The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  As the speaker on the line announced that they had reached their destination, the friends got out and walked up onto the street. They were suddenly immersed in a very quaint neighborhood, whose blocks were lined with fancy buildings, which held apartments built for people with far larger incomes than those of Casey and Sammie. They looked at each other, knowing automatically that they could not afford the apartment they were about to look at.

  “Oh come on, Casey,” Sammie said as she studied the lines forming in Casey’s forehead. “Let’s just look at it for fun. No harm in that.” Casey agreed, and the two started arm-in-arm toward Conor’s rental.

  After finding the building and climbing a short flight of stairs, Casey took a deep breath as she stuck the key into the keyhole. When she opened the door to apartment B9, what she found there did not surprise her. She was not wrong in thinking that anything owned by her elegant lover would be gorgeous.

  Sammie gasped beside her. “Oh my God, it’s awesome!” she exclaimed, taking off for a self-guided tour. The apartment was spacious and full of light. Large windows allowed for a spectacular view of the city surrounding the high-income block in Boston. The floors were laid with a dark, fashionable wood and the walls were painted with the cleanest shade of white that Casey had ever seen. The ceilings were high, and the apartment looked as a whole as if it were brand spanking new. Casey walked into the living room, turning automatically toward a door that led to a gorgeous balcony, similar to the one in Conor’s home. The Fire and Ice roses that lined the walls of his balcony graced this balcony as well. She opened the door and went outside, leaning over the ledge to breathe in the scent of the city and the thick aroma of the roses.

  She had known from the map provided by Google that they were close to the wharf but was unaware that you could see the ocean from the patio. There is no way we can afford this, she thought, turning sadly to tour the rest of the place.

  “Casey, get in here!” a very excited Sammie yelled from a distant part of the apartment. She followed her friend’s voice, her heart breaking a little more with each step. The rest of the apartment was just as gorgeous as what she had seen thus far. The rooms were large, each bedroom equipped with its own private bath. The tubs were elegant, claw-footed beasts that could easily accommodate multiple guests. The closets were massive, each ready to house the tokens of multiple shopping sprees. Casey was in love. This apartment, like her lover, was amazing. She realized that she already missed Conor.

  “Isn’t this fantastic?” Sammie asked her excitedly.

  “It is beautiful, but Sammie, we couldn’t afford this place even on two incomes,” she responded.

  “Well, did you happen to ask Conor how much the rent was?” Sammie asked. Casey now wished that she had inquired before getting both of their hearts set on the amazing rental. She shook her head.

  “Well then don’t look so damn gloomy. I mean, he knows what you do for a living. He knows that I am recently crashing at your place. Why would he suggest it if he thought you couldn’t afford it?” Sammie had a good point. They would just have to wait until he returned to discuss the terms of a lease. Casey silently panicked also about renting from a man she was in a relationship with. What if they broke it off? How would that awkwardness go? If she learned anything from growing up with only her father, it was that business and pleasure rarely went well together. It was one lesson he strived to imprint on her mind, though she did not know the backstory that led him to this conviction.

  Later that night, Casey and Sammie sat together in their modest apartment, still spinning over the luxury of Conor’s rental. After returning home, they had decided to have a pajama day, eating and talking until the sun went down. Casey had divulged all about her amazing date with Conor the previous evening, making sure not to leave out the delicious details of their sexual play. Sammie had responded with a growl of sorts, exclaiming her intense hunger for some lovemaking.

  “Is it normal to be this horny all the time?” she had asked Casey. It had been comical, as Casey was all too familiar with the need for pleasure during pregnancy. She had spent months seducing Jace…he had actually seemed to grow tired of it after a while.

  Nearing about 11 p.m., Casey’s heart jumped when her phone rang. She was giddy to find that it was Conor, and hopped up so fast she dumped a half-eaten gallon of ice cream onto the floor. “Shit!” she screamed, but disregarded it to answer the phone. He was much more important than a Rocky Road stain. Casey answered, instantly aroused as she heard his accent come across the line.

  “Hello, love. Ya been kickin’ around my head all day,” he said.

  “I have?” Casey asked innocently, ultimately flattered that he called her while away on business.

  “Of course. I kept thinkin’ about the look on your face as I get ya off. Spent most of this fine day with a rock-hard cock thinkin’ about ya. It’s rather embarrassin’, ya know.” He laughed gruffly. Heat flooded Casey’s whole body, and she decided to take this conversation to the privacy of her bedroom.

  “Don’t say things like that to me when you are, well, wherever you are. It just isn’t fair,” she replied in an attempt to toy with him. “Where are you, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I am in Chicago for the next couple of days. I had planned on waitin’ until I returned to the city to call ya…Ya know, givin’ ya space and all, but I just couldn’t wait. I miss ya somethin’ fierce,” he said.

  Casey was delighted. He had actually thought about her when he left, and made it a point to call her mere hours after landing. The image of him walking around the airport with a fully erect shaft made her jealous, though she would never admit it out loud. Had women casually passed him, licking their vulture’s chops and fantasizing about the nasty things he would do to them? Had the thought crossed his mind to satisfy a stranger in a crowded airport bathroom? Had he done so?

  “Are ya there, love?” The sound of his voice, and the term of endearment, interrupted her thought process, which she was grateful for. She desperately needed to curb the way in which her mind took off at high speeds, turning her into a closet mental patient.

  “Yes, I am here,” she replied.

  “So, what did ya think about the rental, then? Think it will be suitable for ye gals?” Casey had not expected to talk about it until he returned

  “Well, we loved it. It is exactly what we need, and it is in a great location. But, you do know that I am just a freelance writer, right? I could never afford it.” Her voice trailed off, and she felt bad letting it. She did not want Conor to hear the heart-shattering disappointment in her voice.

  “When I told ya I’d be a fair landlord, I meant it. I’m not too worried about the rent.”

  Casey was confused. What did that mean? “Well how much do you normally rent it out for?” she asked, trying to get a handle on what he was talking about. She wished he would give her a definite number, and though she knew that Conor was wealthy, she hoped that he was not intending her and Sammie to stay there for free. She was not the kind of girl to take handouts.

  “Well, how about this…Whatever ya pay for the apartment ya are stayin’ at now, that is what ya pay me,” he responded. Casey was taken aback. Was he serious? He had to be joking with her.

  “My apartment is way less than what I need to pay you for that gorgeous place. You can’t be serious,” Casey said.

  “But I am. Ye gals need a place—I have a place. It is not bein’ rented right now, and I want to help ya out. Plus, maybe ya haven’t noticed, love, but I’m a touch crazy about ya. Whatever ya pay now, that’s what the rent is. Just promise ya won’t run off and leave me heartbroken.” Those last words were so sincere. Casey almost thought that he might actually be worried that she was going to dump him. Not a chance.

  “That is very generous of you, Conor. I don’t know that I feel right about it,” Casey replied to his offer. “We will discuss it more when you get home.”

  “Nothin’ more to discuss. Get to packin’, Ms.
Casey. Now, I’m goin’ to take a hot shower and think about your thighs squeezin’ ‘round my head as I send ya over the edge. I will call ya soon, okay?” Casey agreed, suddenly soaking her plain cotton undergarments thinking about him working his thick flesh in a steaming shower. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be in the shower with him right now.

  After she hung up the phone, Casey cracked the door to inform Sammie that she was going to go to bed. She decided to hold off on telling her what Conor had proposed until she could make the decision for herself. After all, it was her lover offering her something so insanely unreasonable. Paying him a measly $1,500 for a luxury apartment on the water seemed so wrong, but he seemed steadfast in the idea of helping them out. Casey was torn by the offer, but her hunger for release overpowered the emotion quickly. She desperately wanted him inside of her, but for now, she would have to take care of that hunger herself. She turned to head to the bath, suddenly feeling the need to be completely exposed. She lusted for pleasure, so pleasure was what she was going to get.

  Chapter 15

  Two days later, Casey sat at her kitchen table devouring a sandwich that she had sloppily prepared. She could not think straight knowing that Conor was returning from Chicago sometime today. She had not talked to him since that night, though he had sent her a single text the night before telling her goodnight. She knew that he was a busy man, though she still had no idea what it was that he actually did for a living. She shouldn’t be bothered by the fact that he had not called her the night before, but she was. She missed him badly, and wanted him to return so that they could discuss the apartment situation. More importantly, she wanted to hear his delectable growl as she brought him to climax. She was addicted.

  Casey took another bite of her sandwich, hoping that the sloppy masterpiece would erase her craving for her strong Irish man when she heard a knock at the door. Sammie was out looking for a part-time job, and as far as she knew, neither of them were expecting guests. She rose from the table and crossed over to the door. Looking through the peephole, all Casey could see was a large bouquet of flowers. She flung the door open, nearly ripping the chain from the wall. Without saying a single word, she leapt into Conor’s arms, their lips connecting with force.

  He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her as close to him as possible. For that moment, it was as if they shared one body. He kissed her passionately, little moans escaping his chest with every thrust of their tongues. When they separated themselves, he still held one arm around the small of her back.

  “God I missed ya, love. Ya are so beautiful,” he said softly as he pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “Come here,” he said as he put his hand on the back of her neck and gently pulled her in for another kiss. After they had lip-locked in the hallway of her building for who knows how long, Casey invited him in. He handed her the bouquet, which filled her apartment with a sweet, enticing aroma.

  “Would you like something to drink? When did you get back?” she asked him, heading toward the kitchen to find a vase worthy of holding such a beautiful bouquet.

  “I just stepped off the plane about an hour or so. And yes, I would love a whiskey, if ya have one?” Casey did not keep hard liquor in the house lately, on account that she was trying to avoid going on a bender. That would not be such an easy task with an entire bottle sitting there, staring back at her. However, in a state of longing for Conor, she had stopped to purchase a bottle of his signature liquor the day before. She felt that by drinking it, she might miss him less…it had not worked.

  “I do, actually,” she replied.

  Casey reached for two glasses and began to pour the whiskey when she felt Conor’s hands slide up her thighs, his already erect shaft pushing into her back. He moved the hair from one of her shoulders and kissed her neck softly. He flicked his tongue on her exposed earlobe.

  “Is Samantha here?” he whispered into her ear. His hot breath so close to her wanting flesh made her shudder. She shook her head, unable to speak. “Good.” Without turning her around, he hiked her loose skirt high on her thighs and dragged her panties down her legs. He ran his finger along her clitoris, making an approving sound upon finding her already slick for him. He unzipped his pants, letting his cock spring free, and wasted no time bending her farther over the kitchen counter, spreading her legs wide for his entry.

  He filled her swiftly, and they both cried out. He gripped her waist tightly, pounding into her more fervently than ever before. It took no time for both of them to finish, crying out obscenities within ten minutes of entry. Though they did not engage in much foreplay, and neither of them were able to hold out very long, it was obvious that Casey and Conor were both sated. When he finally caught his breath to pull out of her, he bent to lift her panties back into place and straightened her skirt. He turned her around and kissed her softly.

  “I missed ya terribly, me little vixen,” he said through labored breaths.

  “I missed you, too.” Casey buried her face in his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her still shuddering body.

  When they had recovered from their little romp in the kitchen, Casey went to her bathroom to clean herself up. She could not help but be thankful that she had kept up with her birth control after Jace died. Though she had absolutely zero desire to be with men sexually for the longest time, she always worried that she might eventually get herself into a drunken one-night-stand situation. That caution on her part was definitely paying off now that she had a regular lover who was utterly irresistible. Having to find and use a condom every time they were in the throes of passion may be a buzzkill.

  After she had cleaned up, she went back into the living room to find Conor asleep on the couch. Casey thought that he must be exhausted from his trip, judging by the fact that he was sitting in the upright position, his head resting gently on the back of the couch. She went over and sat down beside him. Nuzzling his chest and pulling one strong arm around her shoulders, she closed her eyes. There, in the pleasing light of a random afternoon in Boston, Casey napped with a man for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

  Deep in a slumber, Casey fell into a dream unlike any that she had experienced as of late. There was no Jace or infant son, begging her to feel guilt for being with another man. There was no burning car, smoke so thick in her lungs that she choked.

  There was only Conor, knelt before her on one knee, presenting a ring that was way too expensive for her. He was proposing. She looked down at him, feeling her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She smiled, and nodded. He scooped her into his arms and spun her around, exclaiming that it was the absolute happiest day of his life. The scene then shifted to Casey standing at the end of a long aisle, a church full of people she did not know. She began taking small steps toward the altar, but realized that this was not a wedding. She looked down at her outfit, realizing that she was not clad in a classy white wedding dress and veil, but rather a simple black dress. She was not holding a beautiful bouquet of the roses that Conor loved so much, but a fistful of tissues. She looked up at the observers only to find nothing but tear-soaked faces. And then, her heart sank in her chest. At the end of the aisle, she spotted a large black casket. She walked toward it, hoping the corpse inside was not who she imagined it would be. Taking a deep breath and leaning to peer inside, she saw Conor, cold and stiff, lying peacefully within the box. She screamed, sobbing uncontrollably. The sight of him lying there was too much. Then, before her eyes, Conor’s corpse turned into Jace, and his eyes popped open. His pale blue corpse was staring right at her, and his mouth opened as a silent scream escaped.

  Casey woke in a panic, her body shaking uncontrollably. The nightmare had messed with her mind so badly, she was confused to see Conor sitting beside her, very much alive. He had not woken her, but she was aware by the look on his face that he had been watching her battle an intense nightmare. Unable to handle the look on his face, and the rising scream she felt building in her chest, she ran toward her room and buried her face into the
pillows. Tears fled her eyes, soaking the bed beneath her.

  Without a word, Conor sat on the bed beside her, rubbing her back gently. He must think I am insane. Without putting too much thought into what she must look like bawling on the bed, she let her tears flow free. She had to let her emotions run wild for a moment, or she was going to go nuts. Conor seemed to understand as he lay his strong body beside her, pulling her tear-soaked face into his chest. He held her as she cried, not asking once what the nightmare was about. He seemed to know that she needed him to be a silent comfort, there to take away the pain. So that is what he did.

  Some time later, Casey woke, utterly exhausted and blinded by the light streaming in through her windows. She looked up to see Conor looking very peaceful, still wrapping his chiseled arms around her. Had the two of them slept all night? Casey was unsure of time frames from the previous day, but she knew for sure the sun had disappeared by the time she had been awoken by the gruesome nightmare.

  She was still shook up, thinking about the worst one to date. Casey did not know what was worse…the image of Conor lying there pale and motionless, or Jace’s corpse with living eyes searing into her soul. It was too much to handle. She was going to have to swallow her pride and attend an emergency session with Dr. Roma. Though she had not returned since her last outburst, Casey knew that if she did not get these dreams under control, Conor was going to admit her into an insane asylum, or worse, leave her.

  Casey slid silently out from under his arms and rose to stretch her exhausted bones. Crying as she did really took its toll on her, and all she really wanted was a shower and a piping hot cup of joe.

  In the shower, Casey let the hot stream wash her thoughts away, trying to forget the images singed into her brain. She tried to make sense of what she was going through, and could not come to any rational conclusion. She was happy with Conor, so why was she still dreaming of Jace? Why was she hanging on to a corpse? What’s worse, Casey was starting to question why she and Jace had got along so well in the first place. Compared to her handsome Irish brut, Jace seemed like a teenager. He was not suave or sophisticated. He had not had the overflow of sexual appeal, or a hunger for her that matched that of Conor. He had never really made her feel like a woman. It was all just too much, and Casey needed Dr. Roma ASAP.