by Anthology
He makes it even easier to say yes when he asks if I want to go back to his place. The movie we'd intended to see is sold out, and none of the others appeal. We could, Daniel says, stream something from Interflix or watch a DVD, if I want.
"I'd hate to end things so early," he says. "It's been so great catching up."
Our relationship had not been of prom and backyard barbecues. I'd never met his parents, but I'd snuck in and out of their house a few times at three in the morning. Daniel's parents had moved to Florida a few years ago. He's left with the cute Cape Cod nestled in the woods not far from where my own parents still live, but he assures me as he unlocks the front door that he no longer sleeps in the basement.
Not much else has changed. Photos of him and his sister as teenagers still hang in the hallway to the kitchen, where he takes me first to make us both some coffee. He pulls a cheesecake from the freezer. Caffeine AND sugar? This guy gets me, all right.
We settle onto the lumpy, beflowered couch to watch a cheesy horror flick that sounds perfectly unwatchable. Daniel stretches out long legs to prop his feet on the coffee table, one arm snaking along the back of the couch but not touching me. We make it through the credits and the first mangling, and finally, just when I'm thinking I'm going to have to make the first move, he kisses me.
It's not the best first kiss, even if technically it's not our first. It's certainly not as good as the first time we ever kissed, when I'd taunted him into it until he pushed me up against the wall and plundered my mouth until I couldn't breathe. This time, I'm turning to say something snarky about the movie and he's leaning forward. Our noses bump and teeth clash. My mouth is open though, which allows the slip of his tongue inside. His hand slides from the back of the couch to my shoulder, easing me closer. The kiss deepens for a moment before he pulls away.
"Sorry about that." He touches the corner of my mouth. "Are you okay?"
I touch my tongue to it. There's no blood. "I'm fine."
The second kiss works much better. We move in at the same time, heads angling. I slide into the open space between his legs. We tangle up together as the kiss gets harder. When Daniel lets out a low moan, something deep inside me twists.
At least Daniel wants me.
Desire makes desire, as the saying goes. So does memory, and all mine of Daniel are flaming hot. When he nudges my chin upward with his mouth so he can get at my throat with his teeth, it's my turn to moan. He pushes me back against the couch and fits himself between my legs, the bulge of his belt buckle pressing just right on my clit through the barrier of all our clothes. Pillows scatter. His hands roam. I'm wearing a tank top and a cardigan sweater along with a short, pleated skirt that allows for easy access -- though the winter-weight sweater tights beneath are a real cock blocker.
Still kissing me, Daniel murmurs sweet words of admiration. "You smell so good, Maura. Your mouth is so sweet. You feel so good against me. God, I want to taste you."
Shifting a little to the side, the couch not nearly big enough for both of us, he runs his hand over my breasts. Over the cardigan at first, but my nipples are so hard he can definitely feel them through the thin material of the tank top and sweater. He tweaks one, and sudden sensation stabs me. I arch under that touch.
It's been too long since a man has touched me this way. Sure, I've had many orgasms, but all by my own hand. I crave this...affection, because that's what it feels like. This affection, desire, this adoration. I crave it as much if not more than the sex itself.
"You are so pretty." Daniel pauses in kissing me to say it against my mouth. His fingers roll my nipple taut.
I catch my breath. Swallow hard. "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself."
For a second, something flickers in his gaze. His mouth turns down a little at the corners. But just for a second, and just a little, because then he's kissing me again. His hand slides under my sweater. Under the tank top. Over the sensitive skin of my belly, tracing the edge of my shirt before moving up to tug at the neckline. The tank top is form-fitting, easier to access from the top than bottom. My breast pops free, and before I can think to say or do anything, Daniel dips his head to take my nipple in his mouth.
Electric pleasure, oh fuck. Oh, wow. His tongue flickers against my tight flesh before he sucks gently. Pleasure arcs straight from there to my clit. I've always loved having my nipples played with -- I've come close but never quite been able to manage an orgasm from that alone. Under Daniel's skilled mouth, I'm starting to think I might make it this time.
He pulls my shirt lower so he can get to my other nipple. My fingers thread through his hair as he sucks my skin. His hands move lower, over my belly. My hips. One slides between my legs, pressing against my tights, his thumb hard on my clit.
I break the kiss. "Daniel."
He looks up at me. "Hmmm?"
I hate myself for saying it, but I do. "I should probably go."
He sits up, but slowly, letting his mouth and fingers linger. He runs a hand through his hair. His face is flushed, mouth wet. Eyes bright. "Yeah...yeah, I'm sorry, I got carried away."
"It's not that." I pull my shirt back over my breasts but move closer to him. I don't want this to be weird. It isn't, after all, that I'm ashamed. "But I'm not here for the right reasons."
Both his brows go up. He's let me link my fingers through his, and he looks down when I squeeze. Then at my face. "Are there wrong reasons?"
"I think so." I laugh. I'd kiss him again, if that wouldn't be totally counterproductive.
"I really did just want to catch up on old times," Daniel says suddenly. "I don't want you to think I meant for this to turn into something like...well. Like this, I guess."
"Like making out on your couch?" I tease a little.
He smiles, and again there's that flash of something, quicksilver, in his gaze. "Yeah. I mean, of course I kind of hoped you'd let me kiss you. You were always such a great kisser."
"Hey!" I punch his arm lightly. "Was?"
"Still are," he assures me. His eyes travel over my face, and though you'd think the time for blushing was past, heat slides up to cover my cheeks and throat. He leans a little closer, hesitant.
The kiss this time is sweeter. He presses his forehead to mine for a moment, his eyes closed. I cup his face in my hands and kiss his mouth again. The kiss gets a little harder.
We had fucked fast and furious back in the day, and the chemistry's still here. Potential. I did set out to prove a point, after all.
But I can't do it.
"I'm sorry, I can't just use you, Daniel."
He looks surprised. Then laughs, shaking his head. "No?"
"No." I sit back a little on this lumpy couch, probably the same one that's already seen us naked and fucking on it a few times. "See, there's this guy..."
"There's always a guy." He says this with such a put-upon sigh, such a lift of his shoulders and roll of his eyes that I have to laugh, even if it's a sad little chuckle and not a full-on guffaw.
"It's kind of a mess."
"It always is." He pauses. "Your ex?"
I flinch. Grimace. "No. No complications there."
"Ah. Someone else. I'm too late, huh? Waited too long to ask you out?" He's clearly teasing, but it's still a nice thing to say.
I'm not sure how much to tell him. I haven't said a word to any of the other men I've gone out with, I guess because even though I'm sure more than one of them wouldn't have minded ending up on a couch someplace, so far none of the dates have even headed in that direction. I'd told Shelly it was a serious business, and I meant it. But that didn't mean I was going to simply jump into bed with a stranger. Serious business, and also tricky.
"He doesn't think we're supposed to be together," I say.
"Is he an idiot?" Daniel looks serious. He pushes my hair over my shoulder.
I want to cry because he's so sweet. I don't believe him, not utterly. But it's so much nicer to be told yes than an everconstant no.
"Yes. My friend Shelly say
s he's a dingleberry."
Daniel made a face. "Wow."
"He's cautious," I amend.
"Scared." Daniel says this with authority. "Men are assholes about relationships, Maura. He's scared shitless."
"That is probably true." I shrug. "Doesn't make it feel any better."
"So..." He studies me. Moves a little closer. He traces my chin with a fingertip, a totally cheesy move that nevertheless has me melting as thoroughly as it did when I was eighteen.
I kiss him a little more, because, defiantly and triumphantly, I can. The kissing turns to petting, the petting to his fingers moving under my tights and pulling them down to leave my thighs bare. I'm ticklish there, squirming and giggling. Breathless.
Daniel looks at me. "Maura, listen. I'm only home for a couple months, then I'm heading to Malaysia. I'm not saying this just to get in your pants...."
"You're in them, pretty much," I point out.
"What I mean is," he says seriously, "is that I've always had great memories of you, and I really did want to just catch up on old times. But this is great too. And if you only want to use me to get back at that other guy, I'm totally down with it."
I burst into laughter that he joins until the couch shakes. I cup his face again; kiss him. Look into his eyes.
"It's not about that, exactly. He wants me to go out with other people. He thinks I need to, in order to be sure he's the one I want."
Daniel's mouth twists. His fingertips tickle on my inner thigh until I squirm. Heat has pooled low in my belly. I could stop his fingers from creeping higher, closer to the edge of my panties, but I don't.
"What do you want?"
"I guess it doesn't matter what I want," I say irritably. Angrier than I meant to.
Daniel pulls away. "It should."
"You've grown up, Daniel. I mean that in the best way."
He smiles and kisses me again. Soft brush of lips on my jaw. My throat. A little lower, over the swells of my breasts. He's down between my legs before I can stop him -- not that I've tried. At the press of his mouth on my inner thigh, already sensitized from the circling patterns of his fingertips, I let my head fall back against the cushions.
I have never been a fan of denying pleasure. Chocolate cake is a gift from God, as far as I'm concerned. A good book and a warm blanket on a rainy day instead of an hour on the exercise bike? Sign me up. I pet all dogs, coo at all babies, taste all the hors d'oeuvres at the party. And sex...oh, well. Sex is one of the biggest pleasures of them all.
When he pushes his hands underneath my ass to slide my panties off, I let him. When he pushes up my skirt, I let him do that too. When he kisses each inner thigh and then moves to my cunt, his hot breath caressing my already swollen clit...Oh, yes. I let him.
Daniel slides his hands under my butt again, this time to lift me closer to his feasting mouth. His lips and tongue expertly find my clit, first flicking softly. Then stroking with the flat of his tongue in smooth, steady strokes that within a couple minutes send me up and up, but not quite over. My hips roll, pushing my body against his kiss. It feels so good I want to cry out, but bite my tongue. His parents aren't here, but old habits die hard.
There's not enough room on this couch for both of us. Daniel shifts me so that he can kneel on the floor in front of me. He spreads my legs wide, and before I can protest, puts the right one over his shoulder. I'm open, exposed, bare to him.
It's fucking amazing.
Daniel was the first guy to ever go down on me, and while I remembered his skill, I thought maybe it had just seemed so great because at the time I'd had no comparison. But now, years later, with half a dozen lovers since him, Daniel's still proving he's a pussy eating champ.
Soft and slow, then a little harder. Licking, sucking, never too hard. Just hard enough. The slide of fingers inside me makes me tense -- at eighteen I hadn't worried much about my body or being self-conscious about it, but I'm quite a few years past that now. I haven't had children to ruin me, as Shelly likes to say, but still, time leaves a mark.
"You taste amazing, Maura," Daniel murmurs against me, and the soft sound of my name makes me lose any worries.
I'm getting close. I can't stop shifting under his tongue. I grip the cushions, then slide a hand into his hair holding his mouth against me. I don't mean to be rough, but Daniel gives a muffled groan and makes no move to pull away. His mouth works faster. His fingers fuck into me, curling upward a little in a "come here" gesture that has me rocketing toward orgasm. In these last minutes, I am not ashamed to say I can think of nothing but how good these feels. Everything else falls away. The only thing that matters is getting off.
I cry out when I finish. No words, just sound. The couch creaks as we rock it. Against my flesh, Daniel hums and moans; the sensations sends another round of orgasm rippling through me before the first has even had time to fade. A few seconds later it's too much. I pull his hair to lift his mouth from me. I can't speak.
Daniel rests his head against my thigh while my body twitches and finally quiets. He kisses my clit quickly, then moves up my body to kiss my mouth. I hold him close to me for a second or so longer when he tries to pull away.
"Wow," I tell him. "That was great."
There's a shuffle of clothing and rearranging of cushions, and we end up curled together on the couch with my head pressed to his chest. Arms and legs tangle. He kisses the top of my head. The movie's long since over.
He's being very quiet, and I wait for him to suggest we go to the bedroom, or that it's my turn to go down on him. Something. But Daniel's breathing slows and I realize he's falling asleep.
"Daniel? Do you want me to go?"
He blinks awake, looking confused for a moment. Then smiles and scrubs at his face. "It's late. You can stay if you want?"
I have Sunday morning coffee plans with a new guy who doesn't seem very promising. I could cancel them without feeling too bad, though it's been my policy so far to keep any dates I make as a matter of pride and courtesy. "Well..."
"You don't have to. I just didn't want you to think I was running you off."
"I don't." I sit to look at him. "Hey. Are you okay?"
"Great." He grins. "You?"
"I'm...sated." I make a show of lolling against the back of the couch for a second or so before sitting up again to study his face. "But...what about you?"
It hasn't been my experience that many men bring a woman to orgasm without trying to get a little something for themselves. Certainly when Daniel and I were together before, even after he'd made me come with his mouth, he was always ready for me to do the same for him. But there's something going on here. An undertone I'm not sure of. I'm not positive I'm ready to have intercourse with him -- with anyone. But I'd be willing to do something for him, at any rate.
Daniel looks uncomfortable. "Ahh...I'm fine."
"Really?" I eye him, then slide a hand up his thigh to cup his crotch. "You're not...you don't want...?"
He shifts a little when I touch him. Then he takes my hand and puts it up higher on his belly. He holds it there with his.
"I can't right now," he says after a few awkward seconds. "I wanted to. Thought I might be able to. But I'm sorry, Maura, I can't."
Blinking, I sit back, but I can't take my hand from his without making this a big deal, and I don't want to do that. "Okay? That's fine. I didn't want you to think I was so selfish I'd take without umm...giving."
His grin would look genuine if I hadn't been familiar with it. Now it seems the tiniest bit forced. "From what I remember, you're pretty damned good at giving."
"Even better now." I buff my nails on my shirt. False bravado. I'm not fully convinced of that at all. "...Are you sure?"
Daniel clears his throat. The easy closeness we've had since within minutes of our meeting tonight becomes tension. He sits up straighter on the couch, putting an inch or so of distance between us. It's enough to make me feel awkward. We sit for another minute without saying anything.
"I've bee
n having a problem," Daniel says. "Umm. With that."
I chew my lower lip for a second, not sure what to say. "With...sex?"
"With getting an erection. And keeping it." It pains him to say this. I can see it on his face, hear it in his voice.
I try to think of what to say carefully, so carefully, because it seems to me this is the equivalent of a woman feeling like she has fat thighs and an enormous ass...only ten times worse. No. A hundred. I don't need a dick to know how much of a man is often tied up in how well his works.
In the end, I say nothing. I kiss him instead. Then I snuggle up next him, head on his chest, and listen to the sound of his heart slow.
After a few minutes, his hand strokes my hair. His voice is low. "I was married to a girl I met in Guatemala. She found out she had ovarian cancer a few days before the wedding. She died just before our first anniversary."
"Oh, Daniel. I'm so sorry."
He clears his throat again. He won't look at me at first, then does as though defeated. He shakes his head.
"It was only last year. I guess I'm not...it takes time."
"Of course it does. Of course." I snuggle him again. My heart aches for him. I'm embarrassed now that I let him make me come, and so hard. It feels so...shallow.
"I wanted to make you feel good," he says in a low voice, like he can read my thoughts. "You looked so pretty tonight, and it's been a long time since I went out with anyone I didn't feel like I had impress. Not that I didn't want to impress you," he adds hastily, though I haven't taken offense. "But it was different."
"I understand." I'm pretty sure I do. "I was thrilled when you messaged me, to be honest."
His arm around me tightens. "This guy. You love him?"
"Yes." Such a tiny word with such a vast meaning. "I love him."
"I hope he figures his shit out, then."
"Me too," I tell him with a sigh. "Me too."
Chapter Seven
Ian was silent when she'd finished speaking, and Maura let him stay that way for so long she almost fell asleep with the phone pressed to her ear. When he said her name, she opened her eyes. "Yes, Ian."