Bittersweet

by Domingo, Sareeta

  I push him back a little further and he sits down hard on the bed, looking up at me, his chest heaving. I straddle him, holding my weight up for a moment, reaching between my legs for him again, lowering myself. Just before we meet, I look into his eyes again, searching for something and finding it there.

  Pure love.

  Pure want.

  I stroke him, once, twice, and then remember something. I reach over to my nightstand, open the drawer, and thank god my fingers close around a condom straight away. I tease him, brushing my opening against the tip of him lightly, letting him feel the warm wetness between my legs, then straighten up again, ripping open the packaging quickly and rolling the condom over his cock.

  “Mmmm… Cathy, please… I need to be inside…”

  He falls silent as I grip his shoulder with one hand, angle his cock with the other, and lower onto him—fast because I’m so slick.

  And then I still. I just let the feeling of being connected envelop us both.

  He wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face between my breasts. As his lips begin to tickle my skin, move over to one nipple, kissing it lightly, then licking, I can’t stay still any longer. My hips start to move and he thrusts up to meet me, leaning back to look up into my eyes.

  “Mmm… Greg…”

  “God, when you say my name like that—”

  “Greg,” I say again immediately, my voice high and breathless. His hands move down urgently, grip my ass, squeezing, moving me with him. “Mmm… Shit… Oh god… Greg…”

  He groans, then he stands up—actually picks me up, not letting us part. I wrap my legs around his waist, then a second later I’m flat on my back on top of the bedspread. He thrusts harder, deeper, over and over again, and I begin to lose all sense of anything at all, except him, inside me, making me—

  “I’m going to… I’m going to…”

  I feel myself squeezing tightly around him, but he doesn’t stop moving. His forehead presses against mine, he stares into my eyes, and it’s so intense that I can hardly breathe. I come, hard, gasping his name, and he leans down to kiss me, letting me moan into his mouth. Then a few moments later I feel like I could do it again. But he can’t wait any longer, I can tell—I can feel all of his muscles tense.

  “Greg… L-let go…” I manage to stutter, and he bursts out a hot breath against my neck as I feel him clench and relax, clench and relax.

  “Aaah … aah … aah…” he groans as he comes.

  Finally his weight presses down on me, and we’re both breathing like there’s hardly enough air in the room, in the world.

  He stays inside me, pulling himself up onto his elbows to look down at me. He opens his mouth to say something, but then shakes his head and smiles, as though words wouldn’t be enough.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  My limbs feel like rubber, but I whimper quietly as he pulls out of me. He sighs too, and then stands up and pulls the condom off his cock, knots it, and drops it in the trashcan in the corner.

  “Is it weird that I find watching you doing even that insanely sexy?” I ask.

  He grins and pulls back the corner of the bedspread until I lift up so we can both get underneath it. He climbs into the bed and pulls me close. I still can’t get over how beautiful it feels to have his skin against mine.

  “How many more do you have?” he asks.

  “Um … three maybe.”

  He kisses my ear, then whispers, “Well, before daylight comes, you’re going to watch me take off every single one…”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Greg wasn’t lying.

  When my eyes finally open, I look at my alarm clock and notice it’s heading toward midday. My muscles feel pleasantly sore, and I slept like a baby. Or like a woman who had four mind-blowing sessions of sex before finally being allowed to sleep. As I stir, I feel Greg’s arms tighten around me.

  “You don’t have work, do you?” he whispers, and I shake my head.

  “Day off.”

  “Me too,” he murmurs, his face in my hair.

  “But, Greg, honestly, I think we better leave this bed or I run the risk of not being able to walk by tomorrow when I have the breakfast shift,” I say, sitting up and pulling the sheet up over my naked chest. He pulls it down playfully, and I purse my lips and pull it back up again. He rolls onto his back and stretches, and I look at his outline under the sheets. He’s hard, again. I stare at the protrusion, then back at his face. His eyebrows draw together apologetically, but I nestle back down into the sheets and peck his lips—then keep traveling downwards.

  “Mmm… Cathy, it’s cool, you don’t have to … mmm…” He drifts off as my nose nuzzles that delicious dark trail of hair along his abdomen, and then my tongue runs up his cock to the very tip, and swirls. “On second thought…”

  *

  I sit on the couch, listening to the shower run with a goofy smile on my face, thinking back to last night and this morning. Then I sigh, trying to resist looking online to see reviews of the Bittersweet premier. I twist my damp hair into a knot on top of my head, remembering Greg climbing under the shower spray with me, washing my hair for me, and then his hands moving down to soap up somewhere altogether more intimate…

  I definitely feel like I’m making up for my dry spell, sex-wise, but I wasn’t kidding when I said that I’m going to need a break. But just the thought of not being around Greg now that we’ve finally broken down all the walls? It makes me kind of panic. This was what I was afraid of, because if the show tanks, things are going to get pretty tricky.

  I hear the shower shut off, but thankfully Greg gets dressed before he comes out to kiss me hello, smelling of him mingled with my body wash. It’s oddly sexy. He sinks down onto the couch beside me, and I can tell he’s kind of exhausted too.

  “You hungry?” I ask, winding my fingers in between his. He nods, and rests his head on my shoulder, but then straightens up again.

  “I could cook for you again? You never got to come to my apartment. We could go there, and I could christen the kitchen.”

  “You haven’t cooked there since you moved in?”

  He shrugs. “Not really. I don’t like cooking for one,” he says. “You like Steak Diane?”

  I scoff. “What is this, nineteen seventy-five?”

  He looks mock-offended, but with that gorgeous twinkle in his sleepy blue eyes. “Trust me, you’ll eat it and like it.”

  I stand up and lean down to kiss him. “Oh, I trust you.” He tries to pull me back down, but I resist. “Come on. Let’s go to the store and then to your apartment.” I stride back to my room and grab a bag, stuffing a few things in it, including my work dress, then go into the bathroom and add my toothbrush and makeup bag as well. He leans against the doorframe watching me.

  “What?” I say innocently. “I don’t picture me leaving once I get there.” He smiles slowly at me, and I smile back. “But we’re just going to have a sleepover,” I continue. “Emphasis on sleep. No christening of anything else tonight, OK? I need to get my strength back.”

  He comes over, wraps his arms around me from behind, and looks at me in the mirror. “Whatever you say, beautiful,” he whispers, kissing my neck.

  It takes us a while to get to the store.

  *

  Out in town, it’s like a Bittersweet bomb has gone off. It’s all anyone can talk about in the store, and we’re stopped at least three times so people can congratulate Greg when they recognize him. We head to the checkout with our stuff, and I smile at Nina, the checkout girl who rings up my groceries every week. Except today she’s looking straight past me and staring at Greg.

  “Um… C-could I get your autograph?” she asks. I grit my teeth. I’m sure last time he was in here it never even crossed her mind, but I guess I better get used to it. Actually, I hope I do have to. Greg turns on his mega-watt smile and signs the back of our receipt for her.

  “I’m going to take this as a good sign,” I say, smiling wryly as we leave.r />
  Greg nods. “I’m going to call Quentin when we get back to my apartment. He should have some numbers soon.” He sounds as nervous about it as I feel.

  As we pass the river I can see a much bigger crowd gathered to watch the filming there today.

  “Johnny’s shooting some scenes down there today. I think Renée, the director, is real keen to try and catch the magic hour down by the river,” Greg says.

  I look up at him quizzically. “Magic hour?”

  “The time just before sunset, when the light’s just right,” he explains.

  “Wow, it’s getting late then, huh?” I say, looking at my watch, and my stomach rumbles in agreement. “Hope you cook steak fast,” I add, chuckling.

  He grabs the grocery bag I’m carrying and begins to run backward, grinning at me as we head toward his apartment building. I jog after him and link my arm through his as we walk quickly the rest of the way—until we reach the path that leads up to his block.

  There’s someone waiting on the steps up to the door.

  She has a large purse slumped at her feet, her cell phone in her hand. She stands up quickly and pushes her dark-blonde hair out of her eyes, her mouth pressed into a line. The grocery bags almost drop from Greg’s arms, and I reach out to grab one of them.

  “Greg. Hi,” she says.

  “Becky.” He says it through gritted teeth and my heart skips a beat. I’d suspected, but somehow I can’t believe this is happening suddenly, now, after everything. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Greg says, his voice low, dangerous. “How did you—”

  “I went by the river and saw them shooting. I was hoping you’d be there. But I spoke to a production guy. I told him I was your sister and there was an emergency, and he gave me your address. Please, I’m sorry, but I have to talk to you and you won’t—”

  “Go home. Right now, I swear to God, Becky—”

  “Please. I will, just—”

  Greg tries to shove past her to get to the door, guiding me with his free arm, keeping himself between us. I almost start to object, then I see the anger in his eyes. “Why should I listen to a thing you have to say?” he growls at her. “After you betrayed me? After the shit you pulled, trying to make me think Paul was really hurt? What the fuck is wrong with you?” He’s shouting now, and I rest a hand on his arm as he turns away from Becky and jabs at the lock on the door, trying to get his key in. He finally opens it and starts to usher me inside, but stops when Becky shouts:

  “He’s going to sue you, Greg!”

  Both Greg and I freeze, and he turns and stares at her.

  “Paul’s been getting together a lawsuit. He went for tests to get certification from the doctors about… About what happened. It’s bullshit—I know he’s fine. But now that the TV show looks like it’s going to take off…” She trails off, looking pleadingly at Greg. “I really think he’s going to try and go through with it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I hear my apartment door open, and Maxine inhales sharply in surprise when she notices me sitting here in the dark.

  “Holy crap, Cathy,” she says, flicking on the light. I squint, and her eyes widen. She shuts the door and rushes over to me on the couch, grabbing my hand. “What the hell happened?”

  I pick at the tissue I have clutched in my hand, then take a breath—and tell her everything.

  “Jeez,” Max breathes when I eventually come to the end.

  I reach for the glass of water she’s brought me. “So I just left. I told him to stay there and talk things through with her, find out more details, maybe call his lawyers. He tried to come after me, but I made him go back.” I exhale shakily. “It’s shitty. Just when I thought things were going to be OK.”

  “They are,” Max says emphatically. “There’s no way this lawsuit’s going to come to anything, and this Becky chick turning up? I don’t know what her game is, but you know she’ll never be able to elbow her way back into his life, no matter how much she’s making out like she came to warn him, right?”

  I nod my head, hoping she’s right. “I know, it’s just… His past is still pulling him back, and this is major stuff. She obviously still cares about him, and he got so angry. Can you really get so angry about someone you don’t care about?” I swallow. “It’s been hours; he hasn’t called. I don’t know what’s happening. I’m just worried that—”

  We both jump as the buzzer goes. Max looks at me. “Want me to get it?”

  I shake my head, half thinking I’m going to feel pretty foolish if it’s our local batch of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I doubt they’d come by this late though. Cautiously, I push the talk button. “Hello?” My voice is like sandpaper.

  “Cathy,” Greg says, and I close my eyes. “C-can I come up?” He sounds nervous. I glance over at Max, who mouths that she can get out of our hair, but I shake my head.

  “I’ll come down,” I say into the intercom.

  I turn back to Maxine, and she stands up and comes over to me, gripping my arms and looking at my face until I meet her gaze. “Listen to me, you can get through this. Unless what he’s saying is totally out of whack, in which case call me and I’ll grab my softball bat.” She smiles a little, but then her expression turns serious again. “You deserve to be happy, OK?” she whispers, and I blink back more tears, nodding quickly and pulling her into a hug.

  “I better go down there,” I say into her shoulder, then pull away. I run down the hall, wash my face, and yank on my sneakers and a sweater. I walk quickly to the door, give Maxi a stiff smile, and then head downstairs.

  Greg is pacing back and forth in the darkness in front of our building when I finally emerge, and he turns around quickly when he hears the door open. He stares at me for a moment, then says my name and takes a step over tentatively, like he’s scared I’ll run away. “She’s gone, OK?” he says. “Hours ago. But then I had to speak to Quentin, and the lawyers.”

  I move away from our door and start walking, tucking my hands into my armpits as he falls into step beside me. I don’t really know where I’m headed; I’m just walking. “OK,” I reply.

  “I’m so sorry about all of this.”

  I turn and look at him. “I’m sorry too, Greg. After everything that happened with Becky and Paul, adding this on top of it? I can’t believe he has the gall to—” I stop myself, not wanting to make it worse. “I know this is really hard for you.”

  His eyes look anguished as they lock with mine for a moment, then he starts walking again, pushing his hand roughly through his hair like I’ve come to notice he does when he’s stressed.

  “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But maybe I deserve it…”

  “Greg, no.”

  He blows out air, hard, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re right. I mean, I’ve known Paul since we were little kids. Now he’s going to try and bring a fucking lawsuit against me?” His jaw muscles work, and I can see the anger building in him again. “I know I was the one who hit him … but I was also the one who was betrayed. And then Becky turns up here, trying to act the peacemaker, like she wasn’t the one who—” He looks over at me as I swallow hard and fight with the tears that threaten again, and his words coming to an immediate halt.

  “God, Cathy, I… I’m so sorry. This has all just thrown me for a loop, and I-I’m being selfish,” he whispers, his eyes wide, fearful even. “If you would rather we…” He shakes his head even as the words come out of his mouth. “If you wanted to pause on us—”

  I hold up a hand, shaking my head vigorously. “No. No. There’s no coming back from where I am with you, Greg,” I manage at last, my voice soft, but strong. “I want to be with you. I want you to work through this, and I want to be with you.”

  He draws in a shuddering breath and his hand squeezes mine. Then he pulls me toward him, into his arms, embracing me so tightly I can hardly breathe. “Thank you. Cathy, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come into my life. Thank you.”

  He breathes deeply, desperately, the
n puts his arm around me and draws me tightly to his side without another word. He turns me around but instead of heading back to my apartment, he walks past it toward his, not letting go of me, stroking his hand up and down my arm, pausing to kiss the top of my head.

  He lets me inside, shuts the door, and kisses me softly, then grabs my hand and takes me to his bed. We slowly strip off one another’s clothes until we’re back to that beautiful state where nothing can harm us, where it’s just us. He moves inside me slowly, and I feel his love with every movement, with every touch. We don’t have to say it. It seems like we make love all night, until my heart feels like it’s going to burst, until my nerve endings explode with pure pleasure.

  Eventually we rest, and Greg wraps me in his arms, his body perfectly encircling mine.

  “Hey,” he whispers.

  “Hey yourself.”

  “I forgot to tell you—Quentin gave me the numbers.”

  I suddenly feel my body tense up. I had totally forgotten all of that. “And…?”

  “And… You’ll come to LA with me when I audition for next pilot season, right?” he asks earnestly.

  “Oh.” I cough. “So … Bittersweet’s going to be cancelled? The ratings weren’t—”

  “I’m kidding. They were stellar. The network’s already ordered a full season.”

  I sit bolt upright and stare down at him, and I know he can feel The Stare even through the semi-darkness. “That’s not fucking funny, Marino!” I screech, punching him in the arm. He winces, but he’s grinning and twinkling for all he’s worth, and he pulls me back close. We lie face to face, staring at one another. “You’re going to stay,” I whisper. “I can’t believe it.”