by Nella Tyler
“Good sex isn’t that hard,” I said, shaking my head.
“Not for a woman,” Zeke said challengingly. I rolled my eyes.
“Not for anyone,” I countered. “It takes communication, but it’s not that difficult.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Prove it,” he said. I stared at him for a moment in shock.
“Did you—did you just proposition me for sex?”
He hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “I did,” he said, smiling slightly. I opened my mouth, realized that I had no idea what to say, and then closed it again. I drank down some of my wine while I tried to think. This is a terrible idea—don’t even consider it! You would absolutely ruin your career in one fell swoop if you did it. But the memory of kissing Zeke, of feeling his hard, muscular body through his clothes, pressed up against mine, filled my head.
“Come on,” I said, setting my wine glass down and standing up.
“What?” I reached for his hand and pulled him off of the couch.
“You told me to prove it,” I said, my heart beating faster in my chest and my whole body heating up. Zeke’s bright eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around me, pressing my body against his. He licked his lips and before I could even question what had possessed me, he was kissing me—hungrily, passionately, without even a moment’s hesitation. I draped my arms around his broad, muscled shoulders and rose up onto the balls of my feet, letting him deepen the kiss, opening my mouth as soon as his tongue slid against my lips.
We stayed like that for what seemed like an hour, just kissing, and I began to let my hands wander, trailing along his back, over his arms, down to his tight, firm ass. Zeke’s hands came to life on my body as well, exploring the curves from my hips to my waist to my breasts, touching me everywhere. Every nerve in my body began to tingle with sensation, and I felt myself getting more and more turned on by the moment, heating up. I realized as Zeke broke away from my lips to kiss along the column of my throat that I was already soaking wet—I could feel the dampness of my panties against my skin. It had been so long since I’d been with anyone, and while I had a vibrator very carefully hidden away in my underwear drawer, it was nothing to compare to just the feeling of Zeke’s body pressed against mine, even with layers of clothes between us. I felt like I was burning up. I had to know what his body looked like under all that fabric, I had to know what his skin felt like, I had to know everything I could possibly find out about his body.
I pulled back, panting for breath, and Zeke gave me a sharp, concerned look. “Bedroom,” I told him breathlessly; I didn’t have enough brainpower for more than a single word. I could feel the alcohol and arousal buzzing and humming through my body, making it impossible to think, to even wonder if I was making the biggest mistake of my entire life. I grabbed Zeke’s hand and tugged him in the direction of my bedroom; I couldn’t wait, not even for a moment. I closed the door behind us and turned on the light, and suddenly remembered Brady. “Fuck,” I muttered, looking around my room.
“What’s wrong?” Zeke’s hands curled around my hips and I wanted to say that nothing was wrong—I wanted to forget that I was a mom, that I was a divorced, single mom—but I couldn’t.
“Brady,” I told him quickly. “I don’t want to wake him up.” Zeke’s eyes widened.
“I can go—I shouldn’t have suggested this.”
“You can shut up and let me figure something out,” I told him sharply. “I know you are every bit as turned on as I am right now.” He laughed, and covered his mouth with his hand to muffle the sound.
My darting gaze landed on the Bluetooth speaker I’d gotten as a Secret Santa gift at the company holiday party the year before and inspiration struck. I grabbed my phone with fumbling hands and picked an album at random: Daniel Johns’ Talk. I connected to the speaker and almost threw the phone away from me, turning back to Zeke as the music came on—just loud enough to hopefully cover any noises we might make.
He kissed me again and then we were tumbling onto the bed together, and I didn’t even have the time or the interest to feel guilty about the fact that the sheets and blankets were all rucked about, that my room was messy; all I could focus on was the goal of getting Zeke naked, of feeling him inside of me. Our clothes fell away bit by bit, our hands tangling up in the effort to get each other naked as quickly as possible. He chuckled, burying his face against my breasts and nuzzling me as soon as he had my bra off. “How long do you think we’ll be able to last?” I shook my head.
“I don’t care,” I told him, giggling. “I just want…” I took a deep breath. He looked up into my eyes and grinned slowly.
“I know exactly what you want,” he told me. I struggled with the fly of his jeans, but finally managed to get the tough fabric over his hips, revealing the briefs underneath—dark red, straining under the pressure of his erection pressing against the material. My eyes widened at the sight; Alex had been—at least in my memory—more or less average. Certainly, I’d never had any real complaints. But the bulge of Zeke’s erection actually gave me pause.
“We are going to go so, so very slow,” I told him, looking up at his face again. He laughed, covering my body with his own. Somehow he’d managed to get me down to nothing but my panties before I could even notice what he was doing; I was too absorbed in stripping him down to care what was happening to my own clothes. He reached a hand up between my legs and began to rub the heel of his palm against me, sending electric, crackling jolts of pleasure through my body. It was so much better than my vibrator—I didn’t know how I’d managed to fool myself for so long that masturbating was “just as good.”
Zeke’s fingers slid underneath the elastic waistband, slipping under the fabric, and as he began to stroke and rub me, I moaned out, twisting and writhing underneath him, my hips bucking and shifting to get better contact with his probing, teasing fingers. I groped along the lines of his body until I found the ridge of his hard cock, and I began to stroke him in counterpoint to his touches, feeling the thickness, the heat, the heaviness of his erection.
When I was sure I couldn’t possibly take anymore teasing, his fingers retreated from my pussy and caught on the waistband of my panties. He tugged the fabric down over my hips in one fast movement, and I gasped—caught between startled almost-fear and delight. In moments, there was nothing between us at all. He held himself up on his knees and elbows, rocking his hips against mine, teasing me with his hot, hard cock rubbing along my labia. “Fuck—Zeke—Jesus…” I rubbed myself against him, wanting more—needing it.
“You said slow,” he told me playfully, letting the tip of his cock press up against my clit as he continued to rock against me.
“Not this slow,” I countered. He laughed and kissed me until I was breathless, shifting on top of me, reaching down between our bodies to adjust himself against me. I felt the tip of his cock rubbing along my inner labia before he thrust into me slowly—achingly slowly. He filled me up inch by inch, pushing past the resistance of my body, and I moaned long and low against his lips, grabbing at his shoulders helplessly as I took him deeper and deeper.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pushing my hips down to meet his thrusts, and Zeke began to move inside of me slowly and steadily, sliding in and out. The friction felt delicious; I hadn’t realized how much I had missed sex, how much I had wanted the feeling of someone inside of me, until I had it again. I kissed him over and over again, letting my lips wander from his mouth to his neck and down to his shoulders and even his chest, tasting him everywhere. The pleasure built up in my body so fast that I struggled to almost suppress it—I wanted to last as long as possible, I wanted to savor the moment of his hips pressed flush against mine, the feeling of his pubic bone rubbing against my clit, the tip of his cock barely brushing against my g-spot.
Zeke began to speed up moment by moment, and I fell into his rhythm, twisting and writhing underneath him as I tried to keep myself just short of climax for as long as possible. He kissed me everywhere his lips could
reach, licking and nipping and nibbling at my sensitive skin as we moved together. I couldn’t hold back any longer; I felt the tension that had been building up somewhere deep down between my hips snap all at once, and wave after wave of pleasure crashed through my body as I came. I tried to muffle my moans against Zeke’s neck, against his lips, against his shoulder, but as I felt his cock beginning to twitch inside of me, my climax only got more intense. I knew the moment he came, groaning against my lips, his whole body shuddering just slightly as I felt the hot, sticky-slick gush of him inside of me. We kept moving together, both of us trying to keep the climax going as long as possible—but after what felt like forever, we both fell back against the bed, gasping and panting for breath, dripping with sweat, as the music swirled around us.
Chapter Twenty
Zeke
“You’re actually leaving on time today, Zeke?” I glanced away from the elevator doors to see one of the other executives coming towards me.
“I’ve heard there’s this thing called work-life balance,” I told Tom, grinning. “Thought I might try it.”
“Good call,” Tom said, coming to a stop at the elevator at my side. “You’ve been cheerful lately. What’s the secret?” I shrugged.
“Just getting my personal life more interesting,” I said. I glanced at the clock in the lobby; I was supposed to be meeting with Natalie for another practice date in about an hour, and I was more excited for the date ahead of us than I had been for any of the ones we’d been on before. I had something really special in mind—and I knew she would just love it.
Tom and I got onto the elevator and I tried to keep my patience as the car started to slowly make its way down to the ground floor. Ever since I’d spent the night at Natalie’s place, I couldn’t wait to see her again. I’d put Trevor on the task of finding the perfect date for her, and he’d come through in a big way. Remember to give him a bonus at the next review, I told myself.
Finally, the elevator came to a stop at the ground floor and I said goodbye to Tom, wishing him luck with his wife; she’d had their second kid three months before, and they were both feeling the strain of it. I hurried out to my car, shifting the strap of my laptop bag off of my shoulder and grabbing my keys. I should—I hoped—have just enough time to change out of my suit and into something more appropriate for the date Trevor had planned for me and Natalie to go on. I dropped my keys on the garage floor and cussed, bending over to pick them up.
As if on cue, images of my night with Natalie flitted through my brain. I groaned as I stood up, feeling the heat jolt through my body straight to my groin at the memory of how she had felt wrapped around me, how tight and hot she’d been, the sound of her moans in my ears. It was the best sex that I’d had in my entire life. I’d thought about it at least four times a day every day since I’d left her apartment in the morning after our tryst. I’ll probably never get that again, but Christ, it was good. I clenched my teeth, finally managing to get my car door unlocked and open. I couldn’t quite fight the thought—terrible as it was—that there couldn’t possibly be a woman that Katie could match me with who would be as good in bed as Natalie had been. Stop thinking that way. It’s not just about sex. If it was, you could just hire a professional. I pushed the thought of sex with Natalie out of my mind and climbed into the driver’s seat, throwing my laptop bag into the passenger side floorboard and shoving the key into the ignition.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled for it and after nearly dropping it as clumsily as I had my keys, I saw that it was Natalie. I tapped accept and brought it to my ear. “Hey, I was just leaving work. You ready for the practice date of your career?”
“Oh God, Zeke, I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel on you again,” Natalie said, sounding like she was almost on the verge of tears.
“What’s wrong?” I closed the car door and stopped in the midst of pulling my seatbelt on. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she told me quickly. “Brady’s just sick again.” She cleared her throat and I frowned to myself, worried about the adorable little boy and his obviously distraught mother. “You know kids that young are just—basically walking petri dishes,” she said, almost laughing in a sad way.
“Is he all right?” My heart beat faster in my chest as I pictured a deeply sick little boy in my mind; Brady looked so much like his mother that it was hard for me not to feel for him, above and beyond the normal level of worry that any sick toddler would make me feel.
“I think he’ll be okay,” Natalie said. “He’s running a fever and coughing like an old man with COPD, but I think it’s just a cold.”
“Well don’t hesitate to take him to the doctor if he gets worse,” I told her. “If you’re worried about a hospital bill…”
“No—no, I really don’t think it’ll come to that, but if it does I have insurance,” she said. “Thank you, though. I really…I really appreciate it. I just won’t be able to go out knowing that he’s so sick, you know?”
“I totally understand,” I said. I did—but I was also disappointed; even if it was no one’s fault, I couldn’t help but feel bummed that the date that I’d had Trevor put so much work into was falling through at the last minute. “You take care of Brady and we’ll reschedule. No sweat.”
“Thank you again, for being so understanding,” Natalie said. Her voice sounded like she was at her breaking point, and I wondered if Brady was worse than she was letting on.
“If you need anything, you have my number,” I told her.
“Thanks. God—I sound like a broken record. I should go check up on him.”
“I’ll check in a few days from now to reschedule. Go take care of your boy.” I ended the call and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat of the car with a sigh. There was no need to hurry home anymore. There was nothing waiting for me for the night except for maybe a beer and—if I was lucky—a decent TV show. I decided that I’d go to the gym instead and put Natalie out of my mind unless she needed help.
VOLUME III
Chapter Twenty-One
Natalie
“Mama! Bear!” I looked over at the TV; Brady was playing with the car that Zeke had gotten for him during our last official date, while watching something I’d put on from the kids’ nature channel. I smiled, but I could only be glad that Brady hadn’t spoken up while I’d been on the phone with Zeke, only a moment before. If he had, and Zeke had heard, I might have had a hard time explaining the chipper, cheerful sound of my son’s voice when he was supposed to be sick as a dog.
I had thought—I had hoped—that I could put aside the fact that I’d slept with Zeke and just go on my practice date with him as scheduled. But the closer I got to the time to get ready to go, the more and more I’d felt the cold panic building up inside of me. I felt too guilty; I felt too weird. I couldn’t make myself do it.
For a moment, I wasn’t sure which was worse: the guilt I felt about sleeping with Zeke or the guilt I felt about lying to him about our practice date. From the hints he’d dropped in the days between when he’d spent the night with me and a few hours before I’d canceled, he’d worked hard on figuring out a good date idea for us. I had heard the disappointment in his voice when I’d told him I’d have to cancel. It almost would have been better if he’d gotten pissed off at me over it. I took a deep breath and sighed.
“How you doing in there, little man?” I came out of the kitchen and threw myself down onto the couch, watching the TV for a few seconds to figure out what it was that Brady was watching. He looked up from his car and beamed at me. My little boy held up the car Zeke had given him and toddled over to where I sat, waving it a little bit.
“Mr. Zeke’s car,” he told me importantly. “Mr. Zeke is nice.”
“He’s very nice,” I agreed, feeling that guilty lurch in my stomach once again. He was too nice; that was kind of the problem. Brady looked up at me, his face screwed up in the effort to concentrate enough to figure out how to say what was on his mind.
“You go see Mr. Zeke? Tonight?” I had mentioned that I was going to be seeing him—I was surprised that Brady even remembered that.
“Not tonight, sweetie,” I said, keeping my smile firmly in place. I didn’t want Brady to even think that there was anything amiss.
“You like him,” he pointed out. “He likes you.” I laughed.
“How do you know that, bug?” I reached out and pulled him onto the couch with me.
“You smile with him,” Brady told me matter-of-factly. “Not the others.”
“You haven’t seen me with any of the others, though,” I pointed out.
“When you talk,” he said, correcting me. “You smile when you talk.”
“How do you know he likes me, though?” He giggled.
“He looks at you,” Bherady told me. “Like daddies and mommies.” I raised an eyebrow at that.
“Let’s look at what’s happening on the TV,” I told Brady. “Looks like there are some funny gorillas coming up—you don’t want to miss that!” I was relieved when he turned his attention back onto the TV. He played with his car meditatively as he watched the gorillas interacting on the screen, and I relaxed a little bit.
I got up and finished making dinner for the two of us: chicken and rice with green beans, something that would be easy for Brady to eat, that he wouldn’t argue over. I’d started him on vegetables when I’d first weaned him, so apart from asparagus and spinach, he was mostly willing to eat veggies, but there were certain ones that he turned his nose up at from time to time even if he’d liked them before.
I called Brady to the kitchen table and he brought the damn car that Zeke had bought him with him once more; I didn’t want to argue the point, but I couldn’t help but feel awkward at the reminder of a guy that I really didn’t want to think about in that moment.