Without really stopping to consider the implications, I reached out and grabbed the strings dangling from the hood of his sweatshirt and gave them a yank to pull him inside. He grunted as the fabric bunched up around his face when he lurched forward. As soon as his sneakered feet crossed the threshold, I maneuvered him out of the way so I could close the door behind him.
“I’m okay with you kissing me. I’m all right with you touching me. I’m going to let you convince me to fuck you, and I am more than likely going to allow you to fuck me.” We stared at each other, both breathing hard and carefully considering the other. “But you have to understand it’s just for tonight. We are two lonely, sad people who recognize those feelings within one another. Nothing more or less. This can’t become a habit, and you can’t read more into it than there is. Our relationship is already too complicated and confusing. Adding sex into the mix,” I blew out a breath. “It’s bound to be a disaster.” But I was going to do it anyway because the longer I looked at him, the more I understood I wasn’t going to be able to say no.
His script had been the first thing to spark any kind of emotion inside me in too long to count, and Salinger was the only man who made me both hot and uncomfortable in forever. He was the only person capable of making me forget about what I no longer had, and instead had me focusing on what could be in the future.
Plus, I wanted him—point blank. I could deny it until I was blue in the face, but it was a lie. I thought he was hot, and I was endlessly flattered that he felt the same way about me. I knew I looked pretty good and that I took care of myself. But I would never be a twenty-something bombshell. Not that I wanted to be. I liked that he liked me back then because it was cute and charming. I liked that he liked me now, even more because it showed he was serious that’d he’d had a long-term crush on me.
The whole of America considered him their first crush. It was something special to hear that I was his when he had an endless pool of beautiful people to choose from.
Salinger didn’t say anything as I caught his hand and guided him through my house. I kept the lights low, so it wasn’t obvious I was expecting a guest so late. The moon shone through the skylights and the big bay windows that faced the ocean, offering just enough light that I didn’t trip on the stairs, and it prevented Salinger from fumbling around behind me.
He moved silently and gracefully for being such a big guy. I could feel him staring at the back of my head as I moved toward my bedroom. He was going to stand out against the primarily white and pristine décor. All that ink that covered him everywhere was going to be the only spot of color in the entire room.
Once we reached the door, I paused and looked at him over my shoulder. He’d pushed the hood back and turned his hat around, so the bill was at the back of his head. He looked alarmingly young suddenly, and I had a moment where I wondered if I was about to make the second biggest mistake of my life where this man was concerned.
“You didn’t agree with me when I said this is a one-night stand.” I sounded flustered to my own ears. “Hey. Put me down!”
I yelped as he picked me up. Instinctively I wrapped an arm around his neck as he scooped me up with an arm under my knees and the other around my waist. “I didn’t agree because I don’t agree. You think one time between us will be enough, but I’ve had you on my mind for ten years. I’m doing my best not to lie to you, so I’m not going to say something just because it’s what you want to hear. You can tell me to go or you can ask me to stay, knowing things are definitely going to get more complicated between the two of us. You should know me well enough by now to know I’m the kind of guy who purposely chases disaster.” His eyebrows arched upward, and a slight grin tugged at his lips. “Should I stay, or should I go?”
Just like last time, but this time stone-cold sober, I knew I wanted him to stick around. I quietly muttered, “You should stay.”
I would figure out the ramifications of not only letting him in, but refusing to let him go, later on. For now, I just wanted to feel.
I’d been numb for so long, I couldn’t wait for all my nerve endings and sensitive spots to light up with life and passion once again. I wanted to remember what it was like to feel alive.
It was a really weird time to think that my father would be proud of me, but he would. I chuckled at the thought as Salinger strode confidently into my bedroom. I saw his gaze skim over the mostly white and cream-colored décor. I waited for him to make a snide comment about the uninteresting surroundings, but he didn’t. His attention didn’t flicker from me for a single second, even when he dropped me lightly on the bed.
I watched as he shifted to pull the hoodie off, the baseball hat going with it in a tangle of fabric. His golden hair was standing up in places and pressed down close to his head in others. It was a cute mess, sort of like the rest of him. All he had on under the sweatshirt was a black tank top that showed a lot more than it covered. More skin. More muscle. More ink. More Salinger. My lips tingled, and my fingertips twitched as he stepped to the edge of the bed and caught my ankle to tug me closer to him.
I’d put on a thin, short pair of cotton shorts and a stretchy cami when I got ready for bed earlier. There was plenty of time to put on something more appropriate while he was driving across town, but I hadn’t. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I acknowledged that more than talking was going to happen when I invited him over in the middle of the night. I not only expected it, I anticipated it.
Salinger leaned down and put his hands on the mattress next to my hips. His gaze locked on mine as he lowered his head down until he was eye-level with me. Between one breath and the next, he kissed me like his life depended on it. He always kissed me like he was afraid I would disappear if he gave me a moment to breathe. It was intense and quickly became overwhelming.
He did exactly what he told me he was going to… he kissed me.
He kissed my lips until they felt swollen and sore.
He kissed the tip of my nose in a gesture so sweet it choked me up.
He kissed his way down my neck and across my collarbone.
He moved the strap of my top out of his way and placed wet, openmouthed kisses on my breasts until he reached the pointed, eager peak of my nipple. Once he pulled the tight, pink bud into the heat of his mouth, I could barely keep my eyes open. Sensation swamped me. I was warm everywhere. My nerves felt like they were electrified. My skin prickled with bumps of pleasure as soft sighs whispered out of my parted lips.
He kissed his way to the other breast and treated it to the same, sensual torture, shoving my top down to my waist.
He also touched me just like he said he would.
His palms smoothed along the outside of my thighs and disappeared into the thin fabric of my shorts. He made a guttural sound of surprise when his fingers encountered nothing but bare skin and heat between my legs.
There wasn’t anyone who was going to knock on the door this time. There wasn’t going to be any interruption. Boldly, his touch trailed along places that no one, other than me, had touched for a very long time. I almost forgot how good it could feel to be stroked and caressed in just the right way. It seemed like ancient history since the last time I’d had thick fingers fill me up or my pussy got instantly wet and quivery as soon as a rough knuckle brushed carelessly against my clit.
I always thought I had a pretty satisfactory sex life leading up to and during my marriage. It was nothing that would make it into letters to the editor, but I was pretty open-minded when it came to what went down in the bedroom. I liked most anything that felt good and made whomever I was with happy, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember being so immediately sucked into the moment and getting lost in all the different things I was feeling—both emotionally and physically.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that Salinger knew exactly how to use his hands and his mouth for the most impact, but he rendered me a speechless, writhing mess so quickly it was slightly scary. I didn’t want to react to anyone as strongly as I was
to him. It would make holding to my ‘one and done’ rule more difficult. Especially since Salinger had no plans on sticking to the agreement.
He touched me all over, inside and out. He kissed me from my forehead to my belly button. And he definitely did his best to get me to agree to fuck him. He told me I was beautiful. He promised that he hadn’t been with anyone else since he got out of rehab because I was the one in his head. He whispered that he had dreams about me that caused him to wake up hard, sometimes wet. The deep rumble of his voice was almost as seductive as the way his fingers played with my most private parts. It wasn’t long until I was slick and moving with him as my breathing became choppy and ragged. He confidently claimed he would make me feel better than anyone who had come before him, and I was too embarrassed to tell him he already had. It should take more than a desperate kiss and a bit of skillful fondling for me to be on the edge of breaking apart, but here I was, barely holding it together.
He reached behind his head and pulled his shirt off with one hand, muscles rippling all across his shoulders and chest as he did so. He wasn’t bulky, but there wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t sharply defined or marked in some kind of way. Along with the tattoos that swirled over his torso and down his arms, there were scars that crisscrossed his side and over the curve of his hip. If I remembered correctly, he’d been in not one, but two different car accidents before his last stint in rehab. When the media said he was lucky to be alive, they really meant it. His crash course was literal, and I was very grateful he’d survived it.
He pulled his mouth off of my nipple with a sexy pop and pressed his thumb tightly against my clit. His dark eyes were watching me carefully, and the smirk that found its way to his stupidly handsome face had me ready to throw any and all caution to the wind.
I sighed and lifted my hands to hold his face as we stared at each other. This was the last place I ever thought I would end up, but sometimes fate had plans in store for us that were just so unlikely, mortal minds couldn’t comprehend them.
“I thought you were trying to convince me to fuck you, Salinger.” The way things were going right now, he was definitely the one who was going to be doing the fucking. I could see the bulge of his cock clearly behind the fastening of his jeans. I could also see how his muscles tensed and locked as he did his valiant best to retain some modicum of control.
As soon as my words worked their way through the fog of desire that was clearly clouding his comprehension, Salinger straightened and reached for his wallet. A moment later, I had a condom in my hand, and he was hopping on one foot so he could get his sneakers off and his pants down.
I stared at the little square packet in confusion for a second. It’d been more than a minute since I’d needed one of these. It made what was about to happen become a little more real and less like a dream. Maybe I’d been caught up in the moment and really needed to consider just how horribly wrong everything could go if Salinger and I crossed this line.
I was just about to put the brakes on and tell him we needed to reevaluate our situation when he pulled me to my feet, efficiently flicked away the lightweight clothes that were crumpled around me, and sat on the edge of the bed. He barely had to exert any force when he tugged me forward until I obediently straddled his lap. I couldn’t take my eyes off the impressive erection that was standing proudly between us. Even his dick was pretty. Long, thick, straight, and bright pink at the tip. The little slit at the top was already damp and shiny. I wanted to glide my fingers over it and feel the rigid length against my palm.
Salinger nodded his head toward the hand that held the protection. “Put that on me.” Something uneasy flashed across his dark eyes as he exhaled a long, low breath. “I’ve made more than one bad choice in my time. I had to get tested every few months in rehab to make sure everything in my body was working the way it was supposed to and verify I was clean. I haven’t been with anyone since I got out. I wasn’t just trying to get into your pants. It’s the truth. But it’s always a good idea to be better safe than sorry when it comes to being with me.”
I could tell he was embarrassed having to run down all the reasons why he thought we had to be careful. I knew his past wasn’t anything close to pure, but the truth was neither was mine. I waved the condom back and forth and let out a little laugh.
“I only made one really bad choice recently: marrying my ex-husband. Erik cheated on me from the jump. So, who knows what he brought home with him while I was clueless? I got tested for everything under the sun when I was in the hospital, and I’ve been alone a lot longer than you, Salinger. Neither one of us is jumping into this bed without dragging some pretty heavy baggage behind us.”
My words must’ve worked to set whatever worry he had aside, at least for the moment. He looked pointedly at the condom, and then at the steely erection that was still very hard and eager between us. “All right. For now, let’s figure out if either one of us remembers how to fuck since it’s been a while for both of us. I hear it’s just like riding a bike… you never forget how.”
The flippant words made me laugh, but we both stopped thinking anything was funny when my fingers touched the heated length of his dick. I swore he stopped breathing altogether as I rolled the latex down and slowly shifted so I was hovering over the top of him. I could feel how wet and ready I was. I could also see that he was ready to explode when he looked at me with eyes that were almost pleading for relief.
I put a hand around the wide base, fingers brushing against rock hard abs as I got more than a handful of cock. As I held him steady and carefully started to lower my body down over his, I told myself it wasn’t like riding a bike at all. A bike never made my entire body quiver and quake or made me call out its name like it was the last word I was ever going to say.
I moaned as he filled me up and my body stretched and pulsed to accommodate him. Salinger swore, and his hips lifted off the bed restlessly. One of his hands settled on the base of my spine as I rose and fell over and over again, grinding relentlessly against the hardness between my legs. His other hand slid under my hair and clasped the back of my neck, fingers tightening as my pace sped up and my arms wrapped around his neck for balance. My nipples dragged erotically across his tattooed chest, puckering to the point of pain as every place we touched tingled with sensation. My blood felt hot and pleasure was rushing through me. The slick sounds of sex echoed in my ears, along with low growls and short grunts that escaped Salinger every time I moved my hips in just the right way. His lips touched mine lightly, and I could tell he was smiling as I bounced on him like he was the best ride in the amusement park.
I’d had my fair share of sex in my thirty-six years. But I couldn’t recall ever having the kind of sex that had me wanting to do it all over again before I was even done with the first round. He was the one in his twenties. He was the one who was supposed to have the unstoppable libido. I was the one who said we were only doing this once, but I had a sinking feeling Salinger was about to make a liar out of me.
My inner muscles clamped down on the unyielding flesh inside of me, causing Salinger to swear. He squeezed my neck tighter, and I knew I was more than likely going to have fingerprint-sized bruises under my hair tomorrow. “I can’t wait until it’s my turn to fuck you, Maren. You haven’t forgotten a thing.”
I couldn’t wait for him to fuck me either. Even with him just sitting there and holding me as I took everything I wanted from him without giving much back, he was still better and made me feel more than anyone else I’d ever been with.
He even let me come first, and when he didn’t make me feel bad or embarrassed about it, but instead looked proud of himself for bringing me the kind of pleasure that was unstoppable and overwhelming, I wanted to cry.
Leave it to the boy who ruined me all those years ago to become the man who very well might bring me back to life when nothing else could.
Salinger
“WE NEED TO change the ending.”
I shot up in my chair and slapped
my hand on the table in front of me. It was a knee-jerk reaction that wasn’t appropriate for the private dining room in one of the most expensive restaurants in LA. The bang on the table made the world-famous director sitting across from me jump in his seat, and Maren shot out a hand and placed it on my tense thigh in a warning gesture. I felt the press of her fingernails even through the thick material of my jeans.
She’d been extremely careful in the days following our night together. She made sure she didn’t touch me in any way that could be confused as something personal. She was keeping her distance as much as she could, so the touch surprised me enough that some of my anger bled out. It was hard to stay mad when her hands were on me.
“Why do we have to change the ending?” Maren kept her voice calm as her fingers loosened. She patted my leg under the table, and when she went to pull away, I put my free hand over hers to keep it in place. I was glad she asked the question in a calm, professional manner. The director was pretty jumpy and twitchy. If I started to grill him over the request, there was a good chance the guy would pass out the second I raised my voice.
For the first time since I decided to start this project, my dream collaborator came looking for me instead of the other way around. Well, he went looking for Maren and found me by default.
Heinrich Lange was one of the most revered independent film directors of the time. He had more than one Oscar to his name and a slew of other awards. He could pick and choose the kind of films he wanted to make. The man was ridiculously talented and knew his worth. He had a very clear, creative vision, but was rumored to be difficult to work with. It never crossed my mind to put him on the shortlist of possible directors for my movie. He was picky and known to only work on one project every few years. I didn’t think I’d be able to get a meeting with him, so I was stunned when Maren told me that the legendary director had reached out to her and was interested in the project.
A Righteous Man Page 14