by Devin Sawyer
Lawson begins walking us back until I feel my knees buckle when they hit the couch. He bends over my sitting form, pulling back from our kiss and sternly says, “Get undressed, Farah.”
Despite the tingle that shoots through my body at his husky voice and dirty request, my defiance toward Lawson just won’t quit.
“Make me,” I challenge, and my voice comes out sounding sexier than the one that sounded like a twelve-year-old in my head. A growl releases from him and I relish in his frustrated desire. He grabs at my cheeks, squeezing them tightly between his hands, and then pulls my face into his own, licking at me, devouring me. “You’re going to regret you said that,” he whispers and I’m not sure how to take it.
Before I have time to overthink it, he stands and pulls his polo up over his head, revealing his tanned and toned chest, the spackle of dark blonde chest hair, and those gorgeous fucking muscles on his sides that lead me straight to his cock.
He grips the bottom of my top and abruptly pulls it over my head and tosses it on the ground behind him before leaning over me again to kiss me. He dips me farther into the couch and lays me down, climbing on top of me. The weight of his body on mine heightens my excitement and his thigh between my legs is giving me just enough to grind into and offer some relief. His hands fly to the button of my jeans, fumbling to undo them quickly, and rip them down my legs. As soon as he has them off, his hand immediately finds the apex of my thighs and he rubs at the sensitive nub, begging for attention through my panties. I’m so desperate and wet, and he has to know it.
“Take off your bra,” he commands.
I do as he says and rapidly remove the plain black demi-cup, desperate to be touched and to feel that relief. He undoes his own jeans, removing them and kneeling between my thighs again, and he grips at my black panties, kissing the inside of my legs and pulls them off of me. Our exploration of each other’s bodies was not subtle or delicate. It was desperate.
“I love the way you look spread open for me.”
His dirty thoughts said out loud, taunt me. For him? What I was doing wasn’t for him. It was for me. I was lost in the foggy brain created by desire, where clear thoughts don’t exist and his words were like a secret code to pull me from the mistake we were about to make. He sees it, when reality strikes me and I shake my head, the only nonverbal cue I can make to let him know that this stops here.
I move to sit up and cover myself, wishing it hadn’t gotten this far, wondering how in the span of minutes it managed to get this far, and knowing we’ve already dipped our toes into this sin.
“No, no, no, no. I’m sorry, whatever I said, I’m sorry.” His voice sounds pleading, and he pulls me back into him. His bare skin touches mine, and a chill runs downs my spine. He reaches down, rubbing my core, and he kisses along my jawline and I picture Reece. My heart breaks for him, because the line I’ve crossed can’t ever be undone and yet I can’t figure out why I’m letting it continue to happen. What is my life that I’ve let it spiral out of my control? I’ve always, even back then, kept control. It has been the one thing I’ve fought for and it’s ultimately why I left him. Why am I letting it break now?
Lawson rubs himself across the apex of my thighs in my most sensitive area and my head falls back and I feel the conscious thoughts leaving my brain once more, seeking… no hiding, from control and reality.
His lips find mine. “I thought about this, so damn much,” he mouths over my lips and I’m surprised by his vulnerability.
It’s the one thing he used to give me, rarely, but I loved the moments when he showed his weakness to me. It’s that moment that I lose the rest of my ability to make good decisions, because I miss these moments of secret revelations and the way he is soft with me, and only me. He is not a lawyer in a boardroom, or presenting a stone-cold case to a judge, he is not making promises to his constituents. He is making love.
He leans me back again into the couch pillows, falling on top of me and he grabs the nape of my neck pulling my lips to his once more in a kiss that makes me feel dizzy. I feel everything.
His beard chafing the tender skin on my face.
His tongue caressing my lips.
His breathing so heavy, matching my own, weighted with the regrets we make.
My heart, thrumming so hard, I have legitimate medical concerns.
This is lust at its damn finest.
He finally strips himself of his boxer briefs, because I don’t have it in me to do it myself. He places himself at my entrance, and a broken voice emerges from me.
“Condom,” I barely get it out before he thrust in and his eyes meet mine for the first time since this started, us both afraid reality would break the moment if we held each other’s stare. I’m still hopeful it might, but I hear an unhappy grunt from him as his furrowed brow pulls from my face and he leans down to his jeans on the floor, finding his wallet and removing a foil packet.
“I never needed these before,” he says gruffly.
“Just put it on,” I huff out. “This isn’t before.”
The second he slides it fully into place he once again places himself at my entrance, this time not giving any pause and pushes himself forcefully inside me. Bastard. This is not his normal lovemaking. This is not what I signed up for. He thrusts inside me a few times, and despite my growing anger at him, I’m remarkably turned on by his brashness. His breathing sounds hoarse and ragged, as if he can’t believe it’s happening. My own sounds similar. He finds a pace and begins to pump into me in rhythmic succession. I fight to hold in the moans I so desperately want to release, but I don’t want to give him that satisfaction of knowing how good he feels. He leans into me, burrowing into my neck and kissing me forcefully. His hands move to caress my breasts, further exploring the differences in my body. His body pulled in close now has him rubbing against my clit and I feel my orgasm chasing behind. A stifled moan falls from me and I curse myself.
“There you go, pretty girl,” he encourages me, and I find it demeaning.
He pulls out of me rapidly and flips me to my knees. “Turn over. I want to see you this way.” He really is an ass, he could tell I was beginning to enjoy that too much, getting close. He places himself at my entrance again, grabbing onto my hips.
“I love taking you this way. Your tiny waist…” He grips me harder there. “Your round ass,” he says as he slides into me again and the pulsing pressure inside me subsides some, satisfied with his presence. “And you’re so. Fucking. Wet.”
He slams into me and when he does, I feel the moisture between our bodies. I prefer it in this position. Maybe, I can pretend it’s not him.
“Shut up,” I demand, although not as forcefully as I would like.
“Suit yourself, I’d rather listen to you anyway.” At that, he reaches around to thumb my clit and instinctively a release of pleasure falls from my lips. “Yeah,” he says. “I could listen to that all day.”
He continues his assault on my body and again I feel myself climbing and then, finally, falling over the edge, my climax clenching my whole body and then steadily, but slowly releasing. My head feels woozy and my body, weak. Lawson continues to thrust into me, gaining pace and I know he is chasing his own release and within moments I feel him tense up behind me and a beautiful long and breathy moan escapes from his throat. The sound a man makes as he comes is my favorite. It’s unrestrained. His weight collapses on top of me, both our bodies covered in sweat, sunken into the couch. My anger is more apparent now. We solved nothing, we only fucked our anger into desire, but I discover that it must be one-sided when I feel Lawson begin to pepper light kisses onto my back. His touch much gentler than it was moments before.
“Come on,” he says, finally pulling out of me. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
He removes the condom and offers me his hand. Why is he being soft with me now when just moments ago he manipulated my body, emotions, and thoughts? He really is a fucking lawyer and a politician. I take his hand reluctantly, and he leads me back to th
e bathroom attached to his room. He rolls up the condom in some toilet paper and tosses it in the trash and turns on the shower water. He takes my hair, piled on top of my head, and undoes the hair tie, letting my dark hair tumble down in waves. He manhandles me as I stoically face what just happened.
“I’ll wash you,” he says, and his eyes look like he’s asking forgiveness.
Is he? Is he fucking sorry? My mind runs rampant. Is he sorry for me? The position he put my relationship in? Is he sorry for Reece, whose girlfriend he just slept with? Or is he sorry for himself, that he’s put himself into a difficult position by sleeping with a woman he can’t have that lives across the country and now has to maintain a lie to his whole family around him. Panic begins to flare in me, and tears slip down my cheeks, uncontrollable.
“Shhhh,” he offers, supporting me in the shower.
“You can’t tell anyone about this,” I rush out and my voice sounds every bit as panicked as I feel.
“I won’t. I won’t tell a soul, unless you’re ready to,” he whispers.
I find this comforting. I won’t ever be ready. I feel like half a human because I just destroyed the trust of a man I’ve loved for three years. I still love him and yet I can’t tell you why I just made the decision I did.
I let Lawson pull me into the shower and I move on autopilot, letting him lead me while the nagging guilt floods me. He runs a loofah down my body and somewhere in the back of my head I register that it feels good against my skin, but I don’t respond. Lawson, more gentle now, cleans my entire body, taking his time. When he makes it to the apex of my thighs, he leans in again and kisses my lips. I shut my eyes, not really in the moment with him. I’m lost, drowning in remorse, overtaken by guilt. His lips linger along my skin, across my jaw, to my neck, down to my shoulders, all the while keeping his fingers between my legs. I feel him once again grow hard against my abdomen. I let him take me again. This time it’s slow, and he kisses me through it all. He’s tender with me. Our fight is over. My fight is not, and I battle the connection but once again, I fail and soon enough I find myself exploring his body and losing sight of the man I just hurt back home. Lawson is leaner, his abdomen more taut, his chest broader. He’s stronger than when we were kids. That’s what we were. Kids. I reach down between us and the water cascades down our bodies and I feel frustrated with the stream washing away my lubricant and I move us to the other side of the shower and pin him to the wall and he holds one leg up and continues to pump into me.
I reach down between us, wanting to feel his cock as it glides into me, and how I feel with him inside me. For the first time as I touch him since entering the shower, I realize he’s wearing a condom and I can’t remember when he put it on. The fog I was in as he brought me in here and initially began taking over my body had me so unfocused and so lost that I hadn’t noticed him put it on and I’m grateful that he respects me enough to do that, even when he so clearly didn’t want to just moments earlier.
His passion takes over, and I am reminded of what sex is like for us. It’s powerful and emotionally overwhelming. It takes over everything. He’s pouring himself and everything that he can’t or won’t say into us. He locks eyes with me, briefly, and leans in to continue ravaging my swollen lips. It feels as if he’s trying to make it worth it, as if this were real between us, then it would be okay. If this wasn’t a hate fuck, or merely closure, if this were still real, then it’s okay.
I feel it too. My chest feels as if it’s being pulled into two, stretching, breaking my heart until it’s no longer recognizable as a functional organ. If this were worth it, if we were worth it, then this would not be for nothing, we would not have just made the greatest mistake of our lives and disrespected the person we both love most. If Lawson and I were meant to be, then this would eventually be okay. But I wasn’t sure that’s what this was.
As much as I want to deny this connection, and deny my body the pleasure it’s greedily seeking, I come around him again, my body betraying me, my orgasm torturous. His strength supports and holds my body up, just long enough for me to regain my strength as he too finds his release.
After rinsing off again we pull ourselves from the shower quietly and I’m too tired to let the self-hatred take over. I want to punish myself for the decisions I’m making and my lack of control and what I’m doing to Reece, but I’m so tired of feeling that guilt wrack my body and drain me. Instead, I pull on one of Lawson’s shirts, set my alarm, and climb into his bed.
I am having a “thing” with Lawson. I surely still had a pull toward him. I wanted him. I wanted to be with him and touching him and that had absolutely nothing to do with Reece. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but it was the truth. After all this time we didn’t know each other anymore, and I knew, because of that, it wasn’t love. At least not yet.
~
On my final day in Florida, I wake up early, knowing I have to pack my bag and check out before the conference, but instead I find Lawson’s body and sidle up next to him, absorbing his warmth. He slips his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. His hands wander on my skin, feeling every bit of me and our unspoken exploration grows silently as we take in our last few minutes with each other.
“What are you thinking?” I ask him, my voice still scratchy with sleep.
“Mmmm,” he contemplates. “That I’d like to stay in bed the rest of the day.”
“Well you can,” I tell him.
“You’re going to get up and leave me soon though and then I have no use for this bed.”
“Then we should just put it to good use until then.” I feel saucy when I say it and glide my hand over his evident arousal. I want him one more time. I know it’s selfish, but I want to enjoy this one, and not try to fight it the way I did last night. I want this one to be for me.
He leans into me and runs his lips against the tender area of my neckline. “Does that mean you don’t think last night was a mistake?” he murmurs while dropping kisses along my décolletage.
“Last night was irresponsible, and hurtful, and reckless. But I don’t think anything with you and I has ever been a mistake.”
At that, he kisses me, and I don’t even mind that we both have morning breath. The problem was, I could lose myself in Lawson. I could know how bad we were in the real world, but when I had his attention, alone, the world would fall away, and it didn’t matter that I would feel like shit the minute he was gone again. I throw a leg over his body and roll my weight onto him, straddling him. I remove the T-shirt of his I slept in, remaining only in my panties and lean down to taste Lawson again.
He tumbles me over to my back, wanting to take the lead and he holds himself up between my thighs, thrusting into my core with his sweatpants still on, but I can feel him, hard and stiff, aching for me.
He kisses me all over my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, taking them in his mouth and worshipping me. And finally, when he makes it down to my panty line, he makes a demand.
“Remove these.”
While I make quick work to shuck them off my body, I watch Lawson in awe as he pulls down the elastic of his sweatpants and exposes himself to me. It’s the first good look I’ve gotten of him and I grow increasingly turned on. I remember the rapt arousal I used to feel at the sight of him hard and wanting for me. My brain and libido, can’t decide what it wants first. I want to lick him and put him in my mouth, I want to rub him against me until I coat him with my wetness, and I want him to just immediately be inside of me. He leans over to the nightstand and I watch him grab another condom and I briefly wonder if he packed some specifically for this trip or if he always carried at least three with him. My guess is the former and I want to be a little jaded at him but am too turned on to care what he assumed might happen on this trip. You can excuse a lot of behavior when your hormones just want you to be dicked down.
He leans over me, holding himself up, and lightly rubs his sheathed cock at my entrance, and I wish only for a second that he weren’t wearing that con
dom. I wish that I was feeling his velvety skin and not the rubbery latex, but it doesn’t stop me from moaning. I don’t want to hide from it anymore. I want him to see that just because we aren’t a match, doesn’t mean I don’t miss his body, and being with him. I want him to know that leaving broke me too, and I yearned for this for so long. I want him to have that. I want us to have this memory.
“You have always been mine,” he says into my mouth right before he forces his tongue into my mouth and consumes me.
I don’t bother to correct him because I don’t want to lose the moment, but for a brief second, I recognize his error. I was and maybe still am Reece’s. He owns me too. He pushes into me and everything else falls away as I relish at the perfect pleasure he’s creating in me and the way he feels pushing in and out of me smoothly. He’s moving slowly, taking me in, staring hard at my body and its every reaction and I watch him too. I love the way his shoulders have broadened and he holds himself up over me. His abs contract as he pushes into me and I love to stare down at where we meet. He does this too, and an almost pained look crosses his face.
“Fuck, I never want to lose this,” he admits and a sharp pain in my heart electrocutes me.
No matter my decision, right or wrong, Reece or Lawson, both men get hurt at this point. It’s very likely that at the end of this, I wind up alone, and running.
I search for a mirror in the room, wishing I had a better view of us, but don’t find one. Lawson must see my search and put it together. Without leaving me, he leans to the nightstand again and grabs his phone, aiming the back camera screen down at where we meet. I’m not sure if he’s photographing or filming, but I feel the need to specify.
“Don’t include my face.”
He nods, and I let him film me. I like being filmed. I like that he’s desperate to hold on to this and I want him to look back at them later. The chances of there being a next time, at least like this, are slim. When I return, I’ll need to make up my mind. I need to choose.