by S. L. Scott
“That sounds ten times more interesting than what I’m doing.”
“I miss you and your body,” he says, his voice sounding even sexier than usual, which I didn’t know was possible.
I lower mine in response, suddenly feeling more intimate, like we’re the only two around. “I miss you and your body too, babe. I’ve become too familiar with myself lately. I’m ready for the real deal again.”
“I love when you talk about sex.” A low, breathy moan is released long and slow, for my ears alone.
Knowing what he wants, I close my eyes and encourage him. “Evan, I want you to remind me how you feel,” I say, forgetting that I’m in the school library.
“I need you.” A sigh of relief fills the air between us as his breath staggers from motion on his side. “But I want you to talk to me too. I need to hear you.”
Leaning my shoulder against the wall, I rest my forehead against Mémoire’s de Saturnin, which feels very apropos in the moment. Closing my eyes again, I block out the rest of the world and enjoy the sounds of him.
“I need to hear you, baby, please,” he pleads this time.
My mind drifts back to a few days ago. “I was lonely on Wednesday and called you. I knew you must’ve been in a meeting, so I had to take care of things on my own. You know I’d much rather have you—”
“How’d you take care of things?”
I take a deep breath and lower my voice. “I sat in my chair in front of my mirror and looked at my body. Then I dragged my finger down my chest and pulled my tank top down to my waist. When I looked at my nipples, they hardened like they do under your touch, your hand, your mouth. Fuck, I like watching your mouth on me.”
“Mmmmm, more.” He moans and the sound of his hand quickening can be heard. My thighs involuntarily squeeze together and I cross my legs at the knees. “Tell me more.”
“I took my panties off and sat in the chair facing the mirror, then spread my legs apart so I could see everything. I thought about you and how much I missed you and your mouth, your face, and the dirty words you say when you fuck me.”
“Damn it. Fuck. Baby, I’m so close. Tell me you touched yourself. Tell me. Lie if you have to.”
“I took my finger and touched my—”
“Aghhh! Mallory.”
Through his groans of pleasure my body aches for the same satisfaction. I open my mouth needing more air to calm my own needs down.
“Mallory?” My name sounds different this time.
“It felt just like that for me, Evan,” I whisper into the phone.
“Fuck, gorgeous. I needed that.” Evan breathes heavily as he settles on the other end of the call.
“Mallory? Are you okay?” I hear that strange voice in my head again. My eyes pop open and I find Ryan standing there, staring at me. “Ryan?”
“Ryan?” Evan repeats with a heaviness to his tone.
“Are you alright?” Ryan asks. “I heard you groan. Are you hurt?”
Evan becomes louder in the phone, the distance non-existent in hiding his anger. “What the fuck is he—”
My hands are forward, stopping Ryan from coming closer. “I’m fine. I, I, I just need a—”
“Mallory, get rid of that motherfuckinggirlfriendstealingfuck!”
Torn between Ryan in front of me and my boyfriend on the phone, I say, “Evan, hold on,” holding a finger to the phone like he can actually see it. “I’ll—”
Ryan’s face contorts from concern to annoyance. “Oh, you’re talking to your boyfriend. I’ll give you some privacy to finish whatever you were just doin—”
“No! No. We weren’t doing anything. I’m in a library. That’s like blasphemy or something—”
“Mallory, get on the fucking phone.”
“I’m here,” I reply, feeling my face heat from the awkwardness of the situation.
“What’s the deal?” Evan asks. “Tell him to fuck off. I want to hear the end of your story.”
I hold the phone against my chest, not wanting Ryan to hear what Evan said. “Let me finish this call and I’ll be right over,” I say to Ryan, totally humiliated as he looks at me like I’m a dirty whore… or maybe I just feel like a dirty whore because I was busted.
Ryan backs away. “Yeah, sure, no rush.”
I lean against the wall, but this time I bang my head two times. “I should probably go—”
“Why? He can wait.”
“Evan, the whole group is waiting on me.”
“Mallory?”
“Yes?”
Then Evan says the unexpected, “Promise you’ll tell me the rest of the story next time we talk.”
I laugh. “Okay, I promise.”
“Hey, baby?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Just when I expect him to go ballistic, he surprises me by controlling his anger. “I love you, too.”
When I hang up, I grab a random book from the shelf, so I don’t appear completely useless, and join the group, sitting at the table.
“Lolita? Why’d you bring Lolita?” Sarah asks, surprised by my book choice.
“I think it’s fitting,” Ryan responds. I’m not sure if he’s joking since he doesn’t laugh, which makes me uncomfortable from his implication.
But before I let that unease turn to anger like it wants to, I look at him, challenging him to explain more. “How so?”
“The older guy taking advantage of the young nymphet. If the shoe fits…”
My head jerks back in reaction as my mouth drops open. “I know you’re not referring to me and Evan when you say that!”
“Listen,” Sarah cuts in, “this is pointless and our project isn’t. Can we just focus and get our work done?”
“No. I want to know what Ryan meant by that comment.”Crossing my arms, I tap my fingers, waiting for him to justify his words.
Sarah sits back, huffing in annoyance.
Will leans forward completely engrossed like he’s watching a suspenseful show on TV.
Ryan smiles, but it’s smirky, and not in the sexy way Evan pulls it off. “It seems to me that you have fallen under this guy’s influence.” Anger boils inside of me as he continues. “You’re young and shouldn’t have to wait around day in and day out for this guy to figure out what he wants to do or if he wants to be with you.”
“He’s only a year older than me and I’m not waiting around for him. I’m in school. He’s working. He’ll be here soon, like really soon. And I don’t understand why you think I’m under his influ—”
“Mallory,” Ryan starts in again. “We’ve all been privy to watching you waste your life sitting around all semester daydreaming about this guy like he’s the second coming of James Dean or something. Shit, he can’t be that special. Wake up! He’s probably seeing girls in New York. He’s a player. That was obvious when I met him. He’s arroga—”
“Stop it! I will not sit here and let you trash Evan like that. He’s faithful to me. He’s my forever.” I jump up, baffled where this is coming from and angered by the accusations and insults.
“But are you his? I mean, don’t we go to school so we can land high paying jobs? He’s already got one, so why get the degree? Why come back here… to you when he has everything he already needs there?”
All three of them look at me, a look of sympathy on Sarah’s face, Will is intrigued, and Ryan self-righteous.
“I’m his FOR-EV-ER!” I grab my bag and toss Lolita at him. As he catches it, I say, “I think you’re reading too much fiction. This is my life. It’s real, not fantasy and not trickery, but with real people and emotions. This is the life I’ve chosen and I am his forever.” I start to leave, but stop to add, “I think you’re just jealous, Ryan, because like Will, you’ll never be anything more to me than a guy I once knew in college.”
I almost make it to the elevators when I’m grabbed from behind and spun around. “Mallory, don’t be like this. I’ve been genuine in my friendship with you—”
“Y
ou had underlying motives all along. That’s more than apparent now.” I try to pull my arm from his tight grip, but can’t free myself until our stare down ends and he releases me. “You were hurting me,” I say, trying to stay calm, but losing the battle.
I don’t even think he realized how tight he was holding me because regret crosses his expression. “I’m sorry. I need you to understand how much I care about you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as if he’s restraining himself from touching me again.
“Ryan, we really don’t know each other that well. We’ve hung out a few times and I’ve always been very clear about who my heart belongs to—”
“Yes, you have. I’m sorry. I felt a connection the first day I met you, the girl with the big green eyes and a smile that held a thousand secrets… your smart comebacks. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I thought you were worth pursuing to find out a few of those secrets.” He looks over his shoulder where we both see Sarah and Will watching from a few feet away. “Did you ever sense that there could be more to us than just project partners that once went to college together?”
“Ryan.” I sigh, looking down. “Please don’t.”
“Mallory, look at me,” he says, his finger lifting my chin. “Please tell me I wasn’t imagining all that. That maybe, just maybe, there was a time where you thought there could be more than just friendship.” His eyes plead for reassurance.
But I can’t. I can’t lie to make him feel better, not at the detriment of what Evan means to me. “Listen, I don’t think you’re a bad guy. You’re just not the guy for me. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings. I’m not trying to do that. I just, I can’t lie to you about something so important to me.”
I push the elevator button and when it dings and the doors open, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Ryan. Please understand that I’ve never had those feelings for you.”
Stepping inside, I push the button for the first floor three times as if doing so will assist me in a faster escape. As soon as the doors close, my eyes fill with tears.
When the doors open, I run outside. The night is cold and dark. Fall is solidly in season and it feels like my emotions are captive to its surroundings. I bet winter will come early this year if fall feels this ominous.
Since Sarah drove us to the library, I’m stuck without a ride and I’m definitely not going back up to get her, so I start walking home. It’s not a bad walk, I just feel frayed around the edges after that confrontation.
Needing someone on my side, someone who will make me feel better, I call Evan.
When he answers, a tear drops from my eye, rolling down my cheek and landing on the sidewalk below. A sniffle is all I can bare as I grasp for my voice to give him the happy he deserves. I fail in my attempt to put on the front and gulp down the swelling emotions in my throat. “I miss you.”
“What’s wrong, Mallory? Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice revealing his concern.
“Everything will be so much better when you’re here. I can’t take being apart anymore.”
“Why are you upset?”
“I don’t want to upset you. Just know I’ve handled things—”
“Mallory, tell me what the fuck is going on! I’m thinking the worst. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt. You were right. You’re always right, but I don’t want to go through life not trusting people. I want to take them at face value. I want to—”
“Are you talking about someone in particular or is this a general philosophy you’re deciding to live by?”
“Evan, I need you to be my friend right now not my boyfriend. Just please don’t get mad. Okay?”
“This is about Ryan, isn’t it?”
I stop, take a deep breath, and think that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to call him. “Yes,” I say, my voice a bit squeaky in the admission.
Silence.
“What’d he do?” he asks.
“I told you I handled it. So don’t freak out on me—”
“Mallory.”
“We got into an argument. He has the wrong impression of you, so I corrected him. That’s all. Nothing else happened.”
I can picture him running his hands over his face trying to reason himself down to a calmer level. When he comes back on, it seems to have worked. “So it’s handled.”
“Yes. I told him we’re together.”
“You told him as if he didn’t know already?” he asks, his words clipped. “We both made it clear at the bar that night.”
“I meant I reminded him. I also reminded him that your committed to making this work even though we aren’t in the same state right now.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” I ask, wondering if he really means this discussion is over.
“What do you want me to say? I wanted to kick his fucking ass the night of your birthday for assuming I’d fail you and trying that lame cupcake come-on with you. But I know you can handle yourself and I have faith in you. So, okay.”
“Thank you for being my friend. As for my boyfriend, less than a month, babe. Then we’re together again.”
“I can’t wait,” he says, and I can picture the smile on his face. “Now, about that story…”
67
Mallory
We hadn’t sex-cammed much, but the other night was amazing. Everything was just right, it was easy, and felt good, almost like I was in the same room with Evan, as if he had been the one touching me.
But weeks passed where he seemed to be working long hours and I had to start preparing for finals. I studied relentlessly, twisting the ring around my finger, without thought. It was a part of me now and I felt naked without it.
When I did see Evan online, he looked paler, a little thinner, but still so handsome. An early winter was taking its toll on me, but this change from the tanned Hawaiian God with a cocky spark in his eyes to becoming the prodigal son living his parents dream was showing. He wasn’t happy, but he tried to be when he talked with me.
The days practically ticked themselves down lately and I couldn’t wait to have him here. Here with me, his vivacious spirit would return and the Evan I know would be back and happy again.
But for me, it’s the second Tuesday in December that changed everything. Just getting off a most arousing sexual conversation with Evan, my phone rings. Still tingling inside, I’m hoping he wants another round when I answer, “Can’t get enough of me, huh, babe?”
“Mallory Wray?”
My grip loosens and I sit up abruptly on the bed almost dropping the phone. I look at the caller ID as if it will save me somehow. I know it won’t, so I do the only thing that comes to mind. I brace myself, lift my chin up in a show of bravery, and reply, “Yes.”
“This is Claire Ashford…”
I know Sunny would never steer me wrong, but not feeling like me, I tug at the hemline of my black dress. On unsteady legs, I walk toward the door, but stop when I reach it to take a deep breath, trying to calm my shaking hands. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but my nerves have been getting the best of me since I left Colorado. I close my eyes and pray I’ve made the right decision to surprise him like this. When I open them, I’m ready—ready to claim what’s mine.
I knock three times and wait.
“Come in.” His voice is firm, demanding even when it penetrates the thick wood of the door that separates us. Hearing him makes my heart race and I smile.
The door is barely open, but with the knob still in hand, my breath catches seeing him in person after all of these months. He’s more man now than the boy from the beach last summer and still breathtakingly handsome.
He continues reading something on his desk that captures his complete attention and responds without looking up, “Yes?”
I use my girly wiles, putting it all out there for him. “I thought you might want some company.”
His eyes flash up to meet mine and a smile lightly plays at the corner of his mouth. The spark in his eyes that I’ve been missing dom
inates the blue, my attention captured now. Leaning back in his chair, he rests his ankle on top of his opposite knee, and says, “What made you think that?” The end of the pen is tapped against his chin, then he runs it along his bottom lip several times, teasing me.
Pressing my shoulder against the door frame, I quirk an eyebrow up and run my finger across the door plague that reads Evan Ashford. “Oh,” I say, toying with him. “I don’t know… maybe because you’re the only one not enjoying the gala in the ballroom upstairs.” There’s nothing natural in the way I say ‘Gala’, the word not a part of my every day vernacular.
He leans forward, his smile gone. “Fuck, Mallory, you’re beautiful.” I see him gripping the arms of the chair, resisting what he really wants to do. He may be restraining himself, but I don’t.
Pushing off, I shut the door and walk toward him—wanting to run into his arms, but I steady my pace. I slide around his desk dragging my finger along the wood on the way, needing to be near him, needing to touch him, needing him.
Evan grabs my hand suddenly, and pulls me to his lap. I fall onto him, with a surprised giggle. Taking advantage of the angle, he runs his nose along the shell of my ear, slow and sensual, and whispers, “Marry me.”
“What?” I ask, sitting straight up, completely taken off guard.
“You heard me.” He readjusts as he sits up with me on his lap. One hand holds me while the fingers of the other rub my thigh. Turning my head, he kisses me and everything else, like always, fades away. I’m with Evan, my Evan again, and this kiss is long overdue.
He gives me life through every breath exchanged and I take it all while pushing for more. Desperate moans float between us and he pulls me even closer, his fingers winding into my pinned up hair, loosening my up-do until my hair comes tumbling down over my shoulders.
Our reunion morphs into a sexual frenzy when caresses become gropes, squeezes are followed by nips, and squirming turns to gyrating. He presses his lips to my neck, drawing them down to my collarbone, my strapless dress inching lower from the pressure of his upper body against mine.