Sweet Seduction

by Anthology

  His belly button is perfection.

  I have to get my mouth on him. First, the tie on my dress. It opens easily enough, and I shrug out of it.

  "You," Ian says, "are so sexy."

  The compliment sends a surge of heat through me. A blush. I duck my head at first, meaning to deny it, but after a second, fuck that. We are on our way to naked. There's no place here for anything but confidence.

  "Thank you."

  My hands are on his belt, and this time, I manage to get it undone. Then his button, the zipper, I've got my mouth on his perfect stomach as I ease his cock free, and I'll get my mouth on that as soon as I can get him out of his jeans. We shift, we struggle, I use my foot to push the denim past his calves and ankles, and Ian kicks them off. I have him in my fist when I find his mouth with mine again. I barely stroke, barely move my fingers, but his cock leaps under my touch and his mouth opens on a gasp.

  Still kissing me, he sits, murmuring, "take this off."

  "Take this off," I order, pulling his shirt over his head.

  We keep going and then at last, we're totally naked. On our sides, his knee between mine, no room between us. Our heads on the same pillow. We stare into each others' eyes.

  This shouldn't feel romantic. We are not in love. This is lust at its most raw and unrefined, at its most base, and if I'm going to be honest, destructive. I am a married woman. I should not be here. Everything about this is wrong, but when Ian kisses me, all I feel is what's right.

  Ian pushes my hair off my face. "Maura."

  "Shh." I stop him with my mouth on his. There's no room here for talking.

  We've gone too far to take any of this back; I wouldn't want to even if we could. I drink in every second, every moment. I consume every breath in and out, every gesture, scent, sensation. I memorize him in these moments because I believe this will be the only time this happens. Once I fuck him, this has to end.

  Because...how could it go on?

  I met him in a night club, and for the past year, we've been dancing. Ian pulls me close and pushes me away, and all I've ever done since that first night is try to end this, whatever it is between us.

  This will end it. It has to. If we can just fuck each other out of our systems, he can go back to his financial reports and business meetings and visits to the gym, his sterile failures at being matched with single, professional, divorced women with kids. I'll go back to the desert of my marriage and maybe see if things can work out. Maybe not. But one way or another, I believe in my heart that this will be the only chance I ever have for Ian to be inside me.

  With the subtlest of shifts, he could be, but neither of us move. I'm wet and hot and ready for him, so turned on I'm not sure I'll be able to last much longer. At the same time, I want it to last, and I know that once he is inside me it will all happen faster than I want.

  Instead, push his shoulder gently to roll him onto his back. I straddle him again, knees pressing his sides. I lean to kiss him, and the curtain of my hair shields us.

  "Should I get a ponytail holder?"

  "No," Ian says. "Leave it down. I like it."

  I've kissed his mouth a hundred times by now, but each one is still as fresh and new as the first. I love Ian's mouth. His lips. His cheek and jaw, the spot below his ear. The hollow of his throat. His collar bone. I skim my lips and teeth along every line, every dip and curve. His skin is warm and tastes faintly of salt; he's sweating though the room is chilly.

  I kiss his chest and take my time with his nipples until he gasps and laughs, his hand in my hair. I nip at his ribs, counting each with my tongue. I trace his hipbones with my fingertips and follow with more kisses. Down his thighs. The bumps of his knees. Ian's calves make me want to write a song about them.

  "Your feet," I murmur. "Oh, my God. Your fucking feet, Ian."

  He laughs, shaking the bed. "What about them?"

  From my place near his ankle, which I'm worshipping with my kisses, I look up at him. I want to mark this sight in my mind forever, me at his feet and him pushing up on his elbow to look down at me. "They're perfect."

  "Oh, God." With a groan, he falls back onto the pillows, a hand over his eyes. "You're crazy."

  "About you," I tell him and work my way kiss by kiss back up his legs.

  I nuzzle his inner thighs. I bite a little too hard in my eagerness and brace myself for a yelp, ready to apologize, but Ian only jerks and lets out a soft sigh. His beautiful cock is so close, but I take my time before I get to it. As my friend Shelly's fond of saying, if I wanted balls on my nose, I'd be a seal -- and yet with Ian everything is so unimaginably perfect and delicious that I use my mouth and hands on every part of him and revel in it.

  I can't hold myself back any longer. I need him in my mouth. I want to make him moan and shift and pump his hips. I want to make him lose his mind. I slide my tongue up his length, and his reaction is immediate and gratifying. A soft, hissing sigh that trails into a little growl. I close my eyes at that last moment, when I take him all the way in. Slow, slow, I work my lips and tongue along his shaft as far as I can -- which turns out to be all the way until my lips brush his belly.

  I add my hand when I slide up, sucking gently on the head of his cock. Down again. I lose myself in the rhythm of fucking him this way. My hair tangles, getting in the way, and Ian lifts it from my neck to hold it in his fist. The gesture is simple and considerate, and I stagger for a moment.

  "Feels so good," he murmurs.

  "Does it?"

  "Can't you tell?" Ian asks with a low laugh.

  I kiss his belly, my hand still stroking. I press my face to his warm skin and breath in his smell. "I want you to feel good, Ian. I want you to tell me when I do."

  "You are." He pulls me up to his mouth.

  His erection's trapped between us when we kiss. I'm so wet for him, all it will take is a tilt of my hips and he'll slide right in. But before that, of course, I need to do something else. My fingers fumble with the plastic package, my poise shaky since it's been forever since I even had to think of using a condom. But I am woman, hear me roar. I sheathe him without too much struggle, and when I look at Ian, his mouth is thin. His brow furrowed.

  "It's been a long time," he says, a hand on my wrist as I grip his cock.

  "I'll be gentle, sweetheart," I breathe against his mouth, and we both laugh. Thank God for that, for a second I thought it was going to get way too serious.

  We both make a noise when I ease him inside me. I lean forward to kiss him, but neither of us moves beyond that. Beneath my palm, Ian's heart is beating very fast.

  "Maura..." he grips my hips.

  "Shhh." I kiss his mouth, urging him to open for me. Our tongues stroke. I kiss him for a long time without so much as rocking my hips. His cock is impossibly hard inside me, even throbbing, something I'd have said was something made up for stories. But no, I feel his nice, thick cock twitch inside me when I suck on his tongue. When I clench my internal muscles, Ian groans.

  He rolls me smoothly so I'm under him. Pushing up on one hand, Ian looks down at me while he uses the other hand to hook beneath my knee, easing my leg up. Opening me to push inside even deeper.

  We move together. Slow at first. Too slow. I dig my nails into his back, then his ass. Murmur in his ear.

  "Fuck me, Ian," I tell him. "Harder."

  At first he won't, and I know why. I've grown to understand Ian very well over the past few months. Intimacy grows in strange places, and Ian and I have spent hours in conversation, revealing secrets. There's been an honesty in this relationship, a lack of pretense, because basically, when you both know there's no way this can ever be more than what it is, what's the point in playing games? And maybe because we've both needed someone to be honest with.

  I know him. I know he's trying to tease me, and that he's also trying to be in charge, because Ian doesn't like to be told what to do. When I reach up to grab the headboard, he reacts at once, shuddering. His expression goes dark.

  I tilt my
hips, back arching. Breathy voice. "Harder, Ian. Please."

  It's the 'please' that gets him. With a groan, he thrusts a little harder. A little faster. It feels so good, I'm already so close that every press of his belly on my clit sends ripples of pleasure all through me.

  "Please, Ian. Please, please, please..."

  He fucks me hard enough to move me on the bed. His fingers encircle my wrist, pinning my hand to the headboard. That hurts a little, but so does the fierce thrust of him inside me.

  It all hurts, and I love the pain.

  I'm looking into his eyes when I come. He sees my pleasure on my face. Maybe feels it in the clutch of my cunt on him, I can't be sure. My body moves all on its own, and I can't control it. I don't want to. I am lost in desire. Lost in his eyes. I'm lost in Ian, and there's no finding my way out.

  He puts his face against my neck, and I feel his sweat. His grip tightens on my wrist. More pain, this time making me gasp a little. It sends him over but if this was a game of who's in control, the way he mutters my name when he comes seems to make me the winner.

  A minute passes before he loosens his fingers and rolls off me to lay on his back. The soft huff of our mingled breathing is lulling me to sleep when Ian gets up and pads to the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush. He comes out, washes his hands. Rinses his mouth and spits into the sink. I haven't moved when he comes back to bed. I'm not sure I can. The mattress dips when he slides in beside me.

  Ian turns me onto my side and pulls me back against him. Spooning. I tuck my hand under my cheek, my head on the pillow, his warmth behind me and his hand resting lightly just under my breasts. I wait for regret and feel only safe and if not loved, at the very least, adored.

  For that moment, adored.

  Chapter Four

  "In the morning," Maura said, "you brought me coffee and a bagel from the place next door. Remember that?"

  Ian was silent for a few seconds. Then sighed. "Yes. Of course I do."

  "We ate in bed, and you said you didn't mind the crumbs because this was a hotel, but when we were in your bed, I'd have to do without breakfast. And what did I say?"

  "That you'd make a meal of my...of me." He could be filthy, there was no doubt of that, but at the same time so charmingly shy.

  Maura laughed. "Yes. I said that. And you had to go to your meetings, but you walked me to my car and kissed me goodbye. And you know what I thought just then, Ian?"

  Another pause. One second. Another. "What?"

  "I thought about how I'd truly believed that it would only be once, but when you kissed me there in the parking lot, in the bright light of morning, I knew there was no possible way I could go the rest of my life without kissing you ever again."

  He laughed at that. "I never thought it would be the only time."

  "No?"

  "No. I thought if we did it...if we actually fucked, that it would never end."

  Maura closed her eyes, listening. "But it did. It has."

  He said nothing, but what had she expected him to say? That he loved and wanted her? That he would do anything to be with her? The time for that had come and gone, and more than once.

  "Do you want this to be over, Ian?"

  "I want you to be happy," he said.

  She believed him. The words were nice. Yet they cut deeper than if he'd simply answered yes.

  "I want you to be happy too," Maura said. "I love you, Ian."

  Again, he said nothing, but the sound of his breathing shifted. She imagined him rubbing his mouth. At least if he were holding back words she didn't want to hear, she could be grateful for that.

  She tried biting back her own words, but they slipped out anyway. She'd always been honest with him and couldn't seem to stop herself now. "I love you. I want you. I want to be with you, I want to see if we could make it work. For real. Me and you, Ian."

  "You just think you want that."

  Maura set her jaw. "Don't tell me what I think or what I want. Don't treat me like I'm stupid. Do you think I'm stupid?"

  "No. Of course not. You know I don't."

  "Actually," she said, "I don't have any idea what you think, Ian, because you don't tell me."

  Maura paused, thinking of all the hours they'd spent talking and of the things he had said. Why was it always so much harder to hang onto the positives? So much easier to believe him when he told her 'no' and 'don't' and 'stop.'

  "Doublethink," she told him when he stayed silent. "You know doublethink?"

  She heard the soft huff of his breath. "Yes. From that book you gave me. 1984."

  "Yes. Doublethink is the act of accepting two mutually contradictory beliefs as correct, simultaneously. I doublethink with you all the time. Because there's a part of me that knows without a doubt you love me and want me as much as I want you. Part of me knows this as complete truth, that there is no possibility for it to be any other way."

  "And the other part?"

  Maura sighed. "That I mean nothing to you and never did. That I have left no impression on you whatsoever. I think I'm immeasurably important to you and insignificant at the same time. Two totally opposite feelings, and I believe them both."

  "What do you want from me?" Anger hard-edged his voice, but that was ok. Better fury than apathy.

  "I want you to be miserable without me!" She could be angry, too. "I want you to wake the fuck up and get your shit together."

  She'd pushed him too far. "Get my shit together? The ink's barely dry on your divorce papers! You said yourself you hadn't been single since you were eighteen years old. What the hell makes you think I just want to be the next in line?"

  That was the trouble of telling someone all your truths. They could use them to tear you apart. Maura drew in a breath, biting her tongue, counting to ten before she could answer him without screaming.

  "And why should you ever, ever trust me?" She asked him. "After all, I'm a cheater."

  Ian made a low noise. "I didn't...that's not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth."

  "But it's the truth, isn't it? Goddammit, Ian, can't you even just...tell me that? If it bothers you?"

  "Yes!" He cried. "Fine. Yes. I think about that. How could I trust you? If you did it with me, maybe you'd do it to me. Right? And how do I know that you're just not afraid of being alone? That I'm not just convenient. Here I am, you already know me --"

  "I do know you," she told him softly. "I know every part of you."

  "What if it just doesn't work out?"

  Maura swiped the tears that had crept unbidden down her cheeks and struggled to keep them from her voice. She'd already given him too much. "How will we ever know if we don't try?"

  "I don't know if I can."

  "You think that I don't really want you. That I don't know what I want, that you're just some fantasy for me. Is that it?" She lay back on the pillows and wished the world away. His silence was her answer. "You think I should...what? Be with someone else?"

  "Maybe."

  "Ian!" She cried. "Do you want me to be with someone else? You can think about that and not be bothered?"

  "It bothers me. Of course it does," he admitted, and sent her heart leaping into her throat.

  "Because you're worried that I haven't dated enough?"

  "You just got divorced. You shouldn't leap into anything long-term or serious right away."

  She frowned. "Just because you fucked your way through the dating scene when you got divorced doesn't mean I want to. Or have to."

  "You should have some time to be with yourself," he told her firmly. "Find out what you want. Not just jump into the first thing that comes along."

  Maura's eyes narrowed. She listened to the spaces between his words. The things he didn't say. And, she held onto hope. She doublethought as hard as she could.

  I mean everything. I mean nothing.

  "Fine," she said finally. "Then here's what I'm going to do. I will date other people, if that's what you want. I will open myself up to the possibilities of finding someone who is
not you, or the possibility of ending up alone. But you're going to do something for me, too."

  "What?" Ian asked, sounding wary.

  Maura glanced at the clock. 11:11 Wishing time. She closed her eyes and put out her desire to the universe.

  "You're going to listen to me tell you about every single one of them," she told him, "until you can't stand it any more."

  Ian made another of those low noises, discontent. "And then what?"

  "Then," she said, "you'll either never speak to me again, or you will realize you can't live without me. Either way, Ian, the way things are right now is going to change."

  Chapter Five

  Whoever had set up Luvfinder must've been a huge fan of Monty Python, Maura thought as she sorted through her email notifications. Seven winks, eight nudges. Too bad there was nary an Eric Idle or John Cleese in the bunch.

  Not that the selection was terrible. She'd made her parameters pretty narrow, wary of the dating site's claim to have a "ninety-eight percent match rate!" As far as she could see, anyone who waded through the ten page questionnaire and made it to the end without stabbing anyone already deserved at least one date.

  So far, she'd been on thirty-seven.

  "It's serious business," she told Shelly as they settled into their favorite booth, the one toward the back so they could people watch. "I have a spreadsheet."

  Shelly snorted laughter. "Oh. My. God. No, Maura. No, you can't."

  "I do." Maura nodded and held up a finger. "Color coded."

  "Sweetie, this is supposed to be fun. Not like studying for the bar."

  Maura shrugged. "I'm trying to maximize my membership, that's all. I only paid for the three-month intro package. After that it's a staggering twenty-nine ninety-five a month unless I want to commit to six more months. And honestly, kind of like losing twenty pounds, if I haven't managed to get a good start in three months, I'm probably not gonna."

  Shelly shook her head and stirred some sweetener into her coffee. She had a fruit cup in front of her, but eyed Maura's thick slab of chocolate cake with unabashed lust. "If you keep eating that sort of thing, you're not going to lose twenty pounds."