Fast Friends: Reunion

by Turner, Stacy

  “You're staying the night?” he asked, feathering his fingers along her brow line. Her skin tingled, like a ghost trail of his touch. Tara's breathing sped up.

  “If you'll have me,” Tara said.

  “And we're going to cuddle?” he asked, those electric fingers trailing along her cheek, achingly close to her mouth.

  “If that's what you want,” Tara said. She couldn't help herself. She brought both hands to his chest, curling her fingers into the hard muscle.

  “What I want,” Mark said, grasping her wrists and forcing her arms behind her, “is to fuck you till you scream.”

  “Is that right?” Tara said, chest heaving. He wasn't touching her except for his hands around her wrists, but he was very close, the front of his body millimeters from hers. Her nipples hardened and poked through her shirt as if they were trying to close the distance. Having her arms captured only made it hotter.

  “Is that what you want, Tara?” Mark whispered into her ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  “I want you inside me,” Tara said. “I want to you around me, holding me, touching me. I want us to be together.”

  “As friends?” he asked.

  “No,” Tara said. “Like we were this weekend, but with lots of sex. Like a couple.”

  “Hmm,” Mark said, nipping at her ear. Tara shivered. It felt so good. She wanted to bury her hands in his hair, but he held her wrists firmly. “Like my girlfriend.”

  “Mark,” she moaned. His lips trailed down her neck, burning her skin. He planted a light kiss on her collarbone, then nuzzled her neck on the other side.

  “I love it when you say my name like that,” he said. “Like you're begging me for something. What are you begging for, Tara.”

  “More,” Tara said, tugging at her wrists again. She needed to touch him.

  “More of what?” he asked. “More kisses here?” He brushed his lips lightly over her throat. “Or here?” He kissed her ear, flicking the lobe with his tongue.

  “Yes,” Tara said. “There. And lower.”

  “Your collarbone?” he teased, blowing onto her clavicle.

  “My breasts,” she said, frustrated. “My nipples.”

  He trailed his free hand down the middle of her chest teasingly. “They do seem to want some attention,” he said, smiling. He moved his hands back and forth, letting his knuckles run up the inner slopes of her breasts, but not touching her nipples. Tara arched forward, seeking his touch, but he denied her.

  “Touch me,” she moaned, huskily. “I want you to touch me.”

  He released her wrists and grasped her sweater by the hem, pulling it over her head. She wore a feather-weight long sleeved white T-shirt underneath.

  “Almost transparent,” he said, running his hands over the soft fabric. “I like it. And no bra. I can see your nipples. Very sexy.”

  He grasped her by the waist and pulled her into his body. He felt incredible, warm and strong. Tara wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew herself higher, pressing her lips to his throat. She licked his skin. He tasted salty. He palmed her face and brought her head up. He claimed her lips roughly, plunging his tongue between her teeth, forcing her mouth open and taking. She opened to him, just as eager to give, to feel. His hands moved over her back, her butt, her legs, like he was trying to touch her everywhere at once. She moaned into his mouth. She never wanted him to stop.

  Mark broke the kiss and dropped his head to her chest, nuzzling her sensitive nipples with his cheeks. She arched into his touch, a litany of encouragement pouring from her lips. The heat of his mouth on her flesh sent a wave of arousal through her body. He suckled the hard peaks and Tara buried her hands in his hair, digging her nails into his scalp. Her roughness only seemed to excite him. He bit down on her flesh, answering pain with pain.

  Somehow they ended up in the living room, spread out on a plush rug. Mark pulled her T-shirt up over her head and used it to tie her hands together. She pretended to pull at her bonds, but Tara didn't want to get away. She feigned resistance while he pulled her jeans down her legs, kicking and twisting.

  “Bad girl,” he said, swatting her thigh. “Don't fight me. You're mine.”

  “So take me,” Tara said, roughly.

  Instead of removing her jeans all the way, Mark left them around her ankles, essentially hobbling her. He pulled her panties down past her knees and spread her legs. For half a minute he just looked at her body, flushed and heaving chest, the moist pink flesh of her vagina, open for him. When he moved it was sudden. One second he was holding her arms above her head and keeping her legs still with one thigh, the next he was face deep in her pussy, sucking her clit. He plunged two fingers into her, not giving her a chance to adjust to his assault. Tara's head was spinning. Her arousal rocketed skyward so quickly she thought she was going to come apart. Mark knew just how to stroke her with his tongue and fingers. She didn't have a chance. She started cumming within a couple of minutes. After the first noisy orgasm, Tara thought he would stop, but he just kept going, caressing her with his mouth and hands until she thought she would die from pleasure.

  “How are my kisses?” he asked, after she'd screamed his name in orgasm yet again.

  “Please fuck me,” Tara said, trying to reach his shoulders with her bound hands. She'd loved every second of what he'd done to her, but she wanted to feel him on top of her, the stretch of her flesh around his thick cock as he hammered into her.

  “Don't you like my mouth?” Mark teased. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

  “I love it,” Tara snapped. “Now fuck me.”

  Mark chuckled and unbuckled his belt, pushing his jeans and boxers down just low enough to free his cock. He breathed heavily, fisting his erection and suddenly looked panicked.

  “We need a condom,” he said through gritted teeth. “Unless you're on birth control.”

  “I am,” Tara said, grateful that she hadn't stopped taking the pill after her last relationship. “And I'm clean and not sleeping with anyone else.”

  “Ditto,” he said. “Thank god.”

  He moved over her, pushing her arms back over her head and finding her mouth with his. His weight settled on top of her, the blunt head of his cock probing her opening. He slicked into her like a hot knife into butter. It was perfect. When he moved in her, every slide and thrust of his cock shot jolts of pleasure through her. She had never felt so close to him. She wrapped her legs around him and held him inside, arching her hips to meet his thrusts, using her tongue to plunder his mouth.

  Mark rose up on his elbows, panting in pleasure.

  “You feel so good,” he said, thrusting again and again. She could see it in his eyes, what she made him feel every time he plunged deep into her body. She felt it too, a pulse of deep pleasure, wanton and at the same time intimate. She was his and he was claiming her and reclaiming her with her thrust of his body. His movements got faster and she could only cry out in pleasure as he hammered into her welcoming sheath. She shouldn't have been able to come any more, but she did, her tight channel squeezing and rippling around his cock. A moment after she came he joined her, crying out her name.

  While her head was still in the clouds, Tara felt Mark start to get up. His face was dazed from what had just happened, but she could see the detachment stealing in.

  “Nuh uhn,” Tara said, tightening her legs around his hips. “Where are you going?”

  “I, ah,” Mark said, trying to unhook her ankles.

  “No, Mark,” Tara said. “We just made love. This doesn't work if you run away as soon as it's over. I see you trying to turn off. Don't do it. Stay with me.”

  Mark looked heartbreakingly uncertain for a minute, but then he seemed to relax, taking a deep breath. He turned onto his back and pulled her onto her side next to him.

  “I'll stay,” he said, his voice soft. Tara yanked the shirt off her wrists and hugged him. He was a little stiff, but he wasn't going anywhere.

  “Why do you do that,” she asked, resting her
head on his shoulder. “Why do you want to leave me.”

  “It's not that” he asked, one shaky hand finding her hip. “I don't want to leave you. I just feel weird after.”

  “Weird how?” Tara asked. Was this the part where she found it he had some kind of weird psychological hangup? Maybe she shouldn't have asked.

  “I feel weak,” he admitted. “A little out of control.”

  “You mean you feel emotional?” Tara asked, relieved.

  “I guess,” he said. He gave a little grunt of amusement. “You must think I'm stupid.”

  “Why?” she asked, kicking her jeans off so she could swing one of her legs over his. She wasn't trying to trap him, not really.

  “I know what emotions feel like, okay,” Mark said, his chest shaking with suppressed laughter. “I'm not an android.”

  “Hey,” Tara said, “I'm not the one who called feeling emotional 'weird'.”

  “It's just with you it feels so different,” Mark said, the laughter dying away. “I don't like feeling vulnerable, Tara.”

  “No one does,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. She was glad he couldn't see her face. She was feeling pretty 'weird' herself. “But you have to. I mean if two people are going to be really close they have to be vulnerable to each other.”

  Mark shifted and Tara's heart sped up. She was literally going to fall apart if he pushed her away now. She knew she was taking a risk when she came to be with him, but she'd let herself believe it wasn't a mistake. She hadn't acknowledged it before, but she was in love with him. He had the power to break her heart. What had she been thinking? He always pulled away.

  “I want to be close to you,” Mark said, stroking her hair. “When I'm inside of you that's what I feel. When I'm holding you.”

  “Why did you drag me here, Mother” Tara asked two Saturdays later, standing in Misty's living room. There hadn't been any more texts from Jack and things were going well with Mark. She'd been looking forward to spending the evening out dancing, but her mother had insisted that she come to Lana's engagement party over her vigorous protests. She'd tried to explain how much she hated Misty, but her mother had dismissed it as 'high school BS' and forced her to come. Misty was already being totally obnoxious, flirting with everything in pants and kissing Sarah's ass like it was going out of style.

  “Oh, honey,” Sarah said with a tisk, “don't be a drama queen. Lana has been wonderful working with the literacy program and you said yourself she deserves this. Don't let how you feel about Misty keep you from being a nice person.”

  Lana looked stunning on the arm of her fiance. He wasn't what Tara had expected. He was kind of short and a little chubby, and wore thick, dark-rimmed glasses that made his eyes look huge. When Lana looked at him, though, it was with obvious adoration and the feeling seemed to be entirely mutual. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. On the surface they seemed like an odd match, but when she spoke to him he gave off a gentleness and intelligence that was very much like Lana's level-headed tranquility.

  The minute Tara's mom went off to talk to some of her friends from the literacy group Misty pounced.

  “Going stag again, I see,” she said, creeping up behind Tara. If only they sold collars with bells for bitches, Tara thought. That was a business idea. 'Never be surprised by the bitch in your life again.' Tara had to stifle a laugh at the thought.

  “And so are you, from the look of things,” Tara said. “Whatever happened to that great guy you were seeing.”

  “He's coming,” Lana said, quickly. “He just had to do some stuff before he came over. He's very important at his company.”

  “I'm sure he is,” Tara said. “What does he do?”

  “You might have heard of him,” Misty said, “since you're in marketing. He's VP of marketing at a firm in the Triumph Tower downtown.”

  “Phil Ricard?” Tara felt sick to her stomach. Phil was married and if he was going to cheat on his wife he had to have better taste than to go out with this woman.

  “No,” Misty scoffed. “Who's that? My boyfriend's name is Jack. Jack Hughes.”

  “You're dating Jack Hughes?” Tara asked, feeling a rush of preemptive schadenfreude. She would never have thought of telling something like this to anyone else, but Misty deserved to be put in her place. “I know Jack, Misty, and not only has he never been VP of anything, he got fired three weeks ago for fraud.”

  Misty's mouth fell open and her face went from red to white to red again. For a minute she seemed unable to speak and her eyes bulged out, but unfortunately it only lasted a minute.

  “You bitch,” she hissed. “Jack told me about some conniving little whore at his office who was trying to make him look bad, but Tara's are a dime a dozen, so of course I didn't realize it was you. You think I'm going to break up with my boyfriend just because you tell me some bullshit about him getting fired.”

  “Misty, my love,” Tara said. “There's only one marketing firm in that building. Why don't you call them on Monday and ask for you beloved Jack. That should solve the mystery in no time.”

  Misty gave her an ugly look and stalked away in a huff. Suddenly the party was a lot more fun. Tara was thinking maybe she would get a drink and stay for a while when she remembered something Misty had said. Jack was coming to the party. That killed her pleasure immediately. Even though there hadn't been any trouble since the first weekend, the last thing she wanted to do was run into Jack. What had she been thinking revealing his deception to Misty? He would undoubtably be pissed off and look what he'd done the last time. She needed to leave and right now.

  “Mom,” she said, pulling her mother away from what looked like a very animated conversation with a couple of middle-aged women, “I really need to go.”

  “Tara,” her mother said, shaking her head, “can't you make an effort.”

  “Remember that guy that vandalized my car? Turns out he's Misty's boyfriend and he's going to be here tonight.”

  Her mother's expression changed from irritation to concern. She looked around the room and spotted Misty ranting to Lana, who looked about as comfortable as someone being interrogated.

  “Are you sure?” Sarah asked.

  “Positive,” Tara said. “I'm going to call a cab, okay. You don't have to leave.”

  “Are you sure?” her mother asked.

  “Yeah,” Tara said. “I congratulated Lana, which is what I came to do and I just don't want any trouble.”

  “Okay,” her mother said. “I'll come down with you when they get here.”

  Tara nodded and made the call. She was a little alarmed to see Misty on her phone, arguing with someone. Probably Jack. This was great. Hopefully she would have a chance to leave before he arrived. She had made a serious blunder. People were starting to notice Misty's behavior and whisper among themselves. She was ruining Lana's party.

  Impulsively, Tara grabbed her coat and left the apartment. She would wait for the cab in the building lobby. She had spotted a little seating area off to the side when she was coming up and hopefully if Jack came before her cab did he'd go straight to the elevator and not even see her. The ride down was excruciating. It was eerily quiet after the noise and laughter of the party. She exited on the first floor and sat down, her phone in her hand. She heard a car honk and looked out, but it was just some impatient driver, overusing his horn. Back in the uncomfortable plastic chair she typed a text to Mark.

  Tara: Utter disaster. Surreal.

  She looked around the deserted lobby. The building wasn't particularly fancy. Across from her was a wall of mailboxes, the little slips of paper to far away to read. There was a coffee table in front of her, but no magazines. Where was that cab? Hadn't they said fifteen minutes?

  Her phone vibrated and she read the message.

  Mark: What happened?

  Tara was so focused on composing her reply that she barely heard the front door open. It wasn't until he spoke that she realized he was standing right above her.

  “So you have to take ev
erything from me, huh, Tara,” Jack said, menacingly.

  She looked up at him, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe. She had never noticed until the day he was fired how ugly he was, not his features – they were pretty average – but the way they were often twisted, usually in derision, right now in anger. The thinned lips and cold eyes reminded her of a snake, waiting to strike. She sprang to her feet, backing away from him, but he moved just as quickly, grabbing her by the arm.

  “Leave me alone,” Tara said, trying to pull away. “Let me go.”

  “I should fucking kill you,” he said, bringing his face close. She could feel his hot breath on her cheeks. She choked on the smell of booze. He was drunk.

  “Just let me leave,” Tara said, pulling harder. He reached into her coat and grabbed her breast roughly, an ugly flush coloring his cheeks.

  “Don't you think you owe me a little feel, now that Misty's probably going to dump me.” He twisted cruelly and Tara cried out.

  “You're good with words,” she said. “I'm sure you can pull this one out.” She twisted her body, trying to get away, but he had her trapped. The slap when it came was unexpected and stunning. Tara's head spun. He had hit her, hard enough to disorient. Her face throbbed. He raised his hand again, preparing to deliver another blow.

  “Tara,” her mother called, coming out of the elevator. “Are you down here?”

  Jack released her so suddenly that she fell, banging her hip against the metal leg of one of the chairs and knocking it over with a clang. Tara was too dazed to see where he went. Her mother's gentle hands were touching her face, her concerned voice asking if Tara was okay. Tara tried to focus on her mother's features, but her vision was blurry. She felt so cold. Why couldn't she stop shaking?

  “It was Jack,” she said through the tightness in her throat.

  “It's okay, honey,” her mom said. “He's gone. I've got you. I've got you.”