AWalk90: Yes.
JSpear84: That’s your story, and you’re sticking to it.
AWalk90: I’m not telling you what I’m doing.
AWalk90: What are you doing tonight?
JSpear84: I have a hot date.
AWalk90: With your girlfriend?
JSpear84: What are we in junior high?
AWalk90: That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you. What if I’m going out with a handsome, understanding, sweet, hot, and kissable man? We don’t need titles.
JSpear84: So you are going out on a date.
AWalk90: I didn’t say that. You’re the one with a hot date. Is she cute? Does she know that you’re a hard-ass? She needs to know your real personality. I should find out who she is and tell her to beware. Mr. Spearman is going to drag you into the dungeon of hell.
JSpear84: Do you know what happens in my dungeon?
AWalk90: I imagine you torture people.
JSpear84: Yes, with scorching, dirty, off the charts sex.
AWalk90: Are you telling me that this is the date when you finally have sex? How many years has it been since the last time?
JSpear84: How many years has it been for you, Amy? I don’t want to take it too fast if you haven’t had sex in a long time.
My eyes bulge as I read what I just sent. I should just tell her today who I am.
AWalk90: I wouldn’t have sex with you, or anyone for that matter. It’s been a long time. I’m not ready to have sex yet. We’re not ready. He thinks he is, but we are not there yet.
“I. Am. Ready!”
“Fuck, you’re killing me, Emmeline.”
I want to get out of my car, knock on her door, and ask her about these texts. But I’m sure she’s going to kick me out of her house and demand I erase her number for not coming clean as soon as I figured this out. I just can’t confront her because I’m fucking horny.
JSpear84: This is like date number nine should I take her to my dungeon yet?
AWalk90: I’m your assistant, not your sex therapist.
AWalk90: …
AWalk90: It all depends on the individual. Has she given you the green light? If she’s giving you hints, take them.
JSpear84: How about telling me indirectly that she’s not ready?
AWalk90: Then don’t even bring it up in the conversation. Don’t try to hit a home run when you haven’t been given the ball yet.
JSpear84: Are we talking baseball statistics now?
AWalk90: Sorry, I can’t think of a better analogy.
JSpear84: Why don’t you want to have sex yet?
AWalk90: We’re not talking about my sex life. But if we were …
AWalk90: I have to trust the guy blindly. This isn’t a let’s get naked, fuck, and forget we ever existed kind of relationship. We’re building something strong. The foundation is just solidifying. I can’t just give him something I’m not ready to give.
JSpear84: Wait, you lost me. You are willing to have sex with a stranger but not the guy you’re dating.
AWalk90: There’s a difference between sex with a stranger and sex with a person who you’re falling for. If I have sex with him, I’d be opening a door I haven’t opened, ever. Am I ready to give him everything? I’m not sure.
AWalk90: If these words come to mind ⇢ I’m not sure ⇠ that means you’re not ready.
JSpear84: The poor guy is sporting a semi-hard on and blue balls because you’re not sure.
AWalk90: He can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s been jerking off as much as I’ve been using my vibrators.
JSpear84: You think I should give her time?
AWalk90: I should be charging you more for all the dating advice I’ve given you lately. I gave you tips for the perfect dates. Shouldn’t you be talking about sex with her?
What do you think I’m doing, Emmeline? I’m trying to figure out what to do because I’m pretty new at this fall before you fuck.
JSpear84: It hasn’t come up in conversation.
AWalk90: That’s your answer. If you can’t even bring it up in conversation, it means that you neither one of you is ready.
JSpear84: I hate that you’re right, but why isn’t she ready?
AWalk90: She’s married.
JSpear84: Ha, ha, ha!
AWalk90: Women are different from men, never forget that. People can argue as much as they want, but they are different. Actually, erase that. It’s not that women are different from men. Each individual is different. The way they feel about sex isn’t always the same from one person to the next. You’ll never have the right answer. When you find a connection that’s worth holding onto, you don’t want to fuck it up with sex.
JSpear84: I hope you’re aware that you haven’t been helpful.
AWalk90: Aww, so if I asked if you were satisfied with your service. You would say no? Would you tell me how unsatisfied I left you? Hard, uncomfortably hard, and very, very horny.
AWalk90: Please, Mr. Spearman. Tell me how to make this better for you. I’d do anything to relieve the pain caused by the hard time you’re going through. I live for … your satisfaction. Would you like me to loosen up those knots?
JSpear84: Fuck, are you touching yourself while trying to make me harder?
No, don’t send that!
I am so fucking unsatisfied right now, I’m about to fucking explode inside my pants.
JSpear84: Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?
AWalk90: I know you know, that gives me more pleasure. You know what? I should go into my bathroom and use my little gadgets before my date arrives.
My mind goes blank, knowing what she’s about to do. I want to run to her apartment and help her. No, I want to be the one bringing her pleasure and satisfaction.
JSpear84: What time is your date? It’s almost 7.
AWalk90: I still have two minutes to spare, and I am working on it … Womanizer, best product to take off the edge in seconds. I might slide in a plug, tonight I’m having fun with myself. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mr. Spearman. If you can’t at least take care of yourself. Use your imagination, porn, or a picture of her.
* * *
It’s hard to fall asleep after having one of the best nights of my life.
I wrap my hands around the base of my cock, and I’m already hard thinking of her. I wonder if I should’ve handled this date differently. Talked to her about our future to see if she was ready. She was fucking flushed when I picked her up and fuck if I didn’t get harder because I knew what she’d been doing.
At two in the morning, I’m stroking my dick like a sixteen-year-old who can’t get laid, feeling the hot, hard length under my palm, wishing I was thrusting inside her wet pussy. Fuck, if only it were her hands instead of mine or her mouth.
I would command her to suck it. Would she be able to fit it all in her mouth? My grip around my cock tightens, and I push my hips forward. The pressure reverberates along every inch of me. I shake with need and lust—desperation because I can’t have her. I let out a harsh groan as desire slams against my ribcage, right along with my heart.
My head goes back, and my eyes close, giving into the fantasy. Her tongue slides down to the bottom of my shaft and everything inside me tenses. I pant, looking at those bright eyes dancing with excitement. She licks her lips before taking my entire shaft in her mouth. Her dark hair spills down her shoulder, she’s wearing a black lace bodice.
She’s my fucking goddess.
I tug harder, jerk faster. Pure need to claim her drives me to the edge. My grunts echo in the room. A growl slips from my lips as I shudder, not holding back, coming as the pleasure rips through me.
“Em,” I cry her name, begging her to be ready for me.
I had no idea I needed her so much. In my bed, under me.
Slowly, I come back from the fucking oblivion I sent myself into, and realize she’s not beside me, and that I can’t breathe because she’s miles away from me.
Jack: I already miss you.
Em:
Why didn’t you stay?
Jack: I can’t sleep next to you anymore. Not until you’re ready.
Em: Thank you, Jack. Those words mean everything to me.
Jack: You scare me shitless with those big sentences. I’ve never meant much to anyone.
Em: Ditto. Goodnight.
I’m hard again, and I don’t know how long I can continue doing this, but I’m willing to continue for as long as she needs.
Chapter Thirty
Jack
Sunday, May 29th, 3:38 p.m.
Housekeeping isn’t a part of my skillset. In fact, it’s one of the few things I refuse to do. I have a competent housekeeper who comes to my house every weekday for two hours. However, for the past week, I’ve been helping Emmeline with all her chores.
“You surprise me, lady,” I say.
“Because I’m letting you fold my sheets on a Sunday?” She cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “You’re easy to please.”
“Do you want to please me?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Maybe soon, I promise you won’t regret waiting.”
“Somehow I think you like kink.”
Em looks at me, as if considering what I just said. Smirking slightly, she says, “It all depends what you define as kink.”
Anticipation shines in her eyes, but I don’t leap into action. I wait because Emmeline Lancaster thinks a lot before she acts. Her moves, her words, her actions might look spontaneous, but once I got to know her, I realized that she just thinks fast. Her IQ must be super high because she processes faster than a computer. What might seem like a quick plan of action, is a structured strategy.
“Well, there are things I haven’t tried, because you can’t try them with just anyone.”
I swallow hard and nod as if understanding.
“So, you haven’t performed oral on yourself?” I say.
I try to sound casual and funny, but my voice is grave and fucking desperate.
“Ha, I think only guys can do that.” Her gaze moves from the shirt she’s folding to me. “Can you do it?”
“I have to confess that I’ve never tired,” I answer honestly. “I must tell you, this is the first time I’ve discussed sex while folding t-shirts.”
“Sexy, right?” She asks with a laugh. “To be honest. I’ve never tried oral or anal sex or bondage. But I do want to try them all.”
I swallow hard, staring at her. Bless her heart, I want all of those things too. Vivian was too conservative to let me do oral, and I never dared to ask for anal.
“Or you know, you can mention them as if we’re writing down the shopping list,” I say casually.
Like a caveman, I want to drag her to her room and give her all three. I’m ready to try everything and anything with her.
“Sorry, see this tells you how unprepared I am for the next step,” she explains. “It should come easily. But I’m overthinking it. Do I want to take that step or should I be asking you for your medical record?”
“Whoa, why?” Warning flashes suddenly appear.
She’d figure out who I am and might not give me the chance to pull up my pants before kicking me out of her house—and her life.
Tell her who you are right now. I have to wait, only twelve days.
“See, that’s scary. We’re two consenting adults. I’ve always used condoms, but I want to do so much more with you. Is that normal? Did you use condoms with your wife?”
I nod and my focus on sex shifts to my fucked-up relationship with Vivian. Why is she bringing up my ex-wife? In only seconds, it dawns on me.
“How often do you compare yourself to her?”
She touches her chest with the tip of her finger.
“Yes, you. I know you, Em. This analysis is going too fucking deep, isn’t it?” I stifle a heavy breath and gaze at her face, her eyes open wide.
“Who fucked you up?” I question. “Was it a boyfriend or some guy you had a big crush on?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Not everything has to be perfect, Emmeline,” I say because now I’m feeling as if we’re both failing because of her need for everything to be just right.
She holds her head and shakes it. “I know, but when your parents only give you the time of day when you’re perfect, and you have to work hard to get love, it’s easy to second guess yourself. If you’re wondering, no, I’m not ready to have sex with you. It’s taken me a lot to let you in this far. Which is already a big step for me.”
I got it. Until she’s sure that I love her, she won’t open herself up, and it isn’t just about sex.
“Let’s cut the sex talk, babe,” I suggest.
She nods a couple of times, and her face falls for a few seconds, but the sad expression disappears quickly.
* * *
Monday, May 30th, 7:03 p.m.
“You cook more than breakfast,” Emmeline says surprised as she tastes the broccoli beef rice bowl, I cooked for her.
“You keep on surprising me,” she says. “First laundry, then cooking.”
“And dealing with your catwalk,” I remind her.
She grimaces slightly. “Ramen wasn’t very happy about it, was she?”
“I don’t think cats enjoy evening walks like dogs do,” I explain to her as I sit right beside her and take a bite of my own creation.
Unintentionally, I moan.
“It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” she asks.
She takes another mouthful of rice and beef. “If you are in the mood to cook, just come over. I’ll be your taste tester.”
A slight smile tugs on the corner of her lips. “Some days I prefer to be at home with you. Please, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy our dates and love that you put so much thought into them but having you all to myself is the best.”
She has no idea how much this means to me. I spent years believing that I was fucked-up and that it wasn’t worth it to look into having another relationship. She makes me believe I’m not a lost cause. The shadow of a man I became after my divorce is gone. I can trust people again. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed like I do when I’m with Emmeline. The best laugh I’ve had in weeks happened earlier today while we tried to walk her cats.
“Do you always walk around the neighborhood singing and dancing like you did earlier?” I ask.
“You’re just mocking me because you don’t know that song. Everyone knows it but you.”
“That’s an ancient song, isn’t it?” I rise and go to the fridge for a beer. “Want one, babe?”
“Nah, I’m drinking water today,” she smiles and continues eating.
“Where did you learn it?” I ask her.
“I used it for one of my gymnastic recitals. I was about nine. Mom almost killed me,” she laughs. “Perfect Emmeline danced to I’m Too Sexy in front of her friends, who she brought to show her amazing form and skill.”
“Do you have a sister?” I can’t remember if she mentioned that as Amy or Emmeline, I’m seriously losing track of everything that’s been said on the chat verses in-person.
She twists her mouth, closes her eyes briefly, takes some deep breaths and speaks slowly. “I think it’s too early to talk about my sister.”
“Hey, take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about her or anything else,” I say. I’m trying not to sound desperate but hoping we can rush things a little.
“We should talk about you, put you in the hot seat.” She gives me a lopsided smile, but I don’t like where this is going. “What’s your last name?
“Are we finally exchanging last names?” I ask stalling and even faking excitement. “For a second, you had me worried. What if you were trying to kidnap me or … use me as your sex slave. But I’m not sure we are as ready as you think. Are you ready to know my last name?”
She glares at me and rolls her eyes. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“Yes and no,” I respond, kissing her on the nose.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, just the other day I was talking to Jason,” I explain. “Remember him?”
“Yes, your brother. He’s back in town?”
I nod. “Yes, he got a job.”
Technically, it’s not a lie. He’s working for me full time.
“That’s great, right, having family close by?”
“Either that or we’ll end up killing each other. Hopefully, the strongest will survive.” I hit my chest a couple of times Tarzan style. “That would be me.”
“You’re so funny. What does Jason have to do with my last name?”
“Well, I was telling him how blinded by your beauty I was. I mean not just your beauty, but your brilliance too. How I enjoyed talking to you for hours, but I never asked you for your last name. How crazy is that?”
“Exactly,” she answers animated. “You understand how I feel. It’s not about sharing a last name or status, but about the emotions and experiences. I must tell you, your brother isn’t the only one who’s concerned about this last name exchange. My best friend chided me the other day for the exact same thing, right after she begged me to help her husband find a job. It was between ‘please help my husband find a job, and I am dating a guy, I think.’”
“Your friend needs a job?” I ask, finding the subject that’s going to bail me out of this fucking mess.
She sighs. “I’ve been trying to get him interviews everywhere. It’s so hard to find him a match. There’s nothing available in Boston that fits his qualifications and salary requirements.”
“Would he consider relocating?”
She exhales loudly and rests her forehead on the table.
“The companies that want to hire him won’t pay for relocation and want a three month trial before they give him a permanent position. What if it’s a bust?”
“I take it he can’t afford relocating?” I assume.
“They can't, but I’ve offered to pay for it. For now, the only help they’ve accepted is a few part-time jobs as assistants. They can only live off of that for so long. And of course, they can’t relocate, they just had a baby and with all of the expenses a newborn and a new house brings…”
“What does he do?” I fake ignorance.
“I’d have to send you his resume. I have a client who could hire him, but I’m not asking for personal favors,” she says determinedly.
Maybe Later Page 18
