He felt strangled, and a groan ripped out of him as he wadded the wrinkled paper into a ball and threw it. Gripping the edge of the table, he attempted the throw it, too; it tipped over with a crash, crushing the flimsy chair that she had probably rested in as she wrote her letter.
Staring at the broken remains of the chair, lying shattered beneath the weight of the table, Michael sank to his knees, dropped his head into his hands, and after almost three years, he finally allowed himself to truly grieve what had been lost.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He heard the ringing long before he actually realized what the sound was. Finally, Michael heaved a sigh and slipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. His intention had been to turn it off, but as he pulled it from his pocket, the thought came to him that it could be Renee. What if something had gone wrong with her date and she needed him?
It wasn’t, though – the call was from Sherry. He stared at the phone as it rang in his hand, vibrating softly against his palm. The last thing he needed in his life was another woman who could hurt him, but this woman was different. She offered something other than heartache, and he could bet she was calling to offer him something simple, something he desperately needed – distraction. He answered the call.
“Hiya, Mikey,” she said when he picked up the call.
“Hey, Sherry,” he answered. “You working tonight?”
“Not tonight. I’m off, so I thought I’d get in touch with you and see if you wanted some company. You do owe me a rain check, right?”
Michael laughed, closing his eyes to shut out the destruction of Nicolette’s attic retreat. “Yeah I do. You coming to collect?” He turned away, not opening his eyes until he knew the upturned table and it’s shattered chair were firmly behind him, Nicolette’s wadded letter lying somewhere in the mess. As he listened to Sherry’s smooth voice and erotic promises for the evening, he left the room, closing the door on the mess. It had been there, waiting all this time. It could wait a little longer.
“– So I can be on my way over there in … maybe twenty minutes?” Her voice was an erotic whisper, and he felt the jolt travel through his body, shivering over his skin.
“Alright, I’ll be here. Door unlocked. I have to grab a shower though, so –“
“I’ll know where to find you,” she breathed. The line went silent as Michael stepped into the bathroom, and he dropped his cell phone on the counter. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he reached for the button on his jeans, and he watched the muscle ripple through his arms as he unfastened the button. He wasn’t a large man, but physical labor had toned his body nicely – he wasn’t thickly muscled, but what muscle he had was clear-cut and well-defined.
Experimentally, he brought his arm up and flexed his right bicep; the muscle formed a tight knot on his arm, just beside the round, muscular joint of his shoulder. He brought the arm down, curving it slightly over his stomach to make his pectoral muscle flex. His nipple twitched with the motion, and he grinned at himself in the mirror. “Might be a damn reject,” he said to his reflection. “But I still look pretty damn good.” Turning, he brought his arms up again and pressed his shoulder blades together to flex the muscles in his back; he twisted slightly to look over his own shoulder into the mirror. “Mmhmm. Pret-ty damn good.”
Still smiling, he dropped his arms and caught the waistband of his jeans, snagging his boxers too as he slid his hands over his hips. He had narrow hips, and he was thankful that his job kept his stomach naturally flat. He wasn’t the type to spend a lot of time working out, but slinging tires and working on cars all day by himself for the last several years had not allowed him much idle time – either way, he was proud of his body.
The thought of Sherry’s tongue running over the V that defined his hip-line made his dick thicken heavily against his leg, and he shook his head wryly. “In a minute, man. In a minute.” Stepping into the shower, Michael turned the water on and moved under the spray, flinching slightly as he waited for the cool water to warm up. When it did, he leaned forward to wet his face, reaching by habit for the can of shaving cream propped on the edge of the shower wall.
He was clean shaven and almost finished showering when he heard the bathroom door open; he froze, listening.
“Michael?”
“That was fast,” he answered.
She laughed, the throaty sound echoing through the bathroom, sliding over him as smoothly as the water did. “Yeah. Well, I might have already been on my way when I called.”
“In a hurry to see me?”
“Maybe,” she said.
He saw her shadow through the shower curtain, heard the tell-tale rustling of her clothes hitting the bathroom floor. Swallowing, he stepped back into the water and watched as long, elegant fingers curled around the edge of the plastic. She slipped the curtain back and stepped into the shower with him, smiling as she watched his face. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ears, uncovering creamy white breasts topped with pebbled pink nipples. She had red fingernails; he noticed as she took his hands and urged him to palm her breasts that the polish nearly matched her hair. She shook her head to toss her hair over her back, but a long lock of flaming red remained, spilling over the fingers of her left hand as she looked up at him. His mouth went dry as she arched one dark eyebrow, ice-blue eyes twinkling with humor. “Not gonna pass out on me again, are ya?” she asked.
“Doubtful,” he answered. He swallowed again as she stepped closer, and allowed his hands to drop and settle on the roundness of her hips. He could faintly feel the subtle hardness of her hip bones beneath his thumbs, and the slightly risen texture of the cherry blossom tattoo that curled up one side of her body from thigh to underarm.
“Been drinking tonight?”
He shook his head, stepping back again. The shower was still on; as he moved back into the water, it spilled over his neck and shoulders in rivers that ran down his body and slipped over the length of his erection like gently stroking fingers. She moved with him, stepping close enough for her nipples to brush against his chest. Closing his eyes, he dragged her closer, and as her arms circled his neck, he lowered his mouth to hers.
"In the shower, Michael?” Sherry laughed softly, breaking the kiss. “Well that’s frisky. You’re always more of a –“ Her voice broke off as Michael bent forward again and covered her mouth with his own; she squeaked in surprise and stiffened slightly in his arms, but as he slid the tip of his tongue down the column of her throat, she gasped softly and melted against him.
Michael groaned as her breasts pressed flat against his chest. He slipped his palms over the now-wet curves of her hips, turning to align her back with the wall beside him. She gasped again as he gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted her, pinning her body against the wall, and he laughed against the pulse that beat in her throat. “That’s what you get for underestimating me,” he murmured, dipping his head to capture the tip of a beaded nipple.
“Aah,” she sighed, clutching his head in her hands. “I should do that more often, then.” Her thighs locked around his waist, and he bit down on the flesh of her breast as he felt the tip of his erection graze the slick moisture between her thighs. She moaned again at the contact, her fingers fisting in his hair; he moved his attention back to her throat as he gripped her hips and sheathed himself to the base inside her warmth. “Uhng!”
Ah, God, she felt good. Frozen in place, he pressed harder against her, pinning her to the wall with the force of their joining, afraid of hurting her with the strength of his grip on her waist but unable to release his hands. “Oh, God.” Water rushed down his back, growing cold, and his testicles tightened against the cool flow of the water. “Oh, God, Sherry.” He rocked his body against hers, driving in and out of her, listening as she moaned his name – he was drowning in the sensations of her body, desperately using her to escape the pain of Renee’s image in the back of his mind, super-imposed over the memor
y of Nicolette’s letter. Taking what he could, to make up for what he couldn’t.
Neither of them were with him now, but Sherry was. She was there, warm and wet and willing, her thighs clenched around his hips, her breasts squeezed bruisingly between his fingers, her teeth biting at his ear lobe as she bounced in his arms, the walls of her body clutching him just as tightly from the inside as her arms were on the outside. She moaned as he buried himself again, her breath tickling his ear, and he felt her suddenly clench tighter around him. She flexed her hips against him as she gave way to her orgasm, forcing him to grip her thighs to keep her from falling. As he pumped his hips, thrusting smoothly into her one last time, Michael lost himself in the warmth and softness of her body.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty minutes later, Michael and Sherry were both showered and lying together in his bed. She had turned toward him, propping her head up on one hand as she traced circles on his stomach with the other, her red hair falling in pools around them. He brought one arm down behind her, using his fingertips to echo on her back the circles she was still making on his stomach. “You’re still on your birth control, right?”
She sighed, pausing. “You know I am, Michael. I’m not the kind of girl who takes that kind of risk. I know what happens when you let someone into your life in a permanent way, and –” She shrugged, lifting her hand from his stomach and lying back beside him. “Babies? Those are definitely permanent. And I don’t do permanent.” She brought her eyes up to meet his, her eyebrows slightly arched. “I thought you didn’t anymore, either.”
“Maybe I could,” Michael answered, lowering his eyes. He turned toward her, circling one pink nipple with a gentle fingertip; it stiffened responsively at his touch, and he smiled.
“How could you trust anyone again, after what you’ve been through? I would think you’d understand where I’m coming from on this.”
Michael dipped his head and passed his tongue over her nipple, moving his hand to her other breast. “I could, maybe,” he murmured. She gasped as he closed his mouth over her flesh, and he slipped his hand down her stomach, circling the dip of her belly button before sliding lower. “You saying you’ll never trust anyone? Not ever?” he asked. Sherry groaned softly, squirming as he kissed the insides of her thighs. She was proud of her body, and she lay calmly while he raised his face and looked up at her over the length of her naked torso, hiding nothing from him. Still looking into her eyes, he poked his tongue out and lapped at her, making her groan. “You won’t even trust me at some point? No one?”
“What would I wanna go and do that for?” she asked. “I haven’t ever trusted anyone who didn’t hurt me. After a while, you figure out it’s not them, it’s you.”
He blew over the damp folds of her sex, and she opened her thighs to give him access. He smiled as he heard her breath quicken in anticipation, but raised an eyebrow at her as he said, “What’s that mean? It’s not them, it’s you?”
Sherry reached for his head, urging him to lower his face. He lapped at her obligingly, sweeping his tongue over her clit. He grinned, amused, as she spoke around halting breaths. “Yeah. Uunng … it’s me … oh, God … it’s … aaahh … my expectations.” She sighed heavily as he closed his mouth over her and sucked gently, but spoke again as he drew circles around her clit with his tongue. “It’s … oh … it’s easier to … God, don’t stop, Michael … it’s easier … to get … disappointed … if you expect things.”
Slipping a finger between her folds, he glanced up, smirking. “So, what? You think it’s that easy?”
She bucked slightly as he added a second finger, moving them slowly inside her from fingertip to knuckle and back again. “It works … for me,” she whispered. “Has for … years. All I ask … is not to be one of many.”
“That’s an expectation.” Stroking one last time with his tongue as his fingers quickened their rhythm, Michael turned his head and reached to kiss the pulse beating in the crease of her bikini line.
“No,” she moaned, shaking her head. “It’s an arrangement. You agree, I agree.” She hissed softly as Michael bit the tender flesh of her inner thigh and then turned back to flick his thumb over her clit. “Oh, God, Michael! Don’t stop.”
He curled the finger inside her, stroking, watching as she writhed. “Arrangement,” he murmured. “That’s it, an arrangement? With terms, not expectations?”
“Mmhmm.” She licked her lips, bucking her hips against his hand. “And when the parties – aaah … right there, Michael. Don’t stop … uuhhn … when the parties no longer agree, then … Aah! Then you –“
“Just break it off?”
She nodded, her red hair rustling against the pillows. She rocked her hips sharply against his hand, bringing her own hands up to grasp her breasts. Michael worked her steadily, his fingers still lost in the wetness of her body; he watched her fingernails flash against her skin as she pinched her nipples.
“So … you wouldn’t trust me, either?”
“No,” she breathed. “That’s … the arrangement, Michael.” She turned her head from side to side, her hands fisting in the sheets. She whispered his name again, clutching his head; he braced his hands against her inner thighs and used his thumbs to spread her folds as he dipped his tongue inside her body, tasting her.
She didn’t speak again for a while, unable to form coherent thoughts as he pleasured her with his mouth. But as he rose above her and slipped a hand between them to guide himself into the warmth of her body, she met his eyes again. “I won’t give you that, Michael. Just this. And this is all it’ll ever be.”
Refusing to answer, he lowered his face and nipped the curve of her shoulder as he sank into her. They rocked together, slick body against slick body, and as she cried out with her release, Michael tried to ignore the nagging pit of longing in his stomach. Propped up on his forearms, he curled himself into her body, driving himself deeper as she scraped her nails down his back. He crashed into her again, and she gasped his name as he buried himself fully, groaning as he emptied inside her.
Collapsed against her throat, he heard her whisper quietly, “This is all though, Michael.”
The words set off a warning bell in his head, and he rolled away, sighing. He could see the moon through the windows of the balcony doors – the last time he’d watched the moon off the balcony, he’d been watching Renee, too. He sat up on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands, trying to sort through his thoughts. Sherry waited silently and when he turned back, she was toying quietly with the ends of her hair. She glanced over at him and her mouth tightened slightly, as if she were steeling herself to some unseen battle; he closed his eyes and turned back to the windows. “What if I want something more?” he asked.
She shrugged, and he felt the bed move as she sat up too. “So, you want more. Fine. But do you want it with me?”
“I don’t know, Sher,” Michael answered. “Maybe?”
He glanced over, watched her breasts rise and fall as she sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter, because I can’t offer any more than this,” she said, turning away. He watched her stand, stretching her arms toward the ceiling; her breasts stood out proudly from her body, slick with sweat, and the cherry blossom branch tattooed down her side writhed with her movement.
“This is really all you want?” he asked, suddenly angry. He stood to face her, throwing his arms wide in a gesture that encompassed the messy bed between them. “You’re okay with just being some guy’s Saturday night fuck? That’s it?”
Sherry’s mouth fell open in surprise and her eyes widened, the blue irises going icy as she stared back at him. “That’s what I am, Michael. I’m not Sunday brunch and Christmas dinner, alright? Look at me, I’m a bartender who gets her kicks with a drunk that only comes in when he’s lonesome. I’m not good morning beautiful, Michael, and I know that.” Flinging out her arms, she sighed and then crossed them over her naked chest. “I’ve never been that – I’ve never been anything more than som
ebody’s red light special. Not in a long damned time, anyway.” Reaching out, she snatched the sheet from the bed, her cheeks flaming as she covered herself.
It was Michael’s turn to be surprised. “What?” he asked. Shaking his head, he turned his back and scraped his palms over his face before he turned back to her. “What?! You are not red light special, dammit, so don’t give me that shit. God, don’t you see I’m asking you to stay? With me?”
“I can’t,” Sherry answered simply, shaking her head. “I don’t do … more.” She didn’t look back as she moved out of the bedroom, and he waited, listening, as she made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. The faucet turned on, then turned off again. The toilet flushed, and he heard her sigh briefly. “I should have known,” she muttered breathlessly, as he turned back to strip the rest of the sheets from the bed. “I should have known he’d want more.”
He tipped his head, listening as she talked quietly to herself, and when she walked back down the hallway – fully dressed – he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, a pair of comfortable lounge pants hanging loosely from his hips. “So that’s it?” he asked.
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