Extra Credit

by Dunne, Poppy

  “I have a suggestion,” he says at last, handing me the swan. “My place. I missed you.” His hand leaves the swan and travels south, gently lifting up my skirt to skim along my thigh. My entire body shudders in pleasure as his fingers glide over the silk of my panties. Will leans over, his breath warm against my neck as he whispers, “Two weeks is too long.”

  “It was only nine days,” I murmur, giving him what I hope is a teasing smile and not an I can do math, go me look. Will kisses the back of my neck, and the numbers leave my head on a sweet tide of hormones.

  “Accuracy,” he says, his fingers gliding up my thigh again to just the right spot, “is very attractive in a woman.”

  Right now, I’m beginning to moan with need. God, we need to get back to his place, because I need to celebrate his return. What better way to celebrate than riding each other’s brains out?

  If everyone took my line of thinking, we’d be constantly looking for new things to celebrate. Perfect colonoscopy? Returned the library book on time? Here’s a Hallmark card, followed by sex. The world would be a much better place with me in charge, let me tell you.

  It’s amazing Will can get the door open with me practically climbing his body. My legs are already wrapped around his waist, and he balances me perfectly against him while finally ushering us into his condo. Kicking the door closed behind him, he then walks me into the living room, pressing me up against the wall—and against his erection, let’s not forget that delicious detail.

  “Hold on.” I manage to scoot down, running my hands down his body as I lower myself to my knees. Even in the near darkness, my fingers find his belt buckle, and he inhales sharply as I start to undo his pants. Slowly, I tug at his boxers, revealing his cock, which is A) enormous and B) very ready for me.

  “What are you doing?” he growls, gasping when I take his cock in my hand and give one quick squeeze.

  “Can you guess?” I whisper, and lick him. Slowly, very slowly, I trail my tongue along the length of him, savoring how silken and steely he feels. Will throws his head back and groans as I kiss the very tip of him before slowly taking him into my mouth. I ease him inside slowly, tasting the salt and steel of him. I run my hand back down to the base of his cock, squeezing rhythmically as my head begins to bob back and forth.

  “That’s right. That’s perfect,” he moans, bracing his hands against the wall. “Don’t stop, Chelle. Don’t fucking stop.”

  Happy to oblige, my tongue swirls around him. God, he’s so thick, and the tension in his body as I continue only makes me happier. I love knowing that I’m driving him crazy, that I’m making his breathing deeper and more ragged. He fists my hair, guiding me along faster. I take my time then, dragging it out. I enjoy listening to him moan—in fact, I think I love it.

  “Chelle,” he whispers, repeating my name over and over again. I run my hands up and down his legs, rock hard with muscle. I take his cock again, squeezing the base before I slide him as deep into my mouth as I can. This goes almost too far, but still I take my time drawing him out of my mouth. I love how his breathing hitches, how he sounds on the verge of coming undone when I suck on the tip of him, swirling my tongue around and around again.

  “I can’t hold on much longer,” he moans, gently removing me from his cock. I want to keep going, but he brings me to my feet. “I want to come buried inside of you,” he whispers against my throat. Picking me up, he hitches my legs around his waist again. I can feel his erection through the damp silk of my panties. He wants to go in, and I want him so much. I want to feel him stretching me, thrusting deep inside of me.

  Will carries me up the stairs, all the way to the bedroom. I’m deposited on the bed, and with an expert zip my dress falls away from me. I’m spread out and waiting for him as Will lowers himself on top of me. His hands slip behind me to deftly undo my bra, and my nipples peak in the cold air. The moonlight streaming in through the window outlines him as he sits up, stripping off his jacket. My fingers fumble at his buttons, and my eyes track up and down his rock hard body as he strips the shirt off. He wastes no time reaching for the bedside table, finding a condom and ripping it out of the foil. An instant later, he’s got his cock sheathed, and lowers himself on top of me again. He grabs me around the waist again, and I raise my hips to meet him. I start to whimper as he teases me, sliding the head of his cock up and down the line of my pussy. Gasping, I try to wrap my legs around him again, to draw him deep inside of me. He stills me, slipping a hand between us to touch me again. He fingers my clit, and I know he’s loving how I’m the one whimpering in need now.

  “Not yet, baby,” he whispers, spearing one, then two fingers deep inside. I thrust my hips against him, grinding hard against his fingers. Already, I can feel myself spiraling out of control. God, I want him inside of me now.

  “Please,” I whisper over and over, peppering kisses along his jawline as he raises himself on his elbows over me. Hitching my leg up again, I feel him position the head of his cock at my opening. Then, finally, he thrusts inside. God, he takes his time inch by inch. His face is taut with concentration and want, his eyes blazing in the moonlight. I’m slippery and waiting, so desperate to feel this. Even after nine days apart it’s almost hard to handle his size and girth. I bite my lip and arch my back as he sinks deeper until he possesses me utterly.

  He starts to move, his hips rocking against mine. Fuck, I want him faster, and try to speed him along with my movement. But he puts a hand against me, stilling me. He wants to take his time, the glorious bastard. Will slips a hand between us, and begins to finger my clit as he thrusts. Oh god, that’s it. I throw my head back and call his name over and over.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper, beginning to ride the waves of sensation. My orgasm is close, and I want it.

  “I plan to,” he growls, licking my nipple and then biting down on it. Moaning, I tighten my grip on his arm, his hair, whatever I can get a hold of. Will begins to move faster, thrusting his cock inside of me to the very hilt. My pussy clenches, gripping him as tight as it can. He responds with a cry, and his hips move faster, his body taking mine.

  “I want you to come,” he growls in my ear, leaning close again. “Come for me.” He moves languidly again, his slowness agonizing and delicious. “You want to feel this way.”

  “Yes,” I whisper over and over again. I roll my hips, meeting his movement. His hand traces my body, the swell of my breasts and the curve of my hips. He moves hard, riding fast and deep. The bedsprings cry out beneath us as his rhythm picks up speed. I wrap my legs tight around him, moaning as he reaches down and rubs my clit, once, twice. He takes my breast in his mouth again, taking as much of it as he can.

  My muscles begin to tighten, and my breath grows shorter and faster. The world around me is going away in a haze of orgasmic light. Fuck, I’m so close. He thrusts as deep into me as possible, so that I can know I’m his. I can feel that in the look in his eyes, the wild and possessive look that says he wants me to know he’s inside of me, to always remember that I was his. One last time, his hand slides down my damp skin, all the way to my clit. One last time, he taps it, and I feel the pressure building up inside of me, spearing all through my body.

  “That’s it. Don’t stop,” I gasp, thrusting against him. Then the world explodes in light, and I come so hard that my entire body shakes. I lift myself off the bed with the force of the orgasm, sitting up halfway and meeting his mouth. I scream against his lips, and I feel him jerk as he comes inside of me hard. Will pulls his head away, his features tightening. Slowly, my mind pieces itself back together again as he falls forward on top of me. We breathe together, our bodies pressed close. I toy with the curling hair at the nape of his neck, now damp with sweat. Will traces his hand across my body again, following my curves with expert skill.

  “Hey,” I whisper in his ear. “Welcome back.”

  “It’s good to be home.” He looks deep into my eyes as he says it, and I get the hopeful feeling that he’s talking about us.

 
; 18

  Will

  I wake up with Chelle’s naked back pressed up against my chest, my arm draped around her. God, just the sensation of my bare skin next to hers is enough to get me hard. Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I tighten my grip and bury my face in her hair. She smells like sex and mango body wash, which I never thought is a combination I’d love. I kiss her bare shoulder, my cock rising further when I hear her stir out of her sleep. The sheets rustle as she turns over to meet me, a slow smile washing over her face. Fuck, I’m ready for another round. Like three last night wasn’t enough.

  “How are you feeling today?” she whispers against my mouth.

  Besides unimaginably horny, I feel alive. It’s a good goddamn feeling.

  “Let me show you,” I murmur, guiding her hot little hand to my cock. She grins and kisses me deeper. I’m about to slip my hand between her legs and help her along when there’s a clattering sound downstairs. It’s like someone banging the cupboard doors to see how much noise they can make.

  Fuck, it’s an intruder. Chelle’s eyes widen as I leap out of bed. My erection’s going to have to wait a while as I take a flying leap into my clothes, grab a baseball bat from near the closet, and head downstairs. If the motherfucker has a gun, there’s not much I’ll be able to do.

  Taking it slower, I ease down the stairs and look around the corner into the kitchen. There I find…

  Suzonne. In the kitchen. With a stack of dishes. It’s the worst game of Clue ever devised, and that game is stupid to begin with.

  “The hell? What are you doing here?” I put the bat down at least and walk over to meet my ex, who’s now got a look of sheer, angry concentration on her face. She puts the plates down, adding a couple of coffee mugs to the mix.

  “Look, I don’t need this bad energy right now.” She says it like I’m the one who’s being unreasonable.

  “Suze, you broke into my condo. Bad energy is par for the course.” I take the mugs out of her hand and put them back. She pouts, crossing her arms.

  “I didn’t break in. I have a key.”

  “Amelia has a key,” I correct her, stacking the dishes back as well. My head is throbbing, my brain threatening to pool out my ears. How can I go from being hard and happy to this in ten seconds flat? This divorce can’t go through soon enough.

  I look around for Amelia…and don’t see her.

  It’s Saturday. Which means she’s not at school. Which means…

  “Suzonne. Where’s Amelia?” I say it with enough calm precision that she knows it’s not a light question.

  She throws up her hands, again, like I’m unreasonable. “She’s fine. Someone’s staying with her at the yurt.”

  My temples throb, and I know it’s important to keep calm right now, but fuck me if it’s nearly impossible. “You know I hate leaving her with strangers up there. More than that, we agreed it wasn’t going to happen anymore.”

  “D’Andrei is not a stranger.” She looks honestly hurt by that. “You think I’d leave our baby with some weird man?”

  Every person in that yurt commune seems certifiable to me, so I decide not to answer that one. Besides, D’onkey or what’s his fuck is a grown ass man watching over my ten year old, and I have thoughts about this. Major fucking thoughts.

  “What are you doing here?” I finally close the cupboard door. Suzonne huffs, playing with the beaded edge of her blouse. That’s a surefire sign she fucked up and knows it.

  “Some of our things were stolen,” she mutters.

  All right, head clear now. I lean against the counter. “Someone from the commune?” Of course.

  Suzonne huffs. “It’s not about private property, you know. It’s agreed that we all share and share alike. So, it’s not stolen. More like…borrowed.”

  “What else did they borrow?”

  She gets super quiet. “Amelia’s hoodie.”

  The one with the mouse ears? Her favorite article of clothing on the planet? Now I see red, because I know how upset she’s going to be and I want to murder the jackass who thought taking a little girl’s things is in any way all right.

  “She doesn’t have another of those lying around. Let me guess, she burst into tears when she found out and you couldn’t handle it, so you had to come over here and see if there’s a replacement you can give her? Well, you can’t.”

  “Don’t yell at me over some stupid material possession! That’s your problem, Will.” She all but jabs me in the chest with her finger, which is the wrong thing to do. “You prioritize things.”

  “I prioritize my daughter’s fucking happiness, which is something you don’t seem to give a shit about.” I swear, I think my goddamn head’s about to explode. “I never wanted Amelia living with those assholes up in the canyon because I knew this would happen.”

  Suzonne snorts. “Oh, because you’re always so present, aren’t you? So much that you came back early from Japan, of all places, and we didn’t hear anything about it! I didn’t expect you to be home.” She’s saying this like it’s an argument, and what’s pissing me off is the fact that it actually is. I got home, and I had an excuse about not calling Amelia—namely that she was at her mother’s for the weekend. They never get to have weekends together. But still, I got off the plane and the first thing I could think about was Chelle.

  Oh, fuck. If she comes downstairs right now, Suzonne’s going to remember her. If she remembers her, then the job at Bay of Dreams is ashed in a second. I check the stairs fast, and she’s not there. Good. Stay naked and out of this.

  “Look, you never get weekends with Amelia. Frankly, I wanted to give you the chance for some bonding time, but apparently that means letting assholes steal her favorite things. That hoodie had meaning for her, Suzonne. I know it seems stupid to you to get attached to anything, but Amelia’s a kid. Kids love their toys and their games. Kids love lots of things, including their idiot parents. Amelia would do anything to make you happy. So if the only way you can get close to our daughter is to starve her, make her think she’s fat and disgusting, and not bat an eye when creepy motherfuckers who probably worship My Little Pony sneak off with her favorite clothes, then why don’t you let her live with me fulltime? Why are you pretending to give a shit?”

  Fuck. I didn’t mean to start yelling, but this morning took such a hard goddamn turn in the wrong direction that I can’t stop myself. When I’m done, it seems like the entire kitchen’s holding its breath, waiting to see what Suzonne’s going to do.

  To the side, I hear the telltale squeak of a floorboard. Fuck. Chelle’s standing on the top of the staircase, but she’s not coming down. Good. Hopefully she put some clothes on, because if Suzonne catches her I really don’t want it to look like what it exactly is.

  Then Suzonne’s eyes fill with tears. If you ever want to feel your balls swallow themselves up into your body, make a woman cry. Even if it’s justified, you will feel like the world’s biggest goddamn monster.

  “I…I feel so lost all the time now.” Suzonne’s now sobbing, her shoulders shaking as she buries her face in her hands. “I know Amelia hates the yurt.”

  Holy shit, that’s the first time I’ve heard her admit it. I hold out a hand to her, just to give her a reassuring touch. She takes that as an invitation to launch herself onto me, clinging around my waist. My entire body stiffens, though she doesn’t seem to notice. Christ. I check out the corner of my eye, and still see Chelle’s bare feet on the top step. How do I negotiate this without either revealing the woman I’m sleeping with or hurting the woman who’s already sobbing in my arms?

  And when the hell did my life become this much of a soap opera? I’m not made for this shit. Last night, all I wanted was some teriyaki and some sex. Why is that so hard?

  “We can talk about this in mediation,” I tell Suzonne gently, inching her away until she’s no longer wrapped around me. She sniffs, and pulls out a packet of tissues from her purse. They look like they’re made of biodegradable tree pulp, so good for her. She dabs at h
er eyes and blows her nose.

  “See, this is what I mean.” She’s pissed at me again, but at least she’s not crying. “I have this emotional outpouring and you don’t want to respond to it. You want to talk about it with our lawyers. Well, I can’t live like this anymore!” Now we’re right back to yelling. Who can keep up with this?

  Then Suzonne stomps out into my front hall—fuck, right where she’s got the perfect spot to look up and see Chelle. I walk with her, ready to dive in front of my ex if need be. But Chelle’s gone, thank god.

  I open the door for Suzonne, who looks about ready to start running.

  “Look. Tell me what you need, and I’ll order it for you. If you need a place to stay, I’ll pay for it. Just do me a favor and get my kid out of that damn canyon.”

  “Your kid. Of course. She’s always your kid when you want to take her out for ice cream or movies or show her what a monster I am in comparison.” Suzonne narrows her eyes. “Do you know how she’s going to feel when I tell her that Daddy came home and didn’t even call her? She’s going to be heartbroken. You only want her around when it’s good for you.”

  That’s it. “When this divorce finally goes through, I’m going to fight like hell to get sole custody.”

  “That is never going to happen. Spiritually, it is better for children to be with their mothers!”

  “Spiritually speaking, you’re talking out your ass. Go back to D’Artagnan and tell him to keep his hands off my kid. I’ll be over in two hours to pick Amelia up, so have her ready to go.” As Suzonne steps out, I snap, “And I’ll get you your fucking dishes, since that’s what you really came here for.”

  “We need another hoodie,” Suzonne snaps back, like that will somehow win her the argument.

  Slamming the door shut, I then lean my forehead against the wall and breathe the anger out. That’s one thing the therapist told us when we were in counseling: take your anger away in your own time so that you can experience it fully. Frankly, that was the only part of those crackpot sessions that did anything for me. That and learning that I need to let my Jungian shadow out more, or some shit.