“Would I really blackmail the man who I want to give me orgasms? That would be bad for business.”
I smirk, blowing out a breath. “Business?” I ask, approaching her. “That’s what this is?”
“I need instruction on dating and sex in this decade and you need…someone who has a good reputation,” Magnolia returns, backing away, her bare feet soft on the tile floor. My cock does that thing when it lets me know I’m not in control anymore, standing up so proudly that readjusting would be a waste of time.
“Well, well, you are far shrewder than I thought you were capable of,” I counter.
“Just because I haven’t been with a man since my ex doesn’t mean I suck at business transactions. I’m not a kid,” she says, reminding me of the average age of the women I’ve been with up until now.
“How do I know you have a bad reputation?” I ask, lowering my lashes when I’m standing in front of her and can scent her in my oxygen.
Magnolia leans up on her toes and juts her chin up. I kiss her on the mouth, a wet slow lavish gesture. “Face it, all you really need is one woman who sticks around. A woman you’re seen with. A woman who isn’t different every night of the week. A woman who has good standing in the community and who will be faithful.” I realize what this means, and it’s still a little shocking. I have to be faithful. One woman. Just one.
“I give you lessons on dating and you give me consistency.”
She tilts her head back and forth. “Something like that.”
“You’re that desperate? Don’t get me wrong, I’m probably the best teacher you can find in this town, but you’re also taking on my bad reputation.”
Magnolia narrows her eyes. “Not if I fix you.”
I narrow my eyes in return. “Ah, I see.” All at once I’m not sure Magnolia Sager can’t fix me. The bad, dark feelings cloud my mind and I know I have to do something to remedy that. Do what I always do. Clearing my throat, I pull her close and slide her tank over her head and toss it on the ground. I do the same with her bra. The sunset is glowing on the horizon, filling my glass box with orange light, highlighting her beautiful body. I press a kiss on the center of her chest and then another on her lips. She’s hesitant to release me, and that knowledge gives me power. Pulling away, I pin her with a crooked grin as I hit my knees.
Those black lace panties come down with her skirt and she inhales sharply when her body is fully exposed. I gasp sharply when I see her bare, for me, standing in front of me with more confidence than I expected. I’m not sure what I thought she’d look like naked. I’m usually a pretty good judge by looking at a fully clothed body. Her hips are narrow, and her stomach is flat. Her breasts are shapely and symmetrical, still full and more than plentiful. Her legs have the curves of a runner. I can’t see her ass because her pussy is in my face, but my hands slide around, and the firmness feels like a fucking textbook round ass.
I swallow hard. “You are fucking perfect, Mags,” I say. In this dazed moment, I briefly forgot she doesn’t like to be called anything but Magnolia. I can’t form sentences, or I’d correct myself. Running my hands over her body while she breathes heavily is all I can manage at the moment. She hasn’t been touched like this in who knows how long. If I can manage, I need to take this slowly, letting her savor every sensation. Swallowing hard, I mentally ready myself for the challenge. Not that I’m usually a taker in the bedroom, but at the moment I’m feeling a bit over my head with regards to my self-control.
Glancing up to her face, I see her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. Standing, I grab her hip bones and back her up to the living room until she’s against the sofa and no longer a fall risk. Magnolia looks up at me, and the trust I see there churns my stomach—forces the truth in the intimacy at play. As a whole, if you ignore the intimate details of fucking, it can be just fucking. If you let emotion slip in, even just a little bit, it turns everything into something else entirely. That’s what I avoid. That’s why I don’t remember what Wildcat looks like naked. Why I don’t recall who I slept with last weekend. Why my heart is beating out of my chest right now at the realization, I’m letting it slip. For a woman I barely know because she deserves intimacy. Connection. Even if I’m the fucked up sap who has to give it to her.
With her neck in both of my hands, I lean her head back to give myself a better angle to kiss her senseless, my thumbs controlling her chin. Her skin is smooth, her cheeks pink, and the scent of her arousal urges me on, regardless of my hesitance in giving in, breaking my own rules. The kiss is deep, and I’m controlling every nuance and I think maybe if I can dominate her completely, I won’t end the night a fucked up mess. Gliding my lips over to her ear, down her neck, I end with one nipple in my mouth and drag my lips over to capture the other one. Magnolia moans, her hands fisting the back of the couch.
Swallowing hard, I grit my teeth against the urge to flip her around, slide my dick home, and fuck her wild. Magnolia sighs, relishing the moment, and with tight control, I dip my head lower and kneel, pressing kisses on her flat stomach as I part her legs with one hand. Her thighs tighten as she spreads her legs opening me to her soft, wet playground. At first, I play with her gently, testing, rubbing, gliding, to find out what makes Magnolia tick. When I let my middle finger slip inside the warm, tightness, she screams out, clutching my hair in her hands. “You like it when I’m inside you,” I say, licking my lips as her pussy clenches around my finger.
“Yes. Inside me,” she repeats back to me, voice harsh. Magnolia scoots back so she’s sitting on the back of the sofa and opens her legs farther, an invitation. Her gaze dips down just as I look up at her and her face is this masterful mix of pure pleasure and blatant honesty. “Basically any which way you can touch me, I like,” she adds when she realizes she has my undivided attention.
“Noted,” I say, leaning in to kiss her clit, my gaze on hers, my finger working inside her. I want to see the second my lips close around her. Magnolia buckles under the pleasure and I scoot in to place her legs over my shoulder so I can eat her more easily. Taking out my finger, I insert my tongue into her as far as I can and begin lapping at her with a furious pace. Her thighs clench my neck and I’m surrounded by the scent of her impending orgasm. It’s slick folds and sexy moans, and my dick is straining against my jeans in the most unbearable way.
“I’m coming,” she announces moments later, her words a sigh of relief. She runs her hands through my hair and leans her head back when the orgasm rocks her body. I feel the waves on my tongue strong and deep, and I’d give anything to feel that clenching on my shaft.
“You look good coming,” I announce when her legs have turned to jelly and her grip has loosened. Sucking at her clit now that it’s sensitive, I swirl my tongue on the nub. She moves her hips against me, obviously not done with my attentions. “How many more you think I can give you?” I say, breaking my mouth from her pussy. When she whimpers, I slide a finger back in and watch her eyes roll back in her head as I rub her G-spot.
Magnolia heaves a long, beautiful sigh. “I’m afraid to answer that,” she responds, taking her legs off my shoulders to stand on her own, effectively cutting off access to my buffet. “It could go on and on. It’s been so long since I’ve felt...” she stutters. “Anything remotely close to that.” Her face goes solemn.
I take her in my arms, picking her up. “What’s the mean face for?” I ask, walking her into my bedroom.
“Mean?” she asks, pulling away to look at my face.
She looks away quickly. “Mean might not be the right word. I rocked your world and you’re looking a little glum, that’s all.”
She sighs and buries her face in my neck. “I didn’t realize what I’ve been missing, that’s all. All of this time alone. Hell, all of the years I was married, it’s never been about me. Not like that. Like what you just did,” she says. “I feel so stupid.”
When we’re in my bedroom, I drop her onto my bed. She gr
abs the headboard, pretending to be overly interested in it. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. All of this is making me crazy. This night is already shot to fucking hell, anyways. “He was a moron, you have nothing to feel stupid about.” Right? I don’t know the guy, but he must be some special sort of stupid to cheat on a woman like her.
Magnolia sighs long and exasperated. “It should have been a sign,” she says under her breath.
“Get used to it, honey. Tonight, it’s only about you.”
When her gaze finally meets mine, she brightens at my words. My attention. Her face like the goddamn sun after years of darkness. I’ve never wanted to claim a naked body more than I want hers right now. Not because I’ve marked her as unfuckable for the night, either.
Because I’ve never cared enough to realize there is worth in waiting.
I dive into the bed and bury my face into her wet pussy. I settle in for the night even if my dick is anything but settled. When she comes for the third time on my nose and face, she screams my name so loud that I come in my motherfucking pants.
There’s the difference. There’s the fucking difference. Groaning, I drag my slippery lips up her body. Her eyes are closed when my mouth lands on hers.
I kiss her with my eyes open.
Chapter Four
Magnolia
MY MARRIAGE DIDN’T DISINTEGRATE over time. It imploded in one, horrifying, self-actualizing moment. I had no idea Paul was unhappy—no blatant signals he was cheating on me. Sure, over time we settled into the comfortable familiarity of a worn-in relationship, but my mistake was thinking that was normal. Didn’t all couples say “hello” and “goodbye” and “what’s for dinner?” Isn’t the lack of passion and fire between two bodies bound to dwindle after years of the monotonous grind of running a family business and parenting a child? The simple answer? No. It shouldn’t. Ebbs and flows in a marriage are completely normal. Ebbing for years without ever feeling the rush of a flow is a proverbial death wish. I should have known.
The last year and a half of our marriage, he came home late almost every night when I knew the workload like the back of my hand and couldn’t find a reason for his tardiness. There wasn’t that much work to do after five P.M. Not by a long shot. But he kissed me square on the mouth, smiled, and asked me what was for dinner moments after coming through the door. Normal. I didn’t see the symptoms of chinks in our armor. I didn’t know I was supposed to be looking for them. Paul’s affair is not my fault, I know that. That mistake lies squarely on his shoulders. Accepting a half-hearted offering of his love is my fault.
I was naked, in the shower, when he busted into the bathroom to tell me Kendall caught him having sex with Pamela. He apologized so many times, his words eventually faded. I still had conditioner in my hair and only one leg was shaved. Par for the course though, a divorce feels like unfinished business even when it’s final. I shave that leg first now as if I can prevent my world from being rocked by keeping it smooth.
Sleeping isn’t an option. I will be up for the rest of the night. I can’t get Aidan’s face out of my mind. Or his body. Or the fact that my inner thighs are stinging from the stubble burn of his scruffy face hours later. My core clenches at the reminder of all of the orgasms he gave me with his mouth and fingers. He wouldn’t let me reciprocate the act and something about that makes me feel guilty. It also makes me feel all kinds of butterflies in my stomach. I lie awake in my king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, piecing together the reasons my marriage would have never worked even if Paul hadn’t cheated. We had a child that connected us, but that doesn’t mean we had a connection. The real kind, one that sizzles and pops and causes an ache deep in your chest.
Recognizing that Aidan is a horrible man to fall for was made even clearer when Polly showed up at his door demanding…him. Other women desire him. It’s a risk to give anything except my body to Aidan Mixx, and yet I feel it happening, felt it happening all night long. Every touch held an unspoken promise of pleasure I know I’ll never tire of. More than his body and his touch were his words. He told me I was desirable. That I was worthy of his attentions. By claiming me as his girlfriend, even if the scenario is pretend, he’s affirming I’m good enough to be his and everyone around him can witness it. Warmth spreads through my body when I think of the words he said when he dropped me off at my front door. I’ve never wanted to call someone mine more.
Clutching the sheets, I roll to look out the window that overlooks the bay. I have a clear shot of his bright white condo complex lit with several megawatt lights that highlight the shoreline and docks. “You’re right there,” I say, realizing how this town got a touch smaller with the knowledge that I can look out my window and know he’s there. I wonder if he’s looking over here. I wonder if he’s awake. If he’s regretting our deal, or if he’s thinking about me. It’s hard to think he might be. I’m another woman in his laundry list of conquests, and he just joined an exclusive club formerly known as Paul’s. I’ll get used to it. I can do this. I blink a few times as my eyes get heavier. My cell phone’s dull glow signals a message. I grab it from my nightstand and unplug it from the charging cord. Aidan put his number in my phone before we left his house. His name flashes as his initials, AM.
His text reads, I can’t sleep.
I can’t sleep. Probably for different reasons though, I reply.
If not being able to get a chick out of your head is the reason you can’t sleep, then we’re on the same page.
I blush, and swallow hard, rolling to my back, the phone hovering over my face. You can’t stop thinking about me?
I never said it was you, Aidan texts back.
Oh, it’s Polly then? She was a bit feistier than I was. I fire back, grinning from ear to ear.
You’re full of jokes.
So are you, I reply.
Your body is all I can see when I close my eyes. Then my dick gets hard. Sleeping is impossible with a hard-on. In case you were unaware of that fact.
This is why sleepovers are nice. If you were next to me right now you could just roll over and game on. My core clenches again, and I flush, a reaction to merely thinking about Aidan naked and his attentions focused on me. I add, If it wasn’t obvious, I’m not good at dirty talk.
I need the opposite of dirty talk to calm myself down. What are you doing later?
Swallowing hard, I try to think where this is going. There is no way in hell Kendall can know I’m seeing someone regularly. She can know I’m dating casually, but to what extent needs to be a well-guarded secret. Kendall feeling secure, loved, and happy is what I will always focus on first and foremost. Kendall has a parade. It starts at Bronze Bay High School and goes through Main Street at lunchtime. I’m helping decorate the float in the morning. I’ll be dead to the world without sleep, but that’s what coffee is for, right?
Any plans for the evening?
I could be persuaded to accept plans for the evening. Kendall asked permission to sleep over at Jenny’s with Juliet so I have the night free.
A tour of Magnolia’s Steals? Then a walk on the beach? Cocktails in hand, Aidan texts.
Smiling, I reply, Are you hunting for any specific antique treasure?
I am.
Give me some details so I can look into my inventory beforehand.
Sculpted tail. I’m okay if it’s a little leaky. A smooth finish. Something that responds to only my touch, though.
Pressing my lips together, I try to stifle my laughter, but it resonates in my bedroom louder than it should. I think I might have something that fits that description. If not, I’m going to auction next week. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.
Auction?
You know, where people sell their old things? Typically, it is stuff left over from estate sales, or someone dies and has a house filled with treasures that their family is trying to sell off. I love a good auction.
Oh, okay. I had something far more nefarious in mind when you said auction.
No one is selling sex at the auctions I attend,
I reply, rolling over again.
Aidan’s message bubbles up. You just gave me a hard-on again.
You don’t have to pay for my sex. I’m your girlfriend, right? Isn’t that part of the gig? I give it to you for free?
The gray bubble pops up and disappears for a few moments. He’s struggling with how to respond. He begins typing again and his message arrives. How long is our relationship arrangement scheduled for?
My stomach sinks. How long do you think it should be? How long do you need to hold a relationship to fake everyone out and make them think you’re a changed man? He is the prime example of what happens when you screw your way through a small town. You’re left to focus on damage control.
We can play it by ear?
Your hard-on disappeared that quickly, huh? I try joking.
No, it’s still here. Sort of shocking actually.
Sleep never comes while I talk to Aidan until sunlight begins to invade my room. The words always drifted back to sex and his dick, but in between were real flashes of two people getting to know each other. He’s estranged from both of his parents and he has no siblings. He didn’t want to admit to that, but did after I volleyed information he wanted. There’s more to that, to his childhood, and the reasons he isn’t on speaking terms with his parents, but he closed that topic quickly and I was left with a heap of questions and a bad taste in my mouth.
Is that how Kendall will view her childhood? Will she never speak with her father again? Will he become an estranged memory that is painful to talk about? A man she doesn’t claim. A man who will never be in her life to celebrate in her victories and cheer her through failures? A chapter in a dark place in her life she won’t share with the man she falls in love with without prodding? My stomach flips and I hate that I recognize the hurt in Aidan and compare it to what Paul did to Kendall.
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