by Mimi Grace
Every time his tongue met hers, heat would unfurl and she’d press herself closer to him. The grip he had on her hips was almost painful, and her breaths were coming in the moments when he'd break their kiss to run his lips against her jaw or neck.
Her hands skimmed his body as she tried to find the best place to settle them. But she was convinced the man wasn’t made of flesh but of warm marble. When she finally slipped her hand underneath his shirt, the muscles she found there twitched under her touch.
It didn’t seem like they could get any closer until Duncan grabbed her thigh and drew her to him. The bulge in the front of his pants pressed against her lower stomach. A thrum reverberated across her body, and she didn’t recognize they were moving until the cool edge of her kitchen counter touched her back.
Before he could lift her onto the surface she said, “Not near the food. Not near the food.”
She pushed him toward the living room, and along the way both their shirts came off. When he fell backward onto the couch, she didn’t hesitate before straddling him. The way her legs were spread, heightened her need, and she pressed herself against Duncan’s thigh to relieve the pressure.
Low moans followed as she slowly moved herself up and down his hard thigh. Warmth and sparks flooded her body.
“Is this how you’d ride my face?” he whispered against her ear as he grabbed her hips in that unforgiving hold.
The thought of his tongue and mouth against her made her increase the pressure and quicken her pace.
“That’s it. Take what you need,” he said.
She wanted to respond to the alluring timbre of his voice by breathing his name, but she bit her lip instead and continued swiveling against the slabs of muscle underneath her.
He ran kisses down her neck and bare shoulders before unfastening her bra. “Fuck,” he said, squeezing her exposed breasts.
“Harder.”
He responded by giving her pert nipples a pinch. The spark of pain directly shot to her clit, and she grabbed his shoulder to stabilize herself.
“I swear to God, if you come from just this…” he said, cutting himself off to take a nipple into his mouth.
Reaching down, she touched the front of his pants, but before she could explore or tease him, the distinct buzz of her phone caught her attention.
She froze.
“What’s up?” Duncan asked, pulling away.
Reaching for her cell phone on the side table, she read the message on the screen. “Shit.” Covering her breasts with her arm, Retta got up from Duncan’s lap. “They’re on their way.”
Her brother and his kids would arrive thirty minutes before she’d expected them. She turned on all the living room lights, and Duncan tossed her bra. He picked up his beer bottle and returned the coasters before straightening the shifted books on the coffee table.
Once her bra and shirt were on, Retta opened the blinds and placed the throw pillows back on the sofa. She escaped to the bathroom and washed her hands and made sure she didn’t look like she’d been doing what she’d been doing. God, her intention had simply been to make out with the man.
When she returned to the living area, Duncan was wearing his t-shirt once again and the kitchen counters were clear of the pizza boxes and bottles. There was no sign that he’d stepped foot in the apartment. Well, except the fact that he was still in her home.
“We probably shouldn’t do that again, right?” she said, laughing awkwardly and avoiding eye contact.
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Not because it wasn’t good,” she quickly added. “I was close to…”
“Coming? Yeah, I could sense that.”
“I’m sure it would’ve been great, but maybe it’s for the best it didn’t happen because once you see someone’s orgasm face it’s hard to turn back time.”
Duncan tilted his head. “What’s that sound you made?”
“Sorry, that was my Cher impression. I don’t know why I did that… What I’m trying to say is this is a unique situation and we don’t want to muddy the waters.”
She was already unsettled about her attraction to him, adding sex wouldn’t help.
He nodded. “I agree.”
“Good,” she said, fidgeting with her glasses. “You should probably go before—”
The apartment door buzzed.
“I guess you’re meeting more people from my life,” Retta said as she pressed the button to grant entrance into the apartment complex.
“It went well the first time. Also, your shirt’s on backward,” he said.
She quickly corrected it and soon after heard the excited pitter-patter of her niece and nephew running down the hall. The moment she opened the door, Alicia and Emmanuel ran for the kitchen to find the treats she’d promised them over the phone.
“Hi, Auntie,” they both said in unison before disappearing behind the counter.
“Sorry,” her brother, Kevin, said. “Tabitha needs to pick some stuff from her mother’s before we—”
Kevin stopped when he spotted Duncan casually standing beside her.
“Who’s that?” Alicia asked with her mouth full.
“Ah, this is Duncan.”
Her brother’s eyebrows raised in question, before settling into a neutral plane. “Nice to meet you.”
The men exchanged handshakes before Duncan went over to her niece and nephew and similarly gave each of them a handshake.
“The chocolate is pretty good, right?” Duncan asked, getting down to their level.
The two kids nodded, ganache already all over their mouths and chins. All three of them proceeded to chat about their favorite chocolate desserts.
“How long?” her brother asked softly as he handed her two small backpacks.
Retta shrugged. “It’s new,” she said, vaguely.
Her brother nodded. “I’m happy for you.”
A pang of guilt hit her. She wished he had something real to be happy for her about.
“Well, sorry for interrupting you this afternoon,” Kevin said.
“No problem. I have to head out anyway,” Duncan said, standing up and joining them near the door.
Her brother looked at his kids. “Be good for Auntie. I love you.”
They were already preoccupied and detached from whatever their father was saying.
“Hold on, I’ll walk down with you,” Duncan said to her brother.
For some reason, them leaving her place at the same time made her nervous, but she didn’t have the chance to overthink that because both men quickly left her apartment. Turning to her wards for the evening, Retta put on her brightest smile. She’d have to throw herself into this task to not reflect on how this relationship was progressing.
Chapter Eleven
Duncan found himself pacing his small office during a short break one afternoon. He was expanding on the few bullet points he’d made for the speech he’d read at his parent’s divorce party. Or at least he was trying to. But if he was honest, he was finding the process more difficult than he’d expected. Everything he wrote sounded sappy.
Sure, he could lean into the sentiment, but that would require parsing out his feelings about the most turbulent relationship he’d ever had the displeasure of witnessing.
As he was googling yet another synonym for “great”, Anthony entered the room and moved to the shelf in the corner where they stored office supplies.
“I thought you went out for lunch.”
“No, I’m working on my speech,” Duncan said, sighing.
His friend looked up from where he was refilling a stapler. “For the divorce party? You’ve decided to go?”
Duncan rubbed his face. “Yeah. Mostly because Gwen is going and making a speech. I can’t leave her hanging.”
“How’s”—his friend cleared his throat—“Gwen handling everything?”
“Oh, she’s being Gwen, meticulous and keen.”
Anthony smiled before he straightened his features and asked, “W
hat do you have written so far?”
“What?”
“Your speech. Read it,” Anthony said as he moved to sit on the edge of the table that Duncan wasn’t so sure would hold the man’s weight.
“It’s nothing special.”
“I have five minutes till my next class,” Anthony said.
Seeing his friend was dead serious about him sharing his words, Duncan looked down at his phone and read, “‘Good afternoon, distinguished guests. I thought I’d be sadder than I am today. My parents are getting a divorce, after all, but I’m excited for them. They are loving amazing parents, and I hope they get to live exciting and fulfilling lives separately.’” Duncan looked up at his friend. “This is where I’d go into a story or a childhood memory of some kind. I’m not sure yet.”
Anthony was studying him closely, and Duncan braced himself for his critique.
“What’s the point you’re trying to make with this speech?” Anthony asked.
“I’m not trying to make a point. I’m trying to say enough to fill up five minutes. That’s it.”
“Then it’s perfect,” Anthony said.
There was no judgment in his tone, but Duncan felt he needed to add, “I’m nervous they’re using this party to stall what needs to be done. They’ve threatened divorce so many times before, and it never happened.”
Granted this was the furthest his parents had made it in the process, but the possibility of them not going through with it was still there. Their waffling was one of the reasons why relationships were terrifying to Duncan. Disharmony could become comfortable.
“I don’t want to put all this work into a bunch of words I might not ever read out loud,” Duncan said.
“Then don’t,” Anthony said, standing up.
That type of comment made by anyone else would sound insincere and flippant, but it was the type of straightforward advice Anthony doled out. He tried to live an uncomplicated life and saw many things as black and white.
“However you approach this speech, I hope you realize it won’t change how things unfold with your folks. They’re going to do what they’re going to do.”
Duncan nodded, dropping into the chair behind his desk. If only thinking about the feelings surrounding his parent’s divorce had him feeling like he’d gone several rounds with a formidable opponent, there was no way he was opening that can of worms, especially in front of an audience.
“Is Retta going with you to the party?”
Duncan straightened in his seat. “Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know, since you have regularly scheduled dates now.”
He’d accidentally let it slip that he’d been at Retta’s apartment for a movie. “There’s no reason for her to come to the party,” Duncan said.
Except maybe that she’d make it patently more enjoyable with her enthusiasm and sense of humor that matched his own.
“And it wasn’t a real date,” Duncan added. “It was a public service. She’d never watched Rocky.”
His statements might’ve sounded less odd to his own ears if he hadn't been torturing himself for days thinking about Retta sitting on his lap, making lustful sounds that echoed in his head during his morning jack off sessions.
“As long as you can still tell the difference,” Anthony said.
“Of course I can.”
Their lives were getting entangled in ways that were foreign to Duncan. He’d met maybe one of his ex’s siblings. But he was grateful Retta had been clearheaded enough to insist they keep at least one aspect of their arrangement straightforward.
Anthony crossed his arms. “You—”
“Aren’t your five minutes up already?”
Whether because of strong coffee or the anticipation for upcoming presentations, the people in the hotel conference room Retta stood in chatted excitedly. She adjusted the platters of pastries she had delivered and took a photo for social media. Having already spoken with the programmer for the business event, she picked up her belongings to take her leave.
“Excuse me,” Retta said as she navigated her way around men in gray suits toward the exit. When swinging the door open, she almost crashed into a person who was trying to enter at the same time.
“I’m sorry—”
Retta’s eyes widened when she finally straightened and looked into the man’s face.
“Hi,” she said automatically, already hating herself for speaking. She usually didn’t make it a habit of acknowledging men who ghosted her.
Steve looked unchanged from the time of their first date at the cafe, except he was in a boring suit like the other men in the hall.
“Ah, hey… This is awkward,” Steve said, laughing and sweeping his floppy brown hair to the side.
Oh, please. That was on him. He was the one who hadn’t responded to her texts.
“Not really,” Retta replied.
Steve’s lips turned downward, but he didn’t say anything. So, she nodded and moved to sidestep him.
“Can I ask you something?”
God, what now?
“I thought we had a great time. What happened?” he asked, fidgeting with his briefcase.
Retta shook her head. “What are you talking about? I texted you once our date ended and two more times the day after.”
He’d given her his number and told her to text him so he got hers as well.
Steve stepped forward, frowning. “I didn’t receive one message from you.”
They stood there, staring each other down. Retta was trying to gauge if this man was bullshitting her or not, a quick bait and switch because now he wanted a chance with her but knew he’d already messed up.
“You must’ve typed my number incorrectly,” he said.
Sure, I did.
Retta resisted rolling her eyes as she retrieved her phone from her pocket and pulled up his contact information still programmed in. Holding up the device, she waited for him to verify his number.
“The second two is supposed to be a three,” he said, looking up from the screen.
“Crap,” she said, bringing the phone back to her face to study the sequence of numbers. “I thought you ghosted me.”
He smiled. “Me, too.”
They both laughed. Well, a piece of her ego had been restored, and for the little she’d thought of him in the intervening weeks, she was happy his good character had been returned as well.
“I’m glad we got to clear that one up,” she said.
“Yeah, I really did enjoy our date.”
She smiled and nodded. “That story you told me about the gorilla reserve you went to in Rwanda stuck with me.”
He laughed and pulled a face that he did to demonstrate his fear at being so close to the magnificent beasts.
Her attention was momentarily drawn to the voice in the conference room letting attendees know that the opening remarks would begin in a few minutes.
When she turned back to Steve to tell him goodbye, he said, “I’d like to go out with you again.”
Now, this was awkward.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” she said, internally cringing at how condescending the comment sounded. She might as well have included a pat on his head. “Unfortunately, I’m seeing someone right now.”
While technically not true, the lie slid from her easily. It was too late to back out now from her arrangement with Duncan. He had her scone recipe for God’s sake.
Steve softly smiled. “Understandable. You’re a catch, but if anything changes…” He handed her his card with his correct cell number on it and walked into the large room.
It was the end of the day, and Retta was ready to get home. However, the team was talking amongst themselves and were in no rush to leave.
“What are you waiting for? Go enjoy your evening,” Retta said as she finished up the last part of her shutdown routine.
“Ah, I wish,” Omar said. “But Philippa is dragging us next door for a workout.”
Laughing, Retta looked between the three of them.
“Why?”
“She has a little crush on one of the trainers next door,” Cheyenne said.
Retta stilled. “Who?”
It felt like an eternity waiting for Cheyenne to respond with, “The redhead, Trevor.”
Retta relaxed her grip on the counter and smiled. “Is that where you’ve been disappearing off to for lunch the past week?”
Everyone turned to Philippa with smirks.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied as she opened her front-facing camera to smooth down her hair.
“Ok, sure,” Retta said, laughing. “Well, have fun—”
“You should come with us,” Omar said.
Retta made protesting sounds.
“Yeah, it can be part of our team building or whatever you force us to do each summer,” Philippa said.
“I thought you all enjoyed those,” Retta said, frowning.
Omar nudged Philippa with his elbow before saying, “We do. That’s why you should come.”
“You also get a discount since you work in the complex,” Cheyenne said.
Retta wished she could say she agreed to go because she wanted to get a workout in, but in all honesty, she kind of wanted to have the chance to see Duncan after their date several days ago. Why had she so definitively shut down the possibility of sex like she regularly made insightful and mature decisions? Once, an infomercial convinced her to buy two car French fry holders.
“I think I have some clothes in my trunk that could work,” Retta said.
But it turned out that the workout gear she kept in her car on the off chance she’d feel like working out after a day at the bakery had been raided. It had probably happened during a time she’d spilled something on herself and needed a change of clothes.
What remained was a flimsy sports bra and spandex pants she was sixty percent sure were not opaque.
Entering Spotlight Boxing with her bakery branded t-shirt, she stood at the front counter as her team checked in.
When it was her turn, the young woman behind the desk smiled and looked down at her tablet before asking, “Hi, your name?”
“Oh, I haven’t registered, I was hoping to drop in for the class.”