready to hear it.
A slight hesitancy creeps into my belly, because with him I never know what to expect. I get dressed quickly, throwing my sweatshirt and jogging pants on and traipse downstairs looking for him.
He’s not in the kitchen or the TV room, which means he’s likely to be in his study, writing.
Should I disturb him?
He already thinks I’m in his way.
I have to respect his writing time.
Torn, I head back into the kitchen and rifle through the fridge, looking for something quick and easy to make. I didn’t even make his lunch today. Or dinner.
I decide to make the simplest dish on the planet. Pasta with sauce out of a jar.
“You’re up.”
I snap around to see Ward in the doorway, arms folded watching me. My attention goes back to his t-shirt. Um-hmmm. He’s turning into a fine figure before my eyes. We exchange an inquisitive stare across the kitchen island. I’d love to know what he’s thinking. Whether he considers me a mistake, or a fling, or something more.