by Isabel Morin
“Will you stay the night?” she asked, curling into him like she’d been doing it for ages.
“Hell, yeah,” he said, rolling on top of her again. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”
***
He woke up with a hard-on. Which wasn’t surprising, since Cheryl’s perfect ass was pressed against his cock. Even after making love three times during the night, he still wanted more.
His arm was curled around her, her warm, naked body curving against him. He’d have given his left ball to stay in bed all day with her, but it was also Monday morning, and according to the clock on Cheryl’s nightstand, it was already five-thirty. High school waited for no one.
Still, he didn’t move right away. Part of him was afraid to leave the bed, not knowing if he’d ever be back in it. Why was yesterday different from every other day? Was he a celebratory screw, or did she feel something for him? She hadn’t given anything away last night, and he hadn’t wanted to ask. Then another thought entered his head, one even worse than never being in her bed again.
What if she woke up regretting they’d slept together? She hadn’t seemed drunk, just wild and happy and maybe slightly tipsy. But what if he’d miscalculated?
He must have moved, or maybe somehow, even in sleep, she sensed his agitation. She squirmed a bit, backing even further into him, and then went still. A few silent seconds passed and then she stretched and rolled towards him.
“Good morning,” she smiled, rising up on an elbow and letting her gaze travel from his face over his chest to where the blankets pooled at his hips.
The fear drained away with her smile, and he let his own gaze take a similar path over her. “You keep looking at me that way, I’m going to be late for school. Don’t forget we’re both naked.”
“Is that a threat or a dare?” she asked, one eyebrow shooting up, hair swinging over her shoulder.
That was it. Leaning forward he took her mouth and pressed her back into the bed. She was new and yet familiar, the feel and taste of her like something he’d known only in dreams.
Her arms came around him, her nipples pebbling against his chest. Releasing her mouth he bent his head and took a taut peak into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, skimming it with his teeth until she was arching against him. God, he loved the noises she made, the way she lifted her hips to him, wanting more.
He watched her face, wanting to know what pleased her, as his hand skated over her flat belly to her thatch of dark auburn curls. At first her gaze followed his hand, but soon her eyes closed and she gripped his arm, a low moan tearing from her throat.
When he dipped his finger into her she was slick with desire, and for a few seconds he felt lightheaded at the knowledge that her desire matched his. Tamping down his own lust he stroked her, slow and then a little faster as her need grew. Soon her head was thrashing on the pillow and she was calling for him, and he was more than ready to give her what she wanted.
Grabbing another condom from her nightstand he sheathed himself and turned back to her. She was looking at him through heavy, dazed eyes, and as ready as he was, for a few heartbeats he merely looked at her, his breath stuck in his throat.
Then she said his name and he covered her body with his own and buried himself inside her. In long, deep strokes he took her, loving the way she wrapped her legs around him, the way she took his full length and moaned with pleasure.
Then he rolled over, taking her with him, and she was on top, her eyes wide with surprise before she laughed.
“That’s some move you got there,” she said, but she was already riding him, rising up and then lowering herself slowly. Either getting the feel of their new position or trying to torture him.
He gripped her hips and thrust with her rhythm, unable to take his eyes off her. Her movements grew faster, more erratic, and he nearly exploded when she touched herself. She was in full-throated glory now, getting closer to release. Resting her free hand on his chest she held his gaze while she peaked, her thighs widening as she took him yet deeper, rocking into him as she rode out the throes. He thrust once, then again, and fell over his own cliff.
When he opened his eyes she was draped over his madly beating heart, still holding him inside her. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, loving the way it spread out over his chest, a sea of red.
“I think we made you late,” she murmured, planting a kiss at the base of his neck.
“I can’t be late if I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He could tell she was laughing because it vibrated through her to him.
She sat up, an amused smirk on her face. “Such a romantic, Mr. Shaw.”
“Are you mocking me?” he said, rolling them to their sides so he could pull out. Then he got a look at the clock. “Holy shit. I really am going to be late.”
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed he looked over at her. She was sitting up, her hair falling over those perfect, rose-tipped breasts of hers, as if an artist had posed her just so. The sight of her left him stunned, wanting more. Not just right now, but tomorrow and the next day and as long as she’d have him.
Reluctant as he was to do anything that might jeopardize what was happening between them, he needed to know whether there’d even be a tomorrow for them as lovers.
“So what happens now?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What is this? Are we doing this again, or was it a one-time only deal?”
“I certainly hope we can do it again.” She looked down at the bedspread and plucked at a loose string. “I’m not looking for anything serious, but this chemistry thing wasn’t going away. If anything it’s getting worse, and I guess I thought instead of fighting it, we could give in and let it run its course.”
Run its course? What did that mean?
“A friends with benefits kind of deal would be pretty fun, don’t you think?” she added.
So that’s what she was thinking.
What she said made sense, if you weren’t crazy about someone and desperate to have them all to yourself. Then again, maybe this was the first step to something more. Maybe whatever they had would run its course, maybe it wouldn’t. At least this would give them the chance to find out.
“Or not,” she said, biting her lip and looking anxious. Like she thought he might turn her down. “I mean, we can just be friends if you want to and forget the benefits.”
“I’m definitely going with door number one,” he said, trying to keep it light. No need for her to know how deep this went for him. “We’re too good at this to stop now.”
She laughed, clearly relieved, and scrambled out of bed.
“Go ahead and hop in the shower. I’ll find you some breakfast,” she said, grabbing a blue cotton robe from a hook and heading out the door.
No doubt he stank like a cat in heat, so a shower was definitely in order. Too bad it meant washing off her scent as well. He found a bottle of mouthwash under the sink and swished, then hopped in the shower. He made it quick, but it was enough time to imagine getting her in the shower with him one of these days.
When he was through he made sure there were no puddles on the floor or stray hairs in the tub. The he padded naked back to the bedroom, where he managed to unearth his clothes from the general disorder and get dressed. Taking stock of himself in the full-length mirror leaning against her closet, he decided he could definitely pass for someone coming down with the flu.
He found Cheryl in the kitchen, looking adorable in her blue robe and bare feet, her hair sliding over one eye.
She looked up from buttering a sesame bagel. “Sorry, no cream cheese. But if you wait a couple minutes I can get you a cup of coffee.”
He looked at his watch. “Better not. I’ll be lucky if I’m there before the kids arrive. But the bagel is great.”
Then he just stood there feeling awkward, not sure whether to go with his impulse, which was to kiss her, or wave and say goodbye, casual-like. Did friends with benefits kiss each o
ther goodbye, or did all such physical demonstrations stop once they were out of bed?
Or was he possibly over-thinking this?
“Here you go,” Cheryl said, handing him the bagel wrapped in a paper towel. She stood on tiptoe and gave him a soft, sweet kiss on the lips.
Leaning down, he pulled her close with his one free hand and held her against him as he kissed her properly. She gasped and then softened against him, her hands fisting into his shirt. When he stepped back she swayed the tiniest bit, her eyes glazed over.
“Have a good day,” he said, smiling, and walked out the door.
He arrived at school with just enough time to grab a cup of disgusting coffee from the teachers’ lounge. That was just the first of many cups he drank in an effort to stay awake and focused. Tired as he was, it was impossible to keep his thoughts from drifting back to last night.
He managed to get through the day by showing a Shakespeare movie one period and having the kids read aloud in another. But he couldn’t do that all day, so he spent the remaining periods pacing the front of the classroom in an over-caffeinated frenzy.
Late in the morning he considered texting or calling Cheryl only to hold back, afraid of freaking her out or scaring her off. But he was a guy, and he’d learned early on that he should be the first to get in touch after sex, and he’d damn well have wanted to even if that hadn’t been the rule. So during lunch he sent a quick text telling her she was amazing and he looked forward to seeing her again.
He had to endure twenty minutes of anxious waiting before she replied. “Right back at ya, hot stuff xo.”
“What’s got you smiling, Jason?”
Patty, sitting across from him at the table, paused from eating her lunch to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
“Just something a friend wrote,” he told her, trying to dial down his enthusiasm.
“Must be some friend,” she commented, taking another bite of her sandwich.
If only she knew.
***
Cheryl woke up shortly before eleven, then dozed on and off again, her dreams full of sensation and color. Silk sheets against her skin, hands skimming over her, a man’s rough whisper. Her body hummed and floated, satiated and yet ready for more.
The bright sun shining through a crack in her curtains finally roused her. Stretching, she smiled at the pleasant soreness that answered back.
Jason.
His scent was in bed with her, and she turned her face into the pillow and breathed him in. What she wouldn’t give to have him back in her bed this second. Something told her they’d only scratched the surface of what they could do to one another. Normally it took time to manage sex half that good, and they’d done it their first go. But she shouldn’t be surprised. They were so hot for each other, and Jason was a man who paid attention. A fine quality in a lover.
The urge to call him came over her but she ignored it. It was too soon, and she didn’t want to come off as needy. Bad enough that the whole time he’d known her she’d been out of her element and lacking in confidence. Then she picked up her phone and saw he’d texted her twenty minutes earlier and her whole body shivered with delight. She wrote back, and then flopped back onto the bed, replaying all the delicious details of their night together.
Eventually hunger drove her out of bed, but she still didn’t quite know what to do with herself. The whole day, the whole week really, stretched out before her. No more classes or teaching. She literally had nothing to do until Beth came to visit on Sunday. She’d been looking forward to this week ever since the hell of exam preparation had begun, but now she felt at loose ends.
Then again, there were things she’d neglected for weeks, like food shopping, cleaning her apartment, a haircut. Cleaning was no way to spend her first free day though, so instead she called Emily and arranged to meet for lunch at their favorite Mexican restaurant.
She took a cab over to the Bunkhouse to retrieve her car, then headed to the restaurant. Emily was already seated, and as soon as Cheryl joined her Emily narrowed her eyes at her. She waited only until the busboy had filled their water glasses and moved away before speaking.
“Just what I thought. You totally got laid last night.”
Cheryl coughed and tried to hold down her water.
“But why now?” Emily asked. “You’ve showed such restraint all along.”
“True. But it was impossible to ignore how hot we are for each other. Plus I’m not working with him anymore.” Cheryl sighed and picked up her napkin, folding it in half, then in half again. “It had to happen, but it doesn’t change how I feel about dating him. He wants to believe he’s okay with me stripping, but I don’t think he could ever really accept it – especially if I were his girlfriend. It’s one thing to have sex with a stripper. You could even say that’s every guy’s fantasy. But it’s another thing to date a stripper, you know?”
“What about dating an ex-stripper?”
Cheryl shook her head. “It would still be a part of who I am—a part of my past he could never really be comfortable with. Eventually it would come between us. If I ever have a real relationship, it will have to be after that part of my life is over, with a guy who will never, ever know about it.”
Emily frowned. “It sounds like you’re saying you have to lie about who you are to be loved.”
“I’m just trying to be realistic, that’s all. I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment.”
Emily sighed. “It’s your decision, of course. I just think you might be selling Jason short – not to mention yourself. But if you’re not dating, what exactly are the two of you doing?”
“I proposed the standard friends with benefits contract. He seemed fine with it.”
“I see. Don’t you think that might get messy, or confusing?”
“I don’t see why it should,” she said, trying not to sound defensive. “Anyway, it’s the only reasonable choice at the moment.”
“Okay, your call. Now tell me the good stuff. I assume it was good since you’ve got the glow.”
“More like stupendous, off the charts great. Best sex I ever had, times four.”
Emily laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Cheryl asked.
“You just got this dreamy look on your face, and I’m happy for you. You deserve whatever he’s giving you.”
The conversation turned to Emily’s wedding, and all the family drama that came along with it.
“I get that it’s kind of far, but I’m having it here and that’s the end of it. People do fly to weddings, and it’s not like he’s my sixth husband.” She sighed. “At least my mother isn’t giving me a hard time. Anything else I can deal with.”
“Are you still planning to quit the club after the wedding?” Cheryl asked.
“I don’t know. Cutter’s business has been steadily improving, so we don’t really need the money anymore, but it’s the only time I get to dance now. I’m not sure I want to give it up. I need to look around and see what other options there are for me.”
Cheryl nodded. “I’m quitting as soon as I get a teaching job, but who knows when that’ll be.”
“You’ll find something,” Emily assured her. “Enjoy your freedom while you have it.”
“I’ll try,” Cheryl said. “Maybe I’ll skip cleaning and just read and watch movies.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
Cheryl’s phone rang and she hunted for it in her purse, her heart beating faster at the thought that Jason might be calling her. Not that he needed to. But it turned out to be an unknown number. She let it go to voicemail.
“You feel like going wedding dress shopping with me?” Emily asked. “I have appointments at a few places today.”
Cheryl was game for anything, but especially that, so after they ate she hopped in Emily’s car and they spent the rest of the afternoon in wedding boutiques.
“I always thought they’d be super nice and bend over backwards for a bride,” Cheryl whispered. “Why is e
veryone so snotty?”
They were standing in the dressing room of their last shop, hiding out from the tightly coiffed blond saleswoman.
“I don’t know, but nearly every shop I’ve been to is like this. Maybe I should be more of a bridezilla to level the playing field.”
Cheryl laughed, then stood back and looked at her friend. “I think this may be the one. Let’s get you out there.”
Emily stepped onto the carpeted rise and the saleswoman bustled around her, pulling back the bodice so that it fit snugly and showed the line of the dress. The style was simple and elegant, just like Emily.
Emily turned to Cheryl, her eyes bright with excitement. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s perfect.”
Emily turned to the saleswoman. “How much is it?” she asked, her expression anxious.
The woman found the tag tucked into the back of the dress, and it was within Emily’s budget.
“I’ll take it,” Emily said, looking at herself in the mirror. Her eyes found Cheryl’s. “I’m really getting married,” she whispered.
“You really are, honey,” Cheryl said, her own eyes tearing up.
It wasn’t just that Emily looked beautiful and perfect and she was thrilled for her. She couldn’t help thinking about how Emily and Cutter had started off so casually, never intending to be together for long, and then had fallen in love. But that wasn’t going to happen to her. She and Jason would never be more than what they were now. Which was fine, but it meant that what they had was going to end, whereas Emily’s happiness was only beginning. Talk about a reality check.
Emily stayed in the dress for a few more minutes, reluctant to part with it, before finally letting Cheryl help her change.
Cheryl checked her messages while Emily paid for the dress and made her first fitting appointment. She had a few more texts congratulating her and one voice message. As soon as the voice message started she gave a little shriek.
Emily turned around, wide-eyed. “What’s wrong?”
Cheryl finished listening to the message before answering. “That was someone from Coronado High. The Henderson principal recommended me to them, and they’re hoping I can come in this week to interview.” She did a little jig. “This is my chance. One of their English teachers is going on early maternity leave and they need someone to start in January.”