No Regrets

by Claire Kent

  I wasn’t used to obeying instructions—in bed or out of it.

  He eyed me disapprovingly and then made me pay the penalty for my slip-up by making me wait more, stretched out naked and shuddering with arousal. He watched me the whole time, until I was sure there was nothing about me he didn’t see, he didn’t know.

  Finally, he moved his hands back to my breasts and started to caress me again. Soon, I was shifting and biting my lip, trying to stay in the same position despite the sensual torment.

  “That’s right,” he murmured thickly, his eyes lingering on my face. “Very good. Hold your position for me. You don’t have to stay quiet though.”

  I hadn’t been consciously suppressing my vocal responses, but as soon as he said the words, a low, helpless moan escaped my lips.

  “Beautiful.” His hands slid down to skim my stomach and then back up to cup my breasts. “Tell me how you feel.”

  “I’m turned on. So turned on.” I struggled to hold the position even though my hot arousal gave me the desperate urge to squirm.

  “Are you? Part your legs for me. Let me see.”

  There was something embarrassing about the position and about the act of baring myself so completely. But it gave me an even deeper erotic thrill to do as he said. I spread my legs farther apart and bent my knees slightly so he could see my wet, swollen pussy.

  “Very good. You’re wet. Why is your pussy so wet?” His voice had gotten hoarser—from the strain of his own desire, I thought.

  “Because I want you to make me come.” The words came out as more of a whimper. My whole body was trembling, and I could feel the moisture leaking out of my entrance to trickle down my inner thigh.

  This wasn’t me. It just wasn’t me.

  I was glad.

  “Ask me.”

  “Please.” My legs shook, and my fingers tried to dig into the wood of the headboard. “Please, Josh, make me come!”

  He moved onto the bed and braced himself above me. Then he slid one hand down my belly until it grazed my groin.

  “If I do this for you, you can’t come until I tell you to.” He lifted his eyes from my pussy to my face.

  I nodded.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yes. I won’t come until you tell me.”

  “All right.”

  He stroked me open with one finger, and then played gently around my clit. I nearly bucked up off the bed on the first touch.

  “No,” he said, removing his hand. “You have to hold still.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “Will you?” He met my eyes and, for just a moment, a hint of ironic recognition flashed between us—that we were doing this, playing this little game—but it disappeared very quickly.

  “I will.”

  I forced myself to stay still as he stroked and fondled me, sliding a finger inside me to spill the moisture gathered there. The pleasure was so intense that I kept mewing helplessly, but I didn’t move my arms, and I mostly kept my hips still, my legs splayed wide to give him access.

  Then I cried out loudly when he pressed into my clit with his thumb.

  “Be careful,” he warned me. “You’re not to come yet.”

  “Okay. Okay. Oh, God, please soon.” My head tossed back and forth, since it was the only part of my body I was allowed to move.

  “Look at you,” he murmured roughly. “You’re still that beautiful paradox. Your body is so turned on, so completely physical, but you still seem to be holding back secrets, parts you just won’t give.”

  “Oh, God, please, Josh,” I choked, my whole body tightening down around the pressure of the building orgasm. I wasn’t sure I was capable of holding it back.

  “Not yet,” he said, sinking two fingers into my pussy and starting to thrust them. Then he pressed into my clit with his thumb again. “You have to show me how well you can take instruction.”

  I cried out again, helplessly, and exerted all the power of my will to hold back the climax.

  Then finally he said, “Come now, Leslie.”

  The pleasure exploded in a powerful rush, and my whole body shook with it. He kept caressing me through the contractions, and the ripples of sensation kept coming until I was limp, breathless, and hoarse.

  “You did very well for your first time,” he said, giving me a few last strokes.

  I blinked and gasped. “I think I did very well by anyone’s standards, first time or not.”

  Humor flashed in his eyes briefly, but then he frowned. “That sounded like sass.”

  “No. Of course not. Never.” I was still trying to catch my breath from the best orgasm I’d ever had, but I did my best to look docile.

  Evidently, I didn’t succeed.

  “I think you need a reminder of who is in control here. Turn over, and get on your hands and knees.”

  I hesitated just a moment, not because I was reluctant but because it took a minute for my mind to start working again.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes.” I pushed up and then turned over, positioning myself on my hands and knees.

  “Legs farther apart.”

  It was slightly uncomfortable, but I parted my legs even more, my bottom exposed openly to his view.

  “Like this?”

  “Yes. That’s just right.”

  He was on his knees behind me, but he didn’t make any moves. When I turned my head to look, I saw his eyes were crawling over my body hungrily.

  “What now?” I asked, holding myself up and feeling both self-conscious and really turned on again.

  “Now, you’re patient. Stay in that position unless I tell you otherwise.”

  I bit my lip as I realized he was going to make me wait for longer than I wanted, as a penalty for being sassy before.

  But this was a challenge, and I was the one who’d wanted it, so I forced back the complaint that sprang to my lips.

  He was silent behind me, tension radiating off him, his eyes never leaving my body. Soon, I had trouble keeping myself still—not just because it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but also because I was so aroused I wanted to writhe.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, after what seemed like a very long time.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not uncomfortable?”

  “I can stay like this as long as you want me to.” It wasn’t true, but it sounded like something I was supposed to say.

  “Excellent. You’re learning quickly.”

  Finally, he reached over and rubbed his hand over my bottom. The move was so slow and so intentional that I gasped, wondering if he was going to spank me.

  I’d never felt an inclination in that direction before, but I suddenly wanted him to.

  I wanted him to spank me.

  That must be that other person too—not me.

  He didn’t, though. Instead, he took both of my butt cheeks in his hands and squeezed gently, pulling them apart to expose me more fully. “Your pussy is very wet.”

  “I know.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because…because I want you to fuck me.”

  “That’s what I thought. Ask me.”

  “Please, Josh. Will you please fuck me now?”

  Whatever patience he had was obviously at an end. He made a rough sound in his throat and must have unfastened his trousers, if the rustling fabric was any sign. I heard him tear open a condom packet, and I glanced back to make sure he was putting it on. Then he grabbed fistfuls of my bottom cheeks, pulling them apart.

  My hair was hanging down over my shoulders, sticking to my hot face. I felt vulnerable and out of control as I waited for him to enter me.

  He aligned his cock at my entrance, pushing just the head in.

  I heard myself make a mewling sound. “Please, Josh.”

  He slid his erection farther in, the substance of his hard flesh stretching and filling me. Before I could adjust, he’d pulled back and thrust in again—so forcefully my whole body was pushed towa
rd the headboard.

  “Is that what you want?” he rasped. “Is that what you wanted to feel?”

  “Yeah.” I braced myself on the bed as he thrust again—and again—forcing my body forward on each hard stroke. “Yeah. Just like that.”

  “Very good. You feel so good. Your pussy is hot and tight and so wet.” He sucked in a shuddering breath as my channel squeezed around him instinctively. “Yes,” he hissed. “Just like that. You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you?”

  The coarse language from him sent jolts of desire to my center. He was hitting my g-spot on each thrust, and the shudders of pleasure made me want to scream.

  I whimpered and bit down on my lower lip, my whole body slammed with carnal heat.

  He paused, with just the head of his cock inside. “Tell me,” he demanded.

  “Yeah!” I wanted to bump my ass back against him but knew he wanted me to hold myself still. “Yeah. I love it…when you…fuck me this way.”

  I’d never talked that way in bed before, and it was both hot and stimulating. It also made me burn with a kind of embarrassment, but that only gave me a different kind of thrill.

  I nearly sobbed in relief when he pitched his hips forward and stroked in hard.

  He still had handfuls of my ass cheeks, pulling them apart in a way that I thought might let him see his cock slide in and out of me. “You’re so hot and wet for me.” This was obviously true. I could feel the moisture on my inner thighs and hear the wet sound of suction every time he pulled back. “You’re getting close, aren’t you? Are you going to come when I say so?” Josh’s voice thickened as his rhythm accelerated.

  I wanted to come right now, and I hoped he wouldn’t want to drag it out too long. My whole body tightened as the flesh of my breasts and thighs jiggled from the motion of his fucking. And the only sounds I could force out were whimpers. “Yeah. Yeah, please. Please, make me come.”

  His thrusts intensified to a primal rutting motion—his pelvis slapping hard against my bottom. He made a growling sound and planted one hand on the headboard, bracing himself as his rhythm became more forceful.

  I sucked in air as desperately as I could and tried to hold back my climax until he let me come.

  “That’s right. That’s good. You’re going to come hard, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah!” I choked, my whole body starting to shake. “Please.”

  “Then come. Come for me now.”

  He fell out of rhythm, but it didn’t matter to me. At his words, I let myself go—the pressure shattering inside me in pulsing fragments of pleasure.

  I cried out loudly, uninhibitedly.

  “Good. Leslie. Good.” His words were bit out with his final hard thrusts into my clenching pussy.

  He came on the last sound, and I felt the jerking of his hips against my bottom and the rough grunts of his release.

  I was sore and breathless when my contractions died away, but my body was washed with pleased satisfaction.

  I kind of collapsed, and he took care of the condom and then returned to bed with me.

  “So how was it?” he asked, looking just as hot and exhausted as I felt. He also looked fully sated, which gave me a strange feeling of pride, that being with me had put him in that state.

  I gave a breathy laugh. “Really good.”

  “Was that what you wanted?” I saw a lingering question in his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said, stretching out to stroke his face very briefly until I was afraid the gesture was too intimate. “It was exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”

  “You can stay the night, if you want.” He was looking at me with an expression I didn’t quite understand.

  I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to or not. “Either way is fine. I understand what no-strings-attached means, so I’m not hoping for cuddles and kisses, you know.”

  That made him chuckle. “Good to know. But I’m serious. Stay if you want. No need to leave after sex like that.”

  “Good. Because I’m exhausted. I’m not sure I could move right away.”

  “Me either.” He stretched out beside me and pulled the covers over both of us. “Besides, we might get a second-wind later on.”

  “Maybe so.”

  We lay, looking at each other, for a minute, until he asked, “So how have you been doing? Since Polly, I mean.”

  I felt a clench of emotion at her name. “Okay. I’ve been okay. I think it’s…it’s starting to get better.”

  “Yeah.”

  I hesitated for a moment. Then added, “It’s hard, you know. I’m so used to having her around. She followed me everywhere, so it’s strange to be at home without her right there. It’s…it’s lonely.”

  “Yeah. I guess it would be.”

  I swallowed over the grief and focused on him instead. “Why don’t you have a dog?”

  “Why would I?”

  “I don’t know. You’re a vet. I assume you like animals. You like dogs, don’t you?”

  “I love dogs. But it’s hard to have a pet, since it’s just me and I’m at work so much.”

  “I work too, and I’m all by myself. You could make it work if you wanted to.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He glanced away, the way I was learning he did when he was saying something that went deeper than the surface. “It’s just…having a pet is a commitment, and I’m not in the place to do it right now.”

  I gazed at him, thinking about what he’d said, about what it revealed. He wasn’t just cutting himself off from romantic relationships. He was cutting himself off from any sort of responsibility, commitments.

  Yet again, I was dying to find out why.

  But that wasn’t what we were about. We weren’t here to get to know each other better. We were just here for great sex.

  “Do you think you’ll get another dog?” he asked, in a different tone.

  “I don’t know. Probably. I can’t even think about it yet.”

  “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

  There it was again. That hint that there was more here to know, more that he just wouldn’t tell me.

  I wasn’t going to push, though. This was supposed to be casual, so I needed to keep it that way.

  ***

  We fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the next morning.

  I’d had no intention of really falling asleep, so I was surprised and disoriented when I woke up and discovered it was five-thirty.

  My shifting woke Josh too, and he opened his eyes and squinted up at me. He appeared rather dazed until he finally focused on my face. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I said, sitting up. “I can’t believe I slept all night.”

  He turned his head to look at the clock. “Wow. Yeah. No big deal, though.”

  I relaxed a little as I saw his response. He was laidback, casual, like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t, really. Just because I hadn’t intended it, didn’t mean it was a problem. “I guess I should get going.”

  “No hurry, as far as I’m concerned. I don’t go into work until eight. You can take a shower, if you want. I think there are clean towels on that closet in the hall.”

  “Thanks,” I said, getting out of bed and then suddenly conscious that I was naked. It didn’t feel thrilling the way it had last night. I was just embarrassed. I grabbed my clothes and left the room, conscious that Josh was watching me.

  I grabbed a towel, took a quick shower, and put on my clothes. Josh was still in bed when I returned, but he was awake.

  He smiled at me. “So did you have a good time?”

  “Oh yeah. Thanks.” I grinned down at him, thinking it was very strange—and kind of a relief—to be so casual about it. No worries. No hurt feelings. No expectations.

  Just sex.

  He sat up and reached down to grab his underwear, which he slid on as he stood up. I supposed it was a gesture of chivalry—to put on his shorts before he walked me to the door.

  He stopped to grab a business card from his hallway table on the way and handed it
to me. “Give me a call if you want to get together again.”

  I stopped, peering down at the card. “Okay.”

  “Any time,” he added, giving me a brief hot look.

  “Got it,” I said with a smile. “Thanks.”

  I left, feeling okay about things. I’d taken a risk. I’d had a really good time. And there was no harm done.

  And he wanted to get together again.

  At least, I assumed he did. I would have preferred for him to call me and let me know when he wanted to get together. But he’d left it entirely up to me. Maybe he was trying to be sensitive, but I wasn’t used to calling up men, except for work or within a relationship.

  I definitely wasn’t used to calling up men to ask for sex.

  As I got in my car, I started to feel a little uncertain. I tried to picture myself calling him up in a few days, imagining what I would say, how I would make it seem casual.

  I started to wonder whether I would ever actually do it. The lure of hot sex might be strong, but my quiet, reserved habits were very deeply entrenched.

  Shrugging, I decided I’d play it by ear and not worry about it right now.

  Six

  A week later, I was having dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant with eight of my friends for my birthday.

  It was a really nice evening. My friends were all fun and entertaining, and I got a number of very thoughtful presents—as well as a few funny ones. There was good food and good wine and good company. I had nothing to complain about for my thirty-ninth birthday.

  But I was leaving the restaurant at nine-thirty and thinking about Josh.

  I hadn’t called him yet.

  I’d thought about it, of course. I thought about it every night. But every time I reached for the phone and started to dial, I’d feel weird and nervous and just didn’t do it.

  It was honestly a little annoying that he’d left it totally in my court. I didn’t like it to be in my court. If a man wanted to get together with me—for sex or anything else—then he should get the balls up to call me himself.

  That wasn’t the situation with Josh, though. He definitely wasn’t sitting around brooding about me, hoping for me to call. I was just casual, and so he could take me or leave me easily.