by Leddy Harper
“This is a bunch of crap. You keep getting all the stupid ones. I’m over the easy level; let’s move on to this one.” I tapped the option for seasoned lovers and passed it back, feeling a little more hopeful that my next response would leave him just as aroused as I was.
He raised his brows as if making sure I was okay with this, yet he proceeded to read from the screen anyway. “What’s the dirtiest fantasy you’ve ever had?”
Well, now we were talking.
I rested my head against the cushion and closed my eyes, conjuring up the dirtiest of them all—years of celibacy had left me to my own imagination. My lips vibrated with a hum just before I returned my eyes to his. Yeah, he’d have to look at me while I painted him a picture he wouldn’t soon forget.
“Having your hand between my legs while sitting at a dinner table with others—like a wedding or business meeting—and no one knowing that you have your fingers deep inside me, making me come while we ate dessert.”
His chest began to rise slowly, and his eyes appeared to grow darker while holding my stare. There was no way that didn’t get to him the way his responses had gotten to me. I almost felt vindicated…until he practically growled, “In this fantasy, how many fingers do I have inside you, Kris?”
At nothing more than the thought of it, my clit began to throb, desperate for attention. I only hoped he was just as hard and on the brink of giving in. “I guess you’ll just have to wait to find out, won’t you?”
I fought against the smile begging to curl my lips. I couldn’t chance giving away my MO, even though he’d likely already figured it out. Taking my turn, I read the next prompt. “Did you ever fantasize about fucking one of your teachers?”
“Of course. In case you haven’t gotten it by now, Kris…I like my women older. While everyone else focused on the newly single cheerleader or the hot blonde who’d just transferred from another school, I was rubbing one out to the thought of my algebra teacher.”
“Please don’t tell me you ever slept with any of them.”
“Never. I’m well aware of the line between right and wrong, Kristy. And while I may want something I can’t have, that doesn’t mean I’d disregard the law or do anything to endanger someone else’s livelihood.”
“You said you may want something you can’t have…but you can have it now. Which is why it confuses me that you won’t go after it. There’s no law stating we can’t be together.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. “I have principles, Kristy. That’s all you need to worry about.”
I didn’t push the issue, sensing his frustration—and I wasn’t sure it was strictly sexual, either. Instead, I let him have his turn and waited for him to ask me something good.
“In your opinion, what does it mean to be good in bed?”
I hoped he paid attention to this one. “Someone who’s passionate, who takes the lead and gives me what I want without needing to be told. A guy who is focused on more than himself. I’d say someone who can get me off without the need for me to touch myself, but considering that seems to be an impossible task, I no longer have that standard. Oh, and foreplay. The thing that makes a guy really good in bed is his pre-game strategy.”
Nodding, he muttered, “Good to know,” and then held out the device for me to take.
“Where’s the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”
Dropping his head into his hands, he huffed loudly and slumped his shoulders. Frustration rumbled in the back of his throat, and I became excited that this might be the moment where he gave in, even just a little. But rather than give me anything, he took his cell and locked the screen. “You know what? This was a bad idea.”
Words clogged my throat, unable to make their way to my lips to voice my concern over what had happened or ask why he’d suddenly changed his mind. What was worse, I couldn’t move, as though his reaction had left me frozen where I sat. And in a desperate attempt to protect my ego—or prevent my heart from breaking through my chest like I was convinced it would do—I wrapped my arms around my shins and folded into myself as much as possible.
Yet I should’ve known better. Every time he’d left me crushed under the weight of rejection, he had this magical way of licking my wounds without going back on his word. This time, he didn’t even need to see my face to accept the damage his actions had done. Instead, he scooted closer until he practically sat on my toes, settled his hand on the cushion while loosely cradling the side of my ass, and dropped his forehead to the dip between my knees.
And when he spoke, his deep vibrato could’ve easily been mistaken for the roar of an avalanche. “You have me so hard I can’t think straight. If I don’t put a stop to it, I’ll regret it later.”
My defenses vanished at the sound of his voice—the struggle that laced each syllable and the strain he’d used to form them into words. But the second my fingers threaded through his hair, he relaxed, his shoulders falling with his swift exhale against my bare skin.
Up until this moment, I’d been determined to make him give up on this idea that we needed to understand one another better before engaging in a physical relationship. I didn’t understand it, so that somehow meant it didn’t matter. But now, after finally getting a reaction from him—though not the one I’d expected—I realized that whether it made sense to me or not was irrelevant. For whatever reason, it was important to him, and I couldn’t fault him if his standards were where mine should’ve been.
I’d never met a man who opposed random hookups, and considering Ash’s age, I hadn’t assumed he’d be any different. Yet he was. And I had to respect that. I slipped his phone from his loose grip, causing him to lift his head and regard me with curiosity.
“Unlock the screen, please.”
“Why? I told you, I can’t play this—”
“Just unlock it, Ash. I’m not going to make you keep playing.” Immediately after I finished getting the words out, I regretted them. Just because he was younger than me didn’t give me the right to treat him like a child.
On the bright side, he did as I’d requested without arguing. Albeit, his thoughts were clear as day on his face. He pinned me with a stare and warned me with raised brows. It was like a silent tongue-lashing, one I didn’t need him to repeat in order to understand. While he’d kept his mouth shut, he hadn’t appreciated my tone.
It wasn’t hard to pick up on his dominant traits. In fact, it was one of the things I’d noticed about him the first time we met. He hadn’t stayed long that day, nor had we talked much, but his reluctance to let me finish unpacking my car on my own was enough to acknowledge his complete alpha-male personality. It had been a turn-on then, as well as in the pool the following weekend, in my garage a few days after that, and especially in my kitchen last night.
Nevertheless, there was one thing he needed to learn about me, too. I may have enjoyed it when a man took charge; however, that didn’t mean I’d always sit back and bite my tongue. If I had something to say, I’d say it. If I had an opinion, I’d share it. And if I had questions, I’d ask until they were all answered. So, while I felt bad for speaking to him like a child, I wouldn’t apologize, because in the end, it gave me what I wanted. With that being said, I had no intention of letting it happen again.
Unless, of course, he wanted me to pretend to be his babysitter.
Never mind…that thought alone was enough to creep me out. There was no way I’d actually be able to follow through with it.
I shook off that disturbing mental picture and stared at his unlocked screen. There was a lot to be said about someone blindly trusting you with their cell. Most people had pictures or messages they didn’t want others to snoop through, yet he just sat there with his chin on my knee, unable to see what I was doing as I tapped away.
After adding my contact information, I handed it back with a smile. “I appreciate that you want to learn things about me before we have sex. It’s admirable, really. We live next door to each other, and the last thi
ng I want is to create tension where there doesn’t need to be any. I think it’s smart to take our time and not rush.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect to hear you say that.” The easy, satisfied grin on his lips played in his voice and wrapped around each word. It was a stark contrast to the frustration he’d displayed a few minutes earlier.
“However”—I held up a finger to make him pay attention to what came next—“I can’t sit out here with you, in the dark, after a few mixed drinks, and discuss our favorite colors or movies or our best childhood memories. It’s no secret that I’m sexually attracted to you, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s a mutual feeling.”
“You’re definitely not wrong, Kristy.”
I nodded, hoping I could finish this without making myself out to be a nymphomaniac. “Okay, so we’re on the same page. Which means, at this point, I think text messages would be best. That way, you won’t be tempted to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. Would you agree?”
“Yeah, I’m good with that.” His voice was so low it reverberated through the air and rumbled along my skin, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.
“And I’ll try my best to keep our conversations clean.”
The flickering flame caught a gleam in his eye that made my arousal return in an instant. “No, don’t hold back, Kris. I want to hear those things…just not when I’m in front of you with a hard-on I can’t do anything about.”
There was no point in reminding him that I could do something about it if he’d let me. I’d given it my best, and I’d come to the conclusion that he was as determined to wait as I was not to, and in the end, I wouldn’t win. Pressuring him wouldn’t do either of us any good, so for now, I’d have to play it his way. And if that meant spending my evenings alone in my house while he did the same fifty feet away, sending texts to one another in order to make him feel like we weren’t rushing…then so be it.
When he pushed against the armrests of the chaise, I expected him to pull himself to his feet. What I didn’t anticipate was him using the leverage to lean over my knees and brush his cheek against mine. Or his lips coming close to my ear as he whispered, “Goodnight, Kris.”
I mumbled, “Night, Ash,” just as he climbed off the chair.
And with nothing but the glow of the candle to highlight his departure, I watched him cross the yard to his back patio and then disappear inside. All the while, the intense ache between my legs grew deeper and more unbearable until I was forced to retire to my room and take care of it myself.
* * *
Aside from a few texts Saturday night before falling asleep—thanks to the rum and self-induced orgasm—I hadn’t heard a peep from Ash.
I believed if I could figure out what made him tick, then his constant hot and cold demeanor wouldn’t make me second-guess my every move like some insecure teenager. It was amazing what a little sexual tension could do to a woman who’d all but dried up from a lack of intimacy.
As much as I’d wanted to reach out, I decided to leave the ball in his court. I still needed a few more green lights before I would feel comfortable initiating conversation. I’d done enough of that only to be turned down after every attempt, so I refused to try again until I had a better understanding of things.
Emma always made fun of me, but on weeknights, I got ready for bed around nine. I’d watch a little TV or play a game on my tablet for about an hour, and then I’d turn the light off at ten. So, when nine o’clock rolled around, and I still hadn’t heard from Ash, I gave up. And at nine thirty, when Candy Crush no longer occupied my thoughts, I reached over and flicked off the light. Which must’ve been some sort of Batman signal for Ash, because less than sixty seconds later, my phone chirped with a message, his name lit up on my screen.
AJ: What are you doing?
Part of me didn’t want to respond, irritated with whatever game he played. But then I realized that would make me no better than him. The mature thing to do would be to text him back to see what he wanted, and then let him know I was going to bed. If he wanted to talk, then next time, he’d have to reach out earlier.
Me: Just closed my eyes to go to sleep.
AJ: That’s what I thought. I saw your light go out.
I stared at the window, even though I couldn’t see anything through the slanted blinds.
Me: How did you know which room was mine?
AJ: I’ve been inside your house. There’s only one room that faces this direction, and since you’re home alone, I took a wild guess.
Me: I’m not going to lie. That’s kind of creepy. Were you waiting for me to go to bed before texting?
AJ: I didn’t want to catch you while you were in the middle of something. And it’s not like I was watching or anything. My bed faces the window, which is directly across from your window, so it was hard to miss the light being on one second and then off the next.
I didn’t even know where to start with that one. Choosing to ignore his reason for recognizing I’d gone to bed, or how he even knew which room mine was, I focused more on the first issue—his waiting for me to go to sleep before sending a message.
Me: The great thing about texts is that if I’m in the middle of something, I’ll respond when I’m able to. You don’t need to wait until I close my eyes before striking up a conversation.
That might’ve been too harsh, especially considering it was written word and the interpretation of tone was left to the person reading it. I hadn’t meant it to be terse, though there was a chance he’d taken it as such. However, I refused to follow it up with an explanation. If he assumed I was irritated or mad, then maybe it would force him to do something about it tomorrow night—preferably before nine o’clock.
AJ: I didn’t want to wait for you to go to sleep. I only wanted to make sure you were in bed.
Me: Why???
If he came back with something non-sexual, he’d have to continue that conversation with himself, because I wasn’t in the mood to get my hopes up and then sit back while they came crashing to the ground around me in a sad pile of unfulfilled arousal.
AJ: Fewer distractions. This way, I get your undivided attention.
Okay, so maybe I could give him one more chance.
After all, my question hadn’t been very specific.
Me: What do you need my undivided attention for?
AJ: So when I ask you what I need to know, you’ll give me a real answer.
I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath, deciding to offer him one more chance.
But this would be the last one.
Me: Well, you have it, so what do you want to know?
I’d likely give up on him completely if he came back inquiring my favorite anything.
There were plenty of other men out there who’d happily get me off; I didn’t need to endure this kind of torture to get it. Not to mention, I’d be pissed if I went through all this only to be left unsatisfied after getting him naked.
AJ: What are you wearing?
Now, that got my attention.
I lifted the covers and took note of my long-sleeved nightshirt and cotton shorts. They were cute, and definitely comfortable, but I doubted a guy in his early twenties would find it very sexy. So, I decided to have a little fun and tell him that I had on something far sexier than I did.
Me: Nothing
Okay, so I’d tried to come up with something hot, yet no one in their right mind would believe that a single mom who hadn’t been touched in more than two years would be sleeping—alone—in lingerie. Not to mention, I’d never owned any, so I wouldn’t begin to know how to describe it. The only thing I could come up with was crotch-less panties, which was out of the question. I had a better chance of convincing him I slept in full-body latex.
AJ: Fuck. Please tell me you’re lying.
Yeah right. I’d rather strip off my clothes than tell him I’d made it up.
Me: Nope. I like to sleep in the nude when Emma’s not home.
AJ: So…if we’re both naked a
nd we’re texting…does that mean we’re sexting??
I almost dropped my phone on my face when I barked out a laugh, not at all expecting him to say anything close to that. Aside from his X-rated promises the other night regarding the deal we’d made over the island for my kitchen, he’d kept things rather controlled. Apparently, I should’ve suggested texting a long time ago.
Me: I think you have to do more than be naked for that to happen…
AJ: Like what?
Oh, hell no. He was not leaving this up to me.
Me: I could be wrong, but I think the first 3 letters are pretty important to this specific act. Not sure tho. I’ve never done it before.
That wasn’t a lie. I’d always been turned on by the idea of phone sex, yet I was too gun-shy to actually do it. I could talk a good game until I got onto the field, which was why I preferred someone who could take charge. Plus, I’d have to have someone on the other end of the line, and since I didn’t date, that made it a little difficult.
AJ: When you told me you were naked, I got hard. Now I have my dick in my hand. Does that count?
It was possible that his declaration to fisting his erection was no different than my claim of being naked. But there was one thing I knew without a doubt…if what he said wasn’t true, it very likely would be if I kept this up.
Me: That sounds about right. But it depends, what are you doing with it? Just holding it?