by L. B. Dunbar
Deciding to text him, I reached for my phone and returned to the chair.
Made it back. Masie puking.
The dots appeared, and he replied, Sounds awful.
I waited a beat, wondering if I could ask the next question on my mind, as insecurity returned, recalling all those other women at the bar.
Still have my underwear?
The message returned almost instantly. How does that make you feel?
I told him to never lie to me again, so that meant I had to give him the truth.
Painful.
I could almost see the surprise on his face. His dark eyebrows rise, his eyes brighten.
Really? How so?
How difficult could the truth be? How truthful did I want to be?
I ache for you, I typed. My core pulsed faster than my heart. Moisture dampened my thighs, and I ached, yes, I ached in a way I never had before.
There was no response, and I stood to undress. I wanted to text again, asking if my comment had been too much, but decided against it. My thoughts ran wild: worry over Masie; recollection of the backstage bathroom; hyperawareness of the racing between my thighs.
Then my phone binged.
Stay dressed.
Most women might want to read, get naked, but that…that message sent my pulse to near desperate measures. My fingers twitched, and I wondered if I could do the unimaginable. Could I touch myself? Would it feel as good as his thick digits? Could it replace him buried deep inside me? The thoughts alone almost brought me to orgasm, and the answer to each was a resounding no. I wanted him with every fiber of my being, and the anticipation heightened the wait.
Fifteen minutes later, my heart skittered in my chest, and I tried to regulate my breathing as a soft knock at the door announced him. He texted as well, but I didn’t need to read it. Taking a calming breath, I opened the door.
“How’s Masie?” he asked as he entered, and it soothed my anxiety that he asked about my child. I peeked into the bathroom to find her still on the floor, asleep.
“She’ll live, but she’ll hate life tomorrow,” I chuckled, leaving the door open a crack. Without questioning what he wanted, I led him to my room. I stopped in front of a chest of drawers with a flat screen television over it. It stood opposite the bed. My hands gripped the surface as my backside rested against it. I don’t know why I was so nervous.
He stepped inside and closed the door. Locking it, he looked at me. “You okay with that?” I nodded, agreeing that the interruption of one of my children would be mortifying. “I don’t think you’ll see Caleb for a while.” He was correct. Caleb still rode the tide of playing on stage, and he had a new collection of his own fans, or at least momentary groupies, but I didn’t want to think of him. Tommy sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, facing me.
“Put your shoes back on.” His voice was husky, deep and rough, like gravel in a glass jar, and I followed his order without question. Just like him telling me to stay dressed, replacing my shoes on my feet seemed sensual, alluring, and invigorating. I returned to my place by the dresser, and Tommy stood. First, he kissed me. His tough, thick fingers caressed my cheeks and stroked my neck as his mouth took its time to lick and suck and nip. Tugging at my lower lip, his tongue entered my mouth, but not in the aggressive, conquering way he typically took, but more like a casual stroll on a rainy day. He swept inside and covered my teeth, tangling with the hungry muscle.
His hands came to the collar of my shirt and pressed it open, allowing it to fall wide and slide down my arms. He untied the casual twist at my waist and slipped his hands inside, forcing the shirt to fall free. With hands at my waist, he continued to kiss me, drawing my mouth deep, lapping long at my lips and filling my mouth with his tongue again. A finger slipped under the thin shoulder strap and removed one side, and then the other. Hitching his thumbs in the sides, just under my arm, he rolled the material downward to expose my strapless bra.
How I longed for sensation, that tingle I should have felt, but Tommy took care of that. His mouth moved over the top of my cleavage, taking his time to suck at my skin and run his tongue over the swells. He unhitched the bra, exposing my tattooed tits and taking a long look.
“I hate cancer,” he whispered, his voice catching on a croak. “But you are so beautiful.” He paused, swallowing as he stared at my breasts. “And it changes nothing.” His mouth returned to attending each breast with tender kisses and light pecks before he dropped to his knees. He dragged the remainder of the dress to my hips and slid it to the floor, tapping an ankle. I stepped out of the material and stood before him only in the strappy heels. A calloused fingertip traced over the design across the top of my foot before he looked up at me, his eyes wide and obsidian black.
“I didn’t get to finish what I started at the bar. I knew there wasn’t enough time, but now I plan to savor every drop of you, and you’re going to come so hard, darlin’.” He parted my thighs, skating a hand upward and delving two fingers into my core. Releasing me with a moan, he licked his fingers and pressed my legs further apart. I gripped the dresser at my back for balance as his head fell between my naked thighs, as he returned to parting me with his tongue. It was different this time, slow and languid, as if he swirled and dug for every last drop of a favorite treat. The flatness of his tongue lapped at me, and then returned to slip inside me. My legs quaked again, but this time it wasn’t the thrill of the race but the torture of the tease. I looked down to find silver-and-ink-colored hair between my thighs, and it unsettled the tremors deep in the pit of my stomach. I released one hand to comb fingers through his hair, and he purred against my sensitive folds.
“Tommy,” I whispered, warning him, but he already knew. This man I’d known only days already read my body better than anyone ever had, and his attentions picked up the pace. He hitched up one leg, wrapping it over his shoulder as I balanced on one heeled foot. I gripped his head at my thighs, and within seconds, I came, so sweetly, so slowly, so surprisingly long, I nearly cried. The sensation was nothing I’d felt before, and emotion poured from me as I rode the orgasm at his lips. Kissing me tenderly inside each thigh, he pulled back and blew a kiss to my privates.
“Fine wine, just like I pegged,” he said, and I chuckled softly at the memory. Oh, how I hated to leave this man, I cried inside, warning my heart in equal measure not to fall in love with him. My practical side said you don’t fall in love within days, anyway.
He stood slowly, coming for my mouth again with a searing kiss before turning me toward the bed. When the back of my knees hit the mattress, he gently pushed me and I fell back. The springing felt carefree; the bounce made me young. I stared in wonder as he undressed, taking his time to torture me with a striptease of T-shirt, jeans, and boxer briefs. He’d already kicked off his boots, and he removed his socks as I scooted up the bed.
“We have one small problem, darlin’, and I hate to mention it now, but I must.” I paused, and he stilled, waiting at the end of the bed. “I used my only condom on you at the bar. I didn’t think to grab another one.”
I nodded as I stared at him, an impasse of indecision, because I honestly didn’t know how he wanted me to answer.
“I don’t suppose you’re on the pill,” he questioned, and I chuckled in response, shaking my head. There hadn’t been a need to be. David fixed all that after Masie. Besides, the chemo removed any other possibility of pregnancy.
“I haven’t been without a condom in twenty years, beautiful. I’m clean. I’m tested, and all that shit.” I nodded and continued backing up the bed. Separating my thighs just the slightest encouraged him to start crawling, making his way up the mattress over me. I was wanton and desperate for him, but more importantly, I felt wanted by him in the way he looked at me. He gripped himself as he neared my entrance, pausing just outside, teasing me with his tip.
“You sure about this, darlin’?” he whispered, peering down at himself. Hesitating a moment, he added, “I feel like I’ve never wanted anything more than
to feel the heat of you surrounding me.”
“I want you, Tommy Carrigan,” I replied, and nothing could have prepared me for how quickly he slammed into me. I gripped the sheets in tight fists, and he slipped in to the hilt. His heavy sacs hit the underside of me. Releasing the bedcovers, I reached for his shoulders, stroking down the slight hills and over the deep swell of his biceps as he slowed his thrusting to a steady rhythm. My palms sculpted his body, skimming his sides and wrapping around to his muscled back. I reached for the glorious globes of his ass and pressed upward, willing him to go deeper, harder, faster. He continued to take his time before increasing in a manner that had us both catching our breath. If I thought I’d made love to Tommy Carrigan last night, he was making love to me tonight. He tried to kiss me, but we couldn’t keep the pace so instead he concentrated on filling me. Tension built in equal measure between us and I clenched, the release desperate to hold him. Instead, he pulled out quickly, spilling over my lower abdomen.
I watched as he came, the milky substance coating my belly. He rubbed some of it around my loose waist and then pushed the rest upward toward my breasts. Skating between them, he painted me with the seed of his release before he skipped up to my lips and forced a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, licking the salty flavor and removing the stickiness. He withdrew his finger and stared down at me.
“You didn’t,” he admonished, knowing I hadn’t come again.
“I’m okay,” I stated, the words being true. He’d already given me two orgasms in the span of four hours. He’d given me more in the last six days than I’d had in three years. I wouldn’t fault him this failure, but he dropped onto the mattress by my side, placing me on top of him. My legs parted, straddling near his sac.
“I’m getting soft, but I’m still willing. Take what you need, darlin’. Ride against me to get the rub.” I did as he asked, positioning myself so the spot I needed met him. I tried to be tender, but when I wasn’t getting the full effect, I slipped my fingers to the place I needed for relief. I came again with a deep shudder, my head thrown forward, biting my lip to keep from moaning.
“You are so damn hot, lady, do you know that?” He exhaled as he rubbed up and down my sides while I sat astride him. I shook my head, feeling too replete to even speak.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t do it again for you,” I said, finding words as I slinked a finger down his broad chest.
“Darlin’, after having an erection for four hours, there was no way I could repeat so quickly.”
“Four hours,” I giggled, and then horror struck. “Oh, my God, did you—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he warned, his voice dropping. “I’ve been stiff for four hours thinking of you. No other enhancement needed.”
“Oh,” I laughed, jiggling him underneath me. He held up a hand, and I reached out to smack it. He cupped mine in his when we connected. “What’s that for?” I said.
“A high five. Three times. I knew I could do it.”
I gasped, swatting at his chest with my free hand. “Did you just high five me for three orgasms in a few hours?”
“That I did, darlin’,” he chuckled under me, jiggling me up and down before tugging me with our clasped hands to fall on his chest and kiss him again.
9
Risky Adventures
Let’s take an adventure, he texted me the next day. Masie was too hungover to move, and Caleb went to the bar to watch football bowl games. Tommy hadn’t stayed the night, although we both wanted him to. He understood. I wasn’t ready to subject my children to this kind of a thing—a man in my bed, especially a man who was only a vacation fling. I felt sick to my stomach with the thought.
Let’s do it, I replied, and he asked me to meet him in the lobby. We drove the coastline, stopping occasionally at designated viewing points to watch for whales or stare at the ocean. After a stop or two, I’d had enough. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but from how many vantage points could you see the same thing? Tommy seemed to sense my feelings.
“You’re bored.”
“I’m not,” I whined. “It’s just…it all looks the same to me.”
He nodded and reached for my hand. Tugging it up to his mouth, he kissed my palm.
“Okay, then. More adventure.” We stopped at a public beach and walked until we came to the ancient ruins of a Hawaiian fort. The ocean roared at the sharp, jagged edges of boulders and rock.
“Rumor has it, once upon a time a Hawaiian princess had fallen in love with an explorer,” Tommy said, still holding my hand. “Her father denied his request for marriage, claiming she was betrothed to another. She refused to acknowledge this truth and promised the explorer she’d run away with him. Something happened the night they planned to escape, and the explorer set sail without her. When she returned to her room in the castle tower, she found a message in a bottle, saying he’d return for her.” I stared at Tommy, wondering how he knew such island lore.
“She waited for him. Year after year. She married the other man as promised by her father, but she never gave up hope that the explorer would return for her. He’d see the world and discovered new things, but he’d always want what he once had and desperately missed.”
He waited a beat, and I squeezed his hand to continue.
“So, what happened?”
“Story says, she saw him coming one night when the sun was setting, and the outline of the ship crossed the horizon. She raced for the water’s edge, calling his name. “Accomandohulacoola,” Tommy called out to the waves.
“And?” I encouraged.
“He saw her on the shore, thinking he could swim to her. Diving into the ocean, he didn’t resurface. She raced into the water, thinking she could save him, and she drowned.”
I stared at him and then looked out over the rolling water.
“That’s a terrible story.”
“The moral of that story is never dive, but jump in feet first. And don’t race to save a drowning man.”
“Those are awful morals.” My eyes focused on the ocean waves a moment. “Wait a minute—Accomandohulacoola? You made all that up.” I turned to punch his shoulder, and he tucked forward to avoid my fist, laughing hysterically.
“Okay, okay, I did. You should have seen your face.” He continued to chuckle.
“You’re mean,” I whimpered, pouting my lips.
“But you love me.” The comment stopped us both from laughing, and after a second, he squeezed my hand again. “I didn’t mean, you know, just kind of said it.”
“I know,” I said softly, letting the awkward moment linger. We couldn’t be in love, not after a few days, I reminded myself. He kissed my knuckles and turned us for the parking lot.
Next stop, we climbed down a steep rise to where the shore met the rocks. Tide pools filled with the brisk, rushing surface. I wasn’t as nimble as Tommy, so I took my time, praying I wouldn’t fall in or slip and embarrass myself. To my surprise, he was patient, never rushing me with my hesitant descent, but encouraging me with gentle praise and occasionally holding my hand as a guide. My fear of humiliation passed. We spent some time trying to find anything unusual in the shallow pools but didn’t. As explorers, we agreed we weren’t very successful.
Returning to the top of the lookout, we drove a short distance to a cove, and Tommy surprised me with a picnic lunch. Sitting on the beach, a gentle breeze blew as we ate.
“You made me a peanut butter sandwich?” I giggled.
“It was all I could do on short notice.”
“What if I was allergic to peanuts?” I questioned, teasing him.
“You aren’t. I asked Caleb.” My breath hitched at the thought that this man asked my son again for permission to take me on a date. I also noted he’d not made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but just peanut butter, which I preferred. I stared at him, drinking in the side of his scruff-lined face. How did I get so lucky to find him? Why did it take me so long to find him? How would I leave him behind?
“Depends,” I teased. “Am I a princess?”
“You’re the queen.” He smiled slowly, picking up his sandwich again.
“Am I married?” I lowered my voice, afraid of the thought.
“Nope.”
“Then I’d definitely wait as long as it took.” For some reason, the song I told him was my all-time favorite came to mind—‘Wait for Me’—a song he wrote as Lawson Colt in Colt45. The thought gave me pause. “Who was the song about? ‘Wait for Me’? Who did you write it for?” I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing I didn’t really want a response. It had to be another girl, possibly someone he loved a long time ago.
“No one special anymore,” he said by way of a vague answer. That gave me all the details I needed. He did love someone once upon a time. I couldn’t really complain. I’d been married twenty years. I’d loved my husband at one point as well. But things changed. People changed. David and I eventually weren’t those same two people who fell in love. I wanted to know more details about Tommy, but watching him crumple up his sandwich wrapper, I sensed the conversation was over.
“How do you feel about a drive?”
I nodded, and we stood, returning to the car. His car was a Mustang convertible. I had no idea of the year, but I didn’t care about things like that. There was only one car I’d recognize. Regardless, it was a nice ride as we wound up the curving Hawaiian roads. Tommy reached for my thigh and slowly climbed, eventually teasing me near my core.