by L. B. Dunbar
“How you feel about that shirt?” I looked down at the crisp white blouse. It was fine enough. I wasn’t really a blouse woman, and it had been a little annoying and restricting, but it had been part of my new clothing purchases. Suddenly, two hands snuck into the opening at my neck and tugged. Buttons flew, and the fabric ripped. My mouth fell open.
“There she is,” he groaned, looking from my neck to my waist and back to stop on the nude bra I wore. His hands slipped around my sides, tugging me close to him and capturing my lips once again. The kiss loosened me up. My arms wrapped around his neck.
“I’ll give you a minute. Do what you need to do and then step into the shower.” His directions surprised me once again. We hadn’t showered together before, and I wasn’t sure how this would work, but I did as he said. Stepping under the warm spray, I took a few deep breaths, releasing it slowly and willing my heart to stop hammering. This was Tommy. I wanted him here. I wanted him.
Seconds later, he stepped into the shower, and I lost my breath. Literally. I couldn’t breathe at the sight before me. His tan had lessened, but only a little. The hair on his chest curled. The lower hair led to a treasure I couldn’t peel my eyes from. Already stiff and upright, I swallowed as I took in the pleasure of admiring him covered in water.
“You are a wonder, Mr. Carrigan,” I said, my voice husky and rough.
“You are a beauty, darlin’.” With those words, he stepped forward and kissed me again. The hard length of him hit my belly, distracting me instantly, and I wrapped my fingers around the ridged shaft.
“Fuck,” he growled against my mouth. “I promised myself I’d go slow, but I’ve missed you, darlin’, and those hands feel too good.” I gave him a gentle tug, and he groaned, the sound echoing off the shower tile. He spun me so my back faced him.
“Edie, baby. I can’t wait. Can this first time be fast? I’ll go slow next time, darlin’.” His hands cupped the globes of my backside, and I leaned forward to balance my hands on the steamy tile. A finger slipped through the crack, slowly dipping deeper and lowering to the edge of my entrance. I clenched, uncertain this was a good idea. “Still want to experiment back here one day, darlin’, but tonight is a reunion of other parts.”
He stepped forward, and the tip of him caressed my core as he swept back and forth a few times.
“Are you sure about this?” I said, my voice low and shaky with nerves. I’d never done this before. David was repulsed at the thought, although I sometimes found I was equally excitable even with my period. Tommy didn’t answer me before he slammed into me. The assault was a little awkward, and a tad rough. I wasn’t ready in the way I should be, but as he slid forward and I pressed back, he filled me.
“Let’s get one thing straight, darlin’. You feel me in there?” His voice deepened, demanded, and I nodded, my hand curling into a fist against the slippery tile. I felt him, all of him, and it felt better than anything in a long time. My eyes closed at the pleasure. Uncorking was a good metaphor. Tension released as we connected.
“Answer me,” he bit, and my eyes, which had closed with heavy lids, snapped open. His hand came to my shoulder while the other rested on my hip.
“Yes, I feel you,” I choked as he slid back and then reentered me as if to prove his point. He was in deep.
“I’m bare in there, Edie, because I don’t give a flying fuck about your period or if you’re pregnant or if you’re not.” He stilled, and my eyes widened, taking in the tile I’d seen every day for three years as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “All I care about is you. And me. Us.”
I nodded, my head lowering as he continued to torture me by pulling almost to the edge and then leaping forward with a heavy thrust.
“You feel me, darlin’?” he repeated, his words filled with meaning.
“I feel you.” I swallowed as my voice caught with the next invasion of my channel.
“Where, Edie? Where do you feel me?” I blinked. Did he want me to describe this? The hand at my hip slipped forward, and his fingers lightly stroked at the sacred spot that would trip me over the edge.
“Deep inside me,” I moaned. He pulled to the edge and stalled. My head rose, and I peered over my shoulder as best I could.
“Where else?” he hissed, holding out from filling me again. His fingers stilled as well.
“My heart,” I whispered, and he slid inward, the thrust so fierce I lurched forward, and my hand slipped off the slick tile. I jackknifed forward, but he caught me with an arm around my waist. We both groaned at the increased intensity.
“That’s right, darlin’. You feel me in your heart like I feel you in mine.” He continued to hammer at me, and his fingers developed a matching rhythm. My body gave into his, and I came with a scream. The echo resounded in the shower and both his hands gripped my hips, tugging me back and holding me still as he pulsed inside me, washing my insides as he spilled his seed.
Jagged, rasping breaths forced my racing heart racing to skip a beat. My heart that felt him, that beat for him, sped inside my chest, trying to hold onto him, hoping to never lose the race to be his.
+ + +
We dried off, and Tommy dressed in only his boxer briefs. I’d typically wear flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt in the colder months. Not a sexy image, so I dressed as I had in Hawaii in a nightshirt and panties, cursing the precautionary pantyliner. However, after what we’d done, my inhibitions were gone. Tommy had broken all the barriers.
“I’m exhausted, darlin’. Mind if we turn on that TV and snuggle a bit?” I climbed in bed next to him. He held out an arm, and I curled in close, resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart patter.
You feel me in your heart like I feel you in mine. The words warmed me, and I melted against him again. After a few minutes of TV, my mind wandered. I didn’t typically watch television, despite the one in my room, and I had no idea what he was watching. It seemed mindless.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?”
“Nothing,” I said, rolling to press a kiss to his chest. I lay back. It seemed strange to do something so mundane as cuddle in bed and watch television. We hadn’t done that in Hawaii, something so normal, something many couples do. Were we a couple?
“You’re doing it again,” he said, and I shifted my head to look up at him.
“What?”
“You’re going all stiff next to me instead of molding into me. What’s happening here?” He looked down at me, as his arm raised and bent to rest beneath his head.
“I just…it seems a bit surreal that you’re in my house. In my bed. And we’re laying here.” His arm lowered to his side as he gazed at me.
“Want me to leave?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head against his chest, scratching my cheek with the coarse hair of his chest. “No, absolutely not.”
He chuckled. “Okay, beautiful. You don’t need to beg me to stay. I wasn’t leaving unless you physically kicked me out, anyway.” He swiped a hand down my cheek and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “But I’m sensing there is more.”
“It’s…well…I don’t really watch TV.”
He chuckled under me again. “Okay, so what do you do?”
“I read.”
“Latest mystery thriller?” he asked, and my heart leapt that he’d said the same thing to me on the night we met.
“Not exactly,” I answered.
“Well, get the book. Can you read while I watch this show?”
“Sure,” I replied, a bit too excited as I sat up, reached for my e-reader and returned to my original position. How strange it seemed to move around, nearly-naked and uninhibited. How strange it was to balance my tablet on his chest.
“This isn’t working,” I muttered, feeling embarrassed and a bit ridiculous that I thought I could pull off reading next to him. What was I thinking?
His arm stretched behind me. “Roll.”
“What?”
“Roll, so your back is to my side. I can still ho
ld you, but you can balance that thing on the bed.” I did as he said, shifting so my back pressed against his side, my head resting on his arm. Eventually, he bent a knee, and I slipped a leg over his, our inner thighs touching. He watched his show. I read my book, until I came to a particularly steamy scene. The words made my heart race. The pulse between my thighs beat, and I clenched. His leg slowly moved upward and my thigh pressed over his.
I continued to read, the rhythm increasing, and the words titillating. Could people really do that? I wondered as the story took my imagination to a new level. I hadn’t noticed that my leg was slowly dragging over Tommy’s, my inner thigh stroking his, letting the faint curly hairs at the top of his leg tickle the inside of mine.
Despite the movement of my body, I kept reading, the words continuing to stroke my imagination and create a mental picture so vivid I clenched.
“Whatcha reading over there?” The sultry tone of his voice ratcheted the pulse between my thighs.
“Nothing,” I rasped, feeling my face flush. I stilled my body, hyperaware of his thigh beneath mine and the weight of his leg at my core. I had my period, a light flow, but still…
“Your fine ass just rubbed my hip, like it wanted something.”
“Oh…I…the scene is hot,” I said, with a giggle. My eyes had drifted, so I started at the top of the page again, but my body betrayed me, reacting in the same way. His thigh pressed upward, my core resting flat against the heat of his leg. Without thought, I lightly squeezed, the pulse at my center beating faster than my heart. Tommy’s arm curled, and he pushed the tablet down. His leg nudged harder, firmly pressing against a suddenly needy spot.
“You getting off on my leg, darlin’?” My face heated, but my throat moaned. The sound escaped me before I could catch it.
“I…I don’t know,” I purred, allowing my body to take over, rubbing my center against the firmness of his thigh. My backside curled into his hip, and I developed a rhythm of rocking over his leg and rolling into his side. He shifted, pressing the length of him against my backside, and I whimpered. The tingles inside my belly had moved from flutters to flight. I was getting so close, and ridiculous as it sounded, I was about to get off on his leg. His hand gripped my hip, and he moved with me, letting me lead.
“Tommy,” my voice hitched. He groaned behind me. “That’s it, darlin’.”
“Tommy,” my voice rose an octave, disbelieving this was happening. That I’d gone this crazy as to take his leg.
“Mmmm…right there, baby,” he said, his voice that dropping sound of pebbles in a pond. Plop. Plop. Plop. And I drowned. My hand sought purchase on the sheets. My thighs clenched together, rubbing his leg. This was insane, I thought, but my body disagreed, and I came and came. My heart hammered and breaths shallowed. As I slowed, Tommy pressed me to the bed and climbed over me. The hot length of him nestled against my core, damp and spent from what I’d done.
“I want inside again.”
I nodded lazily. “We might want a towel or something.”
“Get one,” he demanded, rolling to the side and I raced for the bathroom. Once there I removed my underwear. Back by the bed, I draped the towel over the sheets and lay down. He climbed over me instantly, entering me swiftly, and we both groaned in unison.
“I’ve missed you so much, beautiful,” he said, stilling once he was inside of me and brushing back the sweaty hair on my forehead. He pumped into me, short jagged presses as he spoke. “Can’t go so long without you.” He kissed my nose and balanced back on an elbow to continue the sharp pulsing. “Why is Chicago so far away?”
With that I laughed, jostling him inside me, and his eyes widened at the pressure. We didn’t speak after that. He took what he needed, filling me again, before collapsing on top of me.
“Edie…” he said my name, so serious, so hesitant, but when I looked at him, he only smiled, one side of his lip curling upward. Whatever he was going to say, he changed his mind, but I worried he could read my thoughts. Because my mind said, I love you, Tommy Carrigan.
13
Leather and More Lies
We spent two wonderful days exploring the city, a city I loved and had lived in all my life, but didn’t know half as well as him. He’d been here before, on tour, and I remembered seeing him at that club back when I was in high school.
“I bet you were a feisty one,” he teased as we talked about that night. “You should have introduced yourself.”
“You wouldn’t have noticed me. In fact, you didn’t.” I teased in return, recalling dancing in front of the stage, back in the days when I did dance. Tommy’s voice washed over me, and I remember thinking this man is going to be a star someday. And he was.
He took me to an underground jazz club on Saturday, where we danced like we did the night before I left Hawaii. The next day we went to the Athletic Club for lunch and looked out at the cold lake, chunks of frozen wake floating on the surface. We even went ice skating at Millennium Park, although I think he was more comfortable on his own two feet instead of blades. The city was alive for me with Tommy at my side, and I wondered once again how much I’d missed in life, while I’d been waiting for him.
On Monday, I had to work. Hartcore Manufacturing was near the airport, although the warehouse was downtown. There had been talks of moving it out of the city, but the incentive to keep the city property kept increasing. I could have driven Tommy to the airport, but he told me it was out of my way as it was past my office. We parted ways when he was picked up by an Uber.
“Not goodbye,” he said, as he pressed his lips to my forehead.
“Not goodbye,” I repeated, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
Once at work, I fired-up my computer. With the early hour, I decided to sneak a peek at social media. To the right, in the headlines, was an image I couldn’t ignore. My eyes gravitated to it instantly. My finger shook as I clicked on the picture. An article instantly popped up, filling my screen with details of Tommy Carrigan and another woman.
Have Lawson Colt and Deanna Kaye decided to reunite?
The headline startled me, and I stared at the word.
Reunite.
My eyes roamed the article.
Seen here in a Chicago airport, rumor has it Lawson Colt and Deanna Kaye planned a secret getaway to spend time in the city where they met. Sources close to the former fashion model tell us she still loves him after all these years. Lawson’s people refused to comment. The former lead guitarist for both Chrome Teardrops and Colt45 has remained single ever since the couple split fifteen years ago. Maybe first loves never die, as Colt once bellowed in his infamous song, ‘Loved Nevermore.’
I clicked to minimize the image and the article. My stomach roiled. Bile rose to my throat. The taste of regurgitated milk filled my mouth. I stood and ran for the bathroom. Gripping the sink, I willed myself not to be sick, although the nausea nearly overwhelmed me. I hadn’t been this shaky since my last treatment. Looking up, my reflection showed I’d paled to a sickly white. My lips were too bright, and my eyes watered, blurring the blue color.
“He couldn’t have,” I told myself, but I had nothing else to believe. Once again, he had omitted the truth. Pressing off the cool tile, I rinsed my hands and patted my cheeks. I returned to my desk and pulled up the article again on my phone. Copying the link, I forwarded it to him in a text message.
Reunited?! I typed under the article link. I threw my phone on my desk and sunk my head into my hands.
“Everything all right?” Max’s concerned voice washed over me like a damp cloth, the sensation warm and tender, but making me shiver. My eyes watered, and I blinked rapidly, refusing to look up. “Edie?” The way he said my name, brought the liquid again.
“I’m okay. Just something I read online. A sad story.” I smiled weakly, attempting to recover.
“You have a good heart,” he said, as he entered his office.
My heart? You feel me in your heart like I feel you in mine.
There had to
be an explanation. But it was hard to swallow that he’d lied again. Omitted. Had he been married? It wasn’t a big deal that he was divorced, but he hadn’t told me the truth. Again.
My phone buzzed.
“Darlin’,” he started, but I cut him off.
“Don’t. Don’t you darlin’ me. I asked you. No, begged you, to never lie to me again.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You didn’t tell the truth,” I shrieked, lowering my voice as I looked up to see Max watching me from his office. “You didn’t tell the whole truth. Again.” I repeated, my voice almost a whisper.
A sigh filled the phone, and I pictured him swiping through his hair. I didn’t care. I didn’t want to think of him nervous and sexy.
“It’s not what you think.”
“What I think?” I gasped. “The only thing I can think is the article is true as I don’t know any other truth.”
“Darlin’, you can never believe the fucking press. Never. They took an innocent image and skewed the whole thing.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. He’d all but admitted he’d met her.
“Who is she?” I hated that I asked. I hated that my voice cracked, sounding needy and sad.
“She’s Deanna Kaye, former model for DHX.” I had no idea what that meant. I didn’t even care. She was a model, and I was…in manufacturing. My elbow slammed on my desk, and my forehead lowered to my palm. I didn’t want to know what she did. I wanted to know who she was to him.
“Look, we were married all of three seconds. It didn’t mean anything, and that picture means nothing now.”
“You were married!” I hissed into the phone, eyes jumping up to Max again, who thankfully wasn’t watching me come unraveled. “You didn’t tell me.” In fact, I recalled him specifically saying it wasn’t his thing.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“Did you love her?” Damn it! I kicked at the underside of my desk and met Max’s eyes. He stood, stalking for the door of his office. “You know what, don’t answer that. I’m at work. I can’t do this now.”