by Leanne Davis
The muscles around his mouth tightened. His eyes left hers and narrowed on her mouth, which stupidly, albeit, predictably, parted.
“Tracy,” he said again, but this time, his tone was husky. Soft. A strange intensity was present in it.
His head moved and she saw his mouth getting closer to hers. She could have moved. Or sat up. Or stood up. Or run away.
No. She just sat there. Staring in shock. In awe. In horror. In the throes of temptation.
His mouth touched hers in a soft joining of lips. Of breath. Of sighs. His mouth fit over hers and tasted her wet, soft heat. She moaned after a moment, shifting towards his chest, as her entire body became pliant and fell against his. His mouth opened, and the tip of his tongue touched her lips. She groaned and tightened her hand in the folds of his sweatshirt. He shifted forward, pressing his mouth harder on hers. His hand left her shoulder to cup the back of her head and tilt it closer to his.
Her entire body started to heat up and her core nearly ignited. She opened her mouth and tilted her head more so his tongue could more deeply enter her mouth. He groaned as the kiss went far beyond what they might have written off as silly mistake between friends. Or things gone too far.
Now? This was making love to each other’s mouths. This was two tongues twisting together rapturously. Teeth scraping. Hands holding each other tightly, demanding more from the other.
His hand ran from her shoulder, to her chest, over her breast and down her bare legs. His fingers stopped and tapped on her thighs. Waiting. Seeing. Wanting her to stop him. Instead, she moaned and shifted her hips towards him, offering him easier access.
His hand gently, slowly, slid up under the hem of her shorts where they stopped mid-thigh. He touched her. The seam of her panties stuck to her skin from the sudden wetness now filling her. She opened her mouth to be devoured by his as his hand pushed further, and his fingertips slipped to the side of her panties and came inside her. She opened her legs and pushed herself towards him as his mouth consumed hers. His tongue was in her mouth, her throat, and her lips. She rubbed herself against his hand. Then he touched the right spot. It was nothing. A finger. How could it do so much? Make her feel so much? So deep? So hot? So explosive?
His mouth lifted from hers. He kissed her cheek, and her neck, moving down to her collarbone. “This is what you were doing down here, wasn’t it? Touching yourself? Missing him?”
She gasped and closed her eyes as his fingers plunged deeper inside her. She moaned and his words registered in her mind. Oh God! He knew.
“Fuck him, Tracy,” Donny said softly that was at odds with the hot, sensual, dark assault of his hand inside her and his mouth over her skin. His words were uttered between his tongue on her skin. “Fuck him,” he repeated as he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her neck and back to her mouth. “He doesn’t deserve you anymore. I’m starting to think he never did. Forget him. Feel me. Feel this.” His pressed his palm up against her harder as his fingers plunged deeper inside her. Her body forgot to care that this was wrong. This was not how things were supposed to go. Her body responded to his fingertips in a hot, swirling mess of heat and colors behind her closed eyes. She helplessly clung to all the sensations ruling her body and exploding through her mind.
He shifted so she was cradled in his lap, and nearly holding onto his neck. His mouth was on hers again and she was lost to everything except the thrilling sensations inside her. Then, nearly crying and shaking, she was coming in his arms. It went on and on as he pressed and plunged in just the right spot to prolong the intense, blinding feelings in what felt like minutes… forever.
And then it was done. She closed her legs as he pulled his hand from her. His mouth stayed on hers until their passion slowed and faded. Their lips finally touched and separated one last time. He rested his forehead on hers.
That simple act, so small and minor, filled her eyes with tears. That simple contact was what she was starving for. Craving. Desperate to experience. The contact that led to this. This was the emotional connection that she lacked with Jim and why she could never, not even once, come with him. She closed her eyes and never wanted to open them again. She knew when she did, she’d have to face where she was, and what she’d done. And most difficult of all, was whom she did it with.
****
“Oh my God. What have we done?” Her voice was low and garbled as her forehead lowered and rested on his shoulder. He could feel her chest taking in a deep breath and imagined her pale, freckled skin turning bright red in shame.
She did not, however, get up and run from him in horror. Regret. Shame. Or anger. Not yet.
The silence was like lead between them. Shit. What had they done? The thought fully baffled his brain. His wife’s sister lay clinging to him. Her body felt small against his. She wasn’t tall like Vickie. She was small and curvy. Her long hair brushed the backs of his fingers and he could smell her on his hand. The thought tightened his stomach in lust. Deep, dick-twitching lust. Masculine libido and pride and want. Damn. Tracy’s scent was on his fingers.
She was right. What had they done?
Her voice was soft when she spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Donny.”
Why was she sorry? He did it. He started it. He admitted stuff he never really thought he would. He showed her the feelings he truly never considered acting on. Ever. Not last year when he first thought them, and certainly not now. He shifted her to bring her closer. She felt good against him. Soft and vulnerable. She made him want to protect her, care for her. Fuck her.
What?
Where the hell did that thought come from? Tracy was not that kind of woman. She didn’t ignite urges like that in men. She incited tender feelings of home, belonging, love and adoration. Not fucking. That was for women like Vickie. His wife. His damn wife.
But the woman he just touched was not a simple, generic housewife. She was hot and turned on and did things to his head, as well as his heart, and his insides twisted in revulsion at the thought of wanting her, while longing for her at the same time. She had become his best friend. She had become his entire world during the last year. She had gone from a sister-in-law to his best friend and now he was entwined with her even deeper, and more inexplicably, than any other person in his life.
He kissed her head. “Don’t be sorry. I used to fight with Vickie when she told me I had feelings for you. I didn’t think she was right. Not then. But now…”
Her body softly convulsed against his. “Please don’t say it. I don’t feel that way. I don’t want this. I can’t deal with this. It’s wrong. So wrong in every way.”
He sighed. “Yes. I know. But why did it feel so right? After everything feeling so wrong lately, why did this feel so right?”
She simply slid her feet off him, stood up, and ran away.
Chapter Nineteen
SHE PACED HER ROOM back and forth. Again and again. How could that have happened? How could she have done that? The futile pacing offered no answers. She simply kept walking because she had so much pent-up energy. So much had gone wrong in her life during the last year, and in her entire family’s life, how could she compound it by doing that?
With Donny? Why would she do such a thing? How could she be so evil? So awful? So… bad? She’d never been bad before. Or amoral. Was that a reaction to what Micah did to her? Was her anger, rage, and all-consuming devastation, suddenly making her seek revenge on her former husband by being with Donny?
She tumbled onto the bed and curled onto her side. How could she have done something so intimate with her damn brother-in-law? His hands had touched her sister… and now her. She tucked her legs up to her chest, feeling dirty, cheap, rotten and evil.
And lonely. Her loneliness sat like an enormous brick on her chest, making it hard to breathe and forcing her heart to pump faster. She was so tired of hurting.
With Donny, however, it didn’t hurt. It was like glimpsing a beam of sunlight after a long, dark winter.
She flipped over onto her back. Wh
at had she done? Betrayed everything that sisterhood stood for. Loyalty. Love. Bonding. And the biggest taboo: never, ever letting your sister’s husband touch you.
She sat up suddenly. Why did Donny even come there? Why? And why did he let all of that happen? It didn’t matter. It would never happen again. All of it was so wrong. She slumped into a pathetic ball on her bed.
Forget him. Feel this. Feel me. His words flittered through her brain. And her body trembled in response. Not old memories, but bright shiny, brand new ones. She could easily picture him. Her breathing increased. Why now? Why here? Why now when he was right there, not even two doors away from her? But no. Her parents were there, her daughters… his daughter. NO! She nearly shouted it out loud.
But all she could do was picture him, and hear his voice and feel his hands. Feel me. She did. To her toes. To her very last hair and cell, she felt him. But it was all so wrong.
No. Get back in bed. Do not do this. It was all she could think about as her bare foot touched the wood flooring. The other foot followed. Quietly lifting her weight off the edge of the mattress, she stood. Her nightgown was nothing to be proud of. It was appropriate for running around in front of her conservative parents and little kids. It fell nearly to her knees. A soft pink color. It was more like a t-shirt.
She gently walked across the room without making a sound with her steps. She opened the door and peeked around it. No one. Nothing. The hall was dimly lit. The only source of light came from the entryway downstairs. She slipped out, and barely shuffled down the hall to Donny’s room.
She stood before it, her hand on the doorknob. Hand off. Hand on. Then chiding herself to go back to bed and stop what she was thinking of doing. No. This is not where her steadily improving life was supposed to end up. This would only make things worse again and complicated. Bad again. Wrong again.
But she turned the knob. It barely made a click as she entered the room. She stood there, waiting for his head to lift off the bed as though he sensed her presence. But he didn’t stir.
She shut the door as stealthily as she came in. He was sound asleep on his back. He was shirtless and had the covers drawn up to his chest. His face was shadowed. With the blinds drawn, it was hard to see.
Tracy deftly slid on top of him.
There was no going back. He awoke with a start and his hands wrapped around her back as if to trap or fling her, but he almost instantly realized who she was and relaxed his grip. His eyes opened. His shock was evident in how wide and round his eyes became. She touched a finger to his lips, making her message clear: don’t talk. She had no words for this. Not yet. Words could ruin it all later. Tomorrow. When she’d, no doubt, regret all of it. Words of recrimination would surely be said later. Tracy was headed for nothing but damnation for doing this.
Her problem was: she could no longer resist her urge to be with him. Her physical body longed to be with him, and she wanted that, because the man had finally become too enticing for her to resist any longer. Perhaps she simply didn’t want to fight it anymore. And could no longer be what the world and her family expected her to be. Perhaps she just caved to the temptation to be herself, and finally express all her longings, wants and desires. Donny was the very man that she knew could fulfill them. And so, here she was, silently taking what she craved and needed.
But she was not ready to put a voice to it yet.
She straddled him. An outside light from the first floor glowed through the shades. It allowed just enough illumination that she could see him, and he her. His expression didn’t change, but remained blank. His jaw flexed and the muscles seemed to be strung like a taut chord. She lowered her head and rested it on his chest. Her hands slid up along his bare skin to his shoulders. She could hear his heart next to her ear, beating steadily, if not a little faster. His chest was broad, and he had subtle muscles because he didn’t regularly work out. She should know. She knew his entire schedule. She knew everything about his life. First, from babysitting his daughter; and later, from scheduling his work days.
She didn’t know he had such soft skin, or that he would smell so good. A unique odor, masculine, but refined. Cologne, most likely. Her cheek rested just above his heart. He lifted his hands to her back and the movement made his chest muscles bunch and relax under her cheek. He had a scattering of hair that felt soft to her palms when she slid her hands up his chest. God, she missed the feel of a man, although he felt so different from Micah. Donny was exciting, and warm and alive and here. He was here and now. Her entire body started to strum with feelings. He didn’t have to do anything; the mere thought and anticipation soon had her blood warming and her stomach feeling like a small spark had just been lit inside it.
Donny was still underneath her, and she sensed he was hesitant to move. He was probably waiting for her to bolt from the bedroom, while muttering like a crazy lunatic how wrong it was. How wrong he was for her. How wrong everything was. He was probably expecting more tears and recriminations for feeling the very same thing she did about him.
She couldn’t think of a bigger boner-killer than how she had been interacting with him to date. And yet… here he was. He seemed to be holding his breath while waiting for her next move. For her next freak-out, since wasn’t that all she did? Freaked out about how it looked. And what people would think. What society in general would think, including her parents and her children. Even what Micah would think. Isn’t that all she thought about? And most of all, of course, she freaked out about what her sister would think.
Her sister, who used and abused this man, as if he were no more than an old, favorite pair of shoes she wanted to wear sometimes, but threw in the closet when she wasn’t in the mood for them. Her sister, who ruined all the years of hard work this man invested into his chosen field. She nearly lost his house, and reduced him to begging for money when he was formerly rather proud of his credit history and never needing help or money from others. Her sister, who made this man take complete care of their daughter with little concern for how it affected their daughter or him in the long term.
Tracy focused so long on how wrong it was that she forgot this could never have happened if her sister had ever, even once, treated Donny right. He was as wonderful and kind and caring and stable and helpful and edgy and funny as she once believed her own husband to be. He deserved to be treated well in return, which her sister rarely bothered to do.
Donny was as lonely and tired as Tracy. They came together and found each other because no one else cared how lonely and hurting they were. No one else could feel or comprehend the inner struggles existing in Donny’s mind over the wife he wanted to love, but had to admit he didn’t. And most of that was because of Vickie’s own doing.
No one understood because no one else lived their lives, or shared their relationship. And Tracy finally acknowledged they did have a relationship. They had a connection that went beyond right or wrong in that moment. It simply… was. There was no more denying what existed between them, and inside their hearts, and the only thing that changed recently was: she wanted it too now. She wanted him.
Any explanations, good or bad, were not yet feasible for Tracy. So she scooted her body up higher, pressing her lips on his. Her body hung over his completely and she could feel him growing harder between her legs. Instead of backing off, or backing away, she squirmed around, grinding her hips into his, which only made him grow bigger and harder. His body liked what she did and she liked it too.
His arms now surrounded her, and she felt heavenly being cocooned in his warmth and muscles, and hairy chest. She sighed as their breaths mingled and kissed the corner of his mouth, keeping her lips still closed. She moved centimeter by centimeter over his lips with hers until she finally reached the center of his mouth. She bit softly on his bottom lip and he groaned, slightly parting his lips. Rising higher over him, Tracy set her lips fully on his before sliding her tongue inside. Softly. Gently. Sweetly.
He suddenly moved his hand to the back of her head and wrapped her h
air around his fingers, pulling back with enough force to throw her head back. “What are you doing?”
“You.”
“Why? So you can go hide and cry about it later? So you can piss and moan over what a mistake I am for you? So you can tell me again how much you love your sister? Why, Tracy? Just because you’re lonely and horny and I’m here instead of Micah?”
Her lips hovered just above his. His dark eyes looked stormy as they flashed with unrepressed anger. She pressed her mouth on his. He started to pull her back again, but didn’t and his mouth opened under hers. She lost count of the minutes and seconds that their lips touched and their tongues caressed and rubbed and tasted each other’s. She finally withdrew until her lips hardly touched his and kissed him gently. “Why? Because I want you. I deserve you. And I’m going to take you.”
She kissed him between each sentence, as if she were punctuating her words with her lips.
He lifted his head as he pressed his hand on hers and their lips locked into a grinding moment of white-hot heat and pressure. Teeth and lips ground against each other. What started out as soft and tender, soon became hard and fierce. He was no longer the nice Donny Lindstrom. She groaned at his rough treatment when his tongue suddenly plunged down her throat and his hand fisted in her hair. He tugged on her hair again as his lips left hers and trailed soft kisses down her throat.
“How do you want this?”
Tracy’s eyes were closed, and her entire body was floating and reacting to the wet feel of his tongue and lips on her skin. “What?”
“How do you want this to go?”
Her heart skittered in her chest. She wanted it hot and hard and unrelenting. She wanted it like they could never have sex again. She wanted it to be enough to make up for the last year of her life, when she felt nothing but sadness and emptiness. She wanted to feel full of him. Every inch of him. She squeezed her legs to stop the pulsating tightness inside her at hearing his words.