Half-Hitched

by Isabel Sharpe

  “Oh, la la.” He growled and pulled her down to kiss him, molding her body on top of his. “Addie, I just want you to know that if you feel the need to try out anything different, you know, to bring out this wilder, primal, sex monster side of yourself, seriously, feel free. Right now. On top of me. I can take it. Really. I promise.”

  She was giggling madly, which made her wiggle just a little, which was doing some truly great things for his man parts. Then her laughter subsided. She rested her head on his shoulder and went still. They lay there together, breathing in the clean sea air. A boat passed somewhere not too far off, engines throbbing, radio occasionally crackling to life.

  Addie lifted her head, hair spilling over her forehead, cheeks flushed, eyes sultry, lips parted. “You’re on.”

  He lay there, hardly able to believe the change in her. His cock reacted, hardening nearly fully in record time. All she’d done was look at him.

  “You need to put on another condom.”

  He said nothing, scrambled to obey, had it on and was lying back down within seconds.

  She straddled him again, lifted herself to her knees, the strength in her thighs controlling the height of her hips.

  Not low enough.

  As if she heard him, she lowered herself until she was sitting at the base of his erection, pressing it against his abdomen. His cock felt nestled in the warmth of her sex. He knew more was coming. He couldn’t wait.

  Addie lifted her arms over her head, pulling her breasts up, lengthening her torso. Then she began to sway, sliding her sex over him, stimulating his cock, undulating her body, eyes closed, like a belly dancer in a trance.

  It was the sexiest thing Derek had ever seen, all the more so because he knew what she had to fight to be this free with him, because he knew this was a vote of confidence and trust in their intimacy and in him, that she felt comfortable and safe enough to let loose.

  He groaned and grabbed her hips, pushing his up to increase the pressure, going from aroused to nearly desperate in a matter of a minute.

  She caught his mood, began to ride him gently, rocking her hips up and back instead of side to side.

  When he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand that, she pressed her hands into the sand on either side of his head and lifted, allowing his penis to come to full attention. Allowing him to feel the loss of warmth and the coolness of the breeze.

  Only for a moment. Thank goodness.

  Her hips lowered again, just to the tip of his cock, trapping it, then circling gently, making him use all his strength not to shove inside her, pump into her softness until he found release.

  “I’m psychic, did you know that?”

  “Nope.” He spoke through clenched teeth.

  “I am. And I’m getting something from you...” She gazed sightlessly off into the distance. “Wait... Yes, got it. You want to be inside me.”

  “Amazing.” He sounded as if he was strangling.

  “All the way.”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “Hmm.” She came down farther. An inch of him disappeared. Her sex was warm and tight around the tip of his penis. He fisted his hands, swallowed convulsively.

  “Do you like that, Derek?”

  He nodded, sweat breaking out on his forehead, completely under her control, and not minding at all.

  “How about this?” She moved lower; another inch of him slid inside her, another inch sensually enveloped. He wanted to pound his fists in the sand.

  “Yes. I like that, too. More, please.”

  “Like this?” She hesitated, poised, making him wait. Then bore down powerfully and took him all the way in.

  He gave a yell he was ashamed of then forgot his shame as she moved fiercely up and down. He tried to slow her movements, tried to stop her, somehow. But she was relentless, gripping his cock with her body, releasing and gripping again, panting in his ear, whispering what he felt like inside her, hot and hard and making her crazy with pleasure.

  He was lost, too far over the edge to stop. With another shout he came so hard he felt as if his body was trying to turn inside out.

  Oh, man.

  “Addie.” He could barely say her name.

  “Mmm?” Her eyes were bright with triumphant pleasure. He’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  He had to catch his breath, pulling her down to clasp her in his arms. “I want you to understand something.”

  “Yes?”

  “It is physically impossible for me to come three times in this short a time.”

  “Really.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

  “I think you must be a witch. Or a shape-shifter.”

  “Supernatural sex.” She kissed his neck contentedly. “Cool.”

  “Except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You didn’t get your third.”

  “Oh, no.” She lifted her head. “I can’t come that many times, either. Seriously, that was wonderful just like that.”

  “Uh-huh.” He was already traveling down between her legs, aching to taste her.

  “No, Derek, I really don’t think I...oh.”

  He’d gone to work, loving her taste, the supple give of her sex, the way she writhed under his tongue and his fingers.

  “Maybe...” She stopped for a gasp as he changed his rhythm. “Maybe one more.”

  When she came apart, minutes later, moaning and gripping his arms, he felt her pleasure and satisfaction as if he’d come again himself.

  He was falling for her. How could this happen so fast and so intensely? It made no sense...went against everything he thought he believed about love and about caution and about common sense.

  Worse, and far more foolish, the idle fantasy of taking her out on his boat to live with him instead of returning her to the city had begun to change into the beginnings of a serious idea.

  11

  PAUL AND ELLEN’S rehearsal dinner was ending. The last lobster had been ravenously consumed, rolls and salad demolished, blueberry, raspberry and chocolate cream pies decimated. The group was lolling around the bonfire on the beach where they’d eaten, chatting while they finished off the keg. This was to be their last night on Storness Island. The next day, Saturday, they’d spend the morning cleaning and packing, then the trip back to the mainland for Paul and Ellen’s late afternoon wedding and reception at the beautiful house in Machias owned by the Bossons’ close friends, the Brisbanes. Sunday they’d all go home.

  Sarah sat watching the flames, full of lobster, pie and confusion, nursing a last beer. She hadn’t had many—this was her third in three or four hours. She wasn’t in the mood for drinking. Most of the evening she’d smiled and chatted and acted the part of the happy groom’s sister—which she was, no question, very happy for Paul and for Ellen, whom she adored. But the reason for her uncharacteristically somber mood eluded her, and therefore its solution was similarly out of reach.

  Every time she felt some understanding approaching she’d do everything in her power to go inside herself and grab it—but always at that instant whatever she was after, whatever part she’d managed to comprehend, disintegrated again into confusion.

  In other words, something was massively bugging her and she was effing clueless as to what to do about it.

  This was not like her. She’d always thought of herself as sunny and optimistic, knowing what she wanted and how to go about getting it—as long as it wasn’t a man. This weekend had dislodged her from that certainty, and tossed her into a who-am-I? abyss.

  She hated that.

  One of the guys Paul worked with, Evan she thought his name was, stood up on the other side of the bonfire and hoisted his cup of beer. “Thought I’d say a few things about the bride and groom taking the big plunge tomorrow.”
<
br />   Murmurs of encouragement came from around the fire. Evan went on to talk about his friendship with Paul, and told a funny story from Paul and Ellen’s early years dating, when Paul bought her the world’s most hideous sweater which Ellen pretended to like and still wore.

  Sarah smiled at the couple, her heart contracting with a wistful pain. Envious? Yes. Their faces were glowing; they were constantly touching each other. It was sickening.

  Sarah had wondered for a lot of years whether Paul was in love with Addie. She’d never asked, because she was so afraid the answer would be yes, and then she’d have to cope with an impossible situation since she knew Addie had never noticed Paul as anything but a buddy. Around Addie, Paul had either been quiet and worshipful, eager to please, or trying too hard to be cooler than he was.

  After he started dating Ellen, he’d become steady and mature, yet also able to be entirely and proudly his goofy charming self. No posturing, no going quiet, no puppy-dogging. This was the real deal.

  Imagine, being accepted so entirely in love that you didn’t have to hide any of yourself, didn’t constantly have to fear judgment and rejection. To relax so completely into someone that you might even discover parts of yourself you didn’t know were there. Paul had found his inner alpha and had stepped up to the plate for his family, for Ellen’s family and for their friends on many occasions, where before he might have wanted to, but ultimately have talked himself out of the risk.

  How ironic, to have to feel safe enough in yourself before you could take any risks, when finding the person who could help you feel that safe took the biggest risk of all—making yourself completely open and vulnerable to someone else.

  Would Sarah ever find that safety? Not if she kept falling in love with the men who’d risk nothing.

  Evan finished and sat down. Another friend rose, a girlfriend of Ellen’s. She talked about how cynical Ellen had gotten about men and about dating, so that for the first six weeks of her relationship with Paul, she kept saying he had to be some kind of total pervert or criminal because no one could be that wonderful. Of course her friends saw through this, and knew she was mentally shopping for a wedding dress after their second date.

  Sarah sighed. More of the irony of love. Finally finding someone perfect for you and not being able to accept that lightning had struck, because so much of dating was wading through utter crap. She could vouch for that. She’d be suspicious, too, after all she’d been through, if something so great was simply handed to her.

  “Hi.” Joe’s whisper made her automatically shift to make room next to her, still mulling over the mysteries of love and life, still not sure what to conclude when it came to her own situation. He sat and casually extended his arm behind her back, leaning on his hands, listening attentively with her to Ellen’s friend, then to a few others who stood and told stories—funny stories, sweet stories, poignant stories, all demonstrating what a good match Ellen and Paul made. After a few minutes, Sarah leaned into Joe, enjoying the moment and his arm behind her, feeling a little more relaxed now, and steadier. Joe did that to her.

  The last toast finished, Paul and Ellen stood up to say good-night. They’d be spending the night separately as tradition dictated. Ellen would stay in their bedroom in the house, and Paul would bunk in Kevin’s room.

  Poor Carrie. Sarah snickered. Yes, she was glad the little you-know-what wasn’t after Joe anymore. Joe deserved a lot better. But it was pretty disgusting that she’d gone so obviously after him and then jumped into bed with Kevin the second the opportunity presented itself. What was up with that? Pathetic if you asked Sarah. Which no one had.

  Around them, people were standing, stretching, forming new groups or heading off into the woods toward the house or to their tents. Sarah wasn’t ready to go to bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep with this dryer load of unidentifiable emotions tumbling inside her.

  “Hey.” She turned to Joe, who seemed nearly as moody and distracted as she felt. “Want to take a walk?”

  “Sure.” He stood and held out a hand to haul her to her feet. “Which way?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. How about sunset point?”

  “Okay.”

  They stopped at the house to get flashlights and a couple of old quilts to wrap up in since the night promised to be chilly. Fall came early to Maine, and late August nights could offer a pretty convincing taste of September.

  They made their way down the cranberry covered hill to the prominent outcropping where they spread one quilt on the soft ground above the ledge and huddled under the other, flashlights off, staring out over the dark water.

  “Nice rehearsal dinner.”

  “It was great.” He yawned.

  “Tired?”

  “Yeah. We introvert types get worn out by all this fun.”

  She laughed. “Poor Joe, all those annoying good times.”

  “Uh-huh.” He nudged her affectionately with his shoulder. “I’m not sure how I survived enjoying myself.”

  “Well, it’s almost over.”

  He was silent so long she turned to look at him. “Joe?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Hello?” She’d obviously startled him out of some deep thought. He wasn’t generally the brooding type. “I said the week is almost over.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Sarah frowned. Something was bothering him, too. “Guess we go back to the old routine, huh. You at your job, me at mine, seeing each other once in a while.”

  “Could be.”

  “We could make a pledge absolutely to have dinner once a week. At that Thai place you like down near Symphony Hall.”

  “Maybe.”

  Maybe? Really? Okay, this was serious. “What’s the matter, Joe?”

  “Me? Nothing.”

  “Come on.” She nudged him with her shoulder, too, but hard, punishing him. “This is me you’re talking to. What’s going on? Is it Carrie? Are you devastated having lost her to Kevin?”

  He snorted and sent her a look she didn’t need to see clearly to know was toxic. “Please.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You’re right. I’m not.” Her voice came out harder than she expected. “If you’d gone for her I would have had to sock her. Or you. Or both.”

  “Sarah...”

  Her stomach turned over. She knew that tone, one he almost never used. Last time was when his mom had been diagnosed with late stage cancer. “Yes, Joe.”

  “I’ve been offered a job in Phoenix.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” he said calmly.

  Yes. She had. And she felt as if she’d been given that sock in the gut she was saving for Carrie.

  Joe had been looking for a job without telling her. He’d gotten a job without telling her. He was going to move...and was telling her.

  “Wow.” Sarah swallowed convulsively. She’d need to try harder to sound pleased for him. “That’s great, Joe.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome!” Ugh. Now she sounded perky. Her face was heating; there was a weird rushing sound in her ears, but she sounded like Miss America on speed. Or Carrie. “What will you be doing?”

  “More of the same. Computer geeks are pretty indispensable. But I like the culture of the new place a lot. And it’s more money, a good move up.”

  “Great!” Now she sounded manic. Very close to insane. She could not process this, could only keep asking the expected questions, trolling for basic information, when all she wanted to do was ask how in hell he could do this to her. “When did you hear?”

  “They called me a few hours ago.”

  “Well...wow.” She tried desperately to sound happy. She would not make this about her. If this was what he wanted, this was what he sho
uld have. Phoenix. Jeez. Wasn’t that on the other side of the planet? “This is thrilling.”

  “Yeah.”

  Sarah forced a laugh. “You don’t sound very thrilled, Joe.”

  “You don’t, either.”

  No. She’d tried. But she couldn’t bullshit Joe. Never had been able to. Maybe she needed to stop bullshitting everyone, and then the Joes of the world would find her.

  Not damn likely.

  She summoned all her strength, while her heart felt as if it were going to explode. Not have Joe around? Not see Joe? Be far away from Joe? She couldn’t get her brain to comprehend a change that huge. Boston wouldn’t be the same. “Trust me, I am incredibly happy for you. You deserve this. When do you start?”

  “I haven’t accepted the offer yet.”

  Hope. Giant shimmering globs of it, surrounding her like a bubble bath gone wrong.

  “But you will?” The end of her sentence quavered, betraying her hope. She hadn’t meant it to be a question. She hadn’t meant to show her vulnerability.

  “I’d be a fool to turn it down.”

  “You would.” She nodded vigorously, voice too high and too loud. “You absolutely would. And you’re not a fool.”

  He laughed bitterly. She’d never heard him sound like that, and it frightened her. “I’ve been a fool for a long time.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Sarah...one of the reasons I applied for this job, was because I was starting to realize that I need to get on with my life. Career-wise, but also...I’d like to get married someday. And hanging around you so much, I realized was a way to avoid finding a woman I could really be with.”

  Sarah forced her eyes open as wide as possible, blinking rapidly. Joe in love. Joe married. Joe at home with babies and a wife.

  Joe with a woman who wasn’t Sarah.

  Of course. Of course he deserved that. Of course he did. And she was going to be freaking crazy happy for him. Her new mantra: the world was not about her. She was done being Selfish Sarah. No one on earth had suffered more from that selfishness than Joe.